I launched this website and blog to help keep myself more accountable for my writing. By telling people that I am doing this thing, that I am putting myself out there and really trying to be a real writer (I am still not sure what a fake writer looks like, but whatever), I feel more of a drive and obligation to keep working. I mean obligation in a good way here, of course.
I am going to be honest here: I led a pretty privileged life growing up. Sure, my parents were divorced, but it really wasn’t that bad. They both stayed in the same town, didn’t make things messy when they split, and peaceably shared custody of me and my sister. While we were not rich, we were also not poor. We had the things we needed, and I got much of the stuff I wanted. I had chores to do and responsibilities, but I was essentially taken care of. I never felt fear that I would not have the necessities of life. I never had to fight or struggle for food, clothing, or comfort.
I was a good student. My grades were strong. When it came time for college-entrance exams, I only took one. I stayed up late the night before ACTs making cookies and was super tired when I showed up for the test in the morning. I scored a 32, which earned me a full-ride scholarship to college, so I didn’t bother taking the SAT.
Growing up, I was a BMX racer. I trained and practiced a lot, but I only did that to stay on top. I started out on top because it came naturally to me. Same thing with the drill team in high school. We had three days to prep for tryouts and I missed the first day. To be honest, I wasn’t planning on going to the tryouts at all after that, because I didn’t think I even wanted to be on the team, but a friend insisted I just show up. So I did, and it turns out I was good! So I did it. And I practiced to make myself better, but it was always quite easy for me.
I am not telling you all of this to make myself look good or to be narcissistic (though it totally reads that way, doesn’t it?). I am just making a point here that things have always come pretty naturally to me. I have not had to work hard (I mean really work) for really anything I have accomplished. And that scares me.
You see, writing comes naturally to me. Good writing? That is a completely different story. I have to work my tail off, just like any other writer out there, to really make my words sing. I have never put myself into something with such drive as I have my writing. Never before have I struggled so much to see positive results.
So of course I start thinking ahead to when I query agents, or when a book goes onto submission with publishers. What if all I get are rejections? Will I be able to handle that? What will it feel like to be told the one thing I have had to really, really try for is just not good enough? It is easy to fail at something you haven’t invested yourself into. If you bomb a test you didn’t study for even a little bit, it stings, but really it doesn’t matter. All can be blamed on the lack of effort. If you fail at something you put the whole of yourself into, what can you blame then?
These thoughts and fears have led to some pretty rough times while writing. It becomes harder and harder to just let go and fly through a draft. I find myself putting some words on the paper. Then, when I look back at them I start to worry that they are not good enough or that my audience won’t like them, so I delete them. That makes for some pretty slow progress.
But who is my audience anyway? Me. Right now, I am the only person who needs to be happy with my work. It doesn’t matter if Candace down the street likes my story or if Jordan at work thinks my writing is crisp enough. I am my toughest critic and I am the only person I need to worry about at this point. I need to write what interests me and the story needs to excite me and me alone.
Coming to this realization (again, ’cause really I already knew this) has been totally liberating. I am not worrying about what agents, or editors, or readers will think of the words I put on the page. I am not worried about reviews or rejections. I am not worried; I am just writing.
I am writing for me, and that is powerful.
4 Comments
I started my blog to help keep me accountable, and it’s made such a huge difference. Although my childhood was different than yours, all the things within my control came pretty easily to me – for the most part, I didn’t have to work hard to make good grades, I was salutatorian of my senior class, etc., etc. However, writing has really challenged me because, no matter how good you are, you have to WORK HARD. Thankfully, I am proud to say I have risen to the occasion. I’m not quite there yet, but every day I work hard.
I totally agree! It is funny how many people I talk to who don’t realize at all how HARD writing a novel is.
Thankfully, I am proud to say I have risen to the occasion. I’m not quite there yet, but every day I work hard.
Sorry, I realized I was unclear above. I don’t mean I haven’t quite mastered working hard. Lol. I mean I haven’t quite finished my book.
That actually made total sense to me when I first read it! Maybe because I am at the same place.