The Internet as liberator
For hopeful writers the Internet has been liberating, and not. Everyone can have a blog so everyone’s a writer, which means no one’s a Writer. Right? With so few publications, relatively, to place stories, the status of Writer is elusive to so many people whose thoughts/stories/words could contribute to the greater good, if only they had…say it with me…an audience.
So how does someone who writes become a Writer?
It takes having been published by five magazines or newspapers; no, 10 pieces published; no, 100 pieces. No, you have to make your living solely from writing. No, you have to wield influence. Arghh!
Quickly you fall into an ontological k-hole: What is a writer?* What does it mean to write? What is writing? Can I write? What’s a sentence? Was that a sentence?
You start forgetting grammar rules: Oh, god, how, do, you, use, commas?! And spending an afternoon studying Strunk and White begins to sound like a better use of time than looking at a blank page for hours. Maybe, before you try to write, you should try reading every piece of writing by every writer you admire? Oh god, maybe all the writers who ever will be already have been, and have died.
You could just write, sure, but to be elevated to the status of Writer? That takes…you start spinning and your gears aren’t fitting together kind of like when you slam on the gas when the car’s in neutral as you try to figure out what in the hell it means to be a Writer. Overwhelmed? Do you find yourself compelled to take up quilting? (I’ve been there.) It’d be easier to make a living “crafting” trinkets to sell on Etsy than it would be to write.
And finally, it comes to you clearly, I’ll just quit.
Unless you draw your income from writing, there’s no logical reason to start, or continue, doing it. Writing is hard, and really, what’s the payoff? If you have no influence then you’re writing for yourself — and maybe you’re parents, if you’re not writing about how they screwed you up. Is writing for yourself, not in a diary or in a truly private place, an act of narcissism? Or futility, verging on masochism?
And to be paid, oh that coveted status, it seems now like you have to have had a big break to even get a meeting with an editor. It’s a battle of two hard-earned steps forward and one easy step back. That, or…
You’re anointed.
That capital W isn’t something that’s bestowed upon you. You are not suddenly Patrick Stewart the Writer. Forget the title and embrace the act: You write. You’ve heard it before, I’m sure: Nice guys don’t say they’re “nice guys.” Allow your work to speak for you and don’t claim a title that’s not yours to take. (Example: Be someone who photographs, do not claim to be a photographer.)
Insofar as the Internet makes it a lot easier to distribute information (at least to other people with access to the Internet), it’s helped to moderate the influence of big-market, big-money publications like The Washington Post, The New York Times, and The Wall Street Journal — to their chagrin. Their biggest obstacle is clearly articulated in the Times motto: “All the news that’s fit to print.”
For a certain demographic, yes, the Times and other big-market papers with big-market advertisers do print all the news their readers need to get through the day and to be fully-informed citizens in their own corners of the universe. But what of the people whose worlds aren’t represented by the Times’ coverage? (*Gasp* — blasphemy, I know.)
That’s where you, the writer who’s considering a career as a quilt-maker, comes in. To think of the Internet as a liberator for writers, is to think only of art’s supply-side. Yes, the artists who once would have languished without a platform now have one, and that presents challenges of what may seem not like a flooded market. But think of the reader, unrepresented by The Washington Post or The New York Times’ coverage. (No, this is not about East Coast liberal progressive media.)
The other day, the Times published a piece called “Is Self-Loathing a Requirement for Writers?” Here’s a snippet of what Anna Holmes, one of the column’s two writers, said:
The Internet, that great democratizer, only served to underscore this reality. As a onetime writer and editor for print, when I switched to digital media in 2007 I became even more conscious of the fact that the work of amateurs was often just as good, if not better, than that of their more richly compensated and higher-profile peers: Their arguments were often more rigorous, their ideas more original, their narratives more cohesive, their language more lucid. They were writing to be understood, not applauded. It didn’t so much matter to whom they were related, where they lived, what parties they went to or under whose boldface tutelage they labored; they were good, and anyone who was paying even a bit of attention knew it.
Suffering and self-loathing aren’t requisites for being a good writer, compassion and curiosity are. No, they aren’t mutually exclusive, but do strive to kick suffering in the butt because it just gets in the way. To write well you have to be curious, rigorous, and honest. (If you’re looking for an example of an honest writer, read David Carr’s memoir The Night of the Gun. Oof.) For every writer who’s rigorous and honest and doing right by their art, there’s someone out there who will want and need to read what that writer has to say. When you write, be kind to yourself, and be curious about the world, and don’t fear an Internet full of writers. Embrace knowing that it’s easier for the world’s population to find writers who speak to them and their needs.
— Anna Hiatt (@ahiatt), Publisher
*The video cuts off just as Liz Lemon is about to say, “What is art?”
Originally published at thebigroundtable.tumblr.com.
