On Writing: Going For The Gold

Different Reasons For Our Common Goal of Word Crafting

I suppose we have different reasons for our common goal of writing. More specifically, our common goal may be that we each desire our words, and thereby our thoughts, ideas, stories, and messages to be read, understood, and appreciated by others. Those of us who desire our writing to be a “craft” probably aim for the appreciation to be two-fold in nature. First, we want it to be appreciated for its content. Second, we hope that as we mature in our craft and our writing will also be recognized for the way it is woven together into a cohesive whole with no extraneous parts, appreciated for the form used in the telling. In short, the two-fold achievement of the impartation of understanding along with the art of conveyance may be our goal.

For some, the dream may shoot far beyond into fame, fortune and what each of us has constructed in our creative fantasies. Finally, for some, the act of putting words to paper in a coherent form, whether poetry or prose, fiction or facts, writing is a fire that burns deep within the bones. Simply put, those of us who fall into this group must write.

Our Effort Should Equal Our Goals

When our writing goals are of a higher sort, it is only logical that we should expect to take the higher road which encompasses preparation, time, and effort. We all know of the Herculean effort undertaken by Olympic athletes as they push toward their goals. Should we not expect to match the level of training and dedication of a world-class athlete in our quest to become a world-class writers?

Like many, I have from time to time held on to the misguided belief that I had produced, perhaps not a prize-winning piece of writing, but at least something worth of publication. It does not take very long before reality reminds me that my own “magical thinking.”

Sure, we have all heard stories of those who win the gold their first time out. However, reality shows that, given the vast numbers of aspiring authors, the number of those who hit one out of the park their first time at bat is very small. For the rest of us, during our journey to become better writers, going through our preparatory word-smith training, we should fully expect to exert the writing equivalent of a championship athlete's training.

Personal Introspection

Before embarking on this journey, the first and foremost question we must answer for ourselves is, are we willing to dedicate ourselves to such a a lengthy and rigorous level of training? As a major part of that same consideration, are we willing to do so with the full understanding that, unfortunately, even with years of dedication to training and effort, some athletes (and writers) are eliminated during the early stages of tryouts, life forces others in a different direction, most of those who remain are eliminated in the final qualifying events, and, ultimately, only a tiny number survive to receive the medal? Are we still willing? On the other hand, like those same aspiring champions, how will we ever know if we do not choose to make the effort, put in the time, listen to mentors and coaches and stick to a strict training schedule?

My Own Tiny Piece Of This World

To one degree or another, I have written for pleasure, since I learned to make sentences in shaky, big-block letters. Later, I thrived on writing college papers. I composed poetry for “the pleasure of it.”

In the early days, my verse and confidence were much to fragile to ask anyone to read, judge, or understand what I had written. Nonetheless, their were days when I sat on the fourth floor of Middleton Library on the campus of Louisiana State University, looking out over the Crepe Myrtles and students blooming in the Quadrangle below, day-dreaming of changing my major from Business Administration to English. However, my childhood influences, the ones that perpetually warned me to take the “safe and sure road” were simply too strong, too deeply ingrained. So, I would close the Swanee Journal I had pulled off a nearby shelf and open my economics book thinking, I need a solid vocation. Writing and all things creative can be my “avocation.” It was only sensible.

What I now understand to be a common and necessary part of the transformation out of our “learned” mode of looking at the world, my world must needs suffer a catastrophic and excruciating blow. Though it does little good to possess this understanding when we are mired in our agonizing inner battles. It does little to relieve the agony. Even so, we eventually learn such is necessary to free us from the old ways that bind us to the old days when the things we repeated produced the same unrewarding results.

That has been my experience. It was just such a drastic blow that pushed me deeper into writing. Amid my struggles to make sense of the new world I faced, writing was a wonderful and necessary outlet. Because I already enjoyed it so, even during its pursuit for its therapeutic value, I began honing my skills. It did not take long to realize that those same emotions, thoughts, and details that I wrote were of the same life-spark that spawned the poetry, stories, and novels of others that I so loved and admired.

Taking The Challenge

My writing with the goal to set my work before the eyes of others began in earnest after a friend introduced to the books of Natalie Goldberg. I immediately devoured her books, Writing Down The Bones and Wild Minds. Her words gave me a direction, along with the instructions to pursue the championship title if I decided to take the challenge. I vehemently disagreed with Goldberg on one major point; that the type of exercises she pursued were not therapeutic in nature, but only methods and training in writing. How can someone with a “need” to write not find the outlet “therapeutic?” Yet, this question made no great difference in “writing.”

Admittedly, I poured through the pages of Goldberg's book, hoping to find the “key” she had obviously found. However, I learned, as we all must, that she did not find the key or the magic formula to writing, nor will we. What she learned was that she should undertake, in her pursuit, the exposure of her dreams through the writing she practiced. Like a runner of marathons in training, she, as a writer in training must write, write, and write. Even when she “hit the wall” and did not feel she had anything more to say, she knew she must continue. In doing so, she realized the one thing she always had within her and could always write about was the dream she was pursuing...writing.

Before you shut down while thinking to yourself, “I already do that,” let me add that the type of writing Goldberg had in mind is along the same lines as the gut-wrenching work-out, training schedule, personal sacrifice, and devotion of the Olympic athlete. Again, why should we expect to win the Gold Medal we seek without the same sort of effort? Yes, I know not everyone has to go to such lengths. The world is not fair. There are others who go to these lengths and even more only to see their efforts come to naught. What I think we all will learn through this process, that whether we win the Gold or not, the prize was never really in the Gold to begin with. The reward was simply in the doing, encased in practicing what we love and the totality of the small rewards along the way.

Thanks for reading...

Your partner in training,

Robb