Do you remember your first writing attempts? What made you write? What was the attraction?
Chances are, it was fun. It was “pretend.” It was play.
When I was a precocious lad of twelve or so (it’s mostly worn off by now), a couple of my friends from church moved far away. They were both girls, but I wasn’t yet the Dreamy McDreamerson that I am now. I was both introverted and lonely, so I started writing letters to them, longhand at first, and then—get this—on a manual typewriter, which allowed me to use carbon paper (ask your grandma what that is) so I could write to both of them at the same time!
But these were not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, typical “How are you? I’m fine” kind of letters. Oh, no. Because writing can be fun. And I was having fun.
So, I would write a letter in the POV of “Cowboy Bob,” describing the events of my week in that character’s voice, as though I were a cowpoke on a dusty cattle drive, rather than a freckle-faced redheaded sixth grader in his Cincinnati bedroom.
I’d carry on that conceit for a few weeks, and then I’d start a new adventure as “Spaceman Bob,” before shifting a while later to, I dunno, “Radio Preacher Bob,” and so on.
We carried on that correspondence for a year or so, I suppose. Why? Because I had a typewriter and a piece of carbon paper. And because it was fun. And not just for me, it turns out. I learned years later that one of my friends found my letters so fun that she read each new missive aloud at the family dinner table, to the delight of her parents and older siblings.
I was mortified. Justifiably so, it turns out, because twenty-five years later a 9 x 12 envelope arrived in the mail. My other friend had saved all of those letters and sent me copies. I shouldn’t even have read them. It was humiliating because, believe it or not, I’d matured a tiny bit in those twenty-five years and my twelve-year-old self wasn’t nearly as clever as I had thought at the time.
But my point is—I was writing as play.
Bret Lott, in his book Before I Get Started, wrote,
It is the writing I enjoy, the actual act of sitting at my desk and looking out my window at the trees, the yard, the sky, and the intermittent sinking into the world of the story at hand, only to rise up and see that sky again, see those trees, see the angle of light through them different now for the sun passing over this all (Before I Get Started, p. 35).
Yes. See, we sometimes get so wrapped up in the pursuit of publication that we forget what attracted us to writing in the first place: It’s fun. Or it can be. It should be.
A writer is wise to hold on to that, to those moments when he’s laughed out loud, when she’s lost track of time, when you just had to call someone to listen to something you’d written just because it … was … so … much … fun.
Writing is its own reward.
Published or not.
Polished or not.
If it’s not, you’re doing it wrong.
Sitting in the quiet night,
another sonnet just begun,
I ponder exactly why I write,
and it’s really not for fun.
High fevers and concussions
have left my brain a scrambled mess,
and memories’ abductions
leave thoughts unfocused, just a guess
at what it was I really meant,
and I find structured poetry
as recapturing the clear intent
of the man that once was me
before the impacts and the flame
made me forget my very name.
***
It is an excercise in forced focus, and while the sonnets have been a tremendous help in restructuring the memories I have left, and using them to piece others together, it’s really, really hard.
Imagine your brain as a burned-out library. Some books survive intact, but most are gone, leaving only ash and the occasional page or page fragment to whirl on the breeze.
Sift, collect and collateral, with discipline… it’s the only way back.
Oh, Andrew …. ((hugs)) and prayers!
What a wonderful story. I can just picture that family listening and enjoying the reading of your letters/stories. And I think we all cringe a little at stuff we wrote when we were kids. But thankfully wise adults usually encourage young writers. When I was in middle school (I think it was middle school) I wrote a poem about a 70’s TV show on at the time and it received great praise and was even published, as I recall, in the county newspaper (I’m from a very rural area). Reading it years later, I, too, cringed. But I wouldn’t trade the fun of that moment for anything.
And kudos for writing them even after they moved! One thing I have often found is that if you move or friends/acquaintances move, it’s not always easy to maintain communication.
And yes, I write for fun. I still remember how in awe I was in 1st or 2nd grade when I was first taught how to string words together into a sentence. I thought the most awesome power had opened up to me. Above all, writing is escape. Yes, I can get bogged down when adulting interferes, but of all the things on my ‘want to do’ list, the one thing I haven’t dropped is creative writing.
Thank you for writing this. I can get so caught up on trying to perfect my work (which isn’t possible) that I can forget to enjoy the journey. It’s also inspiring to know that even the experts had embarrassing moments.
Dear Cowboy Bob,
This is hilarious. I love the part where she read your letters to the family. You are a true gem, Bob—and apparently always have been.
Fondly,
Editor of the Westerner
I was recently sitting on a lovely beach looking at ocean waves, and seagulls. The weather was perfect, and I was happy and at peace. And then (as generally happens in such situations) they came. Words. Sentences. Ideas. I had no computer with me (sand and computers don’t go well together) but since I have a lot of experience with this sort of thing, I had brought a small pad and a pen. So I wrote down the words in my horrendous handwriting. (To give you an idea of my age, I always failed “penmanship”, which is now, thank God, a lost art). I can’t tell if the compulsion to write is fun, or just something I need to do, whenever it seems possible. But I guess I can say that writing is certainly a lot more fun than publishing, although that is also eventually rewarding in different ways.
Oh, Bob. I love this SO MUCH!!! My writing desk has been in many rooms over the decades–the corner of a bedroom, a nursery, a closet, a shed . . . But the best is what my littles eagerly claim as their “Play room.” (It’s actually a small space on a converted porch, filled with bookcases, a chair, and a small desk). But these two beloved children claimed it as their own–filling it with a toy castle, knights, princesses, picture books, and bins of building blocks and fast cars. Which is just how it should be. A playroom. Where children’s imaginations and mine come to life.
BTW: That picture was taken 15 yeas ago–but I can’t figure out how to change it. Thus, the decades!
Spot on. Thanks for the reminder.
I really appreciate you saying this, Bob. It wasn’t long ago that a very big name author that I was following at the time said on his Youtube channel, “If you’re having fun writing, you’re probably doing something wrong. Good writing is too grueling to be fun.” I thought, “What a terrible attitude,” and a second piece of wonky advice later on resulted in me unfollowing him. Maybe he was going through burnout, but I just wasn’t getting anything helpful from listening to him anymore.
I’ve attended the Realm Makers Conference virtually multiple years in a row, and different speakers, almost every year, have pointed out that the human brain is great at believing what we tell it over and over and over again. So if we sit down at the writing desk every morning saying, “Writing is so grueling, I’d better not enjoy it or my writing will suck,” then our brain will start to believe it and start treating it like it’s hard. This can result in avoidance and burnout. Anxiety runs in my family and sometimes I find myself fighting with it, getting nervous about starting new writing projects, even though I love writing. This has been especially true with the second book of a duology that I want to start writing soon, since all my other ideas so far have been standalones. But I’ve been trying to take the advice of my fellow Realmies and catch myself when I think, “I don’t know if I can do this,” and instead think, “This is going to be fun. I get to explore my world even more and find out how the story ends!” And you know what? The ideas are starting to flow more easily and I’m getting excited to work on it! Attitude is a powerful thing. 🙂
“Writing is its own reward.”
Love that!! 🙂
Thanks, Bob, what a great reminder, and a cute story! 12- year- old you sounds charming! 🙂
This is exactly what I needed to hear right now. The first 10,000 words of my novel draft were play, but now it feels like the stakes are rising as I get deeper into it, and the pressure for everything to be right is destroying my courage to keep on. I need to get back to having fun with it, thanks so much!
Hi Bob:
I enjoy standing at my standing desk, looking out over the neighborhood, and asking the question “What happens next?” I started telling stories to my neighborhood friends when I was a young girl (maybe ten or so). I adored how they hung on my every word. I wrote plays (we charged ten cents per adult who came to the show) and was active in my school’s theater department. It has always been fun…well most of the time!
Best,
Sheri
I wish I had all the stories I wrote when I was a kid. Oh, how I wish I had them!! I wouldn’t care how bad they would be. I just wish I could remember them.
Yes, writing is (and can be) hard work, but it’s also FUN! I write stories because I have stories in me and love telling them.
I also love reading (or being told) stories!
Bob, that was delightful. Thanks. With each new entry, I find out more about you, as well as receive some good writing tips.