For years, I had this terrible tendency NOT to ask for help, as if someone else helping me meant the story was any less mine. As if acknowledgment lists in books weren’t basically short stories. But I saw that the other members of my writing group were so much better about asking for help, and how they spent less time being stuck, improved more, and finished their stories faster. And at last, I was like: okay, wait, I want some of that.
These are some of the things I’ve learned since about how to ask for and receive help:
- Identify what kind of help you need.
- Do you need someone to ask you questions, to help you think through an issue? Awesome! This is like, by far the most common kind of help I ask for, and it’s invaluable.
- Do you need help breaking out of a rut? Maybe try brainstorming together! Tell them what you know, and let their headcanons run wild.
- Do you want to improve on a writing technique? Defocus yourself and ask them process questions. Let them discuss how they approach it. And then, if you can, ask more people, so you can get a feel for the space.
- Do you need someone to say nice things to you and let you know that you can DO this? Ask them for cheerleading, and then return the favor, when they need a cheerleader.
- Or something else! Problems are infinite. Fortunately, so are solutions!
- Identify the problem. This can be as simple as “ug, this chapter. It feels off.” Or “I really want to get better at description, but all I can think about when I try is how many different names there are for white paint. Alabaster White. Snow White. Eggshell White. Off White. Dove White.”
Once you’ve identified the problem, figure out everything you need to tell your helper so that they can understand the problem space. I cannot tell you how often this is where the simpler of problems tend to just solve themselves. When we’re working through a problem, we tend to focus tighter and tighter on it, forgetting the vast context we’re taking for granted. Being forced to explain it to someone new can help you yourself really see it again.
. - Acknowledge that you might have misidentified the problem. I cannot COUNT the number of times I’ve been right about the effects of a problem, but wrong about what that problem is. In fact, misidentified problems are often the reason a problem is so hard to solve to begin with!
For example, if a scene “isn’t working” I’ve learned, it’s most likely that the root of the problem is in a prior chapter, not in the “problem” chapter at all. Usually, something happened that has set the character on the wrong emotional trajectory for where I need them to be. It’s not wrong, per se. But it’s not taking them where I need them to go. Changing their action in the prior chapter, means they act correctly in the problem chapter.
Cases of misidentified problems are the BEST things about asking someone else for help. They have fresh eyes, they can often see what you no longer can. And if they can’t, their questions can help you see what assumptions you’re making. Sometimes it’s as simple as remembering you can redraw the map.
. - Be ready to try something new. Remember: asking for help doesn’t mean that the way you do things is necessarily bad. And even if it does, that is the opposite of a useful thought, so discard it and concentrate on what does matter: your trajectory. To quote the Hamilton musical: “Look at where you are. Look at where you started.” And think of how much farther you could go with some new tools in your belt!
. - It’s okay to not be ready to try something new. Some periods are for growth, learning new skills. Other periods are for honing what you have. Know what period you’re in. It will be very frustrating if you ask for help, but aren’t in a good place to try new techniques. In that case, acquaint people with the tools you have, and be specific in what kind of help you’re looking for.
. - Recognize asking for help isn’t the end. Okay, when you just want help unsticking a scene, it might be the end. But when you want to improve something fundamental about your toolkit? Identifying the problem is the first step. Next you might read books to analyze how other authors solve the problem, do writing exercises to play with different techniques, take writing classes, or even ask your peers directly for how they handle the situation.
.
Other authors’ answers likely won’t be your answers, but they can help you find them. And the extra work is worth it, because that’s what makes it yours: a long-term improvement rather than a band-aid fix.
Of course, even once you acquire that tool, it’s likely not the end! I’ve “solved” some problems multiple times now. I’m always excited about my latest solutions—they’re steps in the right direction. But they’re just that: steps. And hopefully, once I’ve taken them, I’ll be able to see what the next steps are.
. - Trust your gut. If a reader makes an observation about how your writing affects them, it is always accurate–even if it’s surprising. Especially if it’s surprising! Their feelings are their feelings, and it’s counterproductive to question them. What may be inaccurate is their assessment as to the root cause of the problem, as well as their proposed solution.
If an answer feels wrong, don’t just do what they tell you to no matter how fancy they are. Your gut is telling you something. But don’t just discard it out of hand, either. Look at it. Figure out how it’s wrong. Think about what you would have to do to make it right. Play with it. Because that wrong answer—and how, specifically, it’s wrong—is going to be one of the best ways for you to figure out what’s right.
. - Thank them for their help. And be willing to return the favor. Even if it didn’t unstick you. Even if you don’t agree with their answers. Sometimes time will prove them right after all—you just weren’t ready to see it. And sometimes they’re still wrong, but the way in which they’re wrong is illuminating.
And even if neither of those is true: learning to help people with writing problems is hard—and something that practice makes better! Thanking them for that energy expenditure is polite. And selfishly, the more exposure they get to trying to help you, the better they will be at it.
I’m still working on learning how to ask for help. I still often wait too long—and struggle more on my own than is strictly useful. And I’m still learning how to be better at identifying what I need. But I hope that my insights, over the past few years, might help anyone else who might be where I was, before. So, to that Susan of yesterday: asking for help isn’t shameful! It’s just another tool in your toolkit. One that has the potential to make all of the tools you already have even stronger.
