A Misconception of Writing
Original Publication 25/11/20
I've been making strides in my career as of late. I've taken on new clientele, new responsibilities, and my portfolio is slowly but surely expanding. Multi-disciplined creative writing (as I like to patten it) is a quality I pride myself on, and it's an essential part of my larger process, but a matter I've found my musings drawn to in recent times centre around the misconceptions I've encountered as a writer. More specifically, the ones centred around the process and the journey. Much like many of the pieces featured in this blog, this is an attempt to explore this theme, in a manner I've always found superior comfort in.
My journey has not been one of large profit, nor is it one of excessive physical exertion. What it does require, however, is strong mental fortitude, an ongoing discipline, and a willingness to acknowledge your own achievements, often in environments that define success in a vastly contrasting manner. That's not a criticism, just an observation. The easiest way to measure success is by how much you've gained from it, and the most obvious form of gain is wealth. I guess that's half the struggle in modern society, and one that certainly applies to almost any other line of work.
But what sets the achievements of a writer apart is only we truly know the energy it took to achieve them. In that way, it's entirely subjective, and that's the deeply personal nature of this practice. It's reflective of our mind-state, our emotions, our memories, everything. Every session is invariably strenuous and produces differing results. The process is often long, daunting and, at times, even laborious, that every achievement is treated with respect and sincerity, regardless of how much it's made in the way of financial profit. I have the good fortune of knowing many people in my life who show understanding of this process, but I'd argue that most can only offer a level of speculation.
Perhaps that's why we're considered an odd breed. We're deeply attached to our work, stubbornly so, but how else might you treat something you've raised up from its foundations, dropping portions of your soul into it along the way. The honest truth is, I couldn't imagine doing anything else (see The Simple Beauty of Animals for more musings). It's my therapy, as well as my practice, and in a lot of ways, this emboldens that sense of personal affiliation. But, that's my style. It's one I've shaped and moulded over time, practice and experience. It's an intimate portrayal of my true self, and a personifying characteristic I now hold onto with a sure and steady grip.
Because above all, it's a practice I cherish. A philosophy I've always followed is that wealth should come second behind personal fulfilment and finding joy in your work. As long as I achieve that, I'm happy to take some bumps and bruises and misconceptions along the way. I'm happy to take my wins where I can, and I'll suffer for my craft as long it's there to come back to when the moments right. As long as I have a body of work at the end of it that's unapologetically genuine, humble and provocative. Because that's all that I can really ask for as a writer. A story or a script or a piece of creative writing that's reflective of who they are as a human being and as an artist. And, perhaps, a little understanding from you, the curious reader, of the journey it took them to get there.