The Grasshopper Sunday Edition: Motivational Crap
Today is today, not the first day of the rest of your life
These Sunday editions are where I occasionally go a little off the wall and this one may shape up to be that. I read a piece this morning on Medium by a young woman who writes well and has many more followers than me. But she is in her early twenties and has positioned herself as an expert in motivation. She has a course she sells (of course) and only writes about one thing.
She wrote a listicle about the books you should read. They were all self-help best sellers, the kind of books that litter used book stores. It brought out the critic in me, big time.
These things are candy. They bring you instant gratification but the sugar buzz fades fast and you’re right back where you started. I freely admit that I have actually read a few of the titles she recommended. And they may have offered me some of that gratification when I needed it.
But I’ve tried going back to those books later and I could not stomach them a second time. I love gummy bears but after I’ve eaten ten or eleven, they suddenly get disgusting. Good writing doesn’t get disgusting, it gets better the more you read it.
Television
After eight months of writing these newsletters, I can see a pattern emerging. It is a common one when writers talk about writing. I saw a clip of George Saunders on Colbert talking about his new short story collection, Liberation Day, which I have not read.
For some reason, short stories don’t do it for me. But it was interesting to see Saunders talking about writing because he and I share a fascination with the mystery of the process. You simply can’t think about it when you are doing it.
You may think about it ahead of time but when you jump in, all the rules and ideas go out the window and a current takes you. You have no choice but to go with it, even when it takes you way out to sea. To survive a rip current you swim with it, not against it.
A mundane example: This week was a momentous one in the US, as we saw an election drama unfold that none of us saw coming. Everyone was wrong. The pundits, the polls, the liberals and the wingnuts.
I write about this stuff to pay for lunch. But even with a topical thing like politics, my best writing starts with a notion, maybe a headline, and then I have to let go and riff on it. I’ve usually consumed a lot of news, opinions, and various angles, so I have the ingredients to tell a story the way I see it. But then I start writing and stop thinking.
This is a paradox that can confound a new writer. You don’t labor over an idea once you start writing. You don’t construct a sentence, review it, edit, and re-edit, then go to the next one. You just wing it. If you have done your homework, in my case all that news consumption, it will sort it itself out as you write.
When you are learning to write, you think too much. It’s just a stage you have to go through. And when you think too much about it, you get overwhelmed and the thought of writing becomes too much.
That’s the point where you have to let go, give up, and just write some crap.
That’s the point where you start to be a writer.
This is the point where I question whether what I just wrote is arrogant junk or useful. But, in writing these Sunday things, which I consider extras, I can take that chance of may be sending you some crap.
I wrote and published a lot this week, thousands of words and they are getting thousands of reads. Knowing that is a great gift as a writer. But I am passionate about what I write and others seem to need to share my ideas and observations.
It is marvelous to see readers reading your stuff and commenting. But the irony is that the actual act of writing is not in my memory. It is a moment of life lived right there and gone, the only evidence being the document I created.
It is a glimpse into the mysterious. What more could we aspire to?
This week I wrote about hurricanes, war, and the future of our democracy. Not minor subjects. That’s why I have little patience with motivational stuff, though I recognize its momentary value when you need it. My writing about those volatile subjects shares that momentary impact.
I have no illusions about that. But I need to write a novel this winter. I can feel it.
See you on Wednesday. M
816 words
If you get anything out of this you can buy me a coffee. I’ll pay it forward!
Useful information. Thank you