A Writer's Notebook, Day Three-Hundred-And-Fifty-Nine

Any artist working in the modern era, and likely any artist even in prior times, has to confront questions about the value of their work that are informed by the context of the work that already exists in the world.  In the English language, writers often cite Shakespeare as the icon of literature, the greatest author of all time, according to many, and certainly a name associated with works that have withstood the test of time/  As such, it is not uncommon to hear writers comment about how they will never be so great as Shakespeare.

I recall reading an article about this when I was in high school.  I think it was in the New York Times, and it was a writer discussing how they had often been gripped by the fear that they could not be as great a writer as those who had come before them.  Without that possibility, it felt pointless to keep working.  Writing is not an easy thing much of the time, and thinking that you are not really capable of doing more than has already been achieved can be stifling.  It is easy to understand how that can cripple a writer.

The answer that the writer in that case recommended was to embrace that recognition and accept it.  Sure, you may never be able to be a better writer than Shakespeare, but most writers are not, even ones you have loved.  Even a writer who is a pure hack writing purely entertaining novels with no real depth will have fans, people for whom that work is incredibly valuable.  To say it is not worth writing is also to dismiss the fact that their is value in many different kinds of work.  In addition, saying work of one sort has no value and is not worth doing is also to dismiss the opinions of those who find that kind of work meaningful.

All of those things are important to keep in mind, and it is incredibly helpful to have an open mind about the work one produces.  It does no good to pile on the pressure in hopes of creating some specific result, especially not in terms of quality.  It is very important to always, at least for me, to maintain an attitude that what I write in any one session is valuable no matter what the poem itself that results.  If I were to say, this is not good enough, let alone, this is not as good as Whitman or Keats, well, I would give up entirely/

Yet, I also must hope that their is the chance to write better than anyone ever has, that it is something I might be able, one day, to achieve.  Or, if not me, at least someone could.  I mean, this not in the sense of believing that it is not worth being a writer if I cannot be the best, but instead a deeper sense that the purpose of any art is exploration, discovery and creation are always about what is new.  If I am to say that no one can ever go past this point, well, all modern writing is just the continuation of something that died long ago/  I do not believe that, but instead hold firm to the concept that their are new possibilities/  One thing I am sure of, if I believed those possibilities did not exist, I would never even have the chance to discover them.