What to Do with Bad Writing Advice

The main job of a writer is to write. We write what we want to write about, we tell the stories we need to tell the best possible way we can, and we discover our own personal style through writing and reading.

Write selfishly. Never forget this.

Write the story that festers in your brain. Write because you need to, because you can’t NOT write. Write the way you want to write and not the way people say you should write. Oftentimes, listening to people indirectly telling you “what makes you excited to write is wrong” is harmful, even if it’s said with the best intentions.

Additionally, lots of people will tell you how you should be writing, but one of the best pieces my writing professor told me was, “Don’t listen to that bullshit.” Oftentimes, advice can really help us if we decide to take it. Good advice gives us thoughtful, considerate perspective outside our own and provides avenues we might take to better our story. But bad advice is harmful. Bad advice erases you from your story for all the wrong reasons, and bad advice can come in a multitude of categories.

• Format is all about whether or not you’re setting each shift of POV into a new paragraph, if your commas and quotations are used correctly for dialogue, so on and so forth. This is about the overall look. Write your story in whatever font type and color you so desire, but when you’re preparing to submit to critique partners or literary magazines or agents, make sure you know what the required format is. A critique partner who’s been down this road can help you with this, and if you’re ever unsure, Google manuscript, short story, or poetry formatting and look for the most up-to-date source.
• Structure, flow and characters are what the brunt of critique should be. General story stuff. What felt right, what didn’t feel right. Where the pacing lagged, where it could be improved. Characters and their consistency and impact on the story. Keep in mind that if a critique partner felt iffy about something, don’t dismiss them. There might be something legitimately throwing them off about a scene or character and they’re not sure what it is. However, if they tell you exactly how you should fix it word-for-word, be wary. Changes are not for anyone to decide except you. They might be spot-on about what they felt, but absolutely off about how to fix it.
• Grammar and punctuation should only ever be commented upon if the critique partner in question is a trusted source. Some things can be tricky, such as the uses of the apostrophe, and different people may give you conflicting advice/corrections. But keep in mind that grammar and punctuation are not laws, they are guidelines. Plenty of books on the shelves utilize fragments and run-on sentences and split infinitives, whatever your drug of choice may be, which leads into the next point.
• Style and voice are personal. This is about a writer’s own taste. It’s how they like to throw paint on the canvas and how they want it to look after they’re finished. The important thing to keep in mind with style and voice is that it varies from one person to the next and it’s not for anyone to decide on or change except the writer in question.

The most harmful critique I see is an attack on personal style and character voice. As writers, we grow and develop our taste over time, and this is a good thing because we learn what we like and we know why we like it. When we read, we read critically, even if we had intended to read purely for pleasure, and this is a constant, endless study to build on our writing. We learn the rules of grammar so that we can test how to break them most effectively.

Always learn the rules before you break them.

Good advice on style and voice comes from a critique partner who is open. They may or may not know the rules of grammar very well (and knowing grammatical terminology as well as a dentist knows the name of each molar does not give more credibility over a well-read critique partner who simply goes by their gut). They tell you when something in the narrative isn’t working as well as it could.

Example: I used to love sentence fragments, and by ‘love’, I mean I flooded my narrative with sentence fragments—but I did so lovingly. My writing professor at the time told me STOP, because, not only did I neglect to realize I had so many, but the flow of my narrative had become jarring and fractured. She didn’t tell me to take them all out. She told me to use them less frequently and more wisely. I did. My style is a million times better.

Good advice also comes from a critique partner who addresses problems with the story, not problems with you, the writer. I’ve heard many a horror story of workshop groups where one participant’s critiques were overly harsh and attacking, but under the guise of “feedback in the real world is harsher than this and I’m doing you a favor.” That’s like people who honk at student drivers to “teach them a lesson”, which it doesn’t, it only makes them more nervous and scared. When someone says, “I’m just gonna tell it like it is,” it means, “I don’t feel like and/or know how to put forth the effort to explain this in any way that won’t be offensive.”

Bad advice will tell you how you should change your style or character voice instead of simply how it’s not working as well as it could. Sometimes critique partners mistake personal opinion as fact. It happens. But when said partners try to make your personal style of writing more alike to what they want to read—or more alike to their own style—that’s not good. Bad advice might even use their authority or status as a weapon to enforce their credibility, and that’s even worse. “I know how you want to write better than you do” is essentially how that translates.

Example 1: I once received advice to never, ever use the word “very”. Well, I can see why. Descriptions such as “she was very beautiful” are empty, but what in my case? My two other critique partners disagreed, noting that the story’s POV is first person, and that any use of the word “very” was his personal, natural voice. To take it out would be to harm his voice.

Example 2: This was when I had finished the first manuscript I wanted to publish, but the word count was grossly high. Someone with a huge amount of authority told me to pair the narrative down. I didn’t have much fat to shave off outside the character voice, and unwittingly, I shaved it down to the bone, stripping my character from the narrative. It was a disaster that I can see only in hindsight.

Bad advice will also tell you what NOT to write about, or criticize what you decide to write about, for no legitimate reason outside of “I don’t like it” (and sometimes this is disguised, again, as fact instead of opinion). Yes, we want to avoid writing clichés if we intend to have our stories read and accepted by the public, as an example. But clichés can be improved with fresh takes, written from new angles, redone to be new again, and this is much better than “Don’t write about this ever.”

Generally, we get some really good advice that effectively expresses opinions as purely subjective opinions, but differentiating good advice from bad isn’t always easy. What do we do?

• Always, always get second, third, fourth, etc. opinions. If I had relied only on “never, ever use the word ‘very’” in example 1, then I would have dulled the edge of my character’s voice like I had in example 2. Thankfully, I had two critique partners that I trusted to tell me otherwise.
• You have the power to reject feedback. Take in what your critique partner has to offer first. Nod. Get clarity if you need it. Then, thank them. Leave it at that. Don’t argue or tell them they’re wrong. If you disagree with what they have to say, simply don’t apply their opinions to your work, but make sure you absolutely understand where they’re coming from first. Be objective.
• Trust your gut. If you apply the advice offered and feel like this has changed your story in a way you don’t like, if it makes you uncomfortable, then undo what bothers you. Keep your story yours, just make sure you understand where your reader is coming from and why you can’t apply the changes offered.

In the end, the most important thing is to write selfishly, revise wisely.


(cross-posted from KSW on Tumblr)

Tips on Giving Critique

Giving critique can be just as daunting as receiving critique, but learning how to give feedback teaches writers how to read critically and identify issues and state them poignantly. This helps us look at our own stuff with a more critical eye and become better writers.

The key when starting out is to look at what other people say in their critiques, as this helps to sharpen the senses when reading critically. Sometimes certain issues are easy to identify, such as flow, consistency, transitions, and so forth. Some things are more conceptual or require a bit of deeper thought. Whatever the case may be, there’s going to be a definite learning curve.

Here are some tips on giving critique:

Ask what the writer is looking for. Some writers will want you to take an axe to what they wrote. Some writers will want you to critique the story and not the narrative. It depends on the writer and it depends on what stage of the revision process they’re on. If you’re on a forum or a writing website, the author may have prefaced their story with thoughts or questions, so make sure to check that out first.

Start out offering smaller critiques if you’re nervous. Writing forums and websites are perfect for this, and then you can see how other reviewers think about the same story/passage you read. It’s also helpful to pay attention to how the writer responds to their reviewers.

Don’t piggyback. At these writing communities, it’s easy to take whatever another reviewer said and say, “Yeah, that.” It’s fine to agree with other reviewers, because then the writer will know that more than one of their readers had the same issue, but it’s crucial that you think of something else to add.

Be positive, but don’t hold back. Unless a writer specifically says all they want is the cold, hard critique, then throw in comments about what you enjoyed. Positive reinforcement is a good thing, but don’t let that keep you from giving honest feedback. Holding back on your critique can only hurt the writer.

Be precise. “I didn’t like the way you said this.” That doesn’t help the writer. “The way you said this isn’t consistent with your character’s overall voice and here are some examples.” That can help the writer. State the issue you had and find concrete examples to support it.

Sometimes vague happens too. Sometimes something bothers us and we’re not sure what it is. All we can do is try to explain what our feelings are about a particular part of the story and how it didn’t work, but we can’t explain why. “I didn’t like how the characters interacted here.” That doesn’t help the writer. “I’m not sure why, but the way the characters interacted here didn’t feel natural because…” That might help the writer. Make sure you explain this as clearly as you can, because the writer might take it to another critique partner who’ll say, “Oh! I know why!”

Be objective. You’ll have your own personal preferences, especially when it comes to style. When you think you’re giving good critique, you might just be telling the writer to change their style so it’s more like your own. “I liked the way you described this, but I think it could be better if you did it THIS way instead.” Don’t do this.

You might have tics that aren’t necessarily wrong. I personally loathe the semicolon; to me, there’s nothing worse than a sentence that is both and neither something; I’ll work my magic to try and woo a writer against using it; ultimately, however, the decision is stylistic and completely up to the writer. Be aware of this, offer your suggestion, and don’t let yourself get frustrated or worked up by it.

Don’t be a jerk. No one likes a jerk. Sometimes you think you’re giving honest feedback that the writer needs to hear in order to become a better writer. You might not be. You might be phrasing your feedback so it sounds like, “I’m a better authority on this than you are, so I’m going to tell you that you did this particular thing totally wrong, and I’ll talk down to you as well.” This sort of tone sets up the writer to ignore any possible feedback you have to give, whether helpful or not.

Don’t be a jerk. So nice, you say it twice.

Make good on promises. Creative types don’t often work well with hard deadlines, but if you make a commitment, then you have to hold up your end. Know how you work and set realistic goals for yourself to read so much per day if you have to, but whatever you do, don’t wait until the writer comes to you like “???” and then shove all the reading into one night. You’re cheating the writer of the best critique you can give.

All critique is biased. Even yours. The writer might receive critique from someone else that completely contradicts some feedback that you gave. Fear not. You’ve done your job as fully and honestly as you could, and it’s up to the writer now.


(cross-posted from KSW on Tumblr)

Tips on Taking Critique

For writers who are new to critique, this process is daunting. Not only do we have to put up our writing to ask other people to take axes to it, but they do take axes to it, and that doesn’t often feel good.

But, it’s a necessary process—not only to make your story the best it can be, but to improve your skills as a writer. Receiving good, effective writing critique opens up our brains to new ways of thinking and approaching how we write. Receiving bad critique that sounds good, however, can do just the opposite. Only through surviving the process of critique can we learn how to handle and what to do with it.

Here are some tips on taking critique:

Steel yourself, especially if you’re new to taking critique. A tough hide is vital. If you let yourself see feedback as ridicule or an attack on your writing ability, you’ll crumble and fall into bad places. This defeats the purpose of critique. You’ve written a story, and now you need good, effective critique partners to tell you how to make it even better. Critique partners are there to help you tell the best story you can possibly tell, so don’t punish yourself by thinking otherwise.

Be open. You might be offered suggestions that would take your story in a way different direction and result in a lot more work. You might be offered suggestions that will have you consider changing the POV or taking a character out entirely. Don’t shoot these suggestions down. Weigh everything you’re told, sleep on it, brush your teeth on it, shower on it, give it time to digest so you can remove your own personal writerly bias. You might then see some promise, or you might not. Either is okay because it’s your story and you decide what happens to it.

Listen. Make note of everything your critique partner said, even if it sounds wrong. When they state what bothered them, they might be noticing an effect of what happened earlier. “I didn’t like how this character reacted at all” might actually be a cause of something the character did or didn’t do several chapters ago. Conversely, your partner might just be mistaking personal opinion for legitimate advice. “I don’t like this character and I think it would be cooler if you—” Always listen first and know that you have the power to say no.

Don’t take offense. It’s easy to get upset when a critique partner says they thought a particular scene felt like it went on forever. The important thing is to take a breath, let it out, and look at the scene in question. It might have been one of those scenes that you hated writing anyway—which is often a sign that something’s wrong—and you discover that it actually does read slow. Now, if a partner says something that is actually insensitive (whether intentionally or not), which might often start out like, “Not to be mean or anything,” and might proceed into something along the lines of, “but your writing is like the third grade level,” keep your cool, know that personal opinion is not legitimate advice, and don’t ask them for help again.

Don’t defend yourself or your writing. “My character reacted like this because—” Nope. Don’t do it. If you find yourself needing to defend or explain your writing, then it’s very possible you need to go back through your story and figure out why your readers seemingly aren’t reading what you had intended. If your partner asks for clarification on a certain part, the same applies.

Ask questions. If you’re confused or need clarification, always ask questions, and don’t ask them defensively. “Well, since you thought my character should have reacted differently—” Still nope. Instead, ask for their overall opinion on a character, see where you need to look for tweaks or additions. Don’t be afraid to ask for further elaboration. Wring everything you can out of your critique partner.

Thank everyone. Because everyone likes to be thanked. Reading other work critically takes a lot of time and brain cells, so be gracious and open to helping your critique partners in return.

All critique is biased. As your critique partners report back to you, you’re going to get similar feedback, and you’re going to get feedback that clashes hard enough to leave you with more questions than you began. That’s why having multiple partners is the best thing you can do for your story. Always seek out additional opinions, just know that, ultimately, your story belongs to you and the decisions are all yours to make.


(cross-posted from KSW on Tumblr)

You've Finished Your Manuscript! Now What?

Whether you’ve finally finished that book you’ve been agonizing over for the past few months, years, or only weeks, whether Nano or not, here are some tips to help you with your next steps:

Stick your manuscript on the shelf now. Right now.

No, don’t glance back at it. Don’t flip through it. Don’t go and read those favorite scenes that you’re particularly proud of, or those scenes that have been bothering you since you wrote them. Close all your documents, shut your notebooks, and hide everything from sight. The waters in your brain are still all churned up, and you need to let all that sediment settle so you can see clearly again. This will help you be more objective.

“How long should I wait?”

I’ve waited anywhere between two weeks to nine months. I’d recommend at least four weeks before you touch a page or run your cursor lovingly over that “Chapter 1” document icon.

The reason why I waited nine months was because, when I typed the last word on the last page, I didn’t feel good about this particular manuscript. I didn’t feel it was my best. I knew I could do better. So I allowed it to sink into the furthest corner of my brain and I moved on to other projects.

If you’re itchy and antsy and having trouble holding back from stealing peeks, then give yourself a new project to distract you. A short story, or a whole new novel. Make a deal with yourself that, when you finish your new project(s), you can go back, but not until then.

The sediment has finally settled. Time for revision.

You’ve sat on your hands or busied yourself for 4+ weeks, so now you’re ready to begin revising. Make sure you’re ready. Clear your plate. Be objective, be harsh, and be prepared to make massive renovations if you find an issue.

In other words, be prepared to write your whole manuscript over again.

Your own revising process should be difficult, but this will help put you in the right mind for the next step. It’s exhausting and it may dampen your spirit—or, you might be the type of writer who loves revising more than writing. Either way, it’s important to toughen that hide and get ready.

A couple ways of revising that work for me go like this:

1. Read through the whole thing and revise as you go. If major changes need to be made, make them and revise them after you finish your first read-through. Repeat read-throughs until satisfied. (I might make two read-throughs or more, depending on how many changes I’ve made.)
2. With the case of my nine-monther (what is this, a pregnancy?), sometimes a lot more needs to be changed. In this case, a blank word document or a notebook is good for listing changes that need to be made as you read through. You might have to jot down issues and work them out in your brain before you truly begin revising. (In some cases, and in the case of my pregnancynine-monther, I had a specific word document like this open while I was writing so that I could jot down problems that needed to be fixed later.)
3. In the case of one of my friends, she would finish her manuscript and then write up a synopsis of all the scenes and plot points, then dissect it and add changes, like creating a floor plan. Then she would begin revising accordingly.

Whichever way you prefer, it’ll take you a long time before you’re finished. Be prepared for the investment.

Revision done. Time for more revision.

Or, in other words, time for critique partners/beta readers. First of all, if you have no plans to get published (or you’re only writing for yourself), you don’t have to go any further than the last step. But, if you intend to be published in any shape or form, this is a crucial step. Don’t move onward without having fresh pairs of unbiased eyes read over your stuff.

Your critique partners shouldn’t be a close family member or a friend—unless the aforementioned are either good writers or avid readers. Some people might tell you that your critique partners shouldn’t ever be anyone close to you because disagreements will spark animosity, or your close somebodies will be less inclined to be honest with you, therefore providing you less effective and biased feedback. This is true, unless you have personal somebodies you can trust to be really, truly honest with you to provide helpful feedback. In equal exchange, you have to understand that critique isn’t supposed to be a comment on your writing ability, so you can’t allow yourself to see it that way. If you want your story to be the best it can be, then you have to be open to change. Critique only hurts if you let it.

Find three or more people to be your critique partners. I generally have three, occasionally a fourth, but never fewer than two. Here’s why:

1. The first critique partner gives me a general overhaul of things that are both wrong and right (and a good critique partner knows how to supplement explaining issues with the manuscript along with positive feedback).
2. The second critique partner provides the same, and then considers the feedback that the first critique partner offered, whether they agree or disagree. Putting minds together helps (and, oftentimes, when I’m critiquing and I have a problem that I can’t quite put my finger on, someone else might find the root cause of it so I can have a random and slightly inappropriate outburst of “OH YES.”)
3. The third critique partner sees the near-finished product after I’ve applied the first two (or three) critique revisions.

There are other ways to go about this, of course. You might have your partners read separately and then send you their notes. You might have them read and then get together and discuss what they thought as you listen.

Remember one thing, however: your reader is never wrong.

If you find yourself having to explain something, then you need to go back and find what your reader missed and fix it. Never tell your reader they were wrong and never defend your writing. If anything, ask your other partners what they think of what was said, listen to what they have to say, and then consider your options. If one reader had a problem, you can’t go into the homes of other readers who may have the same problem and explain yourself.

The critique process can also be repeated. I’ve made major revisions before and then allowed one of my first partners, or a completely new partner, reread and add additional feedback. Keep repeating this process until you’re satisfied and your butt is the sorest it’s ever been (that means it’s been kicked enough, and now your butt should be tough enough to handle the next steps).

In complete contrast, whereas I prefer to allow sediment to settle in step one, I prefer to edit while everything is still fresh. At this point, I know the book inside-out and my critique advice hasn’t seeped from my memory. I can fix a problem at one point in the story, and then realize the ripples will hit other points, which I can jump to right away.

When you’ve finally finished this process (which may, in fact, take just as long as it did to write the whole dang manuscript in the first place), then it’s time to move onto my favorite step.

Line editing.

And here you thought you were done revising.

BWAHAHA. Nope.

Now it’s time to correct all your grammar, punctuation, and minor issues. Polish until the sparkle makes you writhe and you hiss and return to the darkness of your cave.

Queries and synopses are terrible, terrible things.

Some people are exceptional at summing their story up in no more than 300 words and making it enticing. The rest of us are only human. It’s a form of art, and like any art, you can only attain perfection by practicing and practicing and practicing. Typically, I’ll begin writing the query when I begin writing the manuscript, and I can tell you that the query I begin with is nothing like the query I end up.

When I began the querying process seven years ago, it was about 98% snail mail, and the only requirement in regards to length was no more than one page. Nowadays, the querying process is about 98% email, and the writer shouldn’t exceed 300 words. That’s enough to get out your title and the main character’s name. The Agent Query page on queries is your best starting point as to what a query should contain.

After you’ve gotten a perfect query, you need to take it to critique partners just like before. On top of that, I’d recommend taking it to a writing forum such as Absolute Write to get more eyes to judge it. But remember that you have to volunteer your time to critique other queries first (and absolutely make sure you read the rules). You’ll also find links there on how to write your synopsis, which is like a shortened retelling of your story—not quite a summary. Don’t write your synopsis like a summary. As I’ve heard before, write your synopsis like you’ve just seen an awesome movie and you’re trying to explain it to your friend to get them to go see it.

Except, speak more eloquently than you would your friend. Your synopsis should read like your story does, in the same voice and utilizing the same tones.

Also be sure to check out Query Shark and read the whole damn thing. (Or at least make sure you read plenty of queries that didn’t work, and plenty of queries that did.) Slushpile Hell is also a good place to learn what not to say.

Queries and synopses for us regular humans suck. But, this is the most direct way to reach an agent, and you might find that, by the end, writing a query has changed the way you write in general. It’s certainly taught me the power of brevity.

Agents, as far as I can take you.

This is where you give up the wheel to whoever your god may be. Research your agents, and I mean research. If you’re in school, great, think of it as a final project for class that you absolutely must get an A in order to pass. If you’re not in school or haven’t been in school for a while, think of it as a final project for a class that you absolutely must get an A in order to pass.

At the end of your query, if possible, you should feature a little snippet that says why you picked this particular agent—personalization is important. You don’t like getting spam in the mail, right? Sure, it’s got your name on it, but it’s clearly auto-delivered to you regardless of who you are. A query without personalization is like that.

Good places to begin researching agents:

• Agent Query
• Query Tracker
• Absolute Write
• Literary Rambles

This is where you can begin researching. Look up agent websites, blogs, and twitters. Make sure to google their names. Do everything you can to be sure that this is the person you want to have a business relationship with. You may also discover through their blogs events that agents may be attending, or contests to get you noticed.

The rejection process is natural. Some writers get rejected a few times, and some (er-hem) get rejected hundreds of times over a period of several books. If you’ve written a good book, then querying is like buying lottery tickets. You’ve got to have good luck and a good book. The market of the publishing industry is often dictated by what’s “at the right time”, also known as marketing trends. Good manuscripts will be turned down because a literary agent might not be sure he or she could sell them.

Non-traditional paths.

Before you consider non-traditional paths, ask yourself why you’re considering them. If you’re considering them because you’ve gotten a couple rejections, and those rejections sting, don’t come here yet. Stick it out. Maybe this manuscript doesn’t work, but the next one might. Each manuscript you write will be better than the last as long as you remain active and write and read more than you write.

If you’ve had several unsuccessful tries and agents have given you lots of positive feedback, but have rejected you for other various reasons, then you might be ready to come here.

Self-pub

The publishing industry is evolving at the speed of light. What’s called “vanity” publishing was frowned upon just five years ago, but authors like Colleen Houck and Amanda Hocking (who also went through the querying process several times to no avail) decided to go the route of self-pub. They achieved such popularity that they required an agent later on.

If you decide to go down this path, however, I’d advise you go to Amanda Hocking’s blog and read about how she got to where she is today. Self-pub is far, far from an easy alternative—in fact, it’s much more work than the traditional process, as you’re in charge of your own publicity (which includes being accessible via internet, creating an evocative cover, formatting your book, and so forth). You must also search for indie reviewers, manage your own copyright, etc. There’s a lot to do.

Some vanity publishers:

• Wattpad
• Lulu
• Blurb

But be careful. Self-pub sites usually make their money by trying to sell you services (such as cover-creation, formatting e-books, or promotions). There are plenty of predators out there who will do the same. If you’re not so apt with Photoshop, sites like Deviant Art have plenty of artists you can commission to do commercial work (be aware that you could pay several hundred dollars for this). If you’re not so apt with formatting either, look for people who offer services at more competitive rates. Instead of dishing out a few hundred dollars to have Lulu convert your manuscript into .epub format, you might find someone who charges by the hour instead.

Don’t sell yourself short with the formatting, either. It’s key. If the e-book doesn’t translate well to your readers’ e-readers, then your readers won’t read it. Similarly, in order to sell in Barnes and Noble and Amazon online stores, you have to have proper formatting. This is likely where you’ll generate the most of your business.

Non self-pub

Self-pub is intimidating, and it doesn’t have to be the next step after. You can reach other readers through such sites as Absolute Write, FictionPress, and Figment. The key is to be active in whichever writing community you decide to participate, which means reading work similar to yours or within the same genre.

Build your platform.

In the beginning, it doesn’t matter if you generate revenue. What’s most important is getting your work in readers’ hands. As my professor says, it’s crucial to start selling your book even before it’s written. Nowadays, writing a book is only a small part of the work that an author has to do. Here are some ways you can build your name:

• Create a personal author website.
• Create a blog. Blogger and Livejournal are good places to begin.
• A twitter and/or tumblr are also excellent (if I do say so myself).
• Be easily accessible. Make your web layouts appealing and easy to navigate.
• Join writing communities. Connect with other writers.
• If you have a creative hand, create your characters or your world through art, fashion, photography, or whatever your knack might be.
• If you’ve got the equipment, record yourself reading scenes of your manuscript.
• If you write fanfiction, post your fanfiction. (This is how E. L. James created her readership.)
• If you draw fanart, post your fanart. (This is how many online comic artists got started.)

The important thing is to get yourself out there through the various modes that are applicable to you. If you’re fairly shy, but awesome at drawing, there’s your niche. If you suck at art but have a great speaking voice, post snippets of you reading your stuff. Writing is one of your talents, now you’ve got to use your others.

It’s important to create a brand for yourself and be memorable, but in the end, no matter what, the most important deciding factor in whether or not you succeed is if you don’t give up. No one fails until they’ve given up.

Good luck!