My first blog post on the new site. So, yeah, where to begin? Outside of my undergrad and current MFA program, I haven’t done a lot of writing about writing. I’ve done more reading about writing. It’s not that I can’t write about writing—I just haven’t. But it’s a good opportunity to think about it, because I’m writing every day, and while perhaps not as prolific or verbally verbose on the topic as some of the authors I admire, I do have something to say about it.
I think writing is one of the most difficult things you can do, because when you write (and then share your writing with the world), you make yourself completely vulnerable. In that moment, there’s a window into some part of you that everyone gets to see… and it’s truth. It doesn’t matter whether you’re writing fiction, nonfiction — whether it’s based in any sort of reality or you’ve invented something totally random and you — it’s all connected to you — it’s all a window into some part of you — there’s some truth about you in there — and that makes you vulnerable. But it can also make you impactful… That vulnerability is a two-way connection. In one way or another, the reader not only sees into you, they see themselves in what you’re writing — if only to judge and say, “Nope, I don’t like that.” But that’s the magic of writing. The window into you as an author is a window into another world for the reader. They get to put their burdens aside and be somewhere or someplace or someone else — if only to see the world through your writing.
But of course, being vulnerable means you can get hurt. In today’s world, with all the negativity out there, it doesn’t matter if you’re the best of the best, someone’s not going to like what you have to say — and then want to tell you or everyone else about it. But you have to tune those voices out and steel yourself against the storm, because that’s life. That’s one of the reasons why, for me, I try not to attach myself to the outcome of whatever I’m writing. There are things that I’ve written that I’m proud of, and there are things that I’ve written that could probably use some more work — or maybe I wrote them a few years ago and my style has improved — or I would write them differently now. Sometimes I’ll reread something I wrote and I’ll just start making edits — that’s a lot of fun — I was reading a speech last night that I had written about a year ago and I’m like, “Did I really say it that way?” And I started rearranging some words, switching things around, making all these tiny micro-edits here and there. But it felt so bizarre, because the changes seemed so obvious to me that I was confused. Who was that person that wrote this? That couldn’t have been me. And I forced myself to go back to the original file to double-check the original wording, and yeah, sure enough, I did say it that way! So, it’s interesting that, at that time in my life, saying it that way didn’t stand out to me. I guess it’s a lesson that, as you progress as a writer, and the more you write, and the more you read, the more you evolve. But getting back to the point of attachment: writing, for me, is something that I feel passionate about. And I don’t (really) care if anyone likes what I’ve written—though of course it feels nice when they do. But it’s important to try not to get attached to any sort of outcome. And of course I say that, but then I’ll submit a piece to a writing contest and not win, and then see just how attached I really was! That’s like the Zen master who, after standing in line at the DMV for four hours only to learn he must come back, totally loses it and has an outburst. The point is that you try — you try not to attach yourself, and you try not to have an ego about it — and you do that because that allows you to be happy regardless of the circumstance. When you’re not attached to the outcome, when you’re not attached to the story, when you don’t have an ego about it, everything is okay. Things are as they are. And that allows you to grow as a person. If I get attached to the story, the story’s usually negative — and then it gets into this repetitive self-talk: I must not be good enough, or can’t they see how good I am — I’m trying so hard — and so on. Or, flipping the script, having too much of an inflated ego is just as dangerous. I was reading an interview with Dorothy Allison where she was saying that success was really dangerous for her because of the risk to start writing according to the expectations of others — readers, agents, publishers, etc. — and that, by catering to their expectations, it dulls the edges of what makes you, you.
I think every writer also feels, to some extent, like an impostor. Maybe that’s because, when you’re writing these fictitious worlds, “Who am I to say that I’m an expert on this or that magic system, or I’m a detective, or I’m a police officer, or I’m whatever character I am portraying in my work?” So, I think there is a little bit of “Do I belong here?” especially when you’re just starting out. This gets better the more you write. And what I find is that the more I write, and the more feedback I get, and the more open I am to that feedback, and to listening to myself and listening to others, the more my own authentic author voice develops. You start to sound a certain way and have a certain style. Even if you want to change that style, it’s still something that you’re doing — it’s your style that you’re doing — and that kind of authenticity is what dispels the impostor syndrome. You start to realize, “Hey, I do belong here. This is my voice, and I can do this.” So I think every writer struggles with that as well.
I do hope to become successfully published one day, if only because it’s a job I would enjoy doing. I get joy out of writing, and I have fun with the stories and the characters. When I’m in the zone, I’m not thinking about my problems, or what bad thing happened in the past, or worried about the future — I’m in the moment, in alignment with myself and the now, living in the world of the stories I’m creating, and that’s what I get out of writing.
If you’ve read this far and are still with me, THANK YOU. I hope you’ll explore the rest of my site and check back often for updates. I’d love to hear from you. Reach out to me over email at david@davidjgailey.com.