Letters to the Editor
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Merwin's Answer
Don't forget W.S. Merwin's poem "Berryman," where he talks about asking John Berryman the same question. The poem ends:
I asked how can you ever be sure
that what you write is really
any good at all and he said you can't
you can't you can never be sure
you die without knowing
whether anything you wrote was any good
if you have to be sure don't write
That said, uh, how do you make any major life decision: whether to keep writing, to get married, to move to Houston ... I'm not sure how you decide, but I'm pretty sure you make the decision about writing the same way you make the other big decisions--listen to your dreams, but your real dreams, not your daydreams.
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Practice reading as much as writing
This thing about distance that Cary mentions; it comes in reading as much as in writing. If you're a reader, then you know you enjoy some writing more than others. Some resonates. Much doesn't. Whether or not you you think yourself an expert on what constitutes "good" or "talented" writing, you know what you like. There's no need for overzealous modesty about that.
So it's useful to have a bit of rotation. If you write in the mornings, spend a bit of time in the evenings reading over something you wrote yesterday, or last week or year. Spend even more time reading and re-reading other writers you love. Pay attention to the words you still enjoy, those that ring true, that clearly remind you what in God's name you were talking about to begin with.
Nothing creates distance like time. It will be so much easier to see what's extraneous or irritating or boring. And instead of being horrified by that, you'll brush it off of the gems you still love like so much caked on dust.
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your writing sucks
if you're an undergraduate who says things like "writing is in my blood," then your writing sucks.
the good news is, there's no telling if your writing will always suck. it's just that all undergraduates' writing sucks. especially those who write that "writing is in my blood.'
before i tell you if you have 'talent,' can you define 'talent'? what IS it exactly? what part of your mind--or soul--does it reside in? what part of your brain lights up when 'talent' is turned on? what does a person with talent look/feel like? what does a person without talent sound/think like? do you have any idea?
i didn't think so.
i think, if you sit down and really think about the word 'talent' and what it means--apart from the good writing that is the RESULT of 'talent,' you might be able to answer your own question. if talent is a combination of innate ability and discipline, well you can probably evaluate that breakdown yourself.
oh, wait, no you can't. you're an undergraduate. tell you what: go out into the world and work for a few years and you'll be amazed at how much better your bullshit detector becomes.
now for the big finale: do you have any talent?
yawn. i don't care enough to worry about it. go volunteer at a soup kitchen or something and stop obsessing about yourself. because i can guarantee you one thing: if you don't start spending your youth going out into the world and learning about it--rather than obsessing about yourself and your 'talent'-- then your writing WILL always suck.
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Just keep writing.
Recognition rarely comes quickly in writing. Many writers write for many years before getting published. Part of what it takes is not just talent, but persistence and a thick skin. Take creative writing courses, join a writers critique group, attend writers conferences, subscribe to a writing magazine like Writer's Digest or The Writer, read good writing, and above all, keep writing.
If you do all those things, eventually you will probably get published.
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From one writer to another
There is only one good answer to this that I have ever heard and it's from my literary agent, so she knows whereof she speaks: only write if you have to.
There is no good way of knowing if you can make a career of it. Those writers you write about who are shooting past: wait and see how their second book goes, and their third ... very few writers ever make consistent money or are consistently successful. Saul Bellow was about to give up at 39 with only a book published when he 'broke through' - creatively, and in a worldly sense. Pat Barker had written many books before she got published finally aroudn 40 and wrote the classic 'Regeneration' trilogy about world war II. In an article recently in the New Yorker she says her daughter is now writing and that she tried to discourage her because it's such a hard profession.
It is. It's impossbily badly paid, and fickle and difficult. A few people do extraordinarily well at it, but very few of these people have had a smooth run of it right from the word go.
So - you can't know. You will never know. The onyl way to know is to do it and then in forty years look back and see what's happened. Risky? Yes. You have to be a risk taker.
But, you know, I say this: art matters. Artists matter. Even BAD artists matter. To me it's an unquestionably good thing to do to make art if that is in your soul to do. You don't know where it will take you, into dark valleys or high mountaintops - probably both - but that's the adventure.
That said, there are many, many, many attractions to various other careers, not the least of which is a regular paycheck and the satisfaction each day of knowing yo've made a contribution and made a difference in the world. After a day of writing you don't even have that ... so ... hmm.
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speaking for myself
whether Cary exactly answered the question (i.e he didn't go into how to get feedback from objective peers, but rather emphasized the real importance of self-expression), I found his answer, encouraging, beautiful and true.
I shall be printing it and keeping it for when I feel discouraged.
2 thing I would say about doing anything where you have to be the motivated self-starter (wether you are a writer, painter, musician or building a boat) is
a) always commit to taking action in the real world, rather than getting into obsessive thoughts, i.e commit to paper rather than thinking about comitting to paper. You need feedback from your action to learn, and not feedback from your thoughts, which are largely illusory (delusional even). Make sure you have growing and visible evidence of your continuing efforts
b) be zen about what you do, detached and clear honesty rather than the lure of easy self-deceit will ensure that when you practice you're reinforcing something that is worth having - since practice does not make perfect but rather permanent.