On Bravery Part 3

I have known a great many writers over the years. I have had friends and colleagues who write one very short story a year. I have had friends and colleagues who'll write a novel every eight weeks and they can continue that pace for years. I have known published writers who do not have a single word written other than the books they've had published. I have known very prolific writers and I have known writers who would be content to write a sentence a week.

I have also known people who wanted to be writers, and are unable to even get started. I have known people who claim to be writers and have never written a single word. I have known people who have every excuse which keeps them from writing. This is not a good thing, these excuses, these claims, and this lack of action.

The truth is, it takes a great deal of effort to even get started. It takes a great deal of effort to write the first word. It takes a great deal of effort to start a given project. And it takes an even greater deal of effort to continue a project. This says nothing than to complete a project.

Many years ago, while engaged with an online writing project, I was prolifically completing all sorts of projects that I would never have had the energy for otherwise. I was writing at a pace that I still do not fully understand. I worked six, seven, eight hours a day. It was a great deal of focus, and the output was well worth it. During this time, I drank three or four nights a week in my neighborhood bar. Everyone there knew me, knew what I was doing. Everyone encouraged me to continue. Despite these all being barmates, they were all supportive.

One night, I met a woman who told me she was a writer. Thinking we had something in common I was immediately drawn to her. I mean, here we were, in our neighborhood bar drinking buckets and buckets of booze and talking about writing. She told me about this screenplay that she was working on. She was lit up as she talked about it. She was very clearly passionate about the project and about the product. When I asked her where she was in the process, she said she hadn't even started it. She said she needed a specific computer or a computer application in order to get started. I said all she needed was a pen and paper which of course is pretty commonplace and very inexpensive.

Suddenly, I realized the gravity of the conversation. I had not claimed to be a writer when I met this woman. She introduced herself to me as a writer. I had spent the entire autumn of that year working on massive projects and completing them quickly. She was unable to write the next great American screenplay due to a lack of a tool.

When I realized what was happening, I pitied her. I pitied the project because she would never write it. I could not tell if it was fear or what. There was something dreadfully wrong with her. She lacked, I believe, above all else, the bravery to start, work on or complete her project. She was not true to herself, no, but worse still, she had conceived of a project that she would not be able to be true to either. She was lacking a lot of things, but having that bravery to her screenplay was the worse.

Exhibiting that bravery in the face of adversity is one thing. We can all be Joan of Arc when it comes to defending our art. We can gleefully be burnt alive when it comes to our art. We can even keep the self doubt at bay by using the positive words. But when it comes to one of the strongest forms of bravery, it is the power to conceive of, work on and complete a given assignment, a given project, that given piece of writing.

It is bravery. When we get an idea of a character, or we conceive of a short story, and as it rolls around in our thoughts, there comes that instant when we decided to write it down. After all, being a writer means that you endeavor to write it all down. That first word, the first stroke of the pen or the keystroke, is the toughest. It is an act of bravery to just begin.

But then what? Then you work, you write. Every time you sit down to write, it is a continuing act of bravery. Because this is how it happens: you begin the writing process and it is exciting. It is very exciting in the beginning. It is the novelty of it. It's like the first encounters with a new lover. It's new, it's exciting, it has all the possibility. It is the possibility or possibilities. This feeling, sadly, does not last.

Doubt comes very quickly. It comes on the first failed sentence. It comes on the first ill-conceived scene. It comes during the first interruption when your mind catches up to you. It germinates once you've stepped away and the doubt grows like multiplying bacteria.

And the project which was once so exciting and so promising comes to a rapid close. It takes a very large withdrawal from the bravery bank to continue on with the project. But keeping in mind that this project has to be completed, it has to get written down, is one thing. Having the bravery to continue on is another.

If you've learned to treat the self doubt with bravery. If you have been able to overcome all of the external pressures, amount of bravery it takes to get through a given project has to be easier, right?

I don't think so. I think it's easy, very easy to jump ship on a project. I think it's more common to start something than to finish something. This is not a bad thing, it's part of a day's work. And then there's the other piece of the bravery puzzle. Should you get involved in a project that is not the right project, do you have the bravery to know it, and the bravery to let it all go?

I think it's better to start something and see that it cannot be finished and have the grace to let it go than to be my barmate who was unable to start her project outright. I also think it's best to start and end as many projects as you can, even if these projects are not good, not terribly inspired. It's good form to work effectively, complete tasks and then move on. At the end of a work session, or at the end of a working life, you'll have more things to show for your efforts. With the more things completed, they don't all need to be good.