Unsolicited Advice and Other Things You Don't Want to Hear

Photo Credit:Untitled Photograph [Woman Writing] by Mr. Stabile Today I want to address the would-be poets out there. More specifically, I want to offer some advice to all of you who have ink coursing through your veins, but who can't find: a) the time b) your voice c) your muse d) your pen.

The nuggets below are put forward with the sincere hope that you not fall prey to the same delusions, counterproductive thinking and wastes of time and energy that I did on my way to becoming the middlebrow hack you are now reading. That being said, I do not doubt that you will stumble upon every one of them as well as new and imaginative ones of your own, and that's okay. Think of it as paying your dues.

Sit down, shut up and write...or don't. Just stop whining about it.
If you have ever said, "I really want to be a writer, but I don't know what to write about,"* you should probably look for a line of work that doesn't require you to actually say something...pantomime perhaps, or corporate public relations.
If you have even ten minutes a day to waste on TV, you have time to write.
Can't find your voice? You'll find it on the college-ruled pages of a 99¢ composition book.
Your muse? It lives under one of the keys on your laptop. Just keep in mind that muses are notoriously reclusive, and refuse to suffer fools, so you will probably have to tap-tap-tap on those keys until your cuticles bleed before you get an answer, and even then you might not like what you hear. Continue to write anyway.
Inspiration is a will o' the wisp. It is elusive as well as illusive. Ask any writer you admire and she/he will tell you that it's not the writing; it's the re-writing. It's all about the slog, the long haul, the craft as opposed to the art. Get used to it.
Writing requires the discipline to work even when you would rather be doing something--anything--else up to and including smacking yourself in the face with a halibut. Embrace your inner ascetic.
Even if--especially if--you deleted every word you wrote on a given day, eat a peanut butter cup or five, and remind yourself that this is the way we learn.
Writing is like making love; everyone thinks they're good at it. Most are mistaken, but this will not prevent them from being roundly unimpressed by your talent and achievements. Try not to care.
Hoard writing cues (snippets of overheard speech, quotes from texts, ineffable feelings, funny sounding words, odd childhood memories--anything that gives you that weird tingle at the base of your skull, so that when you sit down to write, you won't fall victim to the Terror of the Blank Page.
Eventually you will hit a sweet spot and you will write brilliantly and effortlessly. It will not last. These are moments writers live for and if you get a handful of them in a lifetime--heck, if you get one in a lifetime, count yourself lucky.
Read, broadly as well as deeply.
When you find a text that knocks your socks off, try transcribing it. You will be amazed at what you missed in your reading, and you will get a better feel for the rhythms of exceptional writing.
Take pride in your rejection slips; use them as motivation. It's okay to hold grudges.
Back away from the computer, pick up a pencil and get to work. Now.