Questions, questions, questions. Writers ask them all the time. It’s part of who we are: Analytic, cerebral, inquisitive. We go through the world looking under old logs and peeking into dark corners, always probing and searching.
Questions are good things, generally speaking. But when you’re in the middle of the writing process, questions can get in the way. If you’re not careful, too many questions can send you off on tangents, take up valuable writing time, and send you straight into a brick wall. Certain questions are especially wasteful and treacherous. Here are 10 to avoid.
1. What am I trying to teach my reader?
For some reason, beginning writers seem to think they are supposed to be educating their readers. I think this is because high school and college literature courses ask questions like, “What is the author trying to say?” as if we’re all trying desperately to convey some important information the reader can only get by reading our work.
The truth: You are not trying to teach your reader anything. Your job is not to teach your reader things. Your job is to tell a story. Tell it. What your readers learn from it is up to them.
2. How is this story (or poem or essay) going to end?
Some writers start out with a beginning, middle, and end already in their heads. Some start with a beginning and ending, but no middle. Some start with just a first sentence, and some without even that. If you don’t know where your story is going, don’t worry. Give it the reins. It will show you the way.
3. Will this get published?
Asking this question is a sure-fire way to bring your writing to a screeching halt. It’s also a question you can’t possibly answer. The only way to answer this question positively is to stop writing. Then you know for sure the answer is “no.”
4. What will I do if it doesn’t get published? After all my work!
This question is just as pointless as # 3, but at least it has a very simple answer. What will you do if this work never gets published? You will grieve, swear, stomp, and mourn. Then you will sit back down, pick up your pen, and keep on writing. You are a writer. That’s what writers do.
5. Is this any good?
All right, this question has its place. At some point or other, we’re going to ask this question. However, it is best not asked when we’re in the middle of the writing process—especially when we’re on an early draft. Hold back on this question. Ask it of your teacher or editor. If you must ask yourself, wait until you’re revising.
6. Do I actually have the skill and talent to write this?
The short answer: Of course you do. Stop asking and start doing.
7. How would [insert name of famous author here] write this?
You aren’t J. K. Rowling, Stephen King, John Grisham, Alice Munro, or Toni Morrison. (You aren’t, right? I mean, unless one of those writers happens to be reading this blog, which, honestly, I think is pretty unlikely). Assuming you aren’t one of them, don’t try to write like one of them. Write like yourself.
8. Why would anyone want to read this?
This isn’t so much an actual question as it is an expression of self-doubt and self-pity. Write with authenticity and sincerity. Use every bit of skill you have. Revise, revise, then revise again. Get help from editors and teachers. Do all that, and people will want to read it. Trust me.
9. Why am I writing this? Why don’t I write something else? Why don’t I just give up? Why don’t I go to business school? Why did I ever think I could write? What was I thinking when I started this project? Why am I so pathetic? What is wrong with me?
I’m putting these all together because they are really the same thing: The voice of your Shadow trying to sabotage your writing. When you hear any of these questions in your head, get out the garlic or hire an exorcist. They are evil.
10. What am I going to do when this work makes me internationally famous and I have to deal with all the publicity?
No, seriously, I’ve known quite a few beginning writers who were worried about this. So far, none of them have had to deal with it, and most of us never will, but believe me, if you do, you’ll deal. You’ll deal just fine.