...but the internet's on!
I’ve heard it said that writers should need to write, and not just want to like any amateur with an idea and a blog. In fact Bukowski has a nice poem espousing that very idea. But here’s the thing: I think that idea is a bunch of crap put forth by pretentious assholes like Bukowski so as to distract us from the fact that many authors either aren’t very good at anything other than writing or are crazy.
See, I’m pretty good at this writing thing. Well, I’ve been told so, anyway. But I’m also pretty good at other things and, barring an unlikely high-five-figures book deal, I’ll probably make my “living” doing something other than putting pen to paper. Maybe teaching, or waiting tables, or editing those who have gotten a high-five-figures book deal. Whatever it is, there’s a good chance that I’ll spend a good deal of my time not sitting in front of a blank screen (or page) pondering characterization. And here’s the kicker: I probably won’t mind it too much.
Writers like Bukowski, and anyone else who claims that you need to love it, bleed it, breathe it, have a monogamous and deep relationship with writing to the exclusion of everything else, are not normal and do not represent what I would consider to be a healthy orientation toward their craft. Sure, it helps to be passionate about what you do, and sure, many if not most famous artists have been intensely absorbed in their craft; but the overall sentiment from Bukowski-minded people seems to be that if you aren’t doing it all the time or don’t want to do it all the time, you’re not really a writer and nor should you be.
Honestly: Screw them.
Yes, I’m paying to be in a writing program, and yes, I call myself a writer, but I’m not about to sacrifice the rest of the world while I make stories. The internet, other books, television, family, friends, sex, eating, cooking, cleaning, thinking, even just sitting around not doing anything in particular–these are legitimate actions, even for someone who has adhered to himself a label like “writer.” I’ve been chastised before for my low word count, but I’m not entirely convinced that my work as a writer should be more writing than living. First off, I need material. Second, I need to be happy. And while writing does add to that happiness it is neither necessary nor sufficient, and those for whom it is either or both of those things are not necessarily better writers; they’re just other writers. Yet I get the feeling that if I told some of these kinds of writers that I haven’t worked on any fiction this break they might be a bit condescending in their reactions. “No writing? None at all? But doesn’t your mind buzz like a hive of angry mutant bees and if you don’t let the bees out they explode because they’re also filled with C4 and when they get to be too agitated they shoot lightning out of their faces as though they had spark plugs for eyes?” Um, no. Most of the time I talk my ideas out with other people and then I feel OK and sometimes I write them down and then work on them until I feel like they adequately represent what I was thinking and feeling at the time. Also, sometimes I tell the bees to shut the fuck up and then I go eat a sandwich and watch Gilmore Girls.
So, what follows is a list of what I’ve done so far this winter break, and I’d like to make a point of it that the list contains very little, if any, writing. Does this mean that I don’t enjoy writing? No. Does it mean that I’m not passionate about it? No. Does this mean that I’m not a writer because I don’t have to spend every moment of my life writing? No, and kindly go to hell if you think that it does. I’ve made it a point to enjoy my life as much as possible, and that means, for the most part, doing what I want. For the last few weeks that has included the following:
Reading (Blood Meridian, Logicomix, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, Esquire, Wired, to name a few)
Running
Watching Movies (Blue-Ray makes a big difference, let me tell you)
Eating (Chicago Diner, Comet Cafe in Milwaukee, everything my mom/aunt/dad makes)
Watching TV (House is an amazing show no matter how many times I watch the episode where he thinks he slept with Cuddy and kicked his addiction only to realize he hallucinated the whole thing)
Blogging (Is this writing the way I’m talking about it above? Probably not according to people like Bukowski it isn’t)
Thinking (What constitutes empirical certainty? At what point does anecdotal evidence become relevant? Can individual experience prove anything? Disprove anything? What timescale is most important to us as individuals? As groups? As humans?)
Playing this awesome flash game I Stumbled Upon (Seriously, it’s like Asteroids on crack and I enjoy it almost as much as playing Halo or Left for Dead)
Judge this list if you must, but first, post your own. Honestly, as a writer surrounded by writers I’m interested to know how many of you A) think that I’m wrong about how much writing I should be doing and B) are spending your vacations doing almost the same thing I am. So, to paraphrase 4th-grade teachers around the world, What did you do on your winter vacation?
Tags: blogs · break · Bukowski · Emerson · Joe · Winter · writers' habits · writing2 Comments
This post rocks. When I was in the MFA program at Emerson, I had to keep it under wraps that I actually, horror of horrors, watch a lot of TV. And read magazines other than the New Yorker. And don’t (gasp) listen to NPR every morning. Being a writer is merely one facet of my identity. It isn’t everything, and frankly, if it was, I’d be a really shitty one.
I enjoyed reading as you hacked away at rhetoric that, at least in the context you presented it, is unhealthy. For what it’s worth, I twice heard the late Norman Mailer speak in person. He described having days he didn’t feel like writing, where it was all he could do to physically sit in front of the keyboard for an obligatory hour.
However, based on my related experience in professional theatre, I can say it’s the Bukowskis of the world who often get noticed first and more often. In an ultra-competitive industry, passion/obsession are tangible currency. Editors and producers, bored with the continuous deluge of aspiring talent, find themselves attracted to the Bukowski-type you describe, in part because that personality-type reminds the publisher/professor why they got into the arts in the first place.
At minimum, I’d say that tenacity is a requisite to creative success, unless you want to wait around for luck. I’ve tried that too, and here I am again blogging for free.