For the love of what we do (Writer)

For the love of what we do

By Writer

Scarred oak desk, clunky manual typewriter with sticky keys, an over-flowing ashtray and a half-full glass of red or tumbler of whiskey. Sheaves of paper stacked in haphazard piles. Yellowed notes and scrunched discards.

And the writer; hunch-backed in overcoat, beanie and scarf, red-nosed, and red fingertips pounding at the keys from within moth-eaten fingerless gloves. A half-eaten sandwich standing discarded alongside a cold cup of coffee.

The cliché of the impoverished and determined author barely scraping by on dreams and determination.

Is it that far removed from the reality?

No dream comes for free. Whether it’s an idol trying to make debut or an athlete aiming for a medal, an entrepeneur striving for recognition or an artist seeking recognition; where there’s a dream, there’s a price to pay. Whatever the goal, mountain figurative or literal, it doesn’t come without the climb.  Nobody ever woke up a winner on their own account without effort.

An excellent example of this is the iconic legend, Sir Edmund Hillary. Who hasn’t heard of Hillary and his legendary Sherpa companion, Tensing Norgay? The legends who were first to ever put a flag to the peak of Mount Everest. Did they wake up one bright morning and tell themselves, ‘Let’s hike up that ole mountain over there and become legends!’? No. They most definitely did not!

So, how did they get there?

They got there by unflagging hard work and equal amounts of planning. How many preliminary mountains did Edmund hike and climb first? How many times did he retreat to re-evaluate, re-assess, and begin again? One of Edmund’s most well-known quotes is ‘People do not decide to become extraordinary. They decide to accomplish extraordinary things.’ If you’re not prepared to try, fail, and try again… why bother to try at all?

Another famous Hillary quote is, ‘Nobody climbs mountains for scientific reasons. Science is used to raise money for the expeditions, but you really climb for the hell of it.’ For no reason other than the sheer hell of it. Is writing really any different?

There are, undoubtedly, exceptions to the rule. There are always exceptions to the rule. But I’m not here to talk about the exceptions. I’m here to talk about those of us who write because it’s as necessary to us as breathing. We write because we’re driven to, because we have to, because of the thrill we get from the words on the page and the stories begging to be told. We don’t write with a conscious expectation of reward; that part’s a bonus.

I received my first royalty payment for Smoke and Water today. It wasn’t huge. Hell, it was barely worth the transfer fees and no more than a drop to offset the costs of getting it to print, never mind the efforts of blood, sweat, and tears to get it to the page to begin with. But the payment itself is immaterial. It’s a recognition all the same. And it’s a start.

My bio-parents would have snorted in disgust and told me to quit. They would have asked me why I even bother and wouldn’t have had a hope of understanding. I don’t expect monetary reward. It isn’t the aim and it most certainly isn’t the motivation. I aim to do better with every work. If that results in greater gains in the long term, go me! But I’d keep on writing regardless. Money or no money.

Writing is hard. We all know writing is hard. And doing it better is even harder. We have to be willing to take criticism and direction. We have to be honest with ourselves. We have to adjust and amend and LEARN. We struggle and we fight and we work and work and work! Perfection comes at a price and if we’re striving for perfection, count on blood and sweat and definitely tears. There will be days we question ourselves. Days where we think quitting would be easier and probably more logical.

And then we get up and we start over.

The last three years have been a phenomenal learning curve for me. I’ve always written, since I was first able to put a pencil in my hand and formulate words on a page. There was no moment of inspiration or defining moment. There was no inspiring author or book. I wrote because I lived, and still live, in an alternate Universe, one in which the pain of this world doesn’t exist. And that world begs to be shared. I write because I HAVE to.

What’s changed, however, is that the reasons have changed. I have more than simply stories to share. I have philosophy and motivation and strength and power to share. Every story, every character bears a lesson. And in order to share them effectively, I have to write better than I did before.

It’s far from easy and I’ve had to make a great deal of adjustments. One of the biggest adjustments has been taking a Muse on board and I now wouldn’t know how to write without her. The second biggest adjustment was accepting the criticism and direction of my beloved editor. To be honest, I don’t think either of them, Muse and editor, know just how much they’ve affected my writing and how much they’ve contributed to my growth.

Of course, it isn’t to them alone that any improvement can be attributed. I’ve watched endless authortube videos. I’ve accessed writing sites and joined the Twitter writing community. I read work by other authors, both successful and poor. I analyse my work constantly and look for ways in which I can improve it. I search for rhythm and power in every word and sentence and paragraph. I aim to truly connect with every character I write.

I bleed.

I have a dream and a goal. And it isn’t about success in terms of money. My dream is to know that what I write can inspire people to survive and stand strong despite wherever they’ve come from and whatever demons they’ve faced. I want to do more than simply spin a good yarn. I want people to be able to relate to my characters and gain something from them. I want to introduce my readers to the worlds I know and the faith I’ve found. I want my words to mean something.

To do that effectively, I need to write better.

I have no ambition to be a bestseller. I have no illusions with regard to my abilities. I’m a perfectionist but I don’t expect perfection. I simply want to do the best I can possibly do and with every word I put to the page, I expect to be better.

I do it because I love it.