I’ve been thinking about writing lately – ruminating about my complete lack of inspiration in recent months. The other day, I was in a book store and noticed my book – which went to print a little more than a year ago – sitting there on the shelf. Still not a single copy sold, though the front copy bore the marks of being picked up and looked at.
And I was struck by this familiar feeling of embarrassment. Not because of the lack of sales (which, to be fair, actually is embarrassing). But because of the intensely personal material I put out there in that book. That it’s out in the world – with my name on it – for anyone to pick up and read. And I have serious doubts about my writing ability. (More on that later.)
I’ve been watching a lot of TV lately, and playing video games too. It’s my natural response – self-care, of sorts – to the stresses of an intense period in which I’m working, the kids are back at school, and we are in the midst of a month-long, comprehensive home renovation. Such entertainment doesn’t feed my soul. It doesn’t inspire me at all. And, truth be told, it’s very likely spiritually harmful – not because the material is impermissible, but because I spend far too much time on it. Moderation is not a strength for me in this realm.
Anyway…when I’m in this zone, I am way, way out of creative and introspective territory. I see the writer in me as this historical figure: someone I used to be, instead of someone who’s still here, just sitting dormant while other priorities crowd my consciousness.
The thought hits me: I write poetry?! Me?!
It’s hard to believe that I put out a whole book filled with the stuff.
And I think of whether I would do something like that again. Would I put something so personal out into the world in book form? Something that may be read by people that I know, and complete strangers, too?
You see, this blog doesn’t get much traffic, so I consider it a fairly safe space. I don’t draw attention to it often, and pretty much the only people who read my stuff here are those who genuinely follow this blog. It’s not a book in a store. It’s not promoted on social media or elsewhere. If you’re one of the very few regulars around here, I’m talking about you.
Anyway…so when I read back some of the stuff that was in the book, I get embarrassed at the lack of eloquence in my words. I see it as so basic – the way I write. My adjectives – my descriptiveness – feels at times like it’s still at primary school level. That utterly basic: “This happened…and then this…and then…and then…”. That was the extent of my story-telling ability in my earliest years.
And I feel I haven’t grown much in terms of expressing my prose more creatively.
I started reading a local author’s new pseudo-memoir yesterday. I enjoy her writing, and this book is a collection of vignettes from her life – insightful experiences similar to some of the stuff I’ve published in the past. But whereas her writing draws me in as a reader, I feel my own style of writing is far more bland.
The lessons I want to put forward are there, but I feel embarrassed at how basic my expression is. I don’t have flowery language (which I value only when it’s a stylistic choice that effectively draws me in). I don’t have beautifully-captured descriptions of life.
My writing is just…plain. I feel it could be better. It could be expressed better.
It could draw the reader in more. I could still put my message across straightforwardly, but I could write in a better way. A way where I come across as more than just an amateur who is supposedly a ‘writer’.
The age-old imposter syndrome has struck once more.
I did a 10-week editing course last year which reinforced my opinion of how crap a writer I really am. Descriptive writing has always been a weakness for me. The module on editing creative writing was tough. I enjoy reading creative writing…but I’m no good at writing it. And I believe that extends to editing it, too. I don’t think I’d do well with editing a novel or a story. A grown-up one, at least (because I am editing some children’s stories nowadays).
Non-fiction is more comfortable for me.
But creative stuff? Uh-uh. No way.
I know ‘we all have a story to tell’…but to me, so many others capture their stories so much better. They’re far more emotive. Captivating. Even those who suck at grammar…it’s not a big deal. Because if you have the raw ability, the rest is just refinement which your editor can help you with.
But me? I feel jaded. And plain.
Among some people I know, I have this reputation of being a writer…of being ‘good with words’. And maybe that’s true in some respects. But they have no idea how crap I really think I am.
It’s actually only when I’m really inspired and the words just flow – like in the old days (and very rarely in recent years) – that I think decent stuff comes out.
But even that output, when I look at it some time later and with emotional distance…it’s often not as ‘good’ as I would like it to be.
Sure, I had the courage and persistence to push a book out. But is it a book that anyone else finds interesting?
My writing – which forms that book – was all written selfishly. It was my own therapeutic release. A catharsis, of sorts.
But was it worthy of being a book out in the world?
I don’t know.
Am I ever going to attempt another one?
I have plenty of material. I even started conceptualising the next one. But it’s all fallen flat over the last year. And if I were to revive the project, would I be able to enhance the words to bring it up to the standard I feel is good enough for a book? Can I give it the boost it needs to push it beyond the mediocre level I consider most of my work at?
Maybe I need a publisher and a passionate editor to push me through this lull. But I’m not actively trying anything in the writing world at this point.
Who knows?
All I know is, right now, I’m either a former writer, or an imposter who knows he can’t produce material that pulls in readers the way a real writer would.
Only time will tell if I move beyond this state of wallowing…
Image via Pixabay
slip-sliding away..... 
Very thoughtful post. Eloquent, honest, and – yes – well written. Trust me on the last part. You are good with words, and good at writing. Poetry, I have very little expertise in. Almost none. But writing I know well, having done it professionally for decades, and, more importantly, having consumed a ton of it as a reader, to a point where I feel like I can spot the good from the bad in a couple of paragraphs.
My experience is, almost all of us think our writing is crap at one time or another. I look back at some of the things I’ve written and want nothing more than to light a torch to it and send it up in smoke and ashes. It’s that bad to me. You can bet that any writer feels this way, from those who never publish a word to those on the bestseller lists.
We are our own worst critics, but not always very good ones. We don’t have an objection lens through which to view our work. And because we often don’t have any public validation of it, we always assume the worst about it.
Put it this way: You self-published a book with no marketing or publicity machine behind it. I did the same thing a few years ago, and the book sold maybe 50 copies, I don’t know. A few of the stories I think are strong and valid. Most I find trite and amateurish.
But, and this is important: Suppose I (or you) had a marketing and promotion team behind it. Suppose it sold 50,000 copies instead of 50. Suppose your book got into the right hands, and sold thousands or tens of thousands of copies. The writing is the same. But would your appreciation of it be different? Would the affirmation of many others buying the book change your view of the quality of it?
I know in my case it would make a huge difference. I’d suddenly think to myself, “What a great book! Worthy of all those sales!”
Some writers I won’t mention sell millions of books. And their writing is flat, dull, hackneyed and lifeless. I say this objectively, being a very big reader and consumer of books. But I bet they think they are quite brilliant writers, because their sales validate that opinion.
Anyway, keep at it. Find your sweet spot and pursue that. You are still pretty young (you told me your age in reply to one of my blogs). You have a long arc ahead of you to pursue this passion of yours. What you are feeling is normal, so feel it and then move on and get back to writing. It might be helpful to enter it in competitions and submit it for publication. Get others in the business to give you feedback on it. This way you know you are at least writing for an audience.
Don’t worry about the rejections, because those are normal. Just keep working on it and finding your voice, because you definitely have one that needs to be heard.
Thanks for the encouragement, Vance. I suspect this is just a phase (albeit a recurring one), but I also feel it’s an important period because those self-criticisms show me where I can improve. I’ve not actively pushed myself to improve my writing – formally via study – because it remains a hobby alone, and not a paying job (well, not significantly paying, at least).
But your point about perception based on sales is absolutely true. The irony is that I didn’t really care about numbers when I set out on the book journey. The intention was to inspire, or in some other way, benefit *someone* out there…impact, rather than volume, was always the goal.
But I guess whenever we put something out there, it’s difficult to ignore the stats – whether we sell a little or sell a lot.
But yes, I fully take on your advice to just push through. And I have submitted to publications in the past, with a few successes amidst many rejections (or silence…which is the same).
I can empathize with many of your thoughts and feelings. I too cringe when I read my old writing, even my blog posts which I never had the intention of making out to be beautiful prose. I think 1) we are our own worst critics 2) there’s different kinds of writers. I also don’t see myself as a creative person and have told myself after one or two attempts that I am not a fiction writer. But then again, can I really say I’m much of a non-fiction writer either? I haven’t published anything that I am truly proud of (currently) and don’t even blog all that much anymore, so I haven’t called myself a “writer” in a long time. As with running, it’s hard for many of us to identify with a thing if we’re not excelling at it (whether it be winning races or publishing best-sellers), but I’m still definitely a runner because I do it. So I would say the same is true with writing. If you write, then you are a writer. It’s ultimately about the connections you make with others, regardless of the style of your content. Based on that alone, I would say you are a writer. And hey, your book is on sale at a bookstore! That’s a pretty big deal. There will always be someone who is better than you, no matter how great you are. But keep on writing because you are connecting with people! I think that’s what matters most.
Thanks, Rafia. I think the most insightful – yet simple – thing I take from your words is that if you are *doing* it regularly, then that’s what you are. Good or bad (in either your own mind or someone else’s), your doing it makes it your reality, and not just some fantasy you imagine.
And yes – connecting with others is the goal.
I’m happy to hear that is still being achieved.
I’m sad for you, Yacoob, but also excited…sad that you doubt your talent to write with more passion, or that your gifts can match your expectations, but excited by your current “pause,” because I think you are gestating something wonderful. I hope you’ll see it through to its birth. It feels like you are both yearning and denying yourself the experience of exploring the yearning. What does that denial of your gifts serve?
Have you ever tried writing the Morning Pages as outlined by Julia Cameron in The Artist’s Way? I believe she has a website, too. It’s a kind of ritual free-writing and wonderfully liberating…who knows what it could reveal, invite, or create? I also love a lot of the exercises in Ursula Le Guin’s Steering the Craft.
All artists live with doubt, but determine a way to use it as fuel, and keep creating, dear friend. No one else has your voice.
Xoxo,
Kitty
Thanks, Kitty. I hope it is a matter of something in formation, and once I have sufficient mental and emotional space again, it will pour out (as has been the case many times in the past).
I’ve heard about the Morning Pages, and ideally would like to try that…but at this moment, renovations complicate my time – given that I’m still working full-time. Perhaps once it’s all over, I’ll have that breathing space in the morning to develop that ritual. I do journal, but that’s pretty rare, unfortunately. So this kind of structure would hopefully be very useful.
Thank you for the advice and encouragement, as always.