I’m still studying Of Human Bondage by William Somerset Maugham. As I said in my first article about the book, great writers are those who write stories that are relevant throughout time. They expose universal truths that apply to our lives no matter what century we live in. Of Human Bondage is full of such enduring revelations.
In the first part of the book, we witness the main character, Phillip, and his crisis of faith in God. At the next crossroad in the story, we see Phillip battling self-doubt when he pursues his wildest dream.
After being fed up with a dreary accounting job, Phillip goes to Paris to become a painter. He does well, but never creates anything extraordinary. After the suicide of a classmate, who for all her passion for art was a lousy painter, Phillip reevaluates his reasons for becoming an artist. He wonders what his future will look like if he continues to pursue his dream.
Phillip finally works up the nerve to end the subject once and for all by asking one of his painting masters to give an honest opinion of his work. The teacher is perplexed by his request.
Monsieur Foinet: “I don’t understand.”
Phillip: “I’m very poor. If I have no talent I would sooner do something else.”
Monsieur Foinet: “Don’t you know if you have talent?”
Phillip: “All my friends know they have talent, but I am aware some of them are mistaken.”
In this world of indie publishing, anyone and everyone is writing a book, but should they be? I might be a jerk for bringing this up, but I’ll say it.
I see a lot of crappy books out there.
It makes me wonder, especially when watching writers who are endlessly enthusiastic and confident in their shoddy writing, if they have any idea that they suck. Should someone tell them? (Writing buddies, please note: I’m not referring to anyone in particular. Those who work closely with me know that I am completely honest when it comes to writing feedback).
This line of thinking takes me down an even darker road. If all these writers think they are good, and I am just as optimistic about my abilities, could I be a hack too?
After Monsieur Foinet sees Phillip’s work, he tells him he will never be anything other than a mediocre artist. Phillip decides to give up painting and go to medical school—just like that—the whole Bohemian dream trashed.
Unlike Phillip, despite my fear of sucking, I can’t give up writing. Although I would feel foolish pouring all of my energy into something I lack the talent for, whether anyone likes my writing or not is for the most part inconsequential. Phillip’s friend and fellow painter, Clutton, puts it perfectly earlier in the book:
“What happens to our work afterwards is unimportant; we have got all we could out of it while we were doing it.”
That doesn’t mean I don’t care if I suck. I’m still learning, and like Phillip, I sometimes fear I will never be any good.
There is the possibility that, with enough hard work, anyone can be a great writer, but I don’t think so. Certainly, practicing and studying will improve a writer’s skills, but as with most art, writing has that “either you got it, or you don’t” element.
I read scores of writers who create beautiful prose and use perfect technical execution but whose writing is devoid of passion. Then there are those who are great at coming up with characters and plotlines but lack the ability to make it all mean something. They are just missing that “it” factor that makes great writing.
I don’t know whether I have “it” or not, but I’m not ready to quit anytime soon. I say it is better to try and suck than to not have tried at all. Do-i-suck-a-phobia be damned. So I will practice writing for my own pleasure with the hope that one day my work will give others pleasure too. I will continue to learn more about grammar, composition, and plot structure. I will cultivate my creativity and devote time to daydreams. I will collect my life experiences, like mementos in a curio cabinet, so I can use them to touch on those universal truths in my future novels.
Even if I never become a Maugham, I believe that if I’m truly a writer, it’s in my blood and bones, and I must be willing to make a fool of myself. I must ignore that voice of doubt and keep going. If I suck, I will do my worst and pity all those I ask to read my writing—those family and friends who, with a forced smile, say, “Uh, yeah, it was good. I liked it.”
How do you deal with self-doubt?
Would you want someone to tell you if you had no talent?
Are you honest with your peers about their work?
If you knew you’d never succeed at doing what you love, would you still keep doing it?
Feel free to throw your tomatoes below.
Edited by Change it Up Edit
Reblogged this on Venus' Veils and commented:
This cuts straight to the heart of my Vocation-Existential “crisis” of the last couple of years, and Christa Wojo expresses it very eloquently! Hers is a blog I will definitely follow with interest in the months to come!
Thank you!!! What a wonderful thing to say to another writer! I have never felt this moved by a comment. You have liberated me. I have been stuck pondering over if had any meaning to convey. Thank you.
Hi Christa. I came to thank you for visiting my blog and for the Twitter share of The Tree Hugger. I have read your post about a writer’s greatest fear and I think it is itself great. It makes me flatter myself that you could share my story, although I think I am in the category of the great plotters with no meaning. I wonder about meaning. Thank you.
You, a plotter without meaning? I hope you know this is untrue. I detected many meanings within the story of The Tree Hugger, one of which was the meaninglessness of destruction, the worst part being that we are aware of this urge within ourselves and yet feel powerless to do anything but succumb to it. You are extremely talented and fearless in your writing and your message. And I disagree with those who recommend you tone it down and make it more metaphorical. The gore is exquisite and your graphic scenes are metaphors for the horrors we hide from in real life.
Pfizer has no idea how much money they’d make, right? I think do-i-suck-aphobia is inherent in being a writer. I don’t know any writers who DON’T suffer from it. Anyway, I deal horribly with self-doubt, but these words from Brenda Ueland have always inspired me: “I want to assure you with all earnestness that no writing is a waste of time…With every sentence you write, you have learned something. It has done you good. It has stretched your understanding. I know that. Even if I knew for certain that I would never have anything published again, and would never make another cent from it, I would still keep on writing.” There’s a part in her book If You Want to Write in which she says, “You are incomparable.” She means that each person’s experience and voice is unique and that there is room out there for all of us. I find that comforting, even though I spend most of my life afraid of not being heard. Or worse, of not having anything to say.
Thank you so much for these encouraging quotes, Abby. I’m going to buy that book right now!
And I think having nothing to say would be the worst curse of all.
If it’s any comfort, I can tell from your blog posts that you CAN write and that you have intelligence and passion and honesty. I think the best writers suffer self-doubts and the hacks are convinced they are awesome. 🙂
Thank you, Debbie! That is a great comfort to my needy writer’s ego. <3 <3 <3
I think there is an audience for every writer. So even if I don’t like something myself, I am aware that there are others who would have a different opinion. I think it’s important to provide honest feedback when asked, but that there is a way of doing it that doesn’t impose your biases or destroy someone’s dream. It’s essential that you don’t lie, though, because that’s not doing the writer any favours. I won’t give comments I don’t mean. Writing is a journey, and whatever you can do to help your fellow writer along the path is well done.
I love your point about passion – flawless technical execution cannot substitute for emotional connection. This is the heart of a good story.
That is why I’m always honest. The only way I’ve improved my writing was to take some harsh criticism. I am so grateful for those people who cared enough to be honest with me.
to dk bunnell
While we are the subject of sucky, Your instructor wins a prize. Constructive criticism is one thing, all he did was discourage you. Sorry it took you so many years to start writing again,
Good for you.
First of all, I love your writing Christa, not because I know you, I just simply LOVE how you write.
All writers, painters, and creators remember one very important thing, ONE MANS MEAT IS ANOTHER MANS POISON. Just do what you love doing, even if it sucks, just because you love doing it. Your creation may or may not make “it” but at least you gave it a shot. I would feel worst if I did not even try. All great masters have failed at one time and then succeeded. Do you think they never had any self doubts? Of course they did. You just do not come out of the gate an instant winner, it is a lot work, perseverance and luck.
I would tell people my honest opinion, it is crueler to lie. I love this saying about all things in life—-. I would rather be hurt by the truth then destroyed by a lie.
I do not care if some one tells me I am awful, what have they done lately? Even if a successful best selling author told me I had no talent, it still would not bother me. That person may not enjoy my work but maybe Jane Doe did. If Jane doe did not like it. Hell– I did!
A sucky canvas is better then no canvas at all.
Just go for it, good, bad or indifferent.
You’re right, Roseann. Having no canvas at all would be agony! I’m so thankful to have an empty canvas to fill.
I love what you said about the masters. I’m sure all those before us went through the same thing. Most don’t come out an instant winner. Shonda mentioned the I-want-it-all-now syndrome. Writing doesn’t work that way. Neither does music, painting, or dancing. It takes hours a day for years, maybe decades, to master something. Even if you’re lucky enough to be born with innate talent, you still have to practice constantly to develop your skills. A good writer must be willing to do that.
And like Dianne’s story–one person may hate your writing, but then another person will say you changed their life. I have to remember I’m writing for that person.
I struggle with this often, the self doubt, the worry. But, I also know that I cannot NOT write. I feel compelled to do it and it just sort of flows out of me. Is it any good? I really can’t say, but I know I have to keep trying, keep polishing, keep learning and so on.
Great article! So much to ponder.
I’m like you, Anne. I can’t NOT write. That means I better get used to this feeling. I’m sure I’ll build more confidence as the years go by. Hopefully, I’ll live long enough to write THE story I see in my mind. Thanks for stopping by 🙂
I took a class on writing in my 20’s and after reading aloud the first chapter of the first draft of my story, the instructor said, “That could never happen. It’s totally unrealistic.” The critique went downhill from there. Of course, it was a page from my life and so totally “realistic.” I was mortified and left after that first session and never went back.
It took about twenty more years for my writing to find me again, and, yes, a fictional memoir came after ten years of writing and polishing, polishing, polishing (with the help of a brutal writing group that I was determined to stay with).
The story, The Protest, was accepted at the corporate level by Barnes & Noble and I toured the country doing readings. I’ll be releasing it as an e-book in March 2015. I’ve been hugged by one reader who said, “Thank you for writing this story. After my similar experience, it brought meaning back to my life and gave me hope.” On the other hand, a very good friend said he did not care for my book at all. But he didn’t say it with that much kindness… and the comment just rolled off my back.
If you have a passion to write, then it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. However, that doesn’t mean you can’t improve. Find a brutal writing group that will tell you honestly about your writing’s strengths and weaknesses, read whatever you can lay your hands on to learn about how to make your writing more professional and less amateurish, read books to study how writers you admire “do it,” and understand how important it is to polish, polish, polish. Learn to be the best writer you can be — because no one can tell your story but you.
It’s a shame that your writing class experience kept you away from writing so long. It just goes to show you that one person’s shortsighted opinion can crush someone’s dreams.
The reason posted on this topic is because I’m suffering a bout of self-doubt right now. I pulled out my drafts for a series of three books for revisions. Aack! They were NaNo projects and are in such a state, I have no idea how to begin to fix them. I need to learn this polishing, polishing, polishing part. I used to think the key to writing was sitting down and writing, but now I am realizing it’s in the revising. You have to be able to spot your own crap. How do you learn to do that? I guess I need to find myself a brutal writing group. If you have any tips or resources, please share.
Thanks, Dianne and big congrats on your book!
“…no one can tell your story but you.” That’s the truth.
I would never tell someone they have no talent – a] b’cos they may believe it b] I have no right (yes, even if they ask me for an opinion).
But even if they suck at it, I believe they should pursue it. For example, in Fountainhead (Ayn rand), Peter finds peace in painting, even though he knows he will never be a master.
Thanks for an evocative article!
You’re most welcome, Sweety.
You make a good point. Suckiness is subjective. And it depends on the artist whether they value the action of creating more than the anticipated result of their efforts.
Also, the nay-sayer may have their own motives. It could be crab-syndrome, could be foul mood, could be frustration. So why should that person’s statement change my / any artist’s life?
Excellent point!
I have to admit I suffer from do-i-suck-a-phobia with an extra dose of I-want-it-all-now-syndrome, so I completely understand. The one thing that grounds me is knowing regardless of how others may feel about my writing I ask myself these questions, “Do I find peace in writing? Do I enjoy writing?” if the answer is “Yes” then I continue with my passion. Hopefully over time my skills will get better or maybe other’s standards are reduced. Who know’s….
But now I know why artists are famous after they die…..
Stay Inspired…
Yes! I should probably do another post on I-want-it-all-now syndrome, hahaha. I believe they are comorbid conditions.
First you suffer the chest pains and paralysis from do-i-suck-a-phobia. Then when you realize how many years of hard work it will take to create a masterpiece, you go into mood swings and spastic fits.
These two illnesses probably led to the death of many an aspiring artist. I’m hopeful that Pfizer will come out with some meds for us soon.