Yesterday I submitted a personal essay to an online pop culture magazine.
It wasn’t great.
I worked on it for weeks, reading, researching, and writing, changing the approach, editing, and rewriting; but I just never quite hit a stride. Parts of it sound okay, but the overall flow, well, isn’t. The middle is thin. I rewrote the ending for two days, but it’s still pretty limp. My focus was unfocused. The execution just doesn’t reflect the effort.
Time ran out, so I submitted it. I swallowed some reluctance and pride in order to do so, but as my husband quoting Steve Jobs reminded me, “‘Better’ is the enemy of ‘good.’ Real artists ship.” The article wasn’t better; I’m not sure it was even good; but I shipped.
This morning I came across some wisdom (or rationalizing hope) that I might tape to the fridge or tattoo to my arm to make myself feel a little better on days like this:
Courting Failure: If your writing is not failing, it’s not succeeding. If it’s not failing to live up to what you intuitively sense it might become, then you know your standards are not high enough. That’s because – for most of us at least – the critical sense is always a step ahead of the creative abilities. You “feel” what you ought to be able to do long before you can actually do it. You know what you want your work to achieve even when you haven’t yet honed the skills to make that happen. The best thing you can say to yourself is “That is not what I meant at all. / That is not it, at all.”
The submitted essay was not what I meant at all, but what the hell: let’s call that a win anyway.
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Hi Kellie,
I was intrigued by the post title and thought I’d drop by. That is such a great quote you’ve got there. Of course I’d rather not “fail”, but every rejection letter is actually a plus because it means that I’m writing and getting stuff out there.
Cheers!
George
“”You “feel” what you ought to be able to do long before you can actually do it. “” How absolutely true! Personally, when I “ship” something, I sit with the knot in my stomach about it not being good enough, and take with me the knowledge that I can bump up the level of quality and make improvements with each future piece or work! Thanks for the insight and motivation!
Hi, George and Miragi. Thanks for the comments.
I was not only happy but in many ways relieved to come across that quote. Browning’s “a man’s reach should exceed his grasp” is gorgeous and inspirational, but it’s nice to hear someone make the idea plain, practical, and immediate.
George said,
Of course I’d rather not “fail”, but every rejection letter is actually a plus because it means that I’m writing and getting stuff out there.
Exactly. I knew I would finish this piece somehow (no matter how badly), but I often doubted that I would actually submit it. It felt embarrassing to, and I very nearly didn’t. But hey, not every piece will be brilliant, and even if it gets rejected, at least I tried. That’s one attempt more than I had the day before.
Miragi said,
Personally, when I “ship” something, I sit with the knot in my stomach about it not being good enough, and take with me the knowledge that I can bump up the level of quality and make improvements with each future piece or work!
Yes. I do try to remind myself of that cumulative effect. I can’t pretend that I always succeed, but I do try, even if I sometimes have to fake it. I only wish the process would move along faster!
I don’t suppose you’ve ever tried your hand at translating. I completely understand the writer’s frustration of working so hard on a piece and it ends up not being what was meant at all. Put your own thoughts into words in your own language is hard enough, but translation adds a whole new wrinkle to this. When translating one is writing in an attempt to capture the meaning and the tone of another author. Plus, due to the ambiguity of language, it’s sometimes hard to figure out what the original writer was trying to say exactly.
When you’re having trouble with your writing, you might think about doing a little translating. After a bout of that, writing in your mother tongue doesn’t seem half as challenging. I know you’re quite competent in French. You should really consider this idea.
You’re just determined for me to fail in multiple languages, huh, llady?
I’ve certainly used other methods of distraction to try and get new perspective, whether it be working on a different writing project or reading or taking a walk or tooling around on a rock star’s forum. *cough* But I’ve never thought about translating in that way. Determining how an author’s message can change just by the way a single word is defined or interpreted has always fascinated me (close-reading is what I always loved best in poetry and lit classes); adding how a word is translated to that list makes complete sense. Thanks, llady. You’re a smart llady.
Earlier today I reread the piece that I submitted; it’s still not great, but with a couple of rewrites, it could be good. With the deadline past, the point is moot, of course, but it’s nice to see evidence that I was getting somewhere, even if I never actually got to where I was going.
A couple of days ago, I heard something on the radio that reminded me of this item and subsequent comments. I was listening to an archived interview of Frank McCourt, the Irish-American writer who passed away last week. The interviewer commented on how prolific Mr. McCourt had become after starting his professional writing career relatively late in life. In reply, he said, “Well, you know, the more you write, the more you write.”
Indeed. Thanks, llady.