Why I Haven’t Written Nonfiction Lately: Goals, Revisions, and Old Beliefs
Since I’m on a role with a subject that interests me for now, and since we’re at the end of the year, so copywriting writing has slowed down, I thought it would be a good time to review a subject near and dear to my heart. Why write? I guess, the purpose of this post, and perhaps future posts are going to be writing about writing, which is a very meta representation of writing. But these days, actual writing has been very difficult, and writing about writing, has a very allegory of the cave feel to it.
The end of the year is when I start to review my projects and goals, and my writing goals have fallen on the backburner since I had to start working for real. One of the goals I’ve attempted to revisit is my attempt at writing nonfiction. I have several ideas for essays, but I haven’t thought of myself as an essayist for a host of reasons. This post, along with the review, would be a good time to answer the question: why don’t I write nonfiction? And how can I change it?
Write What You Know: What I’ve Written
Nonfiction has intrigued me since my university days, but I’ve always been afraid of it, for real of the adage, write what you know. What I know to write about wasn’t reflected back in the courses and readings that I read. From Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood to John Reed’s Ten Days that Shook the World, nonfiction has captured me because it offered an opportunity to remix the past. My favorite book of all time is still Stephanie Elizando Griest’s: Around the Block: My Life in Moscow, Beijing, and Havanna.
When I compared myself to writing what I knew versus reading what other authors knew, I felt a deep sadness.
I didn’t feel like my writing was important enough for anyone to read. In essence, I felt that no one would care about what I had written to read.
This has been a dominant thought throughout my writing life. It’s the main reason why I’ve had books upon books of writing and journals stored in my hard drive, and on my bookshelves, but there’s only a drop of that present on the internet.
I wanted to have a life that was full of zest and personality, but as a budding writer, it felt like I hadn’t experienced much, or enough in life, to make it worthwhile. There’s also the caveat that nonfiction, compared to fiction, feels deeply personal. I can’t pretend that it’s some character or a story that I overheard at a bar (that’s how I get many of my story ideas). But rather, it’s from what I’ve experienced in life.
So even though I felt like I could construct a sentence well enough to not break a pencil or crash my hard drive, I wasn’t sure about the answer to that question — could I write nonfiction that would matter to anyone?
Yeah, I shouldn’t have asked that question.
Powerlessness and Likability
The reason why I say I shouldn’t have asked that question is because workshops can be ruthless. Not ruthless in terms of the criticism or the feedback, but in the manipulation that takes place couched in the criticism and feedback. For those blessed enough to have never been through a workshop, the way they’re supposed to work is that participants are honest about the work, so the author isn’t allowed to talk. The author then takes down notes from the discussion.
For the most part, I approve of this version of the workshop, but I want to enter one caveat: the participants shouldn’t attack the character during the workshop itself. During workshops, I’ve had participants tell me that I had no talent, they have nothing positive to say about the work, and a few professors, said flat out that I couldn’t write. I should’ve been an English major.
Perhaps that will be another post. Whenever it’s come to nonfiction, what’s kept me off even writing is, is that I constantly received criticism that I wasn’t likable. The essays I turned in made my classmates completely dislike me as a person, and because of that, came the question of….well, who are you writing this for? Who is going to want to read this? And those criticisms made me doubt writing essays because it wasn’t about craft, or the writing itself. It was much deeper than that.
It was about the fact that I wasn’t likable, once again, and for that reason, it had no market or any readers.
Perhaps this is a point to build off of when it comes to previous posts on Mediums. When it’s come to character assessments, likability is at the top of the list. And due to negative beliefs I had in the past that were only magnified through workshop experiences, I felt (and still feel) powerless whenever someone says that they dislike me due to a general feeling. Of course, I have to honor their feelings, but it sometimes feels like it comes at the expense of how I feel about myself.
But is this really the only way to think about likeability?
The answer to this is of course not.
While likeability is important in high school and college campuses — while it gathers invites to the cookouts and after-hours parties — like beauty, it doesn’t amount to anything profound if that’s all you have to your name.
I’d also like to add that if all people have is liking someone, it doesn’t mean that they will help that person. It doesn’t mean that their desires will be brought forth in the third dimension. It only means that they have nice, fluffy feels, which aren’t always a good thing.
After all, growth occurs in challenges.
Likability is nice, but I’m at the stage of life where proof matters more than potentiality. And my major error was in letter someone else’s assessment of my potentiality to replace the proof of writing that I have.
The Return of the Essay: an (UnLikable) Narrator
Originally when I re-started my Medium page, I wanted to focus on copywriting. I’ll make a U-turn, but I also wanted to expose more people to my writing, as well as to my blog, linked here. I say it because writing is such an important part of my life, and it’s the one gift that I can offer others. And that includes writing about the struggles of writing from my experience in academic settings.
I also say this because I’ve thought about Creative Nonfiction that I’ve wanted to return to, and what’s stopped me from writing it — and it’s mainly been the belief that I can’t write, or if I write what I’m going to write, that it’ll be poorly received because I’m an impossible person to like.
I feel stuck with those comments and I’d like to get past those to share my gift with others. Believe me, there are lots of times when I wish my gifts were in taking beautiful pictures, or in civil engineering, or whatever is seen as bringing more value to others, but it’s the good old pen and paper (or the updated version of laptop and keyboards). But I can’t share my writing with others if I’m letting these outdated comments in the way. I’m rejecting myself before I’m even giving others the opportunity to reject me.
The other issue I have is that when I review the essays I want to write, I review my time in the MFA program. How does that culture of negativity help? (that could be another post). Because despite the negativity, the sacrifices I’ve made, including the student loan debt, the jobs that’ve been rescinded, and the relationships I’ve lost, I’m still writing.
Writing is home. Now, I’m brave enough to want to feel welcome in it, unlikeable and all.
