If You’re Discouraged Because Your Writing Sucks…
By Guest | August 19, 2011 |
Therese here. Today’s guest is Joe Bunting, who’s here today to blog about two different sorts of writers: the Genius and the Late Bloomer. Joe, a self-professed Late Bloomer, founded the blog The Write Practice, a site that showcases craft techniques and then encourages writers to practice them for fifteen minutes a day, six days a week.
Thanks for being here, Joe!
If You’re Discouraged Because Your Writing Sucks…
I found one story in Malcolm Gladwell’s What the Dog Saw particularly helpful in understanding my writing career. There are two writers. One, Ben Fountain, stutters toward a breakout short-fiction collection eighteen years after he quit his day job to write. The other, Jonathan Safran Foer, takes a creative writing class as a freshman in college, and then as a sophomore writes Everything is Illuminated in two-and-a-half months.
Sometimes life just isn’t fair.
There are, according to Gladwell, two different career arcs: the Genius and the Late Bloomer. Which one are you?
Let’s start by breaking them down:
1. The Genius.
Illustrated by Foer, TS Eliot, Faulkner, Stephen King, Kerouac and all those other writers who can churn out three-hundred page manuscripts in months, despite the fact they are not yet legally allowed to drink.
2. Late Bloomers
There are others who have a certain kind of genius they just haven’t realized yet. They have vision, they know something about what they’re trying to achieve, but they don’t have the skills to make their vision reality. They’re still searching for something.
There are plenty of examples of this breed: Mark Twain, who did not publish Huckleberry Finn until he was nearly fifty, Robert Frost, Daniel Defoe, William Carlos Williams. There are more outside the realm of writing, people like Cezanne, Alfred Hitchcock, Frank Gehry, and Gandalf (who was hundreds of years old before he really came into his own).
There is also me. And maybe you.
How do you know if you’re a late bloomer? Working off Gladwell, I’ve devised some test questions to find out if you are a genius or a late bloomer.
• Do you take longer than three months to write your novels?
• Do you sometimes stop in the middle of writing and say, “Oh shit! I don’t know anything about my subject. I need to go do research?”
• Have you been writing for years, but still often feel like a complete novice?
If you answered “yes” to any of these, you’re not a genius. Sorry! You might, however, be a late bloomer. There is one final test to be sure; this is the most important test.
• Do you have people who support your writing career unconditionally (and sometimes financially)?
If you don’t, you probably won’t be able to write long enough to find out if you’re a late bloomer.
What was true about Fountain’s career and many other late bloomers is that they had people who believed in them blindly. People who knew they had the courage and, yes, even skill, to be successful.
Do you have someone who would do what both Fountain and Twain’s wives did, basically bankroll their writing careers, allowing them unlimited time to succeed (and mostly fail) at their craft? Do you, at the very least, have people who will give you emotional support through your volatile relationship with your work?
Gladwell ends with Ben Fountain looking at his wife:
She was sitting next to him, and he looked at her in a way that made it plain that he understood how much of the credit for [his book] belonged to his wife. His eyes well up with tears.
I, however, will end with a quote from Ben Fountain’s Wikipedia page:
A novel, The Texas Itch, was scheduled to appear in 2009, but is ‘on the back burner’ indefinitely.
It appears that Mr. Fountain still has some blooming to do.
Thanks for a great post, Joe, from one Late Bloomer to another! Readers, you can learn more about Joe at his site, The Write Practice; and you can follow The Write Practice on Twitter and Facebook. Write on!
Photo courtesy Flickr’s Koinos Zoi Photography.
Many thanks to today’s guest.
You can read more WU guest posts by visiting this link.
Well, Joe, the jury’s still out as to whether I am a late blooming genius or just late. I started at 72 and in 18 mos. have twelve (12) works up on Amazon and a novel being flogged to agents.
Great post, Joe! I think you’re more #1 than #2, though.
Woah Mr. Wilson. I think you created your own type: the late blooming genius! Congratulations.
Definitely a late bloomer…. and still in the planting/composting stage! :-)
Well put Julia. I think I’m in the pruning stage :)
Late bloomer here. And I have someone who supports me, blindly and unconditionally. I realize how fortunate I am, and some days it’s the only thing that keeps me going. I know I have to make my manuscripts the books they should be, if for no other reason than that she believes so strongly in them, and in me. And, like Ben Fountain, my eyes well up just thinking about how grateful I am and will always be.
Thanks for this, Joe. It’s nice to know I’m not alone.
That’s beautiful Vaughn. You’ll make it, if only to meet her expectation.
My first book wasn’t published until I was 51(ish) – I didn’t start writing “seriously” (meaning – to publish) until my late forties. And although I have written a book in 3 months or less (draft of one anyway!) I still consider myself a late bloomer. And I do have a circle of friends and family who support me unconditionally – it’s wonderful. Like Vaugh, if it weren’t for GMR, I couldn’t have done this quite so “easily” – meaning, he paid the bills while I wrote and then queried, and etc. Not everyone can have that wonderful luxury of quitting their job and writing full time.
Thank you, Joe!
Kat,
Congratulations on finishing a draft of a book so fast. I’m jealous. It sounds like I need to get a sugar daddy… um… I mean momma.
Funny, I blogged about the late bloomer thing today too, though not as eloquently as you. Nice post. Never too late.
I liked your post Luanne. Never too late. Preach it.
Late Bloomers “have vision, they know something about what they’re trying to achieve, but they don’t have the skills to make their vision reality. They’re still searching for something….”
I think that searching ‘Something’ could be moral and financial support.
If they “have people who support their writing career unconditionally (and sometimes financially), couldn’t they become geniuses?
Thanks for the excellent post.
They absolutely can. Gladwell uses Cezanne as an example. Cezanne’s father was fabulously wealthy, and set him up in Paris to live stress free. He was friends with the novelist Zola, the painter Pissaro, and later, Monet and the other impressionists. You can’t ask for more support than that. But it still took him years and years to bloom. He would throw out his paintings in disgust, until a collector finally came looking for them and found them collecting dust in the corner of an attic. He was crazy!
Joe, have you been in my head this week? I so needed this post today!
• Do you take longer than three months to write your novels?
yes
• Do you sometimes stop in the middle of writing and say, “Oh shit! I don’t know anything about my subject. I need to go do research?”
Yes
• Have you been writing for years, but still often feel like a complete novice?
Yes
Late bloomer, here. If that means I’m one of the Mark Twains of the world, I can live with that.
I do have to thank my family, friends, and hubby for being HUGE supporters of my writing. Now if I could find someone to bankroll me…any offers? ;-)
I can live with that too Heather. If you find that bankroll, share some with me!
I will gladly share :)
Woohoo!
Sometimes I take longer than 3 months to write one chapter, lol!
Yes, challenging to write when you have to work a day job too, but if the fire burns in you, I say keep feeding it.
For emotional (if not financial( support, I am blessed with a very close circle of top-notch writing friends for critique, and a larger and equally top-notch group of writing friends, on the ‘net and right here on Writer Unboxed. :-)
Ugh Beverly, I’m jealous. I need that critique group. I’m starting to build one now, but it’s slow going.
Definitely a late bloomer here and I know I’m incredibly lucky with my spouse. The ToolMaster is not interested in things writing, but he supports me, so he supports my career. I’m not always good at identifying “how”, but that’s my failing, not his.
I’ve been very lucky in the writing community, too. WU has been a huge part of that. Huge.
Did I mention huge?
The ToolMaster. I love that.
I write first drafts in less than three months…but those are first drafts! Then the work begins…and I think the surest way to prove you are not a genius is to claim to be one.
Thanks for this encouraging post! :)
I like that Stephanie. Have you ever heard that story by Dan Kennedy on the Moth? He’s talking bout how he was living in NY trying to be a writer. And by trying to be a writer he means he was going to bars, drinking cocktails and telling people, “I’m probably a genius,” which he reflects, “is not one of the hallmarks of genius.” Very true.
You knew a title like this would attract writers! Yes, definitely slow and often discouraged. I wonder if there is a category between Genius and Late Bloomer, say the Consistent Plodder. Or maybe that’s just a subset of the Late Bloomer.
I think I was just discouraged because my writing sucks ;)
Yes, consistent plodder = late bloomer for sure. That would make an inconsistent plodder a “later” bloomer.
Did not know that about Mark Twain’s wife, but it explains a lot, now that I think about it. Although many writers of the past came from the leisure classes, no?
I don’t know whether most writers were from the leisure class, but I would love to find out. William Blake certainly wasn’t.
I’m definitely a late bloomer, as I moved to writing as a way of storytelling at age mumble-mumble-I’m-older-than-I-look.
Why’d I wait so long? Well, I not only had a dream of storytelling when I was younger, but I also had a dream of working with technology, and I chose that as the career I’d pursue.
That keeps my mortgage paid, fortunately.
Unfortunately, it also slows me down. No three month novels for me.
I’ve also been slowed down as I’ve been playing catch-up on my basic fiction writing skills. In my school years, my english and composition teachers wouldn’t give me the time of day as I was into science, math, and computers. That stunted my literary growth significantly, and impacted my confidence, turning me off of storytelling for years.
Funny thing is, telling stories eventually won out, and I started writing in spite of my insecurities. I assumed my writing sucked, but eventually I bit the bullet and put it in front of a number of professional writers. And the predominant consensus was…hey, your writing is pretty good.
Back to novel revision hell….
Maybe you can combine the two passions: computers and story telling?
Heh heh, I do have some cyberpunk ideas in the queue…and someone has to drag the genre back from the grave.
For now, it’s all urban fantasy.
Yeah I think I read a book like that once. It was online and I spent three weeks going to the computer lab at school during lunch to read it. It was a dorky couple of weeks.
Joe- what a funny title! I laughed out loud when I read it.
I’m a late bloomer, and so are all of the authors I admire. It’s truly admirable how many people keep plugging away. Good post!
Excellent post. Though I think another subset of “late bloomer” is the person who just doesn’t know what it is she wants to write. And in terms of skills, I don’t know if it’s just technical skills at work here…I think there’s a certain level of emotional insight and maturity that needs to catch up with one’s vision/creative goals—these were definitely always a mismatch for me, until very recently (er, I hope!).
I don’t think I fit into anything. I am the binge writer. I can go for some time and not write at all, and then spend 36 hours with some diet Sunkist and a bowl of cereal, crank out 30,000 words, and then lose it again.
I’m a weed. There might be a pretty flower on top, but I’m still a weed.
Most definitely a late bloomer who is still underground. Yet, this brings me hope of bursting through despite the late hour. Thanks Joe! You inspire…
Wonderful! Gives me hope! (To be a late bloomer. The genius train has left the station.)
In my twenties and thirties I was sure I was a genius. Absolutely positive. During my forties and fifties it gradually dawned on me that I am not a genius after all.
Hope it’s not too late to be a late bloomer!
Great post!
What sort of writer would be the seedling that gets crowded out by a bunch of stronger, faster growing plants and then wilts due to lack of sunlight? A drooping daffodil? I think that would be me.
I’m not satisfied with the either/or of genius or late bloomer. They’re too confining, too simplistic.
I find that success and writing skill is almost completely independent. I trained in the craft of writing early and had some success as a playwright, but then turned to making a living, spending 25 years writing for business. I am certainly not a genius. And the work that I’ve done since can’t be ignored, so what I’m doing now can’t be considered a later bloom.
Writers write. Sometimes we find readers, might even get paid. But writing is the thing we do. Those that care work on their skills over a lifetime. When success comes, be it a handful of readers, an auditorium full of theatergoers, or even the top of the NYT best seller’s list, it comes because of the work.
No burst of early glory, no late autumn bloom. Just the work. This is a great time to be a writer. Do the work, publish it however you can, and do more work.
Don’t be the plant, be the gardener.
Great post here (as always). Late bloomer here. Seems like it took a lot of years to decide that I could write a book and then oh so many years of doing it badly before I figured out what I’m doing (if I have now? haha…)
I took a eight year break from writing (after about seven years of “serious” writing and am now back at it…perhaps not quite as seriously but that’s okay. I’m trying to keep the fun of writing at the forefront rather than the worry about publication. It’s working so far…
I don’t know that I have ever really thought about what kind of writer I am. Though after reading your post, I know I’m a late bloomer. What you said is very encouraging! It shows that I’m in great company, being a late bloomer.
I’m always a little uncomfortable when I hear the term “late bloomer.” “Late” implies a relativity to “on time.” But what, exactly, is “on time?” — especially in a writer’s life? Many of the most gifted writers have started in their 50s or older — a time in life when maturity and hindsight enrich the depths that good writing requires. And how many of those writers who are big hits in their 20s are still going strong by the time they hit 45? Painfully few.
Food for thought…
I really like this blog post as I’m a big fan of celebrating “late bloomers” and think we need more recognition of it in society today. I’m a bit troubled by the term ‘genius’ though in referencing those that aren’t ‘late bloomers’. I think a lot of experts would consider Twain and other late bloomers ‘genius’.
I think a better term, instead of genius, would be prodigy or wunderkind. Some people realize their gifting early and are celebrated as child wonders. Others show their talents later and are considered late bloomers… but both groups can have ‘genius’ potential.
Not trying to argue semantics but I think suggesting that those who bloom later aren’t a potential genius sends the wrong message when it comes to creativity. Both groups (prodigy and late bloomer) are genius they just realize it at different times.
Great post though. I’d love to read more about this topic.
Useful description. There’s an incredible amount of self-doubt involved in the non-prodigious model, and it’s nice to find reminders that there is another way to produce worthwhile work–it just takes longer to find out whether you will. I’ve got my fingers crossed that having started writing regularly ten years ago means I might be due for blooming, but the fact that ten years ago I was seven kinda argues against it.
Genius, who suffered severe racial/sexual trauma thanks to the Midwestern religious school system. I’m a living reason people need to realize grown women damage little boys too. After a long setback, I kind of started trying to bloom because there’s too much inside that needs to come out or it’ll drive me nuts.