Indie gurus’ academic problem

Full disclosure, I suppose – I was listening to Kevin J. Anderson’s latest 20Books presentation on my commute and had to stop after about ten minutes. So many indie gurus like to demean English teachers, particularly professors, when they’re really talking about singular examples, or perhaps a construct in their head. These straw teachers are easy to dismiss to make a point, but I think that’s lazy and does nothing to help the current lack of critical thinking we have here in the States. I don’t know where indie gurus think critical thinking comes from. I posted this out of frustration.

Indie publishing has an elitism problem: the big chip on its shoulder when it comes to academia. Some still struggle against the outdated idea that indie publishing isn’t “legit” and use English teachers as scapegoats. I get it, and…

Perhaps “your” English teacher had a gatekeeping issue. Perhaps “your” English teacher wanted to designate between “literature” and “trash.” But the vast majority of people teaching English are not like this anymore. In the 1960s and 1980s, sure, and…

Most 2023 English professors are contingent and precarious. Most can’t earn a livable wage working at one college and take on additional classes. Most are members of marginalized communities. Most may not have health insurance, and…

The public discourse is against them since our classes are the first and last place a student will be exposed to critical thinking and unfamiliar texts. Our classes may also be the only place a student feels their voice is valued, and…

Sure, some prioritize “classics” over “genre,” but as we convince students they need college to succeed, we demonize the skills that a liberal education provides. The “English major” is a running joke, but…

When indie gurus blame English teachers, they forget that a good number of us may teach English. The romance writing world, in particular, is full of teachers. You can’t be the rebel indie writer if you’re singing the same song as the hegemony, and…

I’ve never worked with an English teacher who wasn’t dedicated to lifting student voices, and who strived in the face of administrative hurdles or massive burnout. Telling writers that their English teachers ruined them is lazy advice.

I use strategies I learn from indie authors to help students enjoy writing, only to read another guru blog post or watch another presentation that paints all English teachers with a brush dipped in a 1960s-era bucket, and…

(Not all of that advice will work with academic writing. As someone who writes both fiction and research, there are big differences between genre expectations. Anyone who dismisses the challenges of a genre they don’t write should not be taken seriously.)

I didn’t put this paragraph in the thread because it felt mean and focused, which wasn’t the tone I was going for. I put it here because it accurately represents what I was feeling at the time. (And, in certain indie author areas, could essentially uncover one of the sources of my frustration.) Today I was excited to learn some new productivity tricks, but again I was told that I was the problem. The indie gurus are too successful to use an academic straw man in order to pander the same advice Heinlein published 70+ years ago.

English teachers are not your enemy or your reason for failure. Look at your real gatekeepers. Learn from them, I guess, but then cast their attitudes aside.

Your voice and your story are what matter.

I added the following paragraph when I omitted the other paragraph since I needed to keep it at 11 posts: I teach composition and try to make time to write. I succeed, and then I fail. But above all, I love the process. I love student writing and I love getting them to love their own writing. Don’t make this harder.

You can see the original thread here, though I don’t get a lot of exposure (which is fine, I don’t want to give “X” my money.)

Keeping those dry spells short

And as with all patterns, we can look at them as self-contained little programs: they have a trigger, they execute certain actions, and they have an (often elusive) off-switch.

I find that when I spend a day doing writing-related work, but not writing, I go into the wrong rabbit hole and get away from my story. This is a pattern I now recognize.

And as with all patterns, we can look at them as self-contained little programs: they have a trigger, they execute certain actions, and they have an (often elusive) off-switch.

So, now that I am finally recognizing this pattern, I can expect the off-switch, in fact, I can accelerate the program by eliminating many of the repetitive strings of behavior that take place before despair forces a new action (and a new program).

My writing program can be overwhelming at times, and I’ve come to understand that if I relax some of that binge-writing behavior, I can sustain a writing practice for longer – or, more realistically, I can keep the distraction program at bay. It will still appear and it will still run, but knowing that a thing has an ending makes it easier to endure.

Like all that advice when you have a bad break-up that boils down to “this too shall pass,” while feeling like nonsense in the moment, is 100% true (if you let it, that is).

So, I saw the end of the thing, I made some good use of the distracting functions within the larger program itself, and now I’m heading back to the writing program – literally and figuratively.

Wound Season 2 Finished – phew

I originally started writing Wound back in 2021 to try out the new Kindle Vella platform. I’d been posting some other stories (The Shape of Us and others) with other venues and enjoyed the process of writing an episodic story. While I’ve had some qualms about the Vella platform (no one knows about it, the top stories rarely change) the biggest issue has been my inconsistency with publishing. I’m the Togashi Yoshihiro of Vella authors. Though, without two beloved franchises and a large fan base. I’ve just got the intermittency down pat.

But this week I wrote the last three episodes of Season 2 (ep. 48-50), and the last episode will be live on November 10th – this Friday. Boy, am I happy.

The trouble was episode 47. There was a lot I already had written about Paul’s experience in the Town Hall, and some of the most important dialogue I’d already worked out, but I couldn’t’ see how I could move into nor out of that episode. It was as dark to me as it was to Paul, though he can see in the dark now, so whatever Paul, you jerk!

Then I realized that I could use that to my advantage and, as Dean Wesley Smith says, just “write into the dark.” It didn’t matter what I wanted to happen, or how the next scene would start. I just needed to write the next sentence and let the characters figure it out.

It worked–because of course it worked. It’s even worked for me before and it works every time I re-remember that this is what writing is about. Not plotting or scaffolding or snowflaking, at least not for me. Writing has to be fun and scary and unknown.

I dove in and let Paul tell me what to write. I fought with him a bit here and there, mostly to get him angry, but then we went somewhere I didn’t expect, someplace not on my story GPS. It scared me. And because it scared me, it scared Paul. Good!*

So, if you’d like to read Wound, all 50 episodes so far, I’d love to hear your comments. Season 3 is bubbling up in my head right now, but I’m not going to let it stew too long. I’m gonna jump right in and drown.

*Don’t worry about Paul. He’s an ass, but I love him and will celebrate and torture him as much as possible.