The hardest challenge
...for an 11 year old to a 14 year old is admitting they still like the same silly things from their childhoods. But the hardest challenge for a twenty-something is admitting we're not the best at what we love. While the internet is filled with "adulting is hard!" posts (although this woman has a savings accounts, professional email address and regularly gets up before 9 am, thank you very much) mentally, we still have the teenage aspect of feeling like we're at the top of our game. We'll give the 30 somethings and up props for managing parenthood and bill-paying. But admitting that we're not excelling in our new job or shooting to the heights of our chosen path at breakneck speed is not our strong suit.
Tonight, I have finally broken down and began looking at those "how to become a better writer" blogs. It can be difficult to find the better ones, as they can range from the vague "you can do it!" encouragements that give little to no actual advice to the strict "do it my way or you're no real writer" set. And true, published authors tend to have more validation in the field. But let's keep in mind that Madeleine L'Engle had to take "A Wrinkle in Time" to no less than 26 publishers before it was finally put on the shelves, where as E.L. James of "50 Shades of Gray" fame did not struggle nearly as much. Nearly every bookworm and writer alike will agree on which is the better piece of literature out of the two.
I have also realized that amateur writers are, in general, assholes. In a field that's inherently subjective and filled with people trying to validate their own intelligence by the level of novel they read or write, you're not truly good until you're better than someone else. There is always that one writer that holds their work to be the masterpiece of their genre or knows the secret way to write the perfect story. I've often had my story summaries put down as "too formulaic". For some reason, length is always included in this assessment. But I would like to point out that Stephanie Meyer's "Twilight" had nearly 500 pages while Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" had less than 150. Ruminate on that.
Growing up, I was more or less recognized as the writer of my family. Other family members may indulge in the hobby, but I was always the one getting all of the journals for Christmas or pictures of t-shirts with the phrase "anything you say can and will be used in my next book" posted on their Facebook page. For most of my years as a minor, I didn't have a giant set of writer friends. Truth be told, I didn't really seek them out. To this day, my only true "writing person" is my friend Stephanie...who has told me that I am the only writing friend she can stand to talk to on the subject as "writers are dicks".
Now I'm not bragging when I say I'm adept at writing. By the time I was 12, I could write a death scene capable of making my older sister cry. (Yes, Esther, I know he was only 4 years old. But if the heir to the throne didn't die of the plague there would have been no struggle for royal succession) I can make witty statements that make people laugh aloud while their reading and create realistic characters, one of which I had been told was the perfect "lovable douchebag". And this is not without effort. I have been writing poetry since I was 8 or 9 and stories since I was 10 or 11. Admitting that I may need help in the craft I have dedicated literally a decade of my life to is not an admission I make easily. I will say I felt relieved when I read over "common writing mistakes" and realized that those mistakes I did make I was already aware of and working on.
The point of my long rambling post is this: humility is key. It's never really mentioned as a key to success, but it's essential. No one wants to congratulate you on your success when your attitude makes them wish you'd never succeeded in the first place. And no one ever betters themselves by stalwartly refuses to believe there is anything they're not the top in. I'm not writing the next great American novel at 22 years old, I accept that. But knowing that now means I know what to do to shoot for a spot on NYT's bestseller list before 35.
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