You know, I enjoy browsing the community of creative writers. Well, you know, some parts. I like to hear the stories and worries and successes of writers I like, and even writers I don't, or don't know. Then occasionally I'll read something like this article in the Huffington Post by J.J. Colagrande, "The Agony of Creative Writing". And I just can't help but roll my eyes.
Because it's not that it's not true. A writer's life is more than nine times out of ten not the most profitable one in the world. And yes it can be incredibly difficult to find your audience. But... duh? I feel like I've read this exact article dozens of times before. There are more readers! There are more (way more) writers! But the readers read short easy to consume things! But I'm confused on the whys and wherefores of this transmission of information.
To what audience is this article directed? Other writers? Because I feel like anyone that's dipped so much as a toe into the field is well aware of any to all of these points. And those who have gone to school for Creative Writing have definitely encountered the blankly enthusiastic / enthusiastically blank stares in response to their answer to "So what do you do? "followed by "Oh so you're going to teach?" possibly having to endure the sniping of more "practical" minded family members about how are they ever going to support themselves writing pah. So they know.
Is it directed at readers, alerting them to the plight of the intrepid yet piteous writer? But are their attention spans even long enough to get through the whole article, much less inspire them to pick up and consume some literary work of several thousand plus words-- not even mentioning things like (gasp) metaphor.
I support bringing attention to the plight of writers, I guess, I'm just not entirely convinced that there is a plight? Am I aiming my writing towards the "masses" or the "choir" of other writers? Maybe I don't know, and is that a problem? (For every article I've seen that's exactly like Colagrande's, though, I've seen at least one and a half more lashing out at how insular and incestuous the writing community is, so I guess it can be considered a problem, at lease in some eyes. Everything can be considered a problem though if you're trying hard enough. So there's that.
"But writers knew this, no? Creative writers [hopefully] understood that they were entering into a life of constant rejection and stiff competition; no money for a really long time; an arduous and lonely process of creation and revision that never gets easy; a lifestyle where no one cares if they ever write again; a world where everything gets in the way of writing, including those who love and support them the most; plus, the wackiest business on the planet -- publishing -- gutted by the digital age, where networking appears more important than creating, where writers exhaust themselves promoting work, if lucky enough to find a publisher and agent. Writers understand a minute fraction of adults who read are tuned into the literary arts, yet they carry on. They've learned firsthand that "luck" and "who you know" often trump talent and effort, but they carry on. And they comprehend that the literary arts are drawing the small stick in the reading revolution, yet so what. Like Charlton Heston with a shotgun, you can yank the keyboard from their cold, dead hands."
Ah, do I detect a hint of snark there, Colagrande?
I just am really not sure what this guy is trying to tell me, or what he's trying to tell other people about what my life is like, or if he's trying to tell me about what my life is like?
Do I appreciate this support? Even if it feels a little underminey? If I'm being mocked, either he's doing it wrong or I'm doing it wrong.
I don't really mourn the fact that people, my peers, who were never going to voluntarily pick up a book anyway are gluttonizing Twitter and various newsfeeds. Yes, it bogs down my own consumption of the wider text-based world sometimes, but I'm not writing for them. I was never writing for them, and I will never aim to. Nor, on the other hand, will I force their faces into my writing as it is, for all of our sakes. My writing, hopefully, does not differ for my audience or lack thereof-- my explanation (if there is one) very well might, but I try to keep original generation as an entirely separate thing. I, for one, am reading other creative writers, some kind of on the far-out end of the branch. They can write for me if they feel like it, or if they don't, or if they don't care. That's fine. I'll be here to read it. And that in turn inspires what I write. Which they may read. Etc. I am absolutely okay with all of this cycle for some reason.
Point is, this really isn't the kind of article about the struggles of the creative writer or what have you that I want to read. I just want more, especially if the writer is a supporter of creative production and consumption. There's no real life being pointed to here but lack of reception, no personality or vivacity to the so-determined soul of the writer. Except I suppose for the mental image of Charlton Heston with a shotgun. And maybe that then is his buried point? We can fight to stay read or even be relevant, but what do we lose by persisting through such desolate adverse circumstances? Character, face, spirit? Feh.
Or maybe I'm looking an honest if bland kudos too far in the mouth.
No compromise! Viva le genreless symbol of ennui!
