In recent weeks I’ve had more time to read. I used to be an avid reader, especially of the classics, but college will do things to you. After reading a social science textbook for three hours straight, trying to make sense of abstract concepts and miles of charts…sitting down and reading a book afterward isn’t very appealing. The number of books I read for fun as an undergrad is probably in the single digits, and for some reason nonfiction was more interesting to me in the midst of my studies (I guess it made it easier to code-switch when it came to reading textbooks.)
But a few weeks ago I dove into a fantastic book – No Man’s Land by Simon Tolkien. Yes, he’s related to who you think he is. His writing takes a definite cue from that of his grandfather, but with a unique modern voice. As a fictional look into the events leading to the first World War, Tolkien is able to write about the subject with a knowing omniscience that his characters are oblivious to, especially after having a grandfather who served in that war.
Something I enjoy doing as a reader and a writer is (I don’t know if this is out-of-the-ordinary or not?) is to imagine the writer’s life as I’m reading. Try to pinpoint certain scenes or characters that possibly hinge on the author’s own experiences. Does this author fix on atheism vs. theism because he was raised by a believing and non-believing parent? Is the romantic interest based on a spouse or lover? Why did they choose these specific names? When writers read, they’re almost always reading as if the book were an autobiography. They see layers; not just the characters, but the one who created them.
For me, another thought that comes into my head while I read is: How can I write like this?
Or, better yet – how the heck am I supposed to compete with this?
I call it Writer’s Envy. An easy enough term, and a phenomena that’s easy enough to diagnose. If you read something and wish you could write like that, that’s Writer’s Envy. Even if you’re not a “writer” (everyone’s a writer in some capacity, but not everyone enjoys writing,) you’ve probably experienced Writer’s Envy.
In recent weeks I’ve also had more time to write. Before now, the last time I truly sat down and hammered out some writing for my novel (when I say novel, I basically mean eight-year passion project that keeps me busy when I’m bored) was last August. Awhile ago. I often feel guilty about how little I write, even though I call myself a writer.
“Why am I writing when they write so much better than me?” Unfortunately, this thought goes through my head often. It’s not always when I’m reading novels. I’ll read blog posts and wonder how I could get that many followers, or comments, or likes. How do I get there? (Sometimes that has a lot more to do with optimization than writing, but that’s an entirely different blog post altogether.)
Whoever you are, whatever you do, this thought has probably crossed your mind before. “Why are they better than me? Why can’t I be that good?” Sometimes it seems like someone gets good at something overnight when you’ve been struggling for years to hone your craft and make people notice. And that doesn’t seem fair! (Because it’s not. Didn’t you listen to the grandpa in The Princess Bride?)
When you hit these walls, it’s easy to stop. I won’t even say “give up,” because that sounds like you’re pity-partying yourself, and that’s not always the case. You just stop, because you feel like you’re getting nowhere and your time might be better spent doing something else. Sometimes you just stop. Because it feels useless.
Fun fact: I’ve stopped writing this blog post three times. It has taken me almost a week to write this. Because I sit down to write, and I don’t feel like I have anything useful to say. Why would I write something that’s already been written before?
I’m glad I haven’t stopped though. I wrote voraciously in middle school. Then high school happened and I didn’t write as voraciously, because I had actual homework that took up actual time. Then life happened and I had other things that took up actual time (like a degree.) Now that life isn’t as busy and is a bit more predictable…I’m not writing as voraciously as I did in middle school, even though I could.
I’m going to challenge you to do something I’m challenging myself to do this year: take time to do what you love, even if you feel like it’s not worth anything. Is my novel ever going to be in front of any other eyes other than my own, and my roommates’? Maybe not. Will it be the next Game of Thrones and become a TV show that gets put out so fast I can’t turn out novels fast enough and it ruins my narrative so I have to kill everyone in the story? More than probably not. Will I have a Wikipedia page with scholarly citations? Again, probably not.
But do I love writing? Yes. Do I love looking back on what I’ve written and get inspired to write more? Yes. Do I want to tell stories? Heck yes.
Even if I’m only given an inch of the world to influence, I want that inch to be fertile, to cultivate maybe one or two people to plant their own inch of influence. It will be worth it to someone, or something, or some time. And if all else fails, it will be worth it to you.
So write on.
Life doesn’t discriminate
between the sinners and the saints
it takes and it takes and it takes and
we keep living anyway
we laugh and we cry and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there’s a reason I’m still alive
when everyone who loves me has died
then I’m willing to wait for it.
I’m willing to wait for it.
Aaron Burr, Hamilton
a. w.
Audrey D. DeBoer 