You wouldn't believe how often we
hear that in response to learning we are writers, as if all it required
was a few noise free moments. You don't hear that when someone says they
build furniture or sculpt or design aircraft. They might suggest that
it's a skill they'd like to learn but never that, if only for the odd
hour here and there, they too could be an aerodynamics engineer.
Why does everyone feel that because we are all literate enough to put words on a page that it makes us all writers? Shouldn't we set the bar for writing a bit higher? What with blogging and tweets, self publishing and copy writing software the situation has gotten worse. There's even a project where you write a novel in a month. Simply smother as much paper with ink as you possibly can in 30 days and - voila, there's a novel. How in the world did 30 days of constant writing ever equate to a novel? What happens to structure, editing, character development and story? Oh, never mind, that'll all sort itself out later. As long as we can string a sentence together, we're a writer!
But when I read Mark Twain and Douglas Adams and Jane Austen I know what a crappy writer I am. How can those people put together their ideas and sentences so well while I struggle to be mediocre? That makes me work all the harder to create colorful and vibrant prose and on occasion I even succeed with the odd phrase. But not without toil and trial and retrial. Certainly not by accident or just hoping good stuff will bubble up from the millions of words I type.
So when some lawyer or doctor says, "you're lucky you have time to write", I take the condescending slap on the chin and refrain from replying, "Yes, I wish I had the time to practice medicine. But something always comes up."
Why does everyone feel that because we are all literate enough to put words on a page that it makes us all writers? Shouldn't we set the bar for writing a bit higher? What with blogging and tweets, self publishing and copy writing software the situation has gotten worse. There's even a project where you write a novel in a month. Simply smother as much paper with ink as you possibly can in 30 days and - voila, there's a novel. How in the world did 30 days of constant writing ever equate to a novel? What happens to structure, editing, character development and story? Oh, never mind, that'll all sort itself out later. As long as we can string a sentence together, we're a writer!
But when I read Mark Twain and Douglas Adams and Jane Austen I know what a crappy writer I am. How can those people put together their ideas and sentences so well while I struggle to be mediocre? That makes me work all the harder to create colorful and vibrant prose and on occasion I even succeed with the odd phrase. But not without toil and trial and retrial. Certainly not by accident or just hoping good stuff will bubble up from the millions of words I type.
So when some lawyer or doctor says, "you're lucky you have time to write", I take the condescending slap on the chin and refrain from replying, "Yes, I wish I had the time to practice medicine. But something always comes up."
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