Three simple words that make all the difference

I recently heard Jerry Seinfeld on a podcast, and he was asked what it took to make it as a comedian. He said, “Everyone who makes it makes it because they want it more than anyone else. They just want it more.”

They want it more—but they also believe in themselves more.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot because I’ve been thinking of our mantra at National Novel Writing Month: “Your story matters.”

It’s easy to say a phrase like that over and over and forget about what it really means—and what that belief can lead to.

You have to believe your story matters to even notice a story idea speaking to you. You can’t hear the muses’ whispers if you don’t believe in yourself enough to listen.

You have to believe your story matters just to write the first word.

You have to believe your story matters to get through the muddy middle—or all of the versions of the muddy middles (there are many muddy middles, it turns out) that are fraught with self-doubt and exhaustion.

You have to believe your story matters to feel yourself as a real writer and not an imposter.

You have to believe your story matters to share it with others.

You have to believe your story matters to accept feedback thoughtfully.

You have to believe your story matters to submit it to agents and publishers or self-publish it.

You have to believe your story matters to deal with rejection … and keep moving on.

You have to believe your story matters to put it out into the world and promote it.

Believing your story matters means not getting caught up in the swirl of everyday life’s cynicisms and shoulds.

Believing your story matters means surrendering to your story—to have such faith in it that you become more open, you become a conduit for something else, something you might not fully understand.

Believing your story matters is akin to a religious experience—because it’s not about making it in the commercial secular sense (getting published), but enlarging your world, putting you in touch with something greater.

There are many times I didn’t believe in my story enough—and I often still don’t, even after being published.

I spent 10 years writing a novel that I only sent to a handful of agents before deciding it was a bad novel (and I was a bad writer). I didn’t give it a chance. Any number of stories litter my computer that I decided were too embarrassing to submit. There was a time when I didn’t read in public—up until just 10 years ago. I created a cave of solitude that was actually a place of neglect for my creative self.

I needed more of the tenacious belief James Baldwin speaks about: “Something that irritates you and won’t let you go. That’s the anguish of it. Do this book, or die. You have to go through that. Talent is insignificant. I know a lot of talented ruins. Beyond talent lie all the usual words: discipline, love, luck, but most of all, endurance.”

But you can’t have endurance without belief.

So here’s my challenge to you: make a list of what believing in your story means to you—and then go back to remind yourself why you believe in it when you face obstacles.

Because a quote

“If you want a thing—truly want it, want it so badly that you need it as you need air to breathe, then unless you die, you will have it. Why not? It has you. There is no escape. What a cruel and terrible thing escape would be if escape were possible.”

~Octavia Butler

Give the gift of novel writing for Christmas (10% discount!)?

My course on novel writing just launched with Domestika!

If you use this code, you'll get a 10% discount: GRANTFAULKNER-PROMO

Because revision

Revision mystifies many. I so often hear the question, “How do I revise my novel?” I so often don’t have an answer. But now I do.

Take my friend

Amy Shearn

’s class, Solving the Second Draft: Group Coaching & Accountability to Get You to a Solid Book Draft,

Amy also publishes the Substack newsletter How to Get Unstuck, which I recommend.

Please share!