The Guinea Pig Report: On Failure
Becoming A Writer, end of Chapter Six
Here’s where we remember that this is a book review, not just a book recommendation. Not that I’m not recommending it, understand, it’s a great book, everyone who wants to write should read it, etc. But here we encounter something about which Brande, in my opinion, was dead wrong.
If you fail repeatedly at this exercise [scheduled writing engagements], give up writing. You resistance is actually greater than your desire to write, and you may as well find some other outlet for your energy early as late.
I think I’d feel better about this pronouncement if Brande had presented it as something for the individual writer to consider. But instead she presents it as “the solemnest word of warning that you will find in this book,” and thus I must part company with her, if only for the paragraph.
There’s a subset of writing gurus of both the acclaimed and the self-described sort that seem overly concerned with identifying clues that a career change is in order. They don’t typically look for these clues in their own lives, of course. Instead, they hand them down to newcomers in the field. “If you suffer from symptoms X, Y, or Z, just give up,” they tell us. “Not everyone was meant to be a writer.” The most obvious problem with this advice is how it seems always accompanied by a failure to understand that different writers have different processes. The eight-hour-a-day writer tells us we should give up if we constantly get restless after two hours with our butts in the chair. The write-anywhere-anytime writer tells us to throw in the towel if we can’t concentrate away from our favorite desk or without a good hour at least stretching in front of us. The “I can’t not write” writer advises us to hand in our quills and burn our parchment if we are ever tempted to consider writing “work.” And so forth.
Brande’s addition to this body of well-intentioned bad advice shares in that problem. She says, “If you repeatedly fail….” How many times is “repeatedly”? Three weeks running, or three days? A writer’s block that recurs each year or so? And what is “fail”? Constantly delaying the writing engagement by fifteen minutes? Inability to meet the engagement if it is scheduled for the afternoon? The desire to take a weekend off once in awhile? Any one of these things may be either a career change prompt or a resistance that can still be overcome or even a sign that the writer is trying to work contrary to his or her natural rhythms. We all have different learning curves, different best practice methods, different levels of passion.
Here’s another problem with Brande’s advice. We’ve already discussed how a writing life requires the right set of habits. The work suggested by Brande’s book so far is in breaking bad habits and fomenting good ones. Now imagine applying her “when to quit” advice to the changing of other habits. “If you repeatedly fail in your attempts to quit smoking, just resign yourself to living like a pariah and dying of lung cancer.” I don’t think so. Damn glad no one told my Dad that, and that’s the truth.
It’s worthwhile, certainly, for the writer to reevaluate his or her priorities now and again. If the writing is constantly more work than fun, if the resistance to writing seems never to diminish, if promises to write at such-and-such a time go repeatedly unfulfilled, it could well be because a career change is in order. Sometimes we get so wrapped up in the idea of doing something, that we ignore not really wanting to do it. Family expectations, sentimental memories, and pride can blind us to the other paths that fork off from the one we’ve been doggedly treading.
But extra-strong resistance also develops when early failures lead to their own self-reinforcing bad habits. These make future success much harder but no less worthwhile to aim for. If a 20-year habit of missing deadlines cannot be overcome in a week, this will impact all aspects of the writer’s life. A true desire to write isn’t a magic bullet to turn two decades of bad work habits around!
Think of it this way: Do what you love, no matter how hard it is. If what you love is writing, keep at it, even if you go through periods of not liking it. As long as you try, success is a possibility. Failure is only inevitable so long as the attempt is never made.
Remember that next time someone says to you, or of a description you fit, “You’ll never make it as a writer.” Remember that it’s not up to them. They can’t see your future or change it. Your future is yours to make.
Make it out of things you love.