I think a lot about the people who design roller coasters. Do they enjoy their job? Many probably do, but I’m sure there are some that don’t, despite the fact that what they do provides so many people joy.

The people who design roller coasters and don’t enjoy their job have a lot in common with many writers.

Someone recently wrote to me, “I had to stop reading your book on the bus because I was laughing so hard and people were starting to look at me. You must have had a lot of fun writing it.”

Do I correct them and let them know that writing a book is a miserable and lonely endeavor? Of course not. I wrote back thanking them and saved my thoughts on writing for lucky you.

Writing a book isn’t fun.

The process of writing a book is an emotional roller coaster.

Your idea is brilliant. Then you start writing it and it’s awful. Who are you to put such garbage on the screen? But you’ve already started so you keep going with no end in sight. You finish the first draft and hit an all time low. No one wants to read this. You’re a fraud. Pan handlers on freeway exits have more articulate writing. Since it’s already written, you might as well get to editing it. After some time (a lot of time), you switch from “this is the worst thing ever” to “this is an actual book people might enjoy.” I stress might because you never really know what people will think until the book is out in the wild.

I didn’t enjoy writing my first book. I enjoy having written the book, especially when I see reviews like one from a girl who read the book to her Grandma in the hospital and both of them laughed uncontrollably for a few minutes. But then there are the reviews from people who hate the book with such a passion that it makes me wonder if the people who like the book are living in an alternate reality where my writing isn’t terrible. It’s a scale that you can only hope tips toward the good.

The process of writing was tedious, full of doubts, and if I calculated the hourly rate for how much the book has earned vs how long it took to make, I’d be protesting my working conditions, yelling at myself, “That’s not a living wage!”

While writing the second book, something switched in my brain. I started with the same foolish optimism: this time it will be different because I’m experienced! Nope. I rode the peak down into the valley of despair. What a worthless pile of words strung together. Why am I even writing this?

It was then that a quote from Robert McKee’s book, Story, popped into my head:

“When talented people write well, it is generally for this reason: They’re moved by a desire to touch the audience.”

The problem is that I had approached writing from the wrong perspective, mainly thinking about myself. I was writing to impress myself.

Why do people do drugs, play slot machines, volunteer, or do anything else that provides pleasure?

From an article on the science of slot machines:

Instead, for many of the people Schüll interviewed, these slot machines have become a “gradual drip feed.” They play because they enjoy being in the zone and losing themselves in the machine. Some players she talked to confessed that they actually get annoyed when they won a jackpot — because it disrupted the flow of playing.

People crave the experience of getting outside themselves or losing themselves in a “flow” state of mind.

Happiness is paradoxical. It only really comes when you focus outside of yourself on what you can give to others instead of what you can do for yourself.

I should have learned this lesson from Bill Murray in the movie Groundhog Day. The conditions for the worst day of his life and the best day of his life are exactly the same. The only thing that changes is his perspective.

Change your perspective

While writing a book about the State Fair, something clicked where I stopped thinking about myself and instead focused on the question of “How can I make this a better experience for the reader?”

Before I had relied on my ability to amuse myself, which is almost impossible, like tickling oneself. Since it’s harder to make me laugh than the average person, I assumed that if I could amuse myself, then most people would also find it funny. While this worked for the first book (based on Amazon reviews), it’s not ultimately the best approach because it keeps you locked inside your head.

As Eric Hoffer once wrote, “A man by himself is in bad company.”

By thinking of the reader as I wrote, the process of writing became something I enjoyed for the first time. I wasn’t exactly typing away with a permagrin. But it became easier to detach my ego from the writing and instead of thinking about whether my writing was good or bad, I thought in terms of what will/won’t work for the reader.

Making this subtle shift transformed the challenges of writing from an obstacle into something that was almost a game. They were still challenges, but instead of being a pebble in my shoe, they were like a puzzle to figure out.

Some people say that you should write for yourself. Others say to completely focus on the reader. I think you need both. Have something to say and make something you’re proud of, but realize that the joy you get from having finished the book will only be equal to the response it receives from people who love it.

Asking the question “what will create the best experience for the reader?” got me outside of myself. The mental roller coaster emerged from the valley and I finished the second book while actually not hating the process of writing.

A summary of the lessons I’ve learned so far about the writing process: