Why is it so nerve-wracking to send something you’ve written out into the world? I love writing. I dream about being a writer. But I find it extremely inconvenient that in order to be a writer, you have to do two things:
1. Actually write the thing instead of just coming up with an inspired idea for a thing, congratulating yourself on your brilliance, endlessly procrastinating on doing anything about it, and then getting mad when someone else ends up actually writing the same thing 3 years later because can’t you see I was literally JUST about to write it, god, people are so rude.
2. Send the finished written thing out, exposed, into the world where people can read it and react to it and judge it and call me a hack and it’s no longer in my safe private little cocoon where only I call myself a hack.
I don’t know which of the two I hate more, and it’s all the more inconvenient because they’re two polar opposite sides of the coin. Creating requires you to dive deep into your most vulnerable, authentic self - to shut yourself away from the world and make something for you and for you only. Forget about what’s been done, forget about what’s been said. Allow yourself to tap into something that doesn’t need to be explained and cannot be defined. Build something weird, imperfect, colorful, a mosaic with jagged edges and irregular shapes. It’s catharsis and abstraction; it’s art and it’s magic. Like lightning, creativity is a cosmic phenomenon that has no verbal translation. Slowly, painstakingly, you weave something out of nothing, a creation that’s uniquely and only yours.
But here’s the paradox: Now that you have this exquisite, delicate piece of art nestled gently in your hands at home, how are you going to send it out into the world? You have to package it up, of course. Make it look nice, make sure no sharp edges are sticking out. And you have to put a label on the box – otherwise how will your audience, waiting somewhere out there, know what to look for? Suddenly, you’re snapped out of artist world and into marketing world. And just like that, it doesn’t matter how unique your work is, or how much it resists interpretation or defines genre or lives outside the box. If it’s going to market, it needs to be wrapped in a neat white corporate package with glossy paper and a catchy tag, just like all the others. Measured, trimmed, straightened, polished. At the market, you give it a logo, a brand, an aesthetic, a promotion strategy, a social media presence. Your precious untranslatable art now needs to be distilled into a 30 second elevator pitch (3 seconds, let’s be real – who has the patience?) The package is alphabetized, categorized, placed on the shelf next to all the others that seem similar enough. More of a selling point if there’s something to compare it to. And you watch helplessly as people pick your package up, peer inside, shake it, put it down, say they don’t understand it, it’s derivative, it’s weird, it’s trying too hard, it’s boring. Maybe the packaging wasn’t good enough. Or worse, you think, maybe what’s inside wasn’t good enough.
But maybe just one person opens up the package and loves it. They pay for it and take it home, and that means everything to you. Your creation is safe in the hands of someone who understands it. At the end of the journey, you’ve been rewarded with a single human connection. It doesn’t make it easier knowing you have to do the whole process all over again for the next piece.
That’s why I’m so singularly terrified of being a writer. Of dredging up my soul and selling it. I don’t know how to reconcile these two sides as I take my first baby steps into the world of creating. But maybe, hopefully, I’ll find out along the way.
(P.S. First post ever! Thank you for reading. Feel free to add your thoughts in the comments - I would love to build a little community here :))
You have articulated beautifully the dilemma of a writer.
My thoughts: is there a potentially a third and perhaps, a fourth angle to this dilemma.
What if someone gets benefited as a result of your public post? (Effective altruism)
What if someone makes you think differently as a result of your sharing? ( Effective self-growth)
James Clear could have kept his atomic habits in his personal journal but he also chose to publish a book that has benefited millions of people. Most good writers publish for effective altruism or effective self-growth, I think. I may be wrong, though.
Haha, loved number one!!
And how you discuss having to market your writing too - it's a whole other job!