Writers write, except when they don’t
The hardest part of writing is writing. I don’t mean that in a technical sense, like a puzzle you have to be smart enough to figure out, I mean that in an emotional sense, like a test of will and endurance and courage. Writing is hard to make myself do. I want to do anything else.
This is on my mind a lot and I’m pleased to find this talked about in a book I’m reading - Dorothea Brande’s Becoming a Writer. I saw it recommended in an article in the Guardian, a list of short rules for writers. (There was a rule by Will Self that I liked as well, I’m paraphrasing, it was something like “you know that feeling of vulnerability and inadequacy you have when you read your own writing? It will never go away.”) The recommender said basically that Brande’s book is as good as any other on writing and better than most. It said “actually do the exercises too.” I’m not yet, but I will. Step by step. Right now I’m focusing on just building the habit of writing regularly, despite my inclination not to write. I heard this put as something like first discipline, then desire, then delight. That’d be nice. Running has been like that for me. I’m still in the discipline stage with other exercise.
I like that Brande’s book is 80 years old but still sounds contemporary, alive to what’s on and in my mind. What I especially like about Brande’s book is her point that most writing problems are, as she puts it, antecedent to problems of craft and technique. That is, most writing problems are personal problems that take place prior to writing and prevent writing. Deal with those, and the rest is a matter of focus, practice, technique, and craft. It’s about meeting the minimum bar, so to speak, and how hard that is. This isn’t news to me, but it’s nice to hear someone who knows about writing and books and stuff - someone who is legit, so to speak - recognize this and say that it’s normal, not any kind of exceptional thing or an inadequacy that can’t be overcome. All problems fixable, so to speak.
A basic problem of writing, or a basic problem prior to writing, is in wanting, or rather in not wanting. There’s a joke: how many social workers does it take to change a lightbulb? One, but the lightbulb has to want to change. Wanting to change really is a prerequisite to dealing with one’s issues. Everyone I know who was moved from addiction controlling their lives to being people with those issues but who are in the driver’s seat of their own lives, they are people who committed to getting back into the driver’s seat, and worked hard to maintain that commitment. Writing is of course easier and not as important as dealing with addiction but there’s a similar issue: you have to want it, and not just want it abstractly, like “oh sure it would be nice if…” but vividly, in the sense of committing to do it in an active way at the forefront of one’s mind. This is hard. For me, I often need to remind myself that I want to write. Or rather, I need to remind myself that I wish I wanted to write. Then I have to decide to want to actually want to write. Once I want to want to write, then I can want to write, and begin writing.
After the motivation issues, the book suggests some interesting exercises too, about reading and working with others’ writing in order to improve one’s own, stuff like how to read other writers’ prose closely and critically but humbly too, with a mind toward how to learn from doing so in order to improve one’s own work. I like that and have marked those pages to come back to soon. (I don’t mean to make excuses but right now I am mostly focusing on writing on the bus and this kind of exercise is harder to do with buswriting. I’ll get there though.)
One disconnect: the title! I’m uncomfortable with it. Carrying the book around I worry I’m being pretentious or will be seen that way. “I’m a writer.” I dunno. I’m hesitant about things like that - I’m a THIS. I mean, yeah, we’re all kinds of things. I’m a father, a husband, a middle-aged man. I suppose I’m a runner and a rock climber. But why phrase it that way? Why a ‘to be’ sentence, and a noun where someone could ask “are you REALLY this, are you a REAL this?” Why not an active verb: I run. I write. I parent. I’m much more comfortable there, and not because of any stylistic issue with passive voice. I’m not sure what my disconnect is beyond not wanting to be or seem pretentious. I guess it’s that I want help in the doing. I want to make myself write and run, I don’t need help being anything. There are writers who go long stretches without writing, are they still writers? I guess so, but who cares? I’m a runner, I guess, but I run outside and have only been able to do that once or twice since November. I’ll get back to it when the winter finally ends, and my issues will be ones of how to run appropriately and get back to where I was condition-wise. The noun, the being a runner, that doesn’t help, it’s just a standard to fall short of when things suck, and a flag to wave when they don’t. I don’t think I need that, and if I occasionally crave that it’s not something I want to feed.
That’s a minor thing though when it comes to this books. It’s not like Brande really advocates thinking “I’m a writer” and making a big deal of it. Her actual point is that anyone can write if they commit to it and get some minimal support, which I appreciate a lot. It could also be called ‘get out of your own way and write.’