Today let’s welcome Mick Silva as a guest blogger for our SM
101 family.
He works with inspirational memoirists and novelists
to structure,
rewrite and refine their books, present to publishers,
and establish themselves
as writers.
Mick is a frequent conference speaker, blogger,
and coauthor with Emily Wierenga of
So settle in, maybe pour yourself a cup of coffee, and take
in Mick’s encouragement:
Somewhere around the first six weeks of coaching, most every
writer gets overwhelmed. It’s usually around the third month that folks start
realizing not all is lost, that maybe it’s just a natural part of the process
to feel you’re at the bottom of a pit and now’s the time to decide how you’re
going to get out and move forward.
I’ve lost count now how many times I’ve seen this in the past
sixteen years. But it’s always a challenging process and it can surprise people
how much goes into a successful story.
The answer to that, in case you’re wondering, is a lot.
Every writer I work with starts with a goal, a deep desire
that guides the story. They want what we all want: the truth, clarity, and to
finally give it voice. But there’s something more, too. Something uniquely
important to them that makes it special.
So we dig for the truth. And soon, it becomes clear that
what we think our deep desire is and what the reason really is—they’re rarely
the same thing.
Next comes some soul searching. The vision gets hammered out
and it gets affirmed and acknowledged. Then more writing and reevaluating it
for a while, and some of the hidden themes start to arise in the edit, and we
look at the vision again and revise it.
I suppose this needs explaining. Yet, I doubt it’s
surprising. It takes time to accept our true motives and desires. But that’s
something of a hidden benefit of the writing and editing process.
Another is the power of working through the memories and
discovering where Jesus was in your experience. Often, we fail to realize He’s
been with us in the darkest suffering, and that lack of understanding blinds us
to gratitude and limits our experience of grace. The process of reawakening the
story of our past literally re-members us, fusing parts together again into a
cohesion of greater wholeness.
What was broken gets mended. That’s a deeper goal of many
memoirists. And it’s always my privilege to see that healing happen.
A third, and by no means final, benefit of writing our
stories is providing definition to the unexamined lessons in our experience.
People don’t realize the treasure that’s buried inside; it’s silent and
invisible. Yet it has great value, and when we take the time to dig it up, we
can use it. Until then, we’re in danger of being like the wicked servant who
kept his treasure “safe.” Safe is not a big priority for the master. He likes a
return on his investments.
That’s the “higher purpose” I talk about and it’s why I love
coaching and discussing stories at writer’s conferences. I once heard Walter
Wangerin call it the “undefined wilderness” inside us. And this treasure
remains like an untamed chaos until we use our power—the indivisible Word from
the Author and Originator—to name and define those inner riches.
There are themes and points of connection others will
identify with in your story. What healing might come in recognizing your
experience is like theirs, and theirs is like others’? What greater life could
these universal experiences bring, deeper confidence and sense of identity, if
people only realized these treasures must be dug up and invested in order to
influence our world, our future, our children?
This discovery of our buried experience is vital to life.
Because we are, as Viktor Frankl said, meaning-making machines: “He who has a
why can bear any how.”
Why do we write? I think deep down, it’s to make meaning.
Whatever else it is, the writing is an investigative process that helps define
our lives. What we or others make of the story is less important; the vital
thing is to take the journey.
When I started working as an editor in 2000, I was mostly
interested in getting a leg up as a prospective author. As an aspiring
novelist, I needed an education. I hoped it’d take two years, but it turned
into five, which turned into another five, and now I’ve been coaching and
editing for six more. I suppose I’ve stopped trying to get out of being an
editor. I won’t stop writing either, but God has shown me a wider world and
He’s caught my attention with the incredible lives I’ve encountered.
There’s nothing more rewarding than unearthing a story
others will come and relate with. Books are relationships, and some may be more
meaningful than any other we’ll experience in life. They could awaken someone
to the world and life around them. I can’t dismiss that. A writer is an
excavator who felt a kinship with some author, possibly long-dead, and wishes
one day to discuss life and love with them.
And I’m honored to get to continue facilitating and
encouraging the conversations.
Thanks, Mick!
And here’s a P.S. from Mick:
“For new (uncontracted) writers, I offer monthly coaching
which amounts to a weekly chat about your chapters and you turning in a handful
of pages for me to comment on. We start with writing your vision and outline,
and then set up a working schedule (which usually gets adjusted at least
twice). But that’s a big part of how I help writers, especially inspirational
memoirists who have the hardest writing job there is (don’t tell the other
writers). Not only do they have to tell the truth with the tools of good
fiction writing, they also have to tell the spiritual story behind that story,
which is very difficult to do well. It’s why I do this and why I coauthored an ebook on it, and ultimately why my favorite people are inspirational
memoirists.”
Mick sent me his editing rates but I can't figure out how to provide you with a link, so please contact Mick directly at micksilvaediting@gmail.com. (Sorry, Mick!)
Mick Silva has been an acquiring editor for Focus on the
Family (2000-2005), WaterBrook Multnomah (Penguin Random House) (2005-2010),
and Windblown Media (publishers of The Shack) (2008-2013), and now is coach and
editor for authors with Zondervan, WaterBrook Multnomah, IVPress, and several
other CBA houses. Mick lives with his wife and two daughters in Portland,
Oregon.