Writing is so hard. I am always convinced that it must be harder for me than it is for everyone else. That I am slower, less creative, less deep than the writers I admire. That while I am sitting here laboring over a paragraph, my more talented friends are cheerfully tapping away, fully certain of what they want to say, knowing how to get it said — brilliantly — and get on with their day. As I type these words, I look up and see that it’s already dark outside, the oatmeal box from breakfast is still on the kitchen counter, I haven’t vacuumed the crumbs off the floor. The post I’ve been working on for most of the day isn’t in any shape to publish, and now I’m out of time. There is dinner to make, house-straightening to do.
Meanwhile, I’ve been conversing with a gifted younger writer friend who is struggling with her own manuscript, a memoir. She is floundering, not sure how to proceed. I read her pages over the weekend and found myself hungry for more than she had been willing to offer, yet at times a bit impatient with what was actually on the page. I couldn’t honestly tell her that her book is a book yet; it isn’t. But such feedback is as painful to give as it is to receive. I’d much rather be her cheerleader, jumping up and down and waving pom-poms, than her critic, searching for words to explain what isn’t working. And yet, most of us need both — support and honesty; not to mention the encouragement to keep going even when the road ahead seems anything but clear.
How much easier it would be if someone could tell us exactly what to do, the way I was once taught, back in my editing days, to create a profit and loss statement for the books I wanted to acquire. If only it were as simple as: fix it like this, write about that, change this around, and you’ll have it.
Writing isn’t rocket science. There is no right way, no wrong way; we writers are allowed to break all the rules, to make it up as we go along, to have things our way. But the alchemy by which words on a screen or printed page become greater than the sum of their parts, missives aimed right at the heart of some unknown reader, is not easily understood. If there were a manual that explained how to do this — how to craft a compelling story, how to grab a perfect stranger’s attention and hold it, how to take the stuff of our own everyday lives and make it interesting to the rest of the world, well, a lot more of us would be doing it.
I’m not sure if I wasted the the last four hours, or if the post that I’m not posting will ever see the light. But it’s time now to go see what’s in the refrigerator, to let the day’s work be what it was (at least the e-mails got answered!), and to take some comfort in the fact that, although writing is hard for me, it’s probably almost as hard for everybody else, too. And it’s worth it. There is no manual, but in lieu of the how-to book, I go back again and again to the words of May Sarton. She can’t tell me how to be a writer, but she sure does tell me what’s required.
“I believe one has to stop holding back for fear of alienating some imaginary reader or real relative or friend, and come out with our personal truth. If we are to understand the human condition, and if we are to accept ourselves in all the complexity, self-doubt, extravagance of feeling, guilt, joy, the slow freeing of the self to its full capacity for action and creation, both as human beings and as artists, we have to know all we can about each other and we have to be willing to go naked.”
The essay I'm reading for my writing group tomorrow is drenched in tears on my desk. They are bouncing off of the pages – beautifully written, by someone else – as I read your words.
You are an inspiration, and a gentle, generous teacher.
All of us who read your words and especially those who are lucky enough to know you are deeply blessed.
And very grateful.
xox
Hi Katrina, I so relate to this—to sitting at the kitchen table as a seven-year-old and wanting to write, but not having the skills to access what it was I wanted to, almost had to, say but could not. It was always tough slogging, but eventually I realized that I simply had to have a human sitting next to me in order to write (and that wasn't necessarily in order to write very well). Now I seem to be able to write alone, but I sure write slowly still and have many half-baked things from poems to posts that may never see the light of day. I love what May Sarton says about "going naked," and hope one day we can all write that way and live that way too. For now I'm more like a House Elf in Harry Potter hoping that someone will throw a sock at me (maybe on their way to getting creatively naked). Meanwhile I think you dropped a veil here, so thanks for your naked courage and authenticity.
Oh yes, writing is, at times, like plodding through the mud in my mind. And it gives me great comfort to hear you, a talented, published, gifted writer speak this truth. Thank you. (And, I quote you today on my blog. Because the daily gifts of The Gift of an Ordinary Day keep giving. xo An Ordinary Person)
I am drawn to your honesty and beautiful words. You are vulnerable even though you have proven yourself. Thank you !
I am shocked that you wrote this post. I have read and reread each of your books and your writing seems inspired, all of a piece. For the last 10 weeks I was writing and taking classes on craft, and there wasn't a single day that I didn't tell my husband how much I hated to write, how torturous it was. It reminds me of yoga: not only do you have to learn the pose, but you have to teach each pose to your body and coordinate the effort. And on top of all of that, you still have to breathe. Writing can be awful, terrible stuff. And then, after all that suffering, you come up with something that you have created, and you realize that you can't live any other way.
Thank you for sharing this. I always thought I was the only one who felt this way 🙂
Katrina, You are so brave to bare your soul in your writing the way you do. Thank you for sharing your truth here, and in your books.
So nice to know you are human, imperfect, and vulnerable. It makes you even more beautiful and inspiring.
Sometimes it's just hard, isn't it! I had a day like that today too, and was hesitant to share it- theres a fine line between being real and being the sad sack noone wants to read about. But you pulled it off beautifully, and I think I did alright too 🙂 Thanks for sharing your tough times too.
Juliet (new reader!)
My husband says I should start writing. Then, I read your post. I feel stopped in my tracks Your themes keep coming back to me. What will I write about? What do I do with what I write? The beginning of a journey feels daunting. Thanks for adding to the dialogue.
Just what I needed to hear – – my 'book' is no where near what it needs to become, but that is OKAY because I am still living through the grist of what will be it's substance. I have learned to WRITE for the process and not the result right now — to try to capture the feelings — the ups and downs of what is going on in my own life as I struggle to find a new 'normal' for the second half of my life. I'm not sure who that woman is yet, but writing her story will help me discover her.
you have grabbed my attention and hold it.
I can't thank you enough for your honestly and advice. I am beginning on this writing adventure myself, mending a broken ankle, and unable to publish because of fabulous fear. Thank you for your inspiration.
Love this, love this! So glad to hear this, too. Because I have to say, all the while I was reading your book "The Gift of an Ordinary Day" I was thinking, "Why can't I write like her? Why does she get to be so good at this? Why couldn't I have written that?" Oh it was humbling…and frankly a little depressing (not your book at all — just the fact that I was bent on envying and comparing — good grief!). Anyway, thank you for your honesty. You made this wanna-be writer feel a lot better today.
This post resonated with me. Writing is lonely and difficult, especially when we are faced to reveal our own authentic truth. I believe that is precisely when the fear creeps in. Sometimes the words unearth revelations that you didn't know existed.
I can't begin to tell you how deeply this post speaks to me, how much I relate to the sensation of staring at a screen while household clutter and dinner ingredients taunt me from the next room. Thank you for your bravery in speaking this truth. Somehow it is comforting to know that a writer as gifted as you shares some of my issues.
When I was a writing student, I always remembered the words William Zinsser, who advised writers to avoid "sitting down to commit an act of literature." Writing fiction was always torturous for me–what did I know that was worth writing? How could I dare to write about things I didn't know?"
Nearly 20 years later, after the battering and bruising of living my life, I have a very different sense when I sit down to write. All I want to do now is to write something that other people will want to read. The simple pleasure of reading is the most amazing gift I could give a reader; why bother comparing myself to those who came before, since I know I will always come up short in comparison to past masters?
So true!
Forgive the link, but I, too, am a young (hopeful) memoirist, and I wrote a post about "getting naked" a while back: http://divorcedbefore30.com/2010/04/09/running-naked-through-a-library/
Thank you so very much for posting this. I am writing a daily blog and at times I find myself holding back and not getting 'naked'. It is sometimes difficult ot share our personal truth, but I believe it is worth it when we do. Thank you!
Nothing more and nothing less than, "thank you."
Dear Katrina,
Years and maybe a lifetime ago, I read Mittenstrings and for the first time, felt that a modern day writer knew me, knew my life, shared my day to day bumps and ditches. A year or so ago, when I was just beginning to write a little on my own, someone sent me a link to your video and your words re-entered my life. Around the same time, I began to look at blogs with the thought of maybe-someday-possibly starting a blog and stumbled upon the gifted young writer you speak of today. Her words, and yours, are an integral part of my life now. Thank you.
The May Sarton quote says it all. I wonder if the artists and writers are just the beginning, the ground forces in a slow freeing of the world. Walking around the world with your heart open is, perhaps, the bravest thing we can do. Writing about it is a privilege and work that I wouldn't trade for the world. Thank you for showing me that over the years.
You are such a beautiful writer. By taking your time to deeply think about the way you want to express what you have to say makes you the beautiful writer you are. How long it takes you doesn't matter. Don't be so hard on yourself. Your words help and touch the lives of so many people. You have made such a positive difference in my life. Thank you.
Well, at least you are writing! All I have is years of jotted down notes, ideas, feelings etc. with a huge ache to birth this nag in my gut that tells me that I was born to write/speak. Now, if I could touch that thing and get it moving, I would wish for the periodic day when there is no writing, just thinking. Kinda like the fern and bamboo…I am without a doubt the bamboo 🙂
Thank you so much for sharing this.
I came by via Lindsey at A Design So Vast. I'm so glad I did.
I do often picture writers tapping freely at the keys. Especially the best of them. I see them at their desks and their coffee mugs are always steaming and full, magically. Yeah, that's how far I take it. Comparison is a dangerous thing, because you're right, this is not easy for anyone.
I'm speaking on this topic at Blissdom in January and I was wondering if it's okay with you to share a couple of lines (including the quote you shared) of this post if it "fits" to do so in the allotted time. If not, that's totally fine. I'd obviously give credit where credit is due.
Thank you!
Heather
Heather, please feel free to quote me during your presentation. Please email me and I will give you my real name.
Hi Katrina,
Thanks for visiting me and leaving a comment on my blog. I tried very hard to leave this comment after yours on my site, but for some reason it wouldn't have a bar of it today! Anyway, I wanted to say tha your comment was so appreciated, since you are one of the first commenters on this new little blog of mine!
I just jumped over to your home page, and was taken aback by that quote, which I believe is from your new book 'The gift of an ordinary day'. Yes, this is what I'm trying to focus on too- I have so much. I want to learn to be thankful and really relish the moments that I have, rather than always living for the future ("One day when…")- a trait learned all too well from my beloved dad. Thanks for visiting me. It looks like I'll be seeing you over here more often too!
Katrina,
I love your fresh, honest and open description of writing.
Like you I tell others it is not rocket surgery or brain science (??) But is a reflection of how we should live our own lives,——-exploring, adventurous, senstitive and all that stuff wrapped up in imperfection. Let's enjoy it while we can….I write each day with the same enthusisam I did when I was in grammar shcool, about 1,000 years ago. It still excites me and I can only think it is that thing EVERYONE has inside called……CREATIVITY
Love your writing.
Gordon Mathieson
I wanted to write and tell you how much your book is helping me. My husband has recently accepted an overseas job and we are going to be moving away in the new year. I had been in a state of anxiety until I found your book and began reading your story. Still in the first few chapters, I have found myself shaking my head in wonder of your ability to express exactly what I am feeling, thinking and my deepest fears. Thank you for helping me to find peace in the midst of change and hope that we will not only survive, but may find a blessing along the way.
This is so encouraging that one day there will be hope for my efforts. I still fumble with words and then hesitate before I hit the publish button on blogger. But I still hit it because practice hopefully will one day make perfect or at the least, better. Until then I hope people understand my struggle.