Lies they tell writers, Part 51: Think positive.

I heard a lady say the other day that you have to think positive. That if you don’t think you can do something, you will never do it. She wasn’t talking about writing, but I have heard the same thing said about writing. Believe in yourself, don’t be critical of yourself, and that sort of thing.

I disagree. I think writers should always doubt themselves. Always question themselves. Always wonder if the words they’ve just written are as good as they should be. To always worry that what they’ve written doesn’t cut the mustard.

That kind of “negative” attitude, I believe, spurs us to try harder, to apply extra effort, and, ultimately, to write better.

If a writer is willing to go the extra mile, to never rest, to bend over backward, to always challenge what’s on the page, that writer will surpass the “I think I can” attitude of the little engine that could, and become the writer who did.

And, did it better.

Off to college.

The Utah Valley University Book Academy is coming up. 

Friday, October 11, from 8:00 in the morning until 4:30, a bunch of writers of all kinds will host workshops, panel discussions, and other events to help aspiring authors find their way into and through the complicated world of writing and publishing books—and other media as well.

I have been invited to sit on two panel discussions with other authors, one on writing poetry and another on writing effective opening lines for books or stories or whatever else you’re writing.

The UVU Book Academy will be held at the UVU Wasatch campus in Heber City. If you’ve not visited the Heber Valley on the backside of Utah’s Wasatch Mountains, you’ve missed seeing one of the most beautiful places in our state—and there’s a lot of competition when it comes to beauty in Utah.

If you’re in the vicinity, or can be, come join us at the UVU Book Academy.

And when I die.

We are all going to die. Our clock will stop and that will be the end of us on the earth. For most of us, our passing will be of little note, even at the time. And then, I heard or read somewhere, when the last person who knew us also dies, we will be altogether forgotten. Other than our posterity, who may know us only as a name on records, there will be no memory of our ever having been here.

But there is this.

For those of us who wiled away part of our lives putting words on paper, our names will live on in some fashion. On the shelves of libraries and archives there will stand books with my name on the spine. Some of the books some of us write will be saved for decades, even centuries. We will have created things that are as close to indelible as anything mankind creates. After all, we still read books written thousands of years ago, and know something of the people who wrote them.

This, of course, does not mean our books or our names will enjoy that same longevity. But, at the very least, I will have left something behind to note my passing. Somehow, that seems to matter, somewhat.