Being self conscious
Continuing my occasional series about the dangers and pitfalls that lurk waiting to derail of a writer’s career, here I give a passing mention to writerly self-consciousness, an aspect of creative endeavour that we often overlook. (I don’t want to make it self-conscious by making too much of it, but it deserves a passing glance, because its effects can be far-reaching.)
Being self-conscious as a writer is absolutely fatal to the process of creation. Like a pianist who plays all the right notes in all the right order but plays them mechanically – without a shred of emotion – the resulting material can be disappointing. Sorry, but it’s true.
Perhaps more than most, I have reason to want to hide away from the wide world, to hide from the glare of public scrutiny the stack of apparent disappointments (okay then, ‘learning opportunities’) that, until relatively recently, appeared to make up most of my life. Certainly, if I were overly self-conscious about my failings, I would still be sitting, stuck in that window seat over there, having writing nothing, trapped in a dark world clouded by fear and almost crippling silence.
Writing about life, happiness, progress, what it means to be happy and how to manage the tricksier aspects of sexual intimacy leaves no place to hide, and if even for a moment I gave in to embarrassment, I would probably pack everything in and take up a job as a desk clerk. I’ve been very tempted. But gradually, the pain and fear of exposure to ridicule dissipates and I learn to stand my ground. As we must all do, if we have any hope of writing well.
Writing anything, we best follow the advice of Margaret Atwood,
“The only way you can write the truth is to assume that what you set down will never be read. Not by any other person, and not even by yourself at some later date. Otherwise you begin excusing yourself. You must see the writing as emerging like a long scroll of ink from the index finger of your right hand…”
Which feels, occasionally, a bit bizarre. There’s me, the social person called Fran who eats, sleeps and relates to others. There’s Fran the writer who invents characters and gives them life and things to say to each other. And here’s Fran who has to assume she has never read, seen or created anything – a process of learned ignorance which is useful when it comes to re-reading our work, but which also helps us to be clear, honest and authentic. It’s not a guarantee – there are none! – but it helps me to write.
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November 14, 2016
Be Brave
Fran Macilvey 'Trapped: My Life with Cerebral Palsy', cerebral palsy, Fran Macilvey, Memoir, Path To Publication, The Rights & Wrongs of Writing, Women's fiction and chic lit 7 Comments
Be brave
As far as I can so far make out, the three most valuable attributes for successful writing are the willingness to be brave and honest, stamina and imagination. We need to be authentic, and to give expression to our unique voice, as well as stamina for the road ahead, and imagination to feed our prose.
Honestly, I wonder why I write, sometimes. It is such a labour of love and the process is akin to leaping off a cliff without a parachute. We leap, hoping for a soft landing. And if we are not careful and proud of what we do, we can be injured by such comments as one I received recently, ‘Oh how are the mighty fallen…!’ when I said I was now writing women’s fiction. That comment from an intimate of my circle could have stopped me in my tracks and made me take down everything….
Then, in a cooler moment, I recall that I write because, honestly, I want to express my version of the truth. If we take it that few truths are immutable, and that most human truths are a matter of perspective, our view opens up the reality of a gazillion different opinions and sights on every question.
I also really enjoy writing. You know those times when you don’t really give a damn what your fingers are doing, and you’re not listening for the phone or the doorbell. When the time seems to go by faster than you’d like, and you feel the cold holding your legs stiff but are too far away to care…? I love that feeling of crafting something different, being away in a different world. That feeling is worth a great deal to me. It makes me happy to smile when daughter comes home, when hubby asks ‘did you have a good day, and I can agree wholeheartedly that yes, I did, thank you.
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