Peg Kerr's Journal

A new milestone today: another writer contacted me to ask whether I'd be willing to take a look at her novel manuscript and write a blurb for it for her editor. I sent off a message to say, sure, send it along and I'll take a look.

I was pleased to be asked, but also, admittedly, a little startled. kijjohnson and I laugh about it sometimes: it's hard to believe that people are turning to us to mentor them, because we still feel like neophytes, barely wet behind the ears, trying to figure things out ourselves. And then she'll mention another course she's going to teach on writing, and I mention a manuscript I'm vetting for someone else. Or else I'm at a convention, answering questions for people who want to write, and I look around and have to admit, okay, I probably do know more and have more experience than anyone else in the room. When on earth did that happen?

I feel very fortunate in that I've had some fantastic mentors at quite a few crucial stages of my career. Minneapolis is really a hotbed for nurturing writers, particularly sf/fantasy writers. Locals include (or have included in the past) Eleanor Arnason, Bruce Bethke, Joel Rosenberg, Ruth Berman, Patricia C. Wrede, Caroline Stevemer, Phil Jennings, Lois McMaster Bujold, Steven K. Brust, Emma Bull, Will Shetterly, Kara Dalkey, John M. Ford, Kij Johnson, Carolyn Ives Gilman, Terry Garey, Katya Reiman, Gordon Dickson, John Sladek (and there's also Laurie Winter, John Calvin Rezmerski, and Neil Gaiman who live in cities pretty close by). We have excellent genre bookstores and thriving fan community and conventions.

Kij and I vividly remember a lunch we had with Eleanor Arnason and Patricia C. Hodgell at a Minicon convention years ago. All four of us went to lunch, and Kij and I asked these two established pros anything we could think of that we wanted to know. We were both so touched by the generosity they showed to us by answering our questions. Both Kij and I had toyed with the idea of writing, but this was the first time that someone who knew the ropes took notice of us, treated us with serious consideration and let us know, by giving us their attention and answering questions: yes, this is possible, and you could do this if you want to do it.

I kept going to convention panels and buttonholing authors, asking questions. Tell me about how you first became published. Tell me about writing your first novel. And they kept answering. My questions became less naive as I learned more and more, but I was always astonished at how generous so many people were in answering questions that they must have heard many times before. Several of them spelled it out for me: "We're answering these questions for you because others answered them for us. Someday you'll mentor writers, too, and you'll do the same."

And you know? They're right: I am answering questions for writers now. I do enjoy it, not only because I'm very aware of my pay-it-forward debt, but because it's a great deal of fun--particularly when you're lucky enough to find a very good writer at the beginning of his or her career who's really starting to shine, and then you get to bask in the reflected glow of a new writer's accomplishments. (Say, for example, Lyda Morehouse).

I've gotten lots of bits of excellent advice from mentors over the years, but here are a few of the insights that really have made a difference for me, that I try to pass on myself to new writers now whenever I answer questions.

Tim Powers was one of my teachers at Clarion, and he told me:

"If one person tells you that a story doesn't work although you still believe in it, remember that this simply means it doesn't mean for that person. All you have to do is find the person it does work for, preferably an editor with a checkbook. Once you have the check in hand, the bank will cash it, even if the editor at a different magazine rejected the story. Be willing to take a second look at your work and maybe make revisions, but don't let one rejection make you give up on a story if you really believe in it."

Tim also told us:

"Remember to remain a decent human being as you try to learn to be a writer. Don't approach people with only the thought 'What good will knowing you do for my career?' Spend time with people, at conventions and anywhere else, because you enjoy their company, not because you want to make use of them. Don't snub people just because, say, they're unpublished writers and you want to be seen as a pro. And don't badmouth people--this field is too small, and it will always get back to the person."

Kim Stanley Robinson, also one of my Clarion teachers, told us something very simple, but this has always really stuck with me, too:

"How do you write? Learn about different techniques and then do whatever works for you. As a teacher, I can tell you what works for me, but you may have a totally different technique, and that's okay."

And now that I've given you those priceless pieces of wisdom that it's taken me years to cull, I'm off to work on Lois' manuscript a bit more and then to bed.

Cheers,
Peg