Personally, I never liked that aspect of religion — as far as I was concerned, if God gave me a mouth to speak and ears to hear, why couldn’t He just talk to me directly? It’s a mystery I still don’t have an answer to. But as it happens, “Yes,” “No” and “Wait” are the three types of answers you’ll hear any time you are asking another human being or organization for support of some kind,  especially when it comes to creative works. Sadly, while I’ve seen many articles that tell aspiring writers how to elicit a “yes,” I haven’t seen many talking about what it means to “wait” or receive the all-too-common “no.”

And while this article might not be too helpful to those seeking spiritual answers from the Big Guy in Charge, it should be quite helpful to those seeking practical knowledge about gaining traction in the world of publishing.

I have a lot of friends who are aspiring writers, and I’ve watched many of them devote an incredible number of hours into developing a manuscript that they intend to sell to a publisher one day. Often, they like to talk about the various “tricks” they’ve heard about for getting the attention of a publisher or a literary agent, as if all one really has to do is write a manuscript, manipulate things the right way, and get a story published. Anyone who’s been around the publishing scene knows better — the truth of the matter is that the publishing industry is fairly closed to those who don’t have an “in,” primarily because there is far more supply than there is demand. That’s one of the reasons some writers chase after agents — good literary agents can take a manuscript from an unconnected writer and get it on the desks of otherwise inaccessible editors with very little fuss.

I hate to be hard on the publishing industry, but hang around it long enough and you’ll realize that it’s a cesspool. The big trade publishers like to muscle out the indy companies by cozying up to retailers and buying up successful authors and lines. These same publishers overprint in such large numbers that they wind up destroying 25% or more of each print run just to keep their books from being devalued in the market. Agents often make promises they have no intention of keeping, and they’re well-known for stringing would-be authors along. The few published authors who achieve “bestseller” status tend to choke the market with their pulpy, bland writing, and a lot of really good writing goes unread as a result. And there are tons of “bottom-feeder” authors as well who are out there looking to grave-rob from deceased authors and copy ideas from up-and-coming writers.

In this industry, most would-be authors don’t ever actually finish their manuscripts. And even when they do, they send them off only to get that infamous rejection letter a few weeks later. More often than not, “no” is the only answer they receive, often with very little clarification. It’s an extremely discouraging time for a writer, and it’s caused quite a few writers out there to put down the pen and give up their dreams.

But what they don’t realize is that “No” can mean many things in the world of publishing, such as:

• I didn’t actually take the time to read your manuscript because I’m too busy.
• We don’t accept unsolicited manuscripts, so I didn’t read yours.
• I flipped through it, and it looked boring.
• The title doesn’t grab me.
• The story sounds dumb.
• I read the first few chapters and it didn’t grab me.
• This manuscript’s not right for our market.
• The story’s not genre-specific enough

And what they miss most often is the fact that at least “No” is an answer, even if it’s not the answer desired. But that’s far better than getting no answer at all!

Occasionally, a writer will receive specific feedback from an editor that touches on some of these points, but more often than not, the rejection letter dispatched is a simple form letter that offers very little explanation. And yet the writer is personally crushed. Feeling the sting or rejection, he or she falls into a dark mood, wondering what’s so terrible about the manuscript, and why editors constantly seem to be rejecting it.

But the truth is, no matter how bad a manuscript may be, the writer should never be daunted by a simple “no.” In fact, I advise writers who receive “no” answers to keep submitting, because being told “no” doesn’t mean the manuscript wasn’t good; it just means that particular editor didn’t want it.

Now, of course, there are “no” answers that are qualified with additional information. For example, a statement like, “We cannot publish your manuscript because it contains numerous plot holes, derivative characters, and a plot that a child of eleven would find unrealistic and bland,” offers a pretty good indicator that the manuscript might need some retooling… or outright torching. But it’s rare for a writer to receive such a critical response. Editors just don’t have that sort of time or interest, and it can leave them vulnerable to a lawsuit if they don’t choose their words with care.

More often than not, editors or agents who take an interest in a work will send a “wait” letter — something along the lines of, “this isn’t right for us at this time, but feel free to resubmit this work once you’ve made some revisions.” This letter indicates that they’re not willing to pick up a work, but that they are willing to consider it down the road.

Unfortunately, most writers I’ve known who have received this response take the wrong approach to it. They get giddy and start dreaming of success, acting as if in being told to “wait” they’ve been guaranteed a “yes.” Sadly, this is not how things tend to work out; the world of publishing is very volatile, and the potential an editor or agent might see in a work generally relates to the subject matter of a book, not the writing itself. For example, if an editor senses that Steampunk novels are on their way in, he or she might want to keep in touch with authors who are submitting those kinds of stories just in case the trend emerges. That doesn’t meant that the publisher intends to pick the book up; it just means that they want to keep that author from going elsewhere until the trend either materializes or fades away.

My suggestion to anyone who gets a “wait” letter is to weigh the situation carefully, and to suspend excitement (and bragging) until things work out. And as for that elusive “yes” letter, I’d warn writers to still be cautious about getting their hopes up when their work is picked up. I’ve had a good number of projects that I’ve gotten very excited about, only to have them fall through when it came time to sign the contracts. My wife had a similar experience earlier this year. Had we simply crossed our fingers and waited to get excited, neither of us would have had to deal with the disappointment of seeing the project canceled or assigned to someone else.

Getting a “yes” answer is a great thing for an author, but remember: even a “yes” can become a “no” until the contract is signed, and if the contract isn’t fair to the author, the book can still be dropped. Having an agent negotiate contracts is never a bad idea, but that agent has to be dedicated to the cause of seeing the manuscipt published. With that in mind, I’d like to comment on the different between being picked up by an agent, a vanity publisher, an independent publisher, a mid-range publisher, and a trade publisher.

Being picked up by a literary agent means very little. Some agents have a good reputation, but most acquire far more manuscripts that they can ever actually sell. Agents perform a function that’s not so different from a retail store — they stock themselves up with a variety of products knowing they won’t sell everything, but hoping they’ll sell enough to stay in business. I’ve talked to several writers who have signed with agents who have done nothing for them. That doesn’t mean that agents are bad; they’re quite useful for negotiating terms and contracts, and they often know what’s going on with other writers in the industry. But they are by no means a “sure thing.”

Running your book through a vanity publisher, “print-on-demand” publisher, or anything else of the sort is a shortcut that guarantees that your work won’t go far. Simply put, if your publisher demands money up front or insists that you have to sell a certain number of books for them to take a chance on you, they’re not really a publisher — they’re just providing “printing with added services.” If you have to take all the risk, you might as well get all of the rewards, too. It may be faster and easier to run your books through a vanity publisher than a traditional publisher, but don’t be fooled — your work will never be taken seriously by the publishing industry at large, particularly on the retail end.

Independent publishers are generally small companies that can only afford to sell niche titles. They don’t do a lot of fiction, and they don’t get a lot of exposure. Many, including my own company, don’t accept submissions. Those that do generally don’t pay advances, and your work may never make it beyond their niche audience.

Mid-range publishers are generally established publishers that focus on specific popular genres. They are often lumped in with independent publishers, but they’re really at the top of the category. These publishers generally have good relationships with distributors, wholesalers and retailers and know how to use these channels to sell lots of books. New writers are probably best off starting with these companies since they will be treated better and taken advantage of less… as a general rule, of course.

Trade publishers are the big, established companies that operate out of New York and London. They often have a variety of imprints specializing in genres, and they put out the majority of books that you’ll find in a retail store. These are the companies that pay big money for manuscripts, and these are the companies that tend to drive lesser-known writers crazy, because they stall on contracts, play games with publishing schedules, and cancel titles they’ve already picked up. They’ve very biased towards authors who can sell well or who have built-in marketing ability, and they tend to give little support to writers who can’t. Getting an answer of any sort from a trade publisher seems like a big deal, but remember – they deal in volume, not in quality, and they’re most concerned about what they think will sell.

Personally, I think there are better ways to publish your book than to submit your manuscript to every possible source; I’m a big fan of self-publishing myself, and while it wasn’t feasible even a decade ago, it’s more than possible now to publish your own work and distribute it via the internet directly to customers. It might lack the glitz and glamour of having a major publisher, but it’s a much better deal for the author… and a great way to bypass ever having to hear “yes,” “no” or “wait” from anyone.

The category of animated children’s films is particularly dismal, and most are barely worth remembering, let alone paying $8.50 to get in the door. Sure, every now and then you get a Shrek or a Lilo and Stitch, which is well animated and smartly written. But most of the time, studios put out films like Madagascar or Chicken Little, which are little more than a string of sight gags tacked on to a bunch of one-liners read by celebrities. Sometimes, you even get films like last year’s Meet the Robinsons, which bore the distinction of being both poorly animated and wretchedly written, despite the fact that it came from Disney, who should really know better.

I’m a big fan of animation, whether it’s CG or cel, and I hate to see the category being filled with so much dreck. The film industry treats these films like 90 minute fables that wrap sugary, forgettable jokes around a moral center that leaves a bitter aftertaste. I mean, really, how many more films can be made with the theme, “be true to yourself,” or “be nice to other people”? Do the people producing these films really think children want these moral platitudes? Is it really worth bludgeoning the audience with a lesson at the end just to appease the few soccer moms who want to be able to say, “Now didn’t that movie have a nice message?”

Since so many of these films exist, it’s almost a futile question to ask. Clearly, since so many of these movies are made, that must be what the audience wants, right?

I might have come to this conclusion had it not been for one studio that never sinks to the level of its competition (or its parent company!). This is a studio that dominates the CG half of the category, though I have no doubts that they would be equally good at cel animation if they chose to try their hand at it. This is a studio that has produced so many hits so consistently that even its weaker films are on a whole different level from the rest of the stuff out there.

This studio is Pixar, and I’m pleased to say that they’ve achieved yet another triumph with their latest film, WALL-E.

And though the film is receiving near-universal praise, it’s also receiving a lot of criticism from people who are saying that the film’s environmental overtones are too pronounced and that it has an anti-consumerism agenda.

I disagree, for reasons I’ll explain in a moment. But I’d also like to point out that if you look closer at Pixar films, you’ll discover that all of their films have something deeper to share than just a neat story…

But first, let’s start with WALL-E. For those who haven’t seen it (warning: spoilers will follow here), the movie is about a lone waste collection robot who is left on Earth to clean the place up after humans abandoned the place seven hundred years ago. The reason for their exodus was tied to a global corporation called “Buy N Large,” which apparently consolidated government and consumer care into one gleaming capitalist package. When the corporation realized a bit too late that it had destroyed any chance for life to thrive on Earth, giant colony ships were built and the BNL marketing minds talked the whole population into taking to the stars. The company left behind a multitude of robots to clean the place up. But as the movie opens, it’s clear that WALL-E is the only robot that still functions.

WALL-E is an eccentric little robot that eyes garbage with curiosity, keeping a collection of human artifacts in the home he shares with his pet cockroach. Since WALL-E wasn’t built with much voice functionality, he has to communicate through gesture and expression. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate human speech, though; he has a particular fondness for the film Hello Dolly, which he watches on a beat-up VCR.

WALL-E’s life is simple: he collects garbage, makes cubes, and builds garbage skyscrapers to imitate the ones left from the ruins of human civilization. But this is disrupted one day when a spaceship lands and drops off a white, pod-like robot named EVE who shoots at everything she sees and searches around in vain for some mysterious object. WALL-E eventually befriends her, takes her back to his home, and shows her, among other things, a unique treasure: a small plant he found growing in a refrigerator. EVE confiscates it, shuts off mysteriously, and doesn’t move until a spaceship shows up days later to retrieve her. WALL-E follows her aboard the ship, and the two are transported to a colony ship in the far reaches of space, where the descendants of the original humans are living large — literally, due to the effects of low gravity — in a society where their evey need is handled automatically by sentient and non-sentient robotic devices.

And this is where critics of the movie point and say, “Aha! See? This movie is saying that consumerism is bad! It says that consumerism makes us into fat, lazy people who can’t do anything for themselves! It says that it makes us so oblivious to the destruction of our own planet that we have to leave once we’ve used the place up!”

That’s one interpretation, I suppose, but it really misses the point of the film, as well as the point of all Pixar films. You see, there’s no real villain in WALL-E; no central bad guy who is trying to oppose the little robot and prevent him from doing good. There is a robotic autopilot who gets in the way, yes, but to call him the villain of the film is unfair; AUTO is simply following his own set of orders, which are to prevent the humans from returning to Earth because it is, according to a 700-year-old secret message, beyond repair. The real villain of the film is protocol, or, in more philosophical sense, fideism — blind faith. The robots follow their protocols because they are programmed to do so. WALL-E breaks his directive over time as his curiousity leads him to develop a mind of his own; EVE breaks her directive when she discovers that WALL-E treated her with love and compassion during the time she was on Earth, even though she was unaware of it.

Likewise, the humans have come to a point where they have stopped questioning and simply accepted their lot in life to be served by machines. They float around on automatic chairs, morbidly obese and unable to eat solid foods. If they’re told that “blue is the new red,” they accept it, and change the color of their clothing accordingly. If they’re told that they should try a new product, they automatically adopt it into their routine. More than once, a human is heard commenting that “I didn’t know we had a pool!” Knowledge is not valued in this society, nor is exploration; life is a passive experience.

But there are three human characters who go against this norm in the film. The most obvious is the Captain, whose mind is awakened by the idea that it’s time to go back to Earth. He spends an entire day researching his home planet (again, demonstrating that knowledge is not valued in this culture) and decides that it’s a wonderful place that he is supposed to bring his people back to. The Captain sheds his passive life and takes an active role, eventually tangling with the autopilot and flipping the switch to “manual.”

There are two other humans in the movie named John and Mary who, because of chance encounters with WALL-E, meet each other and accidentally touch. The human contact between the two changes them both, and they are easy to spot for the rest of the film, because while everyone else is wearing a blue unitard, they have both reverted to red. The film also hints that they have fallen in love, which indicates that they, too, have taken an active role in their lives and begun to build something new, rather than accept life as it comes to them.

I bring these characters up because, at its heart, WALL-E is not a film about envrionmentalism or consumerism. Those themes are present, but in my estimation, it is really about the dangers of ceding control over our lives to wishful thinking. This film is the logical conclusion of trying to meet our every need such that we are no longer required to do anything. And in the end, the realization that there is an unmet need — that a desolate world needs to be rebuilt and kept safe — gives these people a brand new perspective on life.

What’s very curious about Pixar films is that all of their movies are about bigger themes than “good guys versus bad guys.” Consider the following:

•  Toy Story features a villain named Sid, but he is not the antagonist of the film — rather, he represents a force of cruelty, an innocence lost that results in the destruction of wonderful, magical things. The true villain of the film is jealousy; Woody covets Buzz Lightyear’s position as Andy’s favorite toy, and he must overcome his shortcoming to do what is right in the end. Still, the film doesn’t beat the audience over the head with its moral lesson; the lesson is there, but it requires quiet reflection to uncover.
• Toy Story 2 features three villains — a toy collector named Al, the evil Emperor Zurg, and a prospector toy named Stinky Pete. Once again, the film has a deeper message, this time about the vileness of greed. Al steals Woody because he wants to complete his collection; Stinky Pete tricks Woody into staying because he wants to achieve his chance at stardom. Zurg is really present as a force of menace, but there is a certain symbolism in his humorous relationship to Buzz Lightyear; all of these toys truly want to be complete. Andy’s toys are complete when they are with him, and even though Andy will outgrow them one day, they realize that they should make the most of their time together and enjoy their lives as beloved toys.
• A Bug’s Life features a definite villain in the character of Hopper, but the real antagonist is fear. The ants have the power to rise up against the grasshoppers, but they’re afraid to do it until Flik and his friends encourage them to summon their inner courage. This is more than a message of “be true to yourself” — it is a message that we are all strong, both as indviduals and as members of a society, and if we work together, we can right wrongs.
• Monsters, Inc features two villains – Randall and Waternoose. But once again, these seeming bad guys are not the antagonist — corruption is. Monsters Incorporated has a dark side, and it needs to use the scream extractor to traumatize children in order to keep the monster society thriving. There is a utilitarian sense here that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. But fortunately, Mike and Sully find a way around the problem that results in even greater utility… and an ethical business.
• Finding Nemo doesn’t have a villain, per se; the little girl who kills fish is more of an omen. But the film has an antagonist once again in the sense of despair — Marlin can only find his son so long as he doesn’t give up his search. He has to hold on to hope and summon courage whenever possible. This results in him finding his son, but also in growing as a father and a personal being. This story most closely represents the heroic epic, with each character taking a different journey in order to save the day and return home transformed.
•  The Incredibles is often regarded by fans as a straightforward story from Pixar — after all, it uses the superhero archetype to tell a fairly simple story about a superhero family pulling together and battling a villain. But once again, Syndrome is not the antagonist; the true villain is society. Syndrome is, rather, a catalyst — he is the force that draws the family out of their shell and into a heroic state of being. The idea of the film is not that anyone can be a hero or that good triumphs over evil — it is that society pressures us all to conform and fit in, when we should instead celebrate our gifts and abilities. Syndrome is particularly interesting in that he longs to be like Mr. Incredible, but instead becomes bent on destroying him when he realizes that he, too, is special. Mr. Incredible (Bob) is interesting in that he cannot stop being his heroic self, even in his office job, where assisting people in need costs him promotions and raises.
• Cars is my least favorite of the Pixar films, but once again, its villain is more of a rival than a true antagonist. Cars tends to beat home its point that the villain of its world is urbanization — city life is great, but it causes people to forget about the simple pleasures they’ve left behind.
• Ratatouille was a pleasant surprise when it arrived, because many people did not expect it to be as good as it was. The story was particularly interesting because it did not follow a standard structure — it focused on Remy for awhile, and then switched over to Linguini, and then over to Ego, and then back to Remy for the finale. The villain seemed to be the scheming chef Skinner, or perhaps the foreboding review by Ego, but really, the antagonist of the film is pride — Skinner only serves to complicate the story, and Ego’s redemption from his own arrogance is at the heart of the film’s theme. Though the movie repeatedly states that it is about the mantra that “anyone can cook,” the real theme is that “greatness comes from finding what you’re good at and doing it well.”

And that’s what I love about Pixar — their feature films are not simply cartoons. They have a depth to them that approaches art. Pixar films appear to be nicely animated cartoons at first glance, and they appear to contain sound stories upon a full screening. But break them down, beat by beat and frame by frame, and you’ll see a level of artistry that is unparalleled by any other animation studio except for perhaps Disney itself. There is much more to a Pixar film than celebrity sound-offs, one-liners and ho-hum messages; there is skill and technique underneath the computer graphics. (This is even more obvious when you watch Cars, since it is the closest to what the competition is offering in terms of content, and yet still manages to be unique and memorable despite its flaws.)

And that is why I would argue that WALL-E approaches a level of artistic achievement that really resonates with audiences. We all know that we need to take care of our environment, and we all know that massive consumerism is probably not a healthy thing. We also know that allowing machines to take care of our every need will make us fat and lazy. The evidence is certainly around us; simply take a trek through a Wal-Mart and you’ll see morbidly obese people riding around on provided scooters, demonstrating a total unwillingness to do anything for themselves. It’s not hard to see where that is going. But it is hard to create a film that can cast such a vision and still manage not to make the humans into evil, vile creatures. It’s even harder still to make the robots in such a film sympathetic, since they are enabling humanity to sink so low.

But we need stories like this, to remind us where the boundaries are. And it doesn’t hurt that this particular story is gorgeously rendered, and full of warmth, and depth, and some pretty funny jokes.

Then again, I wouldn’t expect anything less from Pixar.

-SJJ

And most of the time, it’ll be true.

But there’s nothing wrong with sucking. Society has conditioned us to believe that we must be good at everything we do, or else we shouldn’t bother. We watch movies and television dramas where we constantly see actors and actresses behaving as if life is effortless; as if they will always triumph in any circumstance no matter how much the odds are stacked against them. We watch reality shows such as American Idol where we laugh at the silly fools who are kidding themselves, and we cheer on the folks who make pop music look easy. We love winners, and we shame losers; we make heroes out of those who triumph, whether or not they actually deserve it.

And that’s why we tell each other that we suck. And that’s also why we hate to suck. We want to believe that everything we attempt is going to turn out well. We want to believe that we’re all going to be successful because of our natural talent and abilities. We want to believe that just because we’ve worked hard at something, we’re going to be rewarded for it.

Unfortunately, that’s not how life works. The truth is that most of the time, we do suck, whether we want to admit it or not. Many parents that I’ve met suck at raising kids. Many artists that I’ve met suck at drawing. Many writers (many, many writers) that I’ve met suck at writing. Many educated people that I’ve met suck at thinking for themselves. Many churchgoing people that I’ve met suck at being genuinely nice to others.

That’s because sucking at something is the natural state of things. Being good, or even great, is something you have to work at.

But the first step is in being able to accept the fact that you do, indeed, suck.

I don’t believe in natural talent – the idea that certain people are born with special skills that allow them to, say, play the piano above par or shoot free throws especially well. There are certainly some people who are born with favorable physical characteristics that help them in some tasks, and there are certainly skills that favor these people. But most skills are picked up not through talent, but disposition. I’m not good at working with my hands not because I lack a talent for it, but because I lack the patience to learn how to build things properly. I was a terrible piano player as a child not because I wasn’t meant to play the piano, but because I didn’t enjoy practicing the piano; I was more passionate about percussion instruments instead. I never learned to draw because I didn’t want to put the time into drawing correctly; I wanted to write instead because I found it easier to do since my parents had worked with me on developing my communication skills early on in life.

Our bodies and minds are machines that are made to adapt themselves to our environments. We direct them, and they respond to our passions. This is one of the reasons that we often believe that there is truth to the idea that “you can do anything if you put your mind to it.” We all know we can’t truly do anything, but we know that if we apply ourselves fully, we can often reach heights we’d never considered possible.

In a world where things are quantitative, we can respond to goals and achieve them. If I know how fast I ran a race the last time I tried it, I can attempt to run faster the next time. If I know I played a concerto and made seventeen mistakes, I can attempt to play it again with fewer mistakes the next time.

But in a world where things are qualitative — such as a creative effort — we have fewer metrics for success. Part of the reason for this is because qualitative efforts require subjective judgments. Who can really say with absolute certainty that one restaurant is clearly better than another, or an original film is superior to its sequel? We can evaluate technical merits, we can offer a comparative analysis, and we can even look to outside sources to vindicate our judgment. But in the end, all we can really offer are opinions…Opinions such as “this is great,” or “this sucks.”

Sometimes, we don’t; it’s just someone’s opinion that we do. But often, there’s truth to the statement, on some level, and often, it’s a sign that we need to work harder on our next effort.

Here are a few ways to evaluate whether or not a creative effort truly sucks… and to turn that negative statement into something positive you can use to improve yourself.

1) Is my creative effort below par? Often, people say “this sucks” because it doesn’t live up to their expectations of what something should be. In the comic book world, for example, I’ve often felt that the self-published work one can find in Artist’s Alley at a major convention sucks because it’s not on par with the professional work I’ve seen. Sometimes, it’s because the artist has rushed the work to get it ready for the show, but often, it’s because the artist isn’t nearly ready to hang with the professionals. Fortunately, artists have an amazing capacity to get better when they work at it; the more they study, the better they can become. But study also involves a certain sense of humility; we study to get better because we realize we need to improve.

Writers often suffer from this problem; they create a story that they can’t see being told any other way, only to be told that it “sucks” and that it could be done better when they present it to an audience. And truthfully, most of the time, the critics are right; writers tend to fall in love with their own wording and forget about their readers. The best writing is not that which interests the author; it is that which captivates its audience.

A few years ago, I was hired to write a story called Sixgun Samurai for a friend of mine, and I took on the challenge because I saw something interesting in the story. But the way I told the story — focusing on the history of the character instead of the action — made it unappealing to readers, and I even got a bad review saying that I shouldn’t be trying to write comic books. My response to this was not to get angry; it was to weigh the reviewer’s comments, see if they had merit, accept the points that were valid, and move on. Suffice it to say that I’ll never tell a story that way again; it sucked, and even I can see that now. But in the meantime, I’ve studied the structure of storytelling and forced myself to learn from my mistakes.

2) Is my creative effort easily misunderstood? This might be the case with some projects, though I’ve found that many people who have to constantly defend their work often are simply sucking and not realizing it. A simple rule of the thumb is this: if you have to explain your work, it’s not connecting with your audience. If you want to continue producing work that might be misunderstood, find ways to clue your audience in. If you want to produce work that your audience “gets,” test your work with people over and over without explanation until you get it right.

3) Do I lack skill? I wish that more people would ask this question of themselves. I ask it every time I write something, and I’ve found that it helps me to be a better writer overall. Being self-aware is extremely important when you’re creating something, and being aware of your faults is the surest way of not letting them get in your way. I’ve met far too many writers and artists who are not ready to work at a professional level who think very highly of themselves nonetheless. These are the same folks who love to argue when they’re told that they suck instead of quietly admitting that yes, they could be better.

4) Am I showing this to the wrong audience? I can’t stand most television sitcoms, because the jokes are predictable and the characters are two-dimensional. Therefore, I’m the wrong person to approach with your script for a sitcom pilot. My taste in humor moves towards the dry and the deranged; I’ll take It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia over Two and a Half Men any day, and I think the British version of The Office is far superior to its American counterpart.

Likewise, many creative people have ideas that might appeal to one audience, but which are being presented to another. One example I’ll give are in the folks who want to create Christian comics. Christian readers aren’t interested in comics, and never really have been; history has demonstrated time and time again that Christians would rather read the same comics that everyone else is reading and not their own alternative books where superheroes pray to Jesus before beating up the bad guys. Nor do Christians want to read Biblical-based graphic novels or the continuing adventures of the apostles. It’s just not that exciting to them when they could be reading Batman or Spider-Man instead.

But, there are people outside the Christian market who might appreciate comic books that talk about morality and theology. There are people who find the mythology of Christianity fascinating, even if they don’t follow the religion. These people might be more receptive to Christian-themed comics, but they’re never reached, because the Christian comic book creators are too geared at reaching a niche market of disinterested readers. And thus, because they dress their work to serve this market, their final product sucks.

Different people and different cultures like different things. Some creative efforts are good for the right audience, but will be despised by everyone else. That’s just the way the world works. But keep in mind that if you create to satisfy a niche (which is a viable thing to do as a creative person), you will be ignored by the world at large.

5) Are my friends telling me my work is great because they’re afraid to tell me it’s not? This is a big problem for people; I often have looked over portfolios of artists who have been told that their work is fantastic when it clearly is not. They can’t see that they suck because they’ve sought opinions from people who either don’t know better or who would rather not hurt their feelings. These are the most dangerous opinions a creative person can seek out, because they don’t reflect reality.

I’ve noticed that the internet is a breeding ground for this sort of opinion, especially in communities where people come together because of shared interests. Fanfiction communities, often filled with some of the worst writing one could hope to find online, typically praise bad writers. Poetry websites are also pretty bad about telling people that they suck. Online art galleries and web comics are among the worst, since people often post garbage that they’ve thrown together only to receive accolades from their friends because they included a reference to Final Fantasy VII in their work.

If you want to know what people really think of your work, show it to strangers who know something about your field and ask them to be brutal. More often than not, they’ll knock you down quite a few pegs and tell you that you suck. But at least then, you’ll know that you shouldn’t trust your friends for criticism.

How not to suck

It’s easy to suck; it’s our natural state. No one starts out as a professional in anything. I’ve heard that if you want to be a professional piano player, you have to practice for 10,000 hours – that would take three and a half years if you did so for eight hours a day, every day. The same is probably true of anything. If you want to be good at something, you have to practice, you have to accept criticism, and you have to strive to improve. You have to constantly struggle with what it means to be among the best, and you have to allow yourself to become passionate about being among the best.

The good news is that the better you get at something, the less effort it takes to do it. That means you have more time to focus on making it good. The more you practice at doing something, the better you’ll get. It doesn’t mean that you’ll get rich or that you’ll be successful; those both come from being lucky and being persistent more than anything. But it does mean that you’ll suck a lot less.

And eventually, it might even mean that you don’t suck at all.

-SJJ

Have you ever had an idea of your own that you had to share with all of your friends because you weren’t sure if it was any good?

Have you ever realized that you have far more ideas for projects than you could ever hope to develop?

Most people don’t get into the business of publishing for the money — they do it for the satisfaction of creating something cool. And whether you’re writing and/or publishing fiction, non-fiction, screenplays, plays, comic books, songs or articles, there’s something immensely satisfying about turning an idea into something from an idea into a tangible product.

But did you ever realize that one of the biggest mistakes creative people make is to talk about their ideas too often, to too many people?

I used to be the same way. In fact, if you ask anyone who knows me well, they’ll tell you that my catch phrase is, “I have an idea!”.

I’m an idea generator; if I think about a topic long, my mind will go active and start interjecting all sorts of wonderful stuff for me to consider. When I was a member of a church group many years ago, I was bothered by the group’s lack of outreach to the community and immediately began writing a comprehensive plan of ten ways we could improve and expand. When I joined on with Dabel Brothers Publishing in 2002 as a PR guy, I didn’t just write press releases and set up media interviews; I constantly came up with ideas on how we could improve our sales, our brand, and our products. When I was working for a retail chain a few years ago as a manager, I didn’t just make sales and deal with employees; I was constantly thinking of ways to improve my store, its image in the community, and my staff members’ interactions with customers.

But as exciting as that all sounds, I paid a price for those ideas, too. In the case of the church group, I was ostracized by the leaders for trying to undermine their authority. In the case of the comic book company, I’ve often been treated badly by publishing partners who thought they knew better than me. And in the case of the retail store, I was often accused of spending too much time coming up with new ideas and not enough time enforcing the old ones. Oh, and in all three cases, I’ve had people steal my ideas and take credit for them.

As a result, I’ve come to realize that ideas are a great and wonderful thing, but that the most important skill a creative person can develop is in learning to have discretion about sharing them. This is particularly true if you are the sort of person who will tell a complete stranger about the million-dollar idea you have for a story that you’re developing just because you think they might be interested. After all, while the chances are good that neither you nor the person you’ve spoken to will ever do anything with that idea, there is always still a chance that the person you’ve spoken to will steal your idea outright. This happens all the time in the film industry, and it happens just as frequently in office environments.

So, what do you do when you’ve got an idea? Here are the steps I’ve learned to take.

1. Write it down – Keep a notepad and a pencil with you as often as possible. When you get an idea, write it down, in as much detail as possible. Write down how you got the idea and where it occurred to you. Don’t show the idea to anyone, and don’t talk about it to anyone. Just focus on getting the concept out of your head and onto something tangible.If you don’t want to carry around a notebook, get a PDA-style cellphone that lets you write notes and send email. You can also use a service like Jott that allows you to call in and leave short messages for yourself.Getting the idea onto a medium of some sort will have immediate benefits. For starters, you’ll have a record of the idea in its original context. (You’ll also have some documented proof that the idea was original, but that’s not really the purpose here). You’ll also be less likely to forget the idea when you get away from the moment and back to your normal life. What’s more, you’ll be able to see that you really have a lot more ideas than you’ve ever realized, and you’ll be able to decide which are worth you immediate attention, and which need to be tucked away for later.

   But the best benefit is that you’ll have the idea out of your head, and you won’t have to obsess about it since you’ll know it’s written down. That’s what I enjoy.

2. Sleep on it: Most ideas seem like the best thing ever… when you first come up with them. But often, if you can get past the initial thrill, you’ll realize that your idea isn’t as good or original as it may have seemed. If you wait a day or two and then return to your written idea, you’ll be in a much better position to judge whether or not you want to move forward on the idea or save it for another time.I never advise discarding an idea from your notebook. I do advise leaving notes (with the time and date, if possible!) about whether or not the idea’s worth moving forward on. Sometimes, you get a great idea when you just can’t do anything about it; other times, you get a bad idea that can be turned into a good idea when you have more life experience and knowledge.
3. Rewrite it: If you’ve got an idea in your notebook you want to move forward with, grab your computer or a bunch of paper, sit down, and write it all out.Start by describing the basic concept in a one-page summary, and don’t go into a lot of detail; you’re essentially sketching the dimensions of your idea by doing this, and setting up the framework for development. You will probably revise this summary often as you develop the idea, so use it as a guide, not an absolute.Next, begin a detailed description of what you want to do. This does not need to be organized or written in any specific style; it just needs to include notes that help you define the idea. This can be anywhere from one page to a hundred pages or more; what’s important is that it’s thorough.

   Once you’re done with that, start doing some research. See if anyone’s already doing what you’re doing, and, if they are, determine how you can do it better. Don’t be discouraged if someone seems to have the same idea you do; generally, it’s only the same on the surface, and you have the advantage of learning from their mistakes to make your idea even better. If you don’t see anyone doing what you’re doing, try to find things that are similar. It’s hard to introduce a brand new idea if it’s too radically different from other things that are out there.

   Finally, close with a timeline that outlines your development strategy. The reason you’ll need this is so you actually bother to go through the steps to finish your idea. You may also discover, in the process, that you just don’t have the time to get it done. But that’s useful to know, since you can rearrange your schedule if the idea is strong enough!

4. Show it to someone whom you trust: Now that you’ve got a fully documented and developed idea, it’s finally time to tell someone! But don’t just tell anyone; share the idea with someone you trust to give you good feedback. If it’s not someone with whom you have a lot of personal contact, you might consider having them sign a non-disclosure agreement first. Not only will this protect you, but it will make them take the idea seriously as well. Use their critique to determine the effectiveness of your concept, and take what they offer to heart. They could become a user of your idea one day!Use this stage to constantly revise and refine your idea. Go back to step 3 for awhile if you feel your “test audience” just isn’t getting what you want to accomplish. Don’t move forward with an idea that isn’t ready; take the time to make it good.

   Please note that if your idea is something you want to publish, it’s probably too early to be hassling an editor or publisher, unless they’re a personal friend willing to offer you a critique.

5. Take action. Once you’re done showing your idea to a test audience, it’s ready for development. If it’s a something you can create on your own, get started! If it’s something you need to attract funding to create, you’ll have something to show private investors (though you’ll need a formal business or product plan for the banks). If it’s something you need other people to create, you’ll have something to show the people you recruit so they’ll know what they’re getting into.And even though you’re moving forward, be careful how much you say about your idea until you’re ready to start your marketing! At that point, refer to my site for other articles on how you can market an idea.