Alone with the Page: The Costs of Writing in Solitude
A cautionary tale about why artists need a circle of support
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In this session, I’ll share the most common, most detrimental mistakes I see in the scripts I edit and provide practical steps to overcome them.
I had lunch with a unicorn yesterday.
I’ve mentioned before that I don’t do well talking about myself with friends, especially my creative side. I’ve learned to keep that hidden so I don’t have to deal with the realization that my friends don’t actually care about the real me (but I’m working on it, so please don’t reach out to tell me it’s wrong to live this way...I already know).
But yesterday was different.
Not only did a friend ask about what I’m working on, but he also seemed genuinely happy to hear about my successes and listened to my worries without judgment. Perhaps best of all, he never even hinted at the need to do more.
We were just two artists talking about making things.
I can’t tell you how rare that is for me.
And guess what? I immediately went home and wrote 2500 words.
This simple act of...it’s not even kindness, really, it’s just one human showing a hint of interest in another human, which feels uncommon these days...but whatever it was, our conversation had enough of an impact that I wanted to share some truth in case you’re feeling overwhelmed or alone…
It’s Who You Know
Despite the wealth of information I provide in my series of articles about working with Dark Horse Comics, the line commented on most often is this one: it’s who you know.
Some writers use it as an excuse to explain why they’re not being published. Others use it as a reason to network, then get upset when a stranger they pinned their hopes on isn’t interested in helping them.
Here’s what too many people miss: the whole “it’s who you know” means your inner circle, too.
When promoting House of Fear, I ran out of gas when I needed it most. I won’t rehash it here, but to summarize: by the time the book was released, I bonked. I just couldn’t do it anymore.
What I didn’t mention in that Dark Horse article is that I did it all alone. At that point in the process, I was flying solo. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, either, which only made it more stressful to be alone during all of it.
But without friends, mentors, or cheerleaders, I eventually faltered.
I should note that my wife provides unconditional support. She’s incredible. She’s my rock. So I had support at home. But she wasn’t in the trenches, and while I couldn’t do any of this without her, I needed help from the inside. From someone who had experience with what I was dealing with.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t built that support system.
Sure, I had a few friends online, but honestly, I’m not even sure I would’ve known how to ask for help.
Besides, at the time, most of my social media messages were from strangers asking me to back their Kickstarter campaigns or an acquaintance seeking advice on how to pitch Dark Horse.
Meanwhile, in real life, my closest friend was a writer I’d known since college. When he learned I was being published, his reaction was akin to, “Oh, cool.” His reaction was no more enthusiastic than had I said it might rain this weekend.
Eventually, I noticed he was more interested in my struggles than my successes. It’s called Schadenfreude, a German term that translates to "harm-joy." It refers to the feeling of pleasure or satisfaction derived from someone else's misfortune.
My other local friends, well, they were happy enough for me, but they didn’t seem interested in hearing about writing or publishing, which is why I eventually hid that side of myself from them, too.
Have you ever been enthusiastic about sharing your latest win and telling friends about finishing a piece of art, only to be met by a complete lack of interest?
It sucks.
It’s bad enough when sharing yourself with those who don’t understand art, but it can feel even worse when talking to other artists.
Here’s a harsh truth I kept hidden for years: I never felt like I belonged in comics.
It was all self-motivation from start to finish. I did it for fun. I loved writing the scripts and working with artists who brought those stories to life. So, even with what I’m about to say, I enjoyed the process of making comics and sharing them with readers.
But like you, I’m human. I have wants and needs, including the desire to surround myself with others who like similar things. I want to be a part of a group. To feel included.
As it turned out, writing and self-publishing a comic wasn’t enough to feel welcomed by the “in” crowd. Or any comic crowd, really. It was as if I had to prove myself every step of the way. There was a passcode to get into the party, but the code changed every night.
This has nothing to do with quality. My comics were good.
Quality doesn’t matter in this regard, anyway. I thought I belonged simply because I wrote a few books. Because I loved writing just like everyone else. To me, that’s all anyone should need to be welcomed with open arms.
But for some reason, comics are… cutthroat? It sounds ridiculous when you think about grown adults making colorful stories, but it’s true. Creators were always sizing me up. Their words and actions told me I hadn’t done enough yet. I hadn’t scaled the ladder high enough to warrant their attention.
And when I had proven myself just a little? Then the conversations changed, at least with some of them. Suddenly, it was about how my experiences could help them. They still weren’t interested in me or my comics; they were looking for information that might help them or looking for me to share their campaigns with my audience.
I saw everyone clamoring for attention. There wasn’t time to lift others, as if we were competitors instead of teammates.
The more comics I made, the more I learned to shrivel and hide. Instead of hyping my comics, it was best to keep in the shadows.
When I try to express these thoughts and feelings, this is where someone usually pipes in and says I was doing it for the wrong reasons. That I was seeking outside validation. As if wanting to be a part of something is a sin against art itself.
“Hey, Ma, have I suffered alone long enough yet? Do I finally get my badge? Am I a writer now?”
I’ve found that the people who tell others they failed because they don’t love it enough are the ones who already have the support they need to fight through the inevitable low points. They just don’t recognize it as such because it’s something they’ve grown accustomed to.
Anyway, I know others love making stories as much as I do; it’s just that many of them don’t understand we’re all on the same team. They forget that networking is more about friendship and collaboration, not just about getting someone to pay attention.
In the first draft of this post, I shared examples, but this is already feeling too close to a therapy session, so I’ve removed them. You’ll just have to trust that I know why I feel how I do.
Even as I type this, I realize how cynical this all sounds. I’m usually far more optimistic, but damn, comics are brutal.
The point I’m trying to make is that I love writing and publishing.
But it’s fucking hard.
And love isn’t always enough to get you through.
I mean, seriously, there are something like 15,000 steps to writing, publishing, and promoting your books. That is so much to take on alone, especially when most of those steps are completely foreign to you.
I know, I know. I’m acting like Sisyphus over here. Writing and publishing can’t be that hard, can it?
No, I’m sure pushing a giant boulder is more difficult, but it’s actually not a bad analogy. In this case, the boulder is made up of all the expectations you have of yourself…all those dreams you secretly hold in your heart...all those tasks you’re supposed to handle with ease because real writers don’t struggle, they just smile because they love writing, and as we all know, love and determination are all you need.
Shut up and go write.
Come out of your cave when you have something worthwhile to read.

No, Seriously, It’s Who You Know
I recently read My Heart is a Chainsaw by Stephen Graham Jones. I don’t usually read the acknowledgement pages in the books I read, but I did this time, and damn, that dude has a lot of friends in his corner. Not just an agent and an editor. There were several pages devoted to recognizing those who helped him.
Seeing Jones recognize others that way got me thinking a little closer to home, if not physically, then at least in the virtual world around me…
I’ve mentioned Clay Adams before because he’s a damn good writer and comic letterer. But guess what? He doesn’t do all of this alone. He shares office space with Mick Beyers, a damn good artist. They’ve developed a collaboration that works, and I have no doubt they laugh and brainstorm together when they can. They support and motivate one another, too, even if they don’t label it that way.
Or look at Kat Calamia and Phil Falco. Together, they are Lifeline Comics. Blink, and they’ve got another campaign starting on Kickstarter. They work together creatively and on a business level. I guarantee they motivate and support one another, celebrate and hype one another, too. Just look at how much fun they have packaging and shipping comics. They’re both great writers in their own right, but damn, put them together, and they’re a force.
I’ve met with John Edingfield II and Ryan Kroboth a few times, and they could sell tickets to their brainstorming sessions. Together, they are Commonwealth Comics. They’re just two dudes laughing and making fun comics that are an entertaining breath of fresh air (like Wurst & Mayhem, which I edited and you should read). If you ever want to feel like a kid again, hang out with these two.
Sounds cool, right? Sure beats moping around the basement, wondering if you’ll ever be somebody.
Look, in a way, this isn’t a big deal. It’s not rocket science. I’m just suggesting you find like-minded people and create with them. Support one another. Have fun together.
I’m talking to you novelists out there, too. There are reading and writing groups that’d love to have you. Editors, beta readers, and cover artists can be a part of your group, too. If the people you’re with aren’t interested in that side of you, find someone who is.
Look, I know finding friends as an adult is hard, and the loneliness epidemic makes it harder, not easier. Believe me, I feel that in my soul. But based on the fleeting experiences I’ve had when talking shop with fellow writers and artists, it’s worth putting yourself out there.
Unfortunately, this is a practice what I preach, not what I do sort of thing. Sorry, I don’t have a Five Steps to Success list. Consider this a cautionary tale, and ask yourself if maybe, just maybe, I could’ve published a few more books with other publishers if I hadn’t hidden myself so well.
It won’t always be sunshine and warm hugs, even when surrounded by others. I’m sure the writers and artists I mentioned above have their own trials and hardships.
And if you asked them, they’d just say they’re two creative friends who enjoy making comics.
Me? I see writers and artists who’ve already figured out the “it’s who you know” loophole.
I see collaboration and support, friendship and motivation.
I see a group of writers and artists who were succeeding together long before they succeeded in public.
And that’s where “it’s who you know” really counts.
Go find your tribe.
Stop taking it on the chin and struggling alone.
Fuck that lone writer bullshit.
There are approximately 15,339 steps in publishing. Every step gets easier the more you do them, but it’s much easier if you have support.
I bet it’s more fun, too.
A post like this takes guts. Just wanted to share with you that it's highly appreciated,
James, you stay preaching to me when I need it the most. Thanks for posting this. I have been struggling as to why it has been so hard to stay motivated and reading this makes me see that I need more than just Nate fans, no matter how much I appreciate those. Time to start building my network.