The Superversive

The Wardhall Grammary, in its inerrant truthfulness and spasmodic brilliance, offers these sage words on the subject of Nature:

‘This word is seldom used correctly, but there is widespread agreement as to its misuse. Two schools of thought are generally current: those who say that Man is a part of Nature, and those who deny it. The former frequently use the phrase human nature, meaning that their peculiar and vicious habits are to be excused because Nature is their author. The latter talk largely of preserving or protecting Nature, meaning that the plans, professions, and even the lives of their opponents are contrary to Nature and must therefore be abolished. Some adepts are sufficiently agile to belong to both schools simultaneously. For these, Nature is both a cloak of virtue for themselves and a stick with which to beat their enemies.’

Writing is like yoga.

It’s also like sex, cooking, parenthood, opera, war, gardening, and conjugating French verbs. But we’re going to go with the yoga analogy for now.

In my yoga class, my teacher tells me to think about my rib cage, my thigh muscles, my spine, my breath, my gaze, my ankles, my mouth, my cheeks, my hands, my balance, my toes, my belly, my kidneys, and The Universal. She also, at the same time, tells me to clear my mind and think of nothing. Then she tells me to stand on my left earlobe.

I’m sure the obvious parallels to writing are instantly apparent to you.

—Laura Resnick, Rejection, Romance, and Royalties

Consider the agent, going through 300 manuscripts in the slush pile that have accumulated over the last month.

She’s not looking to help writers. She’s panning for gold. And to do that, you have to sift through dirt. It might be some very good dirt she’s dismissing. But it is still dirt.

Be the gold.

The best way to get published, or to win a contest, is to shine. Don’t be mistaken for dirt. Don’t do anything that lets them reject you — because they’re looking to reject you unless you can show them you’re brilliant.