On Being a Young Writer

One of the most difficult things I find about pursuing what is often referred to as a "writing career" is knowing exactly what I'm aspiring towards. The question I continuously find myself asking is what the purpose of my writing is. Am I doing it purely for the benefit of my readers, as an altruistic act, of sorts? Or am I doing it to become rich, which means I must do whatever negotiating - a.k.a., compromising -- is necessary to present a product that everyone wants to buy so that economically I realize some returns. (I am, after all, supposed to be writing to an "audience...") In other words, is writing (other than for private commissions) -- or art, in general -- intended to be a "career" or a talent?


Grant it, one could ask the question: when has talent and financial success actually coexisted hand-in-hand with one another? Even in the sports world, and the movie industry, professional success comes at a great and costly expense, as evidenced by the proliferation of drugs, sexual improriety, violence, and bankruptcy. (Just look at the child stars, picked at their most innocent point of development, in their "purest" art form. Their subsequent lives are riddled with sadness, poor personal decisions and usually rather shallow views of themselves and the value of their lives outside of their professional roles.)

As a philanthropist (that's what I would be called if I were rich and had a social conscience, so then I must be one -- just without the unlimited funds), I want to be the one to actually write the quintessential American novel -- not just talk about it. Yet on the other hand, the enormous amount of time that writing requires is often prohibitive - at least, in my mind - of me being able to develop any sort of portfolio that would amount to anything that would put me on the fast-track to fame and fortune as an artist. In other words, I am my worst enemy in my pursuits simply because of a concept, a paradigm that dictates that I do not have "TIME" to write. Because I know that, unlike what it may look like, good writing rarely (if ever) comes out perfectly the first time. It must be committed to.

A writer must sacrifice time to write, yet not sacrifice opportunities to grow as an individual, thereby necessitating a delicate balancing act, of sorts. A successful writer, especially a young, aspiring writer, must somehow be part of the 21st century (there are, after all, experiences to have, clothes to wash, children to feed, relationships to develop -- especially with publishers and agents) and yet at the same time be able to isolate one's self to be able to write in his or her own personal voice.

So how are we supposed to do it? I don't really know except to say that we just have to remember that we are writers. We chronicle life as seen through our eyes. And the eyes of our loved ones. And through the eyes of the stranger whom we pass in the street and yet know that in their eye lies a story. We allow our imagination to make possible the barely possible, and "impossible," as we may perceive it, being tainted by our personal feelings and emotions about a thing. If we continue to place before ourselves the responsibility of being a "writer," we somehow find a way to make it all work. And that is both the "long" and "short" of it all. So, keep writing, like you're supposed to...