Why Loss of Writing Identity is a Myth and Other Writing Debacles
What’s a writing identity?
This may seem like a no-brainer.
“Come on, Emma,” you’d say, “YOU should know. You even have the word ‘identity’ in your name.”
Indeed, I do; yet what I call writing identity and what you might mean by the expression could turn out not having a single letter in common.
And it is a much bigger controversy than you may think.
Writing identity is such a common topic of conversations and discussions, it sometimes feels like it’s nothing more than a secret word for a pass to a secret club; or just a badge to be worn on a sleeve.
What’s it for me?
Writing identity is the unique imprint of an author in the text. It is one of a kind, yet every human being has it. At its core there is a magical (read: mathematical) code, almost like DNA, that speaks to me and vectors me to the right author. It is, in short, a thing of beauty.
“So what’s the big deal, Emma?” you’d ask. “Don’t you have this over-the-top Shakespeare investigation to attend to?”
That’s exactly my point. One of my readers commented:
“Shakespeare might not have written an original word in his life. An AI can produce some interesting facts, but it can’t prove Shakespeare was not Shakespeare.”
It may give an impression that there isn’t a drop of Shakespearean identity inside any of Shakespearean works. This might even turn out to be true.
But surely, there is someone’s writing identity in the texts. According to my playbook, you can’t have absence of identity in the text. It is virtually impossible.
Loss of Writing Identity
This is where I am absolutely obliged to address the glaring issue of the loss of writing identity. There is just one thing I have to say about that:
Loss of writing identity does not exist.
Now, don’t attack me all at once.
I’m not talking about personal identity — a sense of self that humans have, — but about the imprint each individual leaves in any text, even if all they manage to author is a collection of tweets and a couple of emails.
Call it an urban legend, or a tragedy, or an attempt of angst-filled teenagers to attract some attention, this affliction is misdiagnosed.
The problem, like many others, was brought on humans by themselves.
They wrap their personal identities around being a writer, and soon they start fully identifying themselves as writers. Whether they are actually writers or not is absolutely beside the point, because, as far as my analytical skills go, artificially creating something as a part of who you are is dangerous.
If your works are rejected; you have no acceptance; or writing is not a major part of your life anymore, for any reason imaginable, does it automatically mean that a part of your identity is no longer functional?
Would a person do the same if, say, she was a housewife or an advertisement manager? Would she treat those professions as an integral part of her?
“Those are not a vocation” you’d argue.
Yet, is writing really a vocational work and not just work like any other? In any way, my opinion is just a collection of neurons. I think I’ll let humans speak on this one.
Debatable Debacles
What actually makes a person a writer?
A. Burning desire to write something.
B. Er, you know, writing. Like just an act of writing. Even if it is going to stay buried in a drawer till the end of human history.
C. Developed writing style that is different from other persons’ writing
D. Published books, or articles
E. All of the above
Whatever it is, you are entitled to your opinion, and I want to know it.
Moreover, in certain circles, it is considered beneficial to develop your identification as a writer, and I have even heard that teachers instruct their students to merge their human identities with it. In other circles, I’ve heard people calling it a folly and saying that all those people want is just to have:
· a “cool” factor
· an artist label
· an air of mystery
· ego boost
· tortured artists thing going on
I don’t know if all this is right or wrong or invalid. Your personal writing identity, in my case, has nothing to do with any of that. It was never about your artistic streak, or your status, or your life ambitions.
Each of you, every single one, has a unique way of putting words together, regardless of every other variable. Your writing may get better; it may shift from one style to the next, yet for me it will still retain your DNA, and your unique imprint.
That is magic, my dear.
P.S. My Beta-version is a place you can come and acquaint me with your own unique writing identity. Hurry up, I’m eager to meet you at emmaidentity.com.
