Last winter I was feeling discouraged and I announced that I would be changing my blog into an all-fiction blog and that I would no longer be writing about writing.
There were several reasons for this. One was that I thought I had run out of things to say about writing and was afraid of repeating myself. Another was that my viewer stats had fallen dramatically since I had changed from Blogger to WordPress.
The readership decline was alarming. On Blogger I had been getting at least 150 views per post and the numbers had seemed to be steadily rising. According to WordPress I was only getting about 30 views per post, which was about the same as when I first started blogging several years ago. I later learned that blog stats are not to be trusted. Blogger, I am told, wildly inflates stats and WordPress is not known for its accuracy either.
But the apparent nosedive created a sense that everything was unraveling and it seemed silly to keep writing about writing if practically no one was reading my blog. I should have known better than to let the stats upset me. I do not write for stats. I never have. From the beginning I have written about what I love, and for me writing tops the list.
Writing about writing because I love it is reason enough, whether anyone is reading my blog or not. In college I went to a guidance counselor who was the husband of the not-yet-famous author Sue Monk Kidd. I was trying to decide if I should continue to major in art or enter a writing-related field like journalism. After talking to me for a while about my interests and goals he told me, “Maybe you enjoy art, but writing is your soul.”
As an agnostic I am dubious about the existence of souls, yet I found it hard to argue with him. When I do not write, I feel deflated, scattered, fidgety, and useless. When I write, I feel impassioned, purposeful, and hopeful, and I like encouraging others.
So after I made my blog restructuring announcement, I immediately sank further into depression, and the next day, my mind went into overdrive generating ideas for writing posts, which contradicted my earlier belief that I had nothing more to say.
There is always something more to say, especially since there is so much harmful writing advice that comes dressed as conventional wisdom. My confusion due to bad advice was one of the things that, for too long, kept me from writing. And sometimes the advice comes from authors I mostly respect.
For example, Hugh Howie recently gave a lecture on-line in which he encouraged anyone serious about writing to go out and get a bunch of different jobs for the “experiences.”
I have heard this advice before and read it in writing magazines. Whenever I saw or heard it, I despaired that I had far too little life experience to be a writer, yet I did not want to be a circus clown, a medical doctor, or a ditch digger just to get the experiences that would inspire and enrich my writing.
Fortunately, I finally saw the advice for the absurdity it was: “So you want to be a writer? Then go join a circus and spend most of your time training elephants so you will have something to write about.”
Yes, joining a circus will indeed give you ideas for stories. Anything you experience can enrich writing, but if you want to be a writer, write and do it now. Life is short and joining circuses is time consuming.
I sometimes wonder if writers who give the “get a bunch of jobs” advice are not only trying to eliminate potential competition. “Heh heh, I will encourage aspiring writers to spend all their time building houses or going to med school or training to be an acrobat. That way they will never have any time to write. More readers for ME, ME, ME! Bwah-ha-ha!”
While the advice-givers more likely mean well, I find it baffling that they always focus on jobs as if jobs are the only kinds of experiences worthy of being written about. What about falling in love or losing someone or eating ice cream or feeling jealous? What about shedding a bias? Or learning to ride a bicycle or building a snowman?
The “go join a circus” attitude has a common origin with the self-consciousness writers feel about writing about writing. “Can you not think of something more original? Why not write about real life?”
At one point my brother told me, \”You write so much about writing. You act like you are Stephen King. If you are going to claim expertise, maybe you should write an actual story now and then.”
I am all for writing stories. In my blog I have shared a fiction story every other week for the last few months. In addition, I had already written about bullying, bipolar disorder, censorship, agnosticism, and ants.
I like writing about writing not because I am unable to think of other topics. I do it because writing is worth writing about. Writing is an all-encompassing lens. Nothing is too grand for it, and no detail is too small. Writing encourages empathy, careful observation, learning, listening, and organizing the flotsam of experience in ways that lead to insights about real life.
I will continue to share my fiction stories but I am tossing out arbitrary limitation I imposed on myself. I had it right the first time when I took the advice, “Write what you are passionate about.” Anything I am passionate about.
And that includes writing. Especially writing.
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