In writing, the idea to most writers of making a series of linked mistakes is just frightening. In fact, fear of making a mistake is the one element that stops most writers.

Major writing fears in no real order:

— If I don’t do another draft on this, people will laugh at me and think my writing sucks, so I better rewrite this over and over.

— If I mail this and the editor doesn’t like me, they will remember me and blackball me (or something like that.)

— How can I write that sex/graphic torture/mother murder scene? What will people think of me?

— Fear of no one ever buying anything, so better not risk it by mailing anything because I don’t really want to know that no one will buy my story or book.

— Fear of no one liking what I do, so better not finish anything. It’s always easier to start something new and more fun.

— Fear of publishing. What happens if this actually sells? What will I do then, so better not mail it to be safe.

And so on and so on. As a professional writer, I’ve climbed over a few of those myself, and heard hundreds more, told to me in very logical-sounding ways. All fear based.

So yesterday, I head back onto the golf course for the first time in a long time. I am playing with two other top writers. One a novelist and top Hollywood writer named Michael and the second a long time novelist named David. (No last names to protect our golf games.) Nine holes was all we had time for, but it turned out to be a blast.

Some of you might know that at one point in my life, I was a golf professional. And way back in the 1970s, I played a bunch of tour stops (with no success), and then when I approached 50 I had thoughts of trying for the Senior’s Tour. Now that got stopped by two things. One, my nerves and putting just went south. A long, ugly ways south. Two, I didn’t want it bad enough to climb over the first problem. But now, here I was yesterday, eight years later, staring 60 in the face, hitting the golf ball at my old length, playing irons the same distance, missing a ton of putts. But having a blast.

I didn’t score that well, but when looking back at my round, it was as most of my golf rounds, as anyone’s golf rounds. It was a series of mistakes. (Did you watch Tiger Woods win the US Open? How often did he miss a fairway, a green, twist on a broken leg and make it worse?)

For example, my first hole yesterday. I drove into a fairway bunker out about 260 off the tee but it bounced through and under a tree. Second shot moved forward but hit an overhanging tree limb and stopped short of the green. Third shot rolled past the pin about twenty feet and I missed the par putt coming back.

Every shot had an element of mistake to it, yet every shot advanced me down the fairway and I finished the hole and walked to the next one, enjoying the day.

Writing is the same way. A writing career is a series of linked mistakes. But those of us who are still here working and writing after 25 years of being professionals, like the three of us on that golf course yesterday, we just move forward all the time. With writing, as with yesterday on the golf course, the three of us have no real fear of making a mistake. We’ve made thousands in our careers, had books go south, been late for deadlines, and written poor sentences (well I have at least. Those two are damn fine writers. <g>) Hell, I’ve written entire books that didn’t work. I once had a publisher mix my book up with another writer’s book and put my name on the wrong book. If there is a mistake in publishing to be made, I’ve made it, yet here I am, going forward, having a blast, making a nice living with my fiction.

I wish I had learned this lesson a lot earlier, especially in golf. I might have at least made the first round of qualifying for the seniors, which is all I really wanted. But for some reason, I’ve learned it in writing and in poker.

Mistakes are common in writing. No one writes a perfect story or a perfect book. No one. Just as no one plays a perfect round of golf.

The only fatal mistake in writing you can make is allowing the fear of making a mistake to stop you.

Sadly, it stops many fine writers.

Move forward, enjoy the process, stop worrying about the mistakes. Make them, write that flawed book and mail it, write the next one. No one cares if you’ve made a mistake or not, mailed it to the wrong editor or not, written an ugly scene or not. Honestly. No one cares. Just as no one cared how I played yesterday. No one. But was I still scared on that first tee?

Yup. Luckily for me, it didn’t stop me from playing and having a blast with two good friends.

Cheers, Dean

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