1: Why do we write?
This is an interesting question writers are asked.
Here are some typical answers:
for money, fame, etc.
to make things up.
to tell a story only we can tell.
to make sense of our feelings and the world.
to leave a legacy behind.
Let’s break these down …
Money, Fame, etc.
We have no control over this.
The number one thing I hear in publishing from prospective authors and when I run workshops is, “I’ve got an idea for a book/I’ve written a book, and it’s going to be a bestseller.”
Why?
Because it’s a great idea? Because it’s beautifully written?
The publishing industry doesn’t care. Their primary motivator is whether a book’s saleable.
So you might think your book is.
Writing (and the arts) is the one industry where you can be brilliant, your product can be awesome, and it doesn’t necessarily matter.
If you’re a great athlete, you’ll rise to the top; if you’re a great surgeon, you’ll work your way through whatever hierarchical ranks hospitals have; if you’re a great landscaper, you’ll get referrals and more work. Etc.
But in those vocations, you have control over your physical reality.
With writing, you don’t. Once your book’s out there, and even if you market it, you have no control over the consumer – you can’t force them to buy your book. Wait, your story’s special? I bet the authors of the hundreds of thousands of other books out there feel similarly.
You have no control over trends at any given time; you have no control over whether a similar book has come out a month earlier and stolen your market; you have no control over whether a consumer will even pick up a book by an unknown author.
You have no control whatsoever.
So you may have a bestseller, but if you think you’re special, if you think you’re unique, let me tell you there are hundreds of thousands of other writers who feel exactly the same.
Let me throw in this qualifier: I totally get wanting to make money, and most of us would be realistic enough to concede that, sure, a material return would be nice. We’re not all so ego-less that’s not going to factor in the equation in some way.
But using this as the driver to write is like suggesting you’re going to quit your job and bank on lottery tickets to feed your family and pay your bills.
To make things up
Over thirty-five years ago, I was suffering from anxiety and panic attacks and a bunch of other related shit, and the public-hospital psychiatrist (who, in retrospect, was awful) asked me why I liked writing.
This is what I told him – I liked making things up, that I liked the ability to do whatever I wanted to (because the real world was boring).
I fumbled around, worried I was talking about some sort of God complex, but for a nineteen-year-old wannabe writer masquerading as an awkward human being dealing with anxiety and other similar shit, this seemed like a good answer.
And there’s something gratifying, if not also fulfilling, about creation. Seeing a story that began as a flimsy concept take shape, seeing the plot fleshed out and the characters grow into three-dimensional beings who talk to you (and who you’ll feel something for) elicits a contentment that few other things do.
On the flip side of that, though, you want to know that all this is justified, so that goes back to the original question: Why do we write?
To tell a story only you can tell
This applies whatever you’re writing – be it fiction (a novel, a children’s book, etc.) or nonfiction (a biography, a book about a subject, etc.) poetry, a business book for branding or a life-coaching book about your methodology, or whatever the case might be.
You have this awesome idea, and you just want to share it with everybody. There’s that old cliché in writing and publishing, Write the story you’d love to read.
I laud you if this is your motivation.
And it’s part of your primary reason.
But it’s not the primary reason.
To make sense of our feelings and the world
Events in the world, things that happen to us, and confusing feelings can all be too big to understand in their rawest form.
We can think about these things, but sometimes we’re trapped in our rudimentary understanding – surface understanding. We all do it. It’s our thinking as it sits right at the top and at its most impulsive. You would’ve heard the term, “deep thinker”. Well, that exists because, generally, we’re all reactive shallow thinkers.
Most days, we’re just thinking about what needs to be done – about our responsibilities, work/school, what we’re going to eat, what we’ll watch, etc. Outside of therapy, few of us would contemplate the meaning of our deeper feelings, or think philosophically about our place in the world.
But writing puts all this through some processing which our everyday brains don’t usually contend. It’ll go through our imagination, dissected, examined, embellished, then put it back together in a way that we either start to understand, or we’re express it in a way that we understand.
It’s a great tool in writing.
But that’s what it is: a tool.
To leave a legacy behind
This is another meritorious reason.
In publishing, I’ve seen this with older authors – they want to leave behind a keepsake with their family. That might sound egotistical and/or morbid, but as you get older, you do start think about the time you have remaining and your place in the world.
Even if you’re fit, when you’re older you’re prone to things popping up. We all know people who’ve passed away from an unexpected heart attack or aneurysm or a sudden cancer or whatever the case might be. My best friend passed away unexpectedly and suddenly right as she was planning to publish a novel she’d worked on forty twenty years.
So I understand leaving a legacy behind. We’ve been doing it for generations. Just look at indigenous cultures who’ve left behind cave paintings and that sort of thing, or the Egyptians with their hieroglyphs. These are all forms of storytelling.
Why should we be any different?
Your homework
Why I write is something I’ve pondered myself over the decades, and which I’ve discussed with other writers.
And after all this time, I’ve come up with one answer.
The answer.
But before I do, think about why you write – it might be one of or a combination of the five answers above, or something else (but make sure it’s not subjunctive to one of those five main reasons).
Really think about it, though.
This might mean some uncomfortable introspection, but I think it’s important to understand the reason, because it then helps you unlock your ability as a writer.