I’ll get straight to the point: if you’re serious about writing, you’re going to have to treat it like a job. 

Not a very sexy intro, is it?  It doesn’t exactly scream “million dollar success!”  It doesn’t promise instant gratification.  It doesn’t offer to make you rich overnight, or show you how to write a bestseller in ten days.

If it did claim to do any of those things, would you believe them?

Thought not.

The public perception of writers is often skewed by extremes: the eccentric, alcoholic egotist with a basketful of neuroses and abandonment issues.  But this is the truth, and the sooner you embrace it, the better.  Doesn’t matter how young or old you are.  If you’re fifteen, you get more practice being professional.  If you’re fifty, you’ll pick it up more quickly. 

Like many creative careers, you will spend far less of your time dealing with the activity that inspires you – in our case, writing – than you will dealing with the associated peripheral activities that other professions call “career building.” 

If you’re a professional musician, you spend fourteen hours a day on a bus driving from point A to point B, doing press interviews and record store signings and assorted other things that may or may not be fun – all for that hour and a half when you’re on stage.  90 minutes out of 1440.  Ouch.

Another home truth: most people, most professions, that’s the ratio. 

Unfair?  I think not.  Happiness is up to you. 

As a professional writer, you’ll do some press interviews.  You’ll do some book signings.  You’ll do some other things that might not be fun – contract negotiations, promotion, social events.  Professionalism means being grateful when you’re having fun and graceful when you’re not.

Do you dream of being a bestselling author?  Don’t even answer that.  Of course you do.  We all do.  If we didn’t, why would we subject ourselves to the rejections, long hours of work with no pay, and maddening anonymity?

Here’s the trick: no matter how long it takes to get there – wherever “there” is – start being professional now.  Success will come faster if you do.
 
So how can you become professional now?

1.  Stop complaining about “the state of the publishing industry.”  Only one person controls your writing career.  That person is you.  You can’t change the industry by complaining, or feeling victimized.  How can you use the industry to your advantage, and win a six-figure advance or a million-dollar book contract? 

In his book Writing the Breakout Novel, agent Donald Maas answers succinctly: write a novel that warrants it.   

What will change the industry?

You.  You, plus a bestselling book, plus professional influence, plus a great idea.  If you have a great idea for change and you want someone to hear it, this is the best way to be heard. 

Present the idea professionally – with the purest inspiration and finest attention to craft you can muster.

2.  Accept publishing industry standards and adhere to them.  I, too, hate getting generic “dear writer” rejection letters from magazine editors who insist on being queried by name.  Fact: if your query letter’s salutation reads “dear editor,” that query letter will be discarded unread.  Also fact: the same editor might send out twenty “dear writer” rejection letters in the space of one hour.

Annoying self-congratulatory sidebar: As a webzine editor, I didn’t do that.  I always addressed rejections to the writer, and included the title of the story.  I believe that you should extend courtesy if you expect to receive it.  My view is, of course, influenced by the fact that I had submitted and published stories prior to becoming an editor.

Most editors do not share that view, sorry to say.   

If you’re an amateur, you say:  That’s not fair!  Why should I maintain a different standard than they do?  If they don’t call me by name, I’m not going to call them by name.

If you’re professional, your approach is to raise the bar rather than lower yourself to like behavior.  So, repeat after me:

I will always address my queries to an editor by name – one I know is looking for the kind of story I have written.  I don’t care if I get a “dear writer” letter in return.  I will always be professional.  If I am always professional, I will never be wrong.

It’s a simple rule, but profoundly effective.  In a roomful of unprofessional people – at a writing conference, for example – be the only professional person in the room.  You will be remembered.

3.  Cultivate personal integrity.  Only one person can raise the bar for you.  Three guesses who that is.

I define personal integrity as doing the right thing even when no one is looking.  What does this mean for you as a professional writer?  Honesty, for one.  If the editor does not accept multiple submissions, don’t send your story to Alfred Hitchcock’s when Mystery Reader already has it.  It’s dishonest, and it wastes everybody’s time.

Honesty also pertains to your work.  Let’s say you’re given editorial suggestions.  Making the changes will mean a professional sale, but you feel the requested revisions weaken the book.

If you ignore your intuition and go after the paycheck, I guarantee you a negative learning experience – one of those “gee, I really wish I hadn’t done that” moments.

Keep those moments to a minimum with a professional attitude.  Keep all your dealings professional and you will build a career.  It might take longer than you wished, but it will happen.  Professionals enjoy dealing with other professionals.

You will earn respect.  That’s the best calling card you could hope for.