What We Can All Learn From Bob Dylan

While the social media world around me pounces on the latest tweet from U.S. President Trump, I’m glued to any feed about Bob Dylan. During a time when we’re all obsessed with how many likes, retweets, hearts, mentions, or whatever we get from our efforts to obtain accolades for our work, Dylan’s resistance to recognition by the esteemed Nobel Committee for Literature and more recently, President Obama, is refreshing.

Dylan has been criticized and ridiculed for his lack of enthusiasm for receiving the Nobel Prize for Literature. Let’s face it, any modern writer would be overwhelmed with gratitude if they received such an award and the esteem that comes with it; shunning such glory is blasphemy in a literary culture that pushes awards, contests, platforms, mailing lists, and connections in order to be marketable.

What I’ve learned from Dylan’s lack of response is the need to remember why we create art to begin with. For me, there is a deep need and desire to get words on a page. I read books and jot down words I find intriguing in a journal that sits by my bed. I wake up in the middle of the night with dialogue floating around in my head. I anxiously wait for my weekly allotted time when I can sit down at my desk and begin where I left off with my characters. I’ve already started an outline for two more books even though I’m not done with a draft manuscript of the one I’m currently writing.

Would I like recognition? yes. Have I chased it? yes. And although I’m sickantired (my new favorite word I found in The Great Gatsby) of reading about J.K. Rowling and her rise to fame after numerous rejections,

I empathize with anyone who has worked tirelessly on their art without validation and still manages to keep going because — they know why they’re doing it. Over the past few years I’ve paid for and submitted work to literary journals, contests, and fellowships. I’ve reached out to those gatekeepers: agents, editors and reviewers that might help me market my work. I’ve tracked my sales, social media accounts, and checked on the status of my reviews almost daily. I’m not what anyone in the literary world would consider successful. I’ve felt like quitting.

And then along comes Dylan’s response to the Nobel Committee. While many people are blustering about his complete arrogance for not responding right away to the Committee with a gesture of gratitude, I was intrigued by his recalcitrance. An essay written by Adam Kirsch for the New York Times titled: The Meaning of Bob Dylan’s Silence offers a possible reason. The philosopher, Jean-Paul Sarte, who in 1964, actually rejected the Nobel award for Literature stated:

The writer, must refuse to allow himself to be transformed into an institution, even if this occurs under the most honorable circumstances. — Jean-Paul Satre

Of course, I’m not even close to being famous for my art. So who the hell am I to dwell on the idea that I should be more like Dylan? I mean I would love to win just one contest or award for validation of all my hard work. Who wouldn’t?

But what I’ve learned, and maybe what we can all take away from the non-message message that Dylan leaves us with is this: are we so caught up with the pursuit of gratification from the media, readers, gatekeepers, and fans that we lose track of why we’re pursuing our work as artists? Do we lose something of value in that pursuit? I think so.

I do have a piece of advise for Bob Dylan though, just in case he happens to read this essay (as I imagine with all the followers I have it will go viral). Why don’t you write a song about what it felt like to be awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature and at your next concert, strap a guitar on your back and belt it out like only you can.