To be Afraid of a Writer’s Prestige
Being a writer without a name
I have, since I proclaimed myself a writer, and even long before, been constantly ferocious on staking my claim to be a writer. Because there was no being a person with money and name to guide me to be famous, that’s not how things would work. That is if you’re not J.K. Rowling or any famous writer, that was pretty much broken until they became famous and rich. Then it was a Cinderella fairytale, achieved with persistence, a lot of persistence, to the point where I shudder to think.
I was always adamant in my choice to be a writer, I would often deny my grandparents’ and father’s choice. At least, for much more higher (and more expensive) schooling and being able to become something like a lawyer or a contender of something higher than a writer. I didn’t want it.
It was never easy to just be me, not even with my family, or should I say, especially with my family. Until I finally got seriously sick and that I buckled down on actually writing my story and my poetry. That’s where I found power in myself, and also that’s where I felt and found a stronger pain besides my family’s and strangers expectations.
Although I would be often be surrounded by people who hadn’t believe in me, I tried to be stronger and fight as strong as I possibly can. I was a writer before I was going to be anything else, and I knew it.
However, I knew that I was often outranked in many ways, that I would constantly lack something. It never mattered if it was just the missing years, a lacking in higher education, and maybe even, just technique. Any simple thing out of place, I was an outcast of superiors, even if I actually quite love being such a creature.
Even though I would know not to be thinking that I am inferior of what I am and what I write, there has always been a prestige of others see in anything, to see something worth noticing, to be worthy, in plain words. I am not a book published writer, but I am trying to go that route, I have pieces to a puzzle supposedly to be my book, all written into tablets, journals, word docs, page docs filled with beginnings, endings, plotting, and character biographies. All unfinished and unstrung, but with the hopes that I would one day turn into an actual story that is written and in hand.
All of it, often just mock me about not being able to write and finish it or something, anything with 100% certainty and to make sure that it is what I want published. But I still persist because it is what I want, what I see a future in, as long as I continue to persist on my journey.
I often find myself comparing me to other more established writers, until I realized that many writers are writers, who on many occasions, were turned away and rejected. I often have to remind myself that I am just starting and comparing myself never works.
Having always to do that, I began to check myself and begin to write. Just write anything, like how I am doing now. I’m reaffirming myself, that despite I might have a long ways to go, it’s never too late to write and be satisfied with myself than what I could have written, when it would all be in vain of what I actually do.
Learning will always be a part of my journey, as a writer, as a person, as being of planet Earth, same goes for any creature that breathes and lives.
So it be fair, my “superiors” are actually all still students in life, if so, we are all in the same boat. For all writers, I believe, have anxieties when being compared to another, it isn’t any different for any other artist, craftsmen, tradesmen, or any human for that matter.
Even when being compared to a list or chart of things to be, what does it matter, when you are already trying your best to improve. It would only cause double the trouble to worry and to do the actual work itself. Realizing this, it just unfurls all that I worry about and melts away, only because I can actually understand that we are all different in so many ways and have many other ideas and designs what we think life or our craft and trades should be.
Prestige, I finally conclude to be an ego stroker of a functioning old standard used by society, in order to claim and shape order of chaos. It is a piece of what we can use to have expectations or standards with. It is basically, a ruler with which we use to measure ourselves’ most “imposing” status in life or strengths, as any person does with their ego. It was that even if we met a standard, we might not meet that standard in another person. If so, why have prestige, when prestige, half of the time, can make you look either extremely great or like an extremely pompous benefactor of your own creation
I don’t mean to say that writers of high praise are pompous or great, it just means they’re highly regarded in popularity standards and opinions. But even so, it doesn’t always mean that I would agree with the same standards, I have my own criteria as a writer and a reader, meaning that it doesn’t always mean public opinion would fit me.
Knowing I might get hanged for saying this, I’ll say it: I have not read any of the Harry Potter books nor the classics of Moby Dick, Little Woman, Hobbit, Pride and Prejudice, or any of the like. Instead, I was drawn to the poetry or mythologies of the Greeks, the Egyptians, the Norse, the Hawaiians, and the other classics of Edgar Allen Poe, Robert Frost, William Shakespeare, and William Blake.
I drawn to the darker and more gritty sights of what a writer without filters. Because I was and that I grew up with their words as guidance, though not the best of role models, I grew in so many ways. That in ways, that I understood that I would not grow in wanting the approval of peers, but to acknowledge within myself that I would be different, and so I am.
Meaning that my opinion would also not be able to fit the popular opinions of those who have read those of popular factors. It shows a differing in expectations, a difference that doesn’t always get fulfilled.
Being different will always mean different ways of existing though being of the same.
My journey was always about understanding and accepting that I would not be a normal person, nor a normal writer. I find conventional, boring and invigorating, even if it is only for functionality’s sake. Where I land on understanding that I am anything but conventional, is extremely high and understood. Even if I lack the full acceptance of it and lack confidence in my individuality, I know that it is because everyone is raised with expectations and guidelines in life and in societal performance and achievements.
And now I sound like a complete brainiac and wack-a-doo. Even though I totally am, it truly doesn’t make me any better than anyone else, not when I still rely on the basis of normalcy and societal boundaries. Life isn’t always going to fit a box nor a manual on how to live life, no life is like that, nor should we expect it to.
If anything, it is what we need, as any writer of any level, to find and accept, not mattering as to how hard it will be to do so. Realizing this and using it to our advantage, will only help with future doubts and fears. Because despite how many times we try to go with the flow, we always wonder and try to be “normal and stable”.
No matter how much I talk about being able to accept that playing follow the leader is not what I am going to do, it may not work for everyone. This is not a motivational story or a motivational article, but an experience and experiment put together. It is another way to being a writer of any level.
When I think about writing and writing poetry, I think about what feelings I can offer to the poem and to the persons who would read it. I never think about the prestige or the teachings of what I should write, I only write without the effort to being perfect, only to be true. If anything, the person who doesn’t offer emotions or truth about themselves, will never understand that the feelings are all that mattered, not the imperfections, needed to be perfected.
If all writers were as such, then why would people cry and feeling every emotion being thrown into any writing? How can any poet be successful, if having never investing their feelings into their writing? Why would any screenwriter be so successful with echoing the emotions throughout the show or movie, but still withhold?
If anything, their work would be failed and unrestored party. And everything so beautiful of any art or any writing would be only blasphemous, for harboring something of any truth of its creator. And rather it be a master or a novice, prestige will always be at the back burner of any true talent and any true emotion.
Prestige, despite its mastery, doesn’t always account itself of its owner in name. It just means years, experience, and knowing, but where does it display a medal for the heart, for the talent, for the hopes, for the dreams, or even for the faith? I believe anyone can hold prestige if all is held is the years and talent, but to hold continuous faith and love for their passion and for their life’s work, that is the true prestige that only ever worth it.
Thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it!