A discussion over at MizKit's LJ about self-publishing (among other things) yielded up this comment:
The problem was [as a younger writer], I just wasn't very good. [me. — ed]
That is, of course, the baseline problem with most writing. As newguydave just said elsewhere, "A violinist doesn't pick up an instrument, learn their first piece, and think they're ready for Carnegie Hall. Further to that, if they're not ready to play in the orchestra, they don't start their own.Why do writers then believe that if they finish a novel, it should be published, and if nobody wants it, they'll print their own. I can think of very few industries where if you're not good enough, you can go out and do it anyways.|
I have several theories for why this sort of thing happens. The one I'm putting most credence into right now I call the Cult of the Prodigy Theory.
The CotPT revolves around the idea that the publishing business loves to hype books by twenty-something young geniuses. Look at how brilliant they are now — think of where they'll be in twenty years! Why, they'll be freakin' literary godlings! The problem, of course, is that there is no single index for age vs. skill vs. accomplishment; some of the best creators produced their most revered material very late in life. History's littered with the cinders of stars that burned brightly, way too soon. Case in point: Orson Welles, whose defining moment came when he was twenty-five and everything after that was anticlimax.
Too many writers hear these one-sided success stories and assume that because they are young and writing ambitiously, that automatically translates into them being Good Writers Worth Publishing. Then they have someone who actually has publishing experience look at their work, shake their head slowly, and recommend a good workshop class. Or another career entirely. Such are the risks of listening to the propaganda for the outcome rather than becoming a student of the process.
I suspect a big part of why I give this theory the credence I do is because it squares with my own experiences. I listened to and devoured entirely too much "young genius" nonsense aimed at me when I was still in school, and ended up with a very insular set of conceits: Don't Tell Me What To Do, Everything Popular Is Crap Anyway, My Work Is Far Too Sophisticated For The Likes Of Your Puny Minds, etc. Took years to get over all that. I'm not sure I'm completely over all of it yet, either.
I also suspect one of the reasons writers get caught up in this kind of dragnet of misdirected ambition is because it's hard not to be a writer and also have some degree of pride in your work. The problem is that pride is all too easily conflated into arrogance and defensiveness. The longer you wait to let the air out of a swelled head, the harder it gets.
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I think you've got an excellent point here, and you remind me of an article I read a while ago, comparing artists who are geniuses right out of the gate but don't improve much over time to artists who aren't too impressive to start with but get progressively better and better.
I can't find the article I'm thinking of, but this one deals with the same ideas, and both reference a book called "Old Masters and Young Geniuses: The Two Life Cycles of Artistic Creativity" by David W. Galenson: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2008/10/20/081020fa_fact_gladwell
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I think we may well have been reading the same magazines. That was, if memory serves, the exact place where I gleaned said insights. Thanks-a-mill for posting that here!
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That's too funny :) I'm happy to share!
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I do think you can get wonderful, clever things written by people with very little prior writing experience, but sustained literary output takes more. You need discipline and craft--work, effort, diligence--which is what the young geniuses (or older newcomers) lack.
How we judge writing is pretty intensely subjective, too--but I think that's true for music and visual arts too. I think the Carnegie Hall analogy isn't quite apt: I think in music it's young garage band musicians who are equivalent to beginning writers--the kids with their guitars who think they're going to be rock stars (and may be, one day).
I was intrigued by your comment over at Jim Hines's journal that you had decided to go the self-publishing route, writing for the audience you had developed, even though you knew the limitations that that route imposes. How did you arrive at that decision? (As a newcomer to the blog, I realize you may have discussed this elsewhere--feel free to point me to links!)
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I like the garage-band analogy, especially since there's a similarly scrappy attitude (and I mean that in a good way) amongst young writers -- what they don't yet have in focus and internal discipline they often make up for in energy. E.g., they want to write that epic trilogy, and they might even do it, but there's that much less of a chance it'll be psychologically informed or politically astute.
The other question, about why I chose to do this, is worth devoting its whole own post to, and I'll be doing that sometime this weekend. I haven't actually touched on it in detail, and it deserves a closer look.
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