Crafty; On Creativity, Patience and Courage

I do some of my best thinking while brushing my teeth, though too often all my clever thoughts have gone the way of my toothpaste by the time I get to my computer. But tonight I at least remember the subject of my getting ready for bed musings; writers writing about the difficulty of writing. Nobody chooses to be a writer; it's the hardest work you can possibly do, painstakingly slow, tedious, thankless, and the pay sucks. John Grisham once wrote this op-ed for the Times, and it just might be the best thing I've ever read of his, but it's still not that good.  In case you don't feel like reading the article, Mr. Grisham's closing line sums it up nicely; "Writing’s still the most difficult job I’ve ever had — but it’s worth it."

And it's true. Writing is nearly impossible. Sometimes I read an essay or chapter I wrote once upon a time and cringe at the sight of my own voice (see what I did there?). Sometimes, though not too often, I'm actually impressed with myself. But at least writing is relatively private work. You can write and think and write some more, then think and read and revise, until the work is polished enough to show to anyone who can stand you. Asking someone to read a chapter or short story or, god forbid a novel is not like asking her to look at one of your paintings or photographs. Reading an unpublished manuscript, essay, or even blog post requires a commitment of time and precious brain energy. As difficult as it is to write something readable, convincing someone to read it is even harder. And as a friend of many writers I appreciate anyone that gives their time and consideration to read raw material.

You know what's really difficult? Acting. I once wrote a profile about a fascinating drama coach in New York City. My research included reading up on various acting techniques such as Meisner Stanislavsky, and Uta Hagen, as well as observing classes and following the coach around town to watch her work with famous people on film sets. I used to pray that she wouldn't tap me to participate in any of the acting exercises and improvisations she had her brave students do. No way was I getting up there in front of strangers and baring my soul while pretending to be someone else. And then one day she got me, she actually peer pressured me into an improv, which I must admit I rather enjoyed even though I totally sucked. Untangling my resulting jumble of information and experience and arranging it into a readable essay taught me that acting is a lot like writing, only no one can see the silly faces a writer makes as she works. Any writer could benefit from a taking few acting classes because a good teacher will force you to dig deeper, work harder, think and take risks, until you find that strand of truth and translate it to the page. Or the stage.