Turtle Writer

I've been introduced to a new term, courtesy of Twitter: turtle writer.  Or, as it trends on Twitter, #turtlewriter.

The hashtag was coined about two years ago by author Meka James for the Twitter group she and two friends, fellow writers Rosetta Yorke and M "Ladybug" Moos, co-host. It means precisely what you'd think it means: a writer who writes verrrrrrry sllllllowwwwwly.

I am a turtle writer.

When my last book got published, I was seized with almost manic energy: this time, things would be different.  This time, I would keep up the flow of writing.  This time, I would stop being a turtle writer and be a Productive Writer.

Alas, it was not to be.  I did produce a few manuscripts in the flush following the acceptance and publication of The Stable Cat's Christmas, but as of yet,  I haven't found a home for any of them.  I've sent two manuscripts to the editor I worked with on Stable Cat, but have heard volumes of... nothing.  Sigh.  And now, I'm in a writing slump, feeling like I'll never have another original, draftable thought ever again.

I'm back to being a turtle writer.

But there is, I think, more to being a turtle writer than simply having a slow turnover rate.  Turtles are more than just their lack of speed (which, to anyone who has known a turtle or tortoise personally, is highly exaggerated... they can be speedy little guys when the need arises!)  Turtles are... methodical.  Thoughtful.  They don't wander aimlessly at their "turtle's pace" - they have a clear destination in mind, and are simply taking their time in getting there.  Turtles don't "go" just anywhere.  If they don't have a place to get to, they simply stay where they are.  I like to think that turtle writers are like that, too..
. we don't spend our time on a hundred different projects or writing exercises that aren't going to go anywhere; we plod slowly along with that one good idea, that one spark that will carry us through to our end destination.

What's more, turtles are designed to be protected from the sharp and pointy bits of the wide world out there.  That lovely shell, so easy to pull back into, is one of nature's greatest architectural designs.  We turtle writers are just as susceptible to depression at rejection letters and non-responses (the new alternative to the rejection letter) as anyone else, and we pull back into our shells from time to time... but we don't stay there.  Like our reptilian namesakes, we know that if we're going to get on with this business of living, we have to come out sometime.  Oh, it's tempting to huddle back in one's safe and cozy shell, perhaps filling the time by building a social media platform on Twitter, but if we're ever going to be the writers we dream of being, we're going to have to get back out into the world.

And that's the turtle writer's credo, I think... Imitate the turtle: to make progress, you have to stick your neck out.  In a vocation where getting ahead means long months or even years of querying and rejection for every eventual publication, it's very easy to want to curl up into your shell, protected from the sting of hearing, "Sorry, but your manuscript doesn't meet our current needs" - or having to face the well-meaning family and friends who want to know how your latest project is going.

Inside a shell, however, you aren't getting anywhere.  A turtle who pulls into her shell may be protected, yes, but she also isn't getting to where she wants to be.  The only way to get through the rejection form letters and "don't call us, we'll call you" non-replies is to push past them, eyes firmly focused on the ultimate goal.

With all that in mind, I think I am proud to be a turtle writer.  I may be slow, but I'm moving towards my ultimate goal.