The Sin of False Modesty

The sin of false modesty is one of the nasty traps along the path of the writer. Take steps to avoid it.

I got a submission a couple of days ago from a guy who practically apologized for sending the story – said it wasn't his best work, had a conventional opening (which most editors won't read beyond), and so forth. I wrote him back:

I'm not trying to be snotty here, but you shouldn't sell yourself so short in your opening paragraph. Calling your own story "stereotypical" and telling me it's not your best work is a quick route to rejection. Several editors I know would have rejected your story without reading it based on that paragraph. If you're not confident in your work, editors won't be either.

Confident, not arrogant.

You should be damned proud of the craft that obviously went into your work. As writers, we have a very tough job: create a world; populate it with people who breathe, talk and become real; sell the whole thing to some stranger a thousand miles away and, at the end of it all, if we're successful, get paid practically nothing for it. Then go back and do it over and over again.

There's no glamour. Very few writers make a living wage, much less thrive. We do it because we love it. That's definitely something to be proud of.

I used to actually be timid about admitting I was a writer – even after I'd had a bunch of sales. I worried that people would think I was weird (I am), or write me off as a Norman Bates/Lone Gunman/Jeffrey Dahmer in waiting (I'm not).

I'm not timid anymore. I'm proud. I trumpet that stuff to the clouds. Heck, yes, I'm a writer. Have I made much money? Pal, I create alternate realities out of thin air. Money? Pshaw.

And now that I'm editing this fantastic magazine (that's not bragging, since it's fantastic because of the great work of other people), you can't get me to shut up about it. I purposely use my laptop and work on it in public places. I sit with my back to the door so people walking into Starbucks see that cool art in the layout and say, “Hey, what's that?” I'm ordering business cards. When I get back to Minot, I'm going to call the local paper and get them to run an article on the magazine and this website. Before the end of the year, I expect to start selling T-shirts through CafePress and schmoozing my way onto panels at conventions (if I get invited, that'll be nice, but if I don't get invited, I'm going to be ever so rude and invite myself).

Is there an element of hucksterism and showbiz in this? Yep. You bet. Even if you're good enough and lucky enough to get a book published by a professional house, you're going to be footing the promotional bills for your first novel. Believe it.

If you're shy, you'd better find somebody with a big mouth who likes to say nice things about you, because you'll be rolling a little pebble up a very steep hill, hoping it'll be a boulder by the time it gets to the top. And never, ever say anything self-deprecating in a cover letter. You may feel insecure. You may feel like your story isn't that good. But somewhere inside you is the egocentric, megalomaniacal (did I spell that right?) lunatic bent on world domination – your own personal Ming the Merciless. The guy who conned you into submitting the story in the first place.

Don't listen to that other guy cowering in the corner saying, “Gee, I don't know if this is any good.” Listen to Ming, standing on a soapbox shouting, “I'm great! This story's great! I'm going to sell it and a hundred more like it and then novels and then I'm going to become the #1 bestselling author in the world!”

Tack a nefarious laugh on the end of it, like Skeletor from the He-Man cartoons. Gives the whole thing a better vibe.

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