Recently, I have been in both a reading and writing slump. And to get out of both, I decided to pick up a book on writing.
For context, I have been working on a particular writing project for the past few months. It started out incredibly exciting, as all of my projects tend to do. But similarly to all of my other projects, my enthusiasm fluctuates with time, with some days exceeding my writing goals to going weeks without writing a single word. Working a 9 to 5 doesn’t leave me with much time or energy to get things done either. There’s also chores to do around the apartment, laundry to get done, food to cook, networking, freelancing, applications, appointments, and the occasional albeit necessary outings with friends for my own sanity. Basically, life gets in the way, or at the very least it throws a lot of obstacles, and it’s really easy to blame myself when I don’t get any writing done. It’s even become more difficult to read. But though I am keeping this certain project a bit of a secret for now, I can say that I am on a deadline. Thus, I cannot put it off for much longer and I need to find a way to keep my motivation, work ethic, and those pages going.
Oddly enough, I have always liked reading books about writing. I say it’s odd because books on writing have a strange reputation in the same way that creative writing classes and programs do. It is universally acknowledged that writers cannot agree on whether creative writing classes are useful. We can agree that they aren’t necessary. You don’t need to spend thousands of dollars for an MFA to become a writer. But the writing community is split when it comes to creative writing classes and whether creative writing can even be taught. While it is true that you can teach plot, character, and themes, the waters get murky when you try to teach creativity. There have even been debates on how creative writing classes can actually hamper someone’s creativity.
Which brings me to the books on writing. I am currently reading Novelist as a Vocation by Haruki Murakami. The book is not a how-to on writing but rather a collection of essays on Murakami’s thoughts on novels and novelists. The book was recently released just last week and being a fan of Murakami, I picked it up wanting to learn more about the Japanese author’s thoughts on writing. Again, this is not a how-to book on writing. These are just Murakami’s thoughts.
As were Stephen King’s thoughts in his own book On Writing. Anne Lamott also came out with a good one called Bird by Bird. Chuck Palahniuk joined the club with his own book on writing called Consider This, as did George Saunders when he wrote A Swim in a Pond in the Rain. Body Work by Melissa Febos. Craft in the Real World by Matthew Salesses. The Art of Memoir by Mary Karr. Flash by John Dufresene. Refuse to be Done by Matt Bell. All of these are titles that I have read and enjoyed. There are a lot of books on writing that are terrible and repetitive. But these titles are memorable for the topics they bring up on writing and writing careers.
It is almost inevitable that a famous author would eventually write something about their process, and the great irony here comes with the previous idea that creative writing cannot be taught. If so, why would books on writing sell so well? And more personally, why would I be enjoying these books on writing from well-known authors? I think the answer lies in the fact that a lot of the books I mentioned were not really books on how-to write—though a lot of them do offer tips and tricks—but that they are more like conversations on writing, the writing lifestyle, and writing careers. Ironically, if there is anything writers might like more than writing, it is talking and sharing their thoughts on writing—in a way, I’m doing the same thing now. Only writers can understand other writers and the universal struggles of submitting pieces, querying agents, drafting, finding time to write, balancing your writing with your day job, and whether what you’re doing is worthwhile. Though it is mostly fun, writing is difficult because it is so easy to fall into self-doubt, especially because there is no praise or audience until the writing is officially out into the world. Writing is a lonely endeavor where you really do have to do it on your own. And what you’re writing can feel so personal that it is terrifying to share it even among your closest inner circle—sometimes especially among your inner circle.
That’s possibly why I personally enjoy these particular books on writing. In one way or another, these writers have somehow made it. They managed to find time to write. They made careers out of their craft. They managed to balance that craft with everything else in their personal lives. And they are willing to have that conversation with you. I have enjoyed these books because those conversations have been vulnerable, worthwhile, and inspiring. I loved reading about Palahniuk’s experiences with author photos. Lamott’s chapter on messy first drafts helped me get through a few of my own. I’ve taken King’s rule of omitting needless words (which he himself took from The Elements of Style by Strunk and White) to heart. Salesses has made me rethink how creative writing should be taught to become more inclusive and respectful for marginalized folks. Febos has taught me about the personal narratives. Reading these books have been beneficial in understanding something about writing that I would have never thought of. And they have also made me feel less alone in my struggles, which makes me want to keep going.
Thus, I like reading books on writing. It’s interesting to delve into the thoughts of other writers. The conversations are nuanced and worth having. And before I know it, I am motivated to keep going. I am turning on my laptop. Suddenly the assignment doesn’t seem too hard or mysterious. I believe I can actually do this. I’m ready to pick up where I left off and finish what I started.