Primal
I got a nice review in PW this week for The Poker Diaries. My publisher let me know . . . otherwise, I honestly might have missed it. I try not to read reviews--good or bad. I caught myself feeling too invested in them . . . anxiety. I've had mostly lovely ones--even by the sometimes brutal Kirkus. But I just felt like it would be better if I didn't read them. So I stopped.
So why mention this one? Well . . . it got me thinking. Why do we write? I mean, for most of us, unless we journal, there is an expectation of an audience. I love--and answer--all my fan emails. To me, it's still utterly cool each day to hear from readers who loved a character or story I created. Every day, without fail, I have email from readers . . . and that people take the time to contact me and tell me their experiences is still one of the best parts of this job.
But do I write for praise? Myself? Or something primal--to communicate with my fellow man? I mean, this blog serves as a little community. We write each other. We share. We support the ups and downs of each other's process. We communicate.
I don't know that I have an answer though, to why I do this job. I know I write because it's central to who I am. I feel like I have worlds up in my head that somehow become real when they are on paper. And then I share them. And hope I make people laugh or cry or be scared or escape for a few hours.
For once, I just don't know. I think it's a primal storytelling need. What if I had a radio show? A podcast? Would that fill my need to communicate? (I actually think it would--but would I totally stop writing?) What if I wrote things that never, ever got shared--or reviewed? I do have a TON of stories on my computer, poems, etc., that I don't know if I would ever share. I don't know. They're personal or meandering or just not a complete story--but I don't hit delete. They're there waiting for me. Am I communicating with myself? Sorting out my journey and my own humanity?
So I just honestly want to hear what it is about the process or the sharing or . . . the praise or the audience . . . or . . . something I haven't thought of yet, that is the reason you do this.
Peace,
E
So why mention this one? Well . . . it got me thinking. Why do we write? I mean, for most of us, unless we journal, there is an expectation of an audience. I love--and answer--all my fan emails. To me, it's still utterly cool each day to hear from readers who loved a character or story I created. Every day, without fail, I have email from readers . . . and that people take the time to contact me and tell me their experiences is still one of the best parts of this job.
But do I write for praise? Myself? Or something primal--to communicate with my fellow man? I mean, this blog serves as a little community. We write each other. We share. We support the ups and downs of each other's process. We communicate.
I don't know that I have an answer though, to why I do this job. I know I write because it's central to who I am. I feel like I have worlds up in my head that somehow become real when they are on paper. And then I share them. And hope I make people laugh or cry or be scared or escape for a few hours.
For once, I just don't know. I think it's a primal storytelling need. What if I had a radio show? A podcast? Would that fill my need to communicate? (I actually think it would--but would I totally stop writing?) What if I wrote things that never, ever got shared--or reviewed? I do have a TON of stories on my computer, poems, etc., that I don't know if I would ever share. I don't know. They're personal or meandering or just not a complete story--but I don't hit delete. They're there waiting for me. Am I communicating with myself? Sorting out my journey and my own humanity?
So I just honestly want to hear what it is about the process or the sharing or . . . the praise or the audience . . . or . . . something I haven't thought of yet, that is the reason you do this.
Peace,
E
posted by Erica Orloff at 9:36 PM
15 Comments:
When I write, I feel ... at home. I feel like I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. At the end of the hardest days, I'm still happy and fulfilled.
But I know me, and without readers I wouldn't write. And I wouldn't write as much without money.
If I couldn't write, I'd find some other way to express myself and connect and communicate with others.
I think about this question quite a bit. I've wanted to be a "writer" since I was in 5th grade. I was unfortunate enough to talk myself out of/be talked out of it early on.
But looking back over my life in school, and then afterwards, I see a pattern of writing happening, over and over.
I always looked for the classes on books and literature, or philosophy, etc... someplace I knew they would have me write essays.
Funny though, I never took or sought out writing classes.
Not until I was in grad school did I start writing for the sake of writing. By that I mean that I was writing not for an assignment, but to share with others. And the sharing was really only for select people in a small poetry writers group. I never attempted to get published.
A few years ago a friend of mine got me into writing prose and the into nanowrimo. I've done nano twice now and written several short stories in between. Most of these I don't share with anyone, not even my crit groups.
At some point I do want to see if I can get published, and I am actively working on polishing my WIPs and honing my craft.
But writing for me will always be something personal that I may or may not share with other people.
In literary theory there is an argument that a piece of writing really doesn't exist unless it has a reader, an audience. It is the equivalent of talking to yourself.
I think that sometimes we just have to say things out loud/write them down to get them out of our heads. It is a good way to get some perspective.
For me, writing is an itch that needs scratching, and my family definitely knows when I haven't been writing just by my attitude.
Hi Spy:
I think if I didn't have readers or I didn't get paid to do this, I would still write . . . but different things. Maybe only poetry.
E
ewoh:
I majored in english, journalism, and sociology, with a minor in creative writing. Write much? LOL. I LOVED essay tests. Even if I didn't know what I was talking about, I could somehow make it sound good.
And I hear you about some of the personal writing. I have things I just have to get on paper, but I re-read them and think . . . this is just for me. For now.
E
WOw talk about serendipity! I've been thinking about this a lot and there's a great blog post over at the LIpstic Chronicles today from Margaret Maron.
When I started it was the voices LOL I had no idea that those voices/people I'd been hearing, and yes, playing with was stuff I was supposed to be writing. I think at it's most basic, I write because I want to see how the story ends.
Queue maniacal laughter....
THE POWER!
Seriously, for me it is all the elements you mention, but I also think it is the ability to create whatever outcome I choose for these 'people' I have created. While there is only so much you can do to control various elements of real life, in fiction, its open season.
Like spy, I feel at home when I write.
Like Ewoh, I talked myself/and allowed myself to be talked out of it for way too long.
Like Amie, I heard voices. LOL Entire conversations played in my head, eventually forcing me to give them situations where the dialogue made sense.
And like you, I know without publication/readers/kudos...whatever, I'd still do it. I did it long before I ever contemplated showing anyone or calling myself a writer.
But yes, getting something out there and knowing that I've brought thought, or laughter...etc. to someone will be nice. Evil b*tch that I am, one of my proudest 'writer moments' was the day my neighbor brought me back a crumpled ms and told me she'd stayed up half the night and bawled her eyes out at the end :)
When I write, I am more centered and grounded than any other time. When I don't write, I feel a void within myself, as if a part of me is missing. Like Spy said, when I writ it's as if I'm home. Great post!
Yes, spy said it best for me, too.
I'm different, though. If I wasn't writing to be published, I wouldn't be "writing." I'd blog. And I'd probably gravitate toward a job where I used my writing skills. But I wouldn't WRITE.
See, before I was a writer, I was a reader (addicted since I was 4 :) and I write to entertain the way others have entertained me.
Amie:
I don't hear voices so much as dreeam up whole situation. I think I "see" films in my head, if that makes sense.
E
lainey:
I am very into my imaginary worlds, too.
E
natalie:
I've been surprised at how centering my blog is for me.
E
Kathy:
When I don't write for a few days, I definitely feel "off."
E
I think most people feel the need to create...something. Something bigger and better than themselves, something the world might want to keep long after the corporeal self turns to dust.
Stories, songs, poems, paintings, stage or film performances, beautiful buildings, photographs...
I think that's why art exists: we want to leave the world with something it wouldn't have if we had never been here. A footprint, if you will.
And, of course, there's always the money. :)
Jude:
Oddly enough, I never think about that. Every once in a while, I will think, "After I'm long dead, my grandkids can read my books," but for the most part, I don't. I just love doing it.
E
And your love shows in everything you do, Erica.
Love is the greatest legacy of all.
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