Why I'm Not a Writer

[jakebe]

So, now that my mood has stabilized, I've been giving a lot of thought to the kind of person I want to be. I think about this sort of thing an awful lot, I realize, but it's been a long time since I thought I had a snowball's chance in hell of becoming the person that I want to be. It's one thing to have a kind of dysphoria about yourself and where you are; it's quite another thing to say "Here's where I am and where I want to be. How do I get from here to there?" It's interesting because it's not one of those things that I've ever done, really. When I was a kid I was just...smart. It's how I identified myself. I loved *being* smart, and figuring out things, and learning all this new stuff. I loved learning because I was supposed to learn.

Anyway, I'm getting slightly off the subject. When I think about who it is I want to be, there are a few things that I always come back to. First, I would certainly like to be a better Buddhist, though I'm not even sure what this means. It could mean just getting into the habit of meditating every day, or being more mindful away from the bench, or reading more Buddhist texts or having a better grasp of Buddhist concepts. More than likely, it's a combination of all these. I feel like I've been stagnant in my spiritual practice for a while now, and it's time to get back to that. I'd like to put more effort there, but I'm not sure what to do about that for now; joining a community isn't an easy thing, unfortunately, even though San Francisco is pretty much the Zen capital of the United States. I'll have to sit and think on it a little bit more.

I'd also like to retrain myself so that I have a different set of priorities than I do now. Right now, most of my brain is devoted towards immediate gratification, and that trips me up every time. It's why I can't lose weight, it's why I can't get things done, it's why I can never be consistent when picking up a new habit. Inevitably the day comes along that I don't *feel* like meditating, or counting calories, or writing, and I'll almost invariably cave and do something else instead, telling myself I can pick up the habit tomorrow. Sometimes I do, but more often I don't. This is a problem.

Everyone who knows me knows how legendarily bad my impulse control is. I'm the target demographic for all of those cheap chocolate bars, Ring Pops, sodas and trashy entertainment magazines you see in supermarket checkout lines. Most of the time I can filter them out, but the moment there's a cover or wrapper with my obsession du jour, it's off the shelf and in my stack of groceries. I don't even remember doing it half the time. It's as natural as breathing to me.

Well, you know, Goddamnit, it's time for this to stop. And when I really stop to think about it, the three things that I keep coming back to -- being a better Buddhist, learning to stop that reflexive immediate gratification, and actually, *finally* fulfilling my dream of becoming a writer (no, I haven't talked about that yet) -- is really one thing. Being more mindful, and getting out of my own way so that I can do the things I *really* want to be doing. There are a few things concerning writing specifically that I'd like to talk about here, though.

I've wanted to be a writer ever since I learned to read. When I was a kid, most of my free time was spent reading or banging away on this ancient, incredibly loud electric typewriter. I started work on a sequel to my favorite novel at the time, The Wind in the Willows, and had all kinds of ideas for new adventures for all of my favorite Disney afternoon characters. I wrote fan fiction before I had any idea what it was. I wrote short stories in high school, poetry and plays in college, and I've dabbled with the newspapers for both. All of my life, it's the one thing that I've truly wanted to do. It's outlasted all of my other dream jobs -- UFOlogist, veterinarian, actor, pagan 'historian', bookstore owner, massage therapist, and now librarian. In the back of my mind, even as I scramble for a more secure job, for a job that just might make enough money for me to do other things that I want, all I want to be -- all I've ever wanted to be -- is a writer.

Why, then, am I not a writer? At this point, I know a host of other writers, editors and publishers. I'm lucky enough to consider quite a few enormous talents as friends. Hell, I'm even *married* to a great writer. What's the deal? I have the lifelong passion. I have the connections. Everything is in place. What gives?

I've been turning this over and over in my mind for a couple of months now. There are two main factors that I think contribute to this: discipline and confidence. They're both connected, but I think that discipline is actually the main problem. If I could just get out of my own way and stick to a consistent writing schedule, I do believe that my confidence will build gradually.

The confidence issue is nothing to be sneezed at, either. I think that over time my initial impulse most of the time I have an idea or thought is to clamp down on it, to not express it. The reasons for this are many and varied, but the root idea is always something like this: ultimately, the thought isn't *worth* vocalizing. I've become so distrustful of my own mental process that more often than not I end up paralyzing myself into non-action. And you know, all right, maybe there's a good reason for distrusting my mental process; I am, after all, a chronic depressive with poor impulse control. My brain has lead me to make fantastic, fatalist leaps in regards to my relationships and writing and abilities before, and my impulse has been to act on this faulty information. That, as you might expect, tends not to work out so well. Still, now that I have a better idea about how my brain operates, it's all right to trust it just a little more.

The problem is overcoming inertia. I really have no confidence about my abilities as a writer. There's this idea in my head of what a sentence should look like, how a story should flow, how my ideas should sound, and right now there's little chance of me having the chops to make things sound how I mean for it to sound. Being the fatalistic perfectionist that I am, things have to be nailed the first time or else they'll never be nailed. Editing won't do a shitty first draft any good; you can polish a turd, after all, but it'll still be a turd.

I need to get over this idea that says I'm not allowed to write anything bad. I can, I will, I *have* to. The problem is I've lost the idea, somewhere along the way, that learning something is all right because it's what I'm supposed to do. I'm not a child any more. Learning isn't my function, knowing is what I'm supposed to do now. Not knowing is embarrassing. There are few things quite as uncomfortable as displaying your ignorance to a room full of intelligent people. I'm *still* terrified of that.

That terror is something I will need to get over. If I want to be a storyteller, than I'm going to have to tell stories. Even bad ones. Hopefully, the people I've surrounded myself with should be able to tell me what works and what doesn't, and if the time comes that I need to abandon something entirely, they can let me down as gently as humanly possible. :) Most importantly, I just need to get stuff out there.

I'm tired of this creative stagnation. I'm tired of wanting to tell stories. I want to start *telling* them. It's going to require a lot of patience on my part, and even more discipline. I have to fight through those times where I won't want to, where writing goes slowly, where a scene doesn't turn out how I pictured it, when I am suddenly seized by the unshakable belief that what I'm writing is idiotic and a complete waste of time. It's not going to be easy. And I need all of you to stay on me about it. Don't let me slide. I've already made two or three writing deadline promises that I've broken, and I don't want to do that any more.

I'm not a writer yet because, to be honest, I've spent more time wanting to be than trying to be. I have *got* to start pushing.