The Art of Balancing Writing as a Purpose and a Goal
By: Maria Chance
Tags: Writers On Writing, Writing, Inspiration, Writing Life, Writing Tips

I was eight years old when I realized I wanted to be a writer. The moment was such an awakening that the memory remains crisp in my mind. I stood at the back of my second grade classroom eyeing a Beauty and the Beast Little Golden Book, one I was deciding to reread again for the hundredth time. I remember being very aware of the joy it brought me to read that book and of the thought that came next: I want to make people feel this way.

Fast forward some years: I still loved to read, and I still wanted to be a writer. But now I was witnessing crowds line up block after block at midnight, outside bookstores, just to be able to be one of the first to get their hands on the latest Harry Potter book. I was young, impressionable and my eyes were wide and glassy as I took in J.K. Rowling’s magnanimous influence (you know, back in the early 2000s when she was still the open-minded, tolerant writer we all knew and loved — but I digress). I came to the conclusion that being a writer was only worth it if you gained this level of success. Who wants to write a mediocre book that only a few people will read? Why would I put that much time and energy working on something that will give me crumbs in return?

This is what we’re taught, after all. As kids, we’re told we can be anything we want, but the fine print always reads: only as long as you’re the best at it and extremely successful. At the very least, growing up, in my house, it was like that. You had to be the best at math and at language arts. You had to get top grades in art and in science. Failure in any subject, even if you excelled in others, deemed you a less worthy child. There were no kind, encouraging speeches telling you to “try your best.” There were only interventions and punishments if your grades so much as dropped from an A to a B.

As adults, the idea that success is measured by the amount of money you have is reinforced by society. (Ever went to a high school reunion and told everyone you were a cashier at a local grocery store? The number of flat, uninterested ‘Oh’s you’ll receive will quickly inform you of how your success is perceived.) To get fancy things as a creator you must reach the masses, and you can only reach the masses if you’ve got a product that can appeal to a multitude of individuals, all with different beliefs, all with different tastes, all with different experiences, all with different views of life. To reach the masses on the level of J.K. Rowling one would have to become some form of supernatural.

Commercial success is the exception, not the rule.

I eventually came to the conclusion that a writer on the level of J.K. Rowling, Tony Morrison, or Stephen King is the exception, not the rule. You’re lucky if you’re a writer who’s attained even half the amount of their success. But in a world saturated with talented writers, all trying to reach that goal, it becomes a million times harder to reach.

Still convinced that to be a writer meant you either have it all or you have nothing, I badgered myself because my style didn’t match Austen’s, Brontё’s, or Tolstoy’s. I compared myself to the greatest of the greats and came up short every time. Writing became a frustration because I was looking to produce something beyond my capabilities. I know now that it wasn’t that my aim was too high, it was that I was aiming for someone else’s stars instead of aiming for my own.

If you pursue your dream through someone else’s vision you're bound to get frustrated sooner or later. Before you know it you’ve lost all faith in your dream and in yourself. I grew frustrated with my art and tried to give it up, to put it away like some silly, childish illusion, like a favorite toy that I had outgrown, that would serve me no purpose in life, one that would lead me to assured starvation and other forms of distress if I dared to pursue it.

But stifling your creativity is like trying to hold your breath for long periods of time. Your imagination will fight for you in that innate way that lungs have of always seeking out what you need. You need air. You also need to create. This may not seem as obvious, but it quickly becomes so once you try to cut yourself off. Your mind and your heart will join forces so that, even if you physically stop yourself from creating, ideas will always still flourish, the world will still find ways of inspiring you. And the choice to bring any of these ideas to reality rests, literally, in your hands.

Success is subjective and individualistic.

I eventually came to a crossroads, and I had to decide what to do with this fire inside me that I was unable to douse: should I take the path where I chase success, money, fame, and longevity, even as I become increasingly frustrated, or do I chase the second: a path where I find my own voice, where I write about what matters to me, where I’m at peace with my mind, uplifted simply from the joy of having created?

Of course, I chose the second. Financial success will always have its allure. There are very few things that money can’t buy. But money can’t buy peace of mind. And money can’t buy the strange joy I get from fumbling around with words. My words. I have always written without any compensation, and I have always been pleased just to channel the surge of ideas that plague me as soon as I open my eyes every morning. I need to write as much as I need to breathe. The rewards I reap from the exquisite experience of experimenting with words every day is so much greater than any joy I would get from having crowds line up to buy my book.

Besides, the older I got, the further I explored literature, the more I realized that so many of my favorite stories belonged to authors with little to no commercial success. Each bound story like a collection of fingerprints, the magic of viewing into the mind of a stranger at my fingertips, all made possible because these writers believed in their voices. Writing is such a leap of faith, imagine if all writers decided writing their books was only worth it if there was a big paycheck at the end. I personally feel I would be at a loss, having learned far less about the world than I could’ve.

Trust your own personal creative journey.

Just like them, I’ve decided to trust my own voice. If there’s success in it for me at the end of my long writing journey, then I welcome it. Of course, I want to make a living from writing. Of course. But I can only offer the world what I, as an individual, can offer and hope for the best. Fortunately, I’ve gotten to a place where writing itself is enough of a reward.

If my life as a reader has taught me anything, it’s this: the books and stories we love come to us when we need them most. Whether it be because we were actively searching for them or because divine serendipity put them in our path. But I believe my writing, my future novels, will reach those who need them most. It is for this group of people, as well as for myself, that I write. I believe in purpose and mine is to say something through the medium of writing. Whether I become aware of it or not, it will serve someone, somewhere, somehow. As endless and expansive as this universe might be, I believe my writing has a place in it.