"Writing is like being in love. You never get better at it or learn more about it. The day you think you do is the day you lose it. Robert Frost called his work a lover's quarrel with the world. It's ongoing. It has neither a beginning nor an end. You don't have to worry about learning things. The fire of one's art burns all the impurities from the vessel that contains it."-James Lee Burke
People always ask me--people I know, friends of my parents, strangers upon introduction--where I work. Before I graduated from college, the question had been, "What's your major?" or "What are you studying?" My response was then followed with, "So you're going to be a teacher?" Well, no...not exactly.
I resent the work question because it's the wrong one. Or maybe it's the correct question to be asking, at least in the minds of those who ask it because career choice usually defines your place in society, which helps others align themselves around you. But personal identity is so important to me, and I don't want to be defined solely by the way I make my money. I sometimes wonder if the importance I do place on identity is a bit unnatural, but when people ask "Where do you work?" or "What do you do?" I don't want them to reduce my identity to that of a waitress, which is basically what my current job has become. The question I'd rather be answering is, "Who are you?"
When I was playing in bands, I always felt like a bit of an imposter. I enjoyed playing music and some of my favorite memories come from that period of my life, but I was just getting by. It wasn't my purpose, my vision to write songs. This was my brother's identity. He has the natural talent and the discipline to cultivate it. I had the same approach to music as I did to my schoolwork: I was pretty good at what I was doing, but I did most of my practicing at the last minute, sometimes in the minutes before going onstage. Going to band practice always made my nervous because I was unprepared and knew that I was no good at improvisation; I felt the same uneasiness before my "Law in Classical Athens" class.
Even so, I got a kick out of telling people I was in a band when they asked what I did. It was nice having a label to fall back on: "I'm a musician. I'm a bass player. Yeah, it is cool." But my life has really taken on a different look since then, with my focus becoming much clearer, and I'm happier now that I've cut out the parts that weren't really me, the visions that weren't my own. People ask me if I miss playing music, and I think they're surprised when I tell them no, that I really don't think about getting back at it. [OK, sometimes I do miss it, but I know myself well enough now to admit that I don't have the discipline or the drive to do it well.] The fact that I could discard that part of my identity is further proof that it wasn't really my thing, just like softball wasn't really my thing, or journalism, or Teach for America, or pastry school, or...
I'm restless by nature, and this little quirk of mine makes it hard to really follow through on anything, particularly projects that require a lot of focus or slow and steady determination. This could be a major explanation for the inability of certain interests to really take hold. Maybe. I can think of only one interest that never fails to thrill me and keep me coming back and that thing is writing, the act and the art. I started my first novel when I was seven, and even though I only wrote about two and a half pages then, I tried again at ages nine and twelve with different ideas. I go through some periods of relative inactivity, but I always return, ready for more. It's taken me a while to learn, and I'm continually learning, sometimes to my chagrin, about discipline and persistence, so I suppose it's a good thing I'm still young; I have plenty of time to write my ten-years-in-the-making first novel, or what have you.
If someone asked me today who I am, I wouldn't say that I'm a lost 20-something, a sister and daughter, a Midwesterner of Irish descent, a recent college graduate, a traveler, or the last born. I would say that I'm a writer, and I would have no apprehension in doing so. It wouldn't feel like a lie or an almost-truth. I don't see it as my career and don't know that I ever will, but that's exactly why it's the appropriate answer: my identity will not be defined by money. Writing has been the one constant on my vast list of interests and ambitions, and for all the ways its presence has changed and will continue to change in my life, it's not going anywhere.
The problem with giving yourself a tangible identity, though, which is exactly what I'm doing when I call myself a writer, is that words and labels elicit different images for different people. Words are just symbols after all. I am many things, all at the same time, but I know the words to use to make others understand the basics, even if they might miss the point. When I say, "I'm a writer" people still may only see me as self-indulgent and proceed to ask how I intend to make a living, but maybe someone sometime will realize that I write because I can't imagine not writing. I can't go a day without stumbling upon inspiration or without thinking in the narrative voice, always composing in my head.
I will never stop learning from writing, and I don't want to. I don't want to reach a point where I feel like a machine creating a product. It will always trip me up and make me want to pull my hair out, but it will never let me down or stop amazing me. I'm in love with writing, which means that a lot of times I hate it, but I always come back to it, because it allows me to see myself with clarity, my identity on display for anyone else who's paying attention.
No comments:
Post a Comment