Last week I noted that our fixation on monitoring the intake and expenditure of calories can lead to adverse effects on our sense of pleasure and instinct, damaging the way we perceive our own bodies and our surroundings. This damaging concept occasionally serves as a metaphor when I instruct novices in the realm of literature writing.
Emerging writers often approach the creation of literature armed with ideals of productivity shaped by industrial influences. Anxiety over squandering time, committing errors, and experiencing failure looms large, as if there’s an oppressive employer brandishing a threat of termination. They often ask me, “I’ve got a thought—is it a viable one?” My response remains consistent: “Give it a go and discover for yourself”. Despite having published a number of books, and consequently being able to anticipate common errors, all writing is an act of gambles—even if it’s the mundane threat of falling into clichéd and repetitive patterns. Even though I could possibly assist these young writers in avoiding potential hurdles, the truth remains that writing, akin to most serious pursuits, can’t completely evade the path of resistance. I recommend that they read books authored by those who have successfully voyaged through similar troublesome waters. Not because their work holds any definite solution to another’s, but because it’s beneficial to witness what others have already attempted. There exist strategies to identify sooner whether your idea is failing and how it is doing so. However, there are no explicit assurances of success. Always, there remains the chance that one unique individual, in a unique scenario and at a unique moment, will conceive of a ground-breaking style of writing or a new tale. I never discourage anyone from making the effort.
The frequent concern raised is, “What if my efforts come to naught?” “What if I invest all of this time and my attempts flop?”
To this, I respond, “Then you move onto another work or improve your first attempt, and if the fear of failing deters you, shift your focus elsewhere.” They often fret, “But I would’ve squandered my time and my words”.
I remain unconvinced about the concept of wasted time, yet, if there is such a thing, it may be found in periods consumed passively, caught in the unending cycle of consumption and utility provided by mass media, all without any form of repayment. Effort expended on tasks, even if the results are not immediate or as expected, should never be considered wasted. In fact, through trial and error, we often learn more than in periods of unadulterated success. However, to truly engage in this process, one must disregard the constant tally of productivity, and the myth of a secret formula to achieving creative success.
The need to measure creativity, be it through word count or the time spent, reduces the artistic experience to an assembly line mentality. There isn’t a universal scale for artistry. Distinct writers have unique approaches; some pen down rapidly-spun first drafts, while others meticulously craft their writings. Alterations in narratives can also precipitate changes in an author’s practices. The yardstick of artistic success simply does not exist.
That being said, a writer’s essence lies in their ability to write. Ideas too sublime or delicate that remain unwritten does not qualify as an artistic creation. The aim is to transform brilliance and fragility into tangible forms. The idea of ‘writers’ block’ has always been questionable. Just like an office worker or nurse doesn’t escape from their professional obligations, writers too should honour their commitments. After a contract is signed, an artist’s job is to do the best they can with the resources available, as art is grounded in the physical world, contingent on basic human needs which require income. There are times to quantify and times to be quantified, and part of the artistic journey is knowing when that moment arrives.