The Writer vs. The NonWriter: Overcoming the battle of Writer’s Guilt

I have a confession to make. It’s been over a week since I sat down with my writing. That’s not to say I haven’t written anything, I just haven’t touched my Work In Progress. And as I type these words I admit that I during that time I couldn’t help but feel a sense of shame; as if I’m guilty of some unforgivable crime. As if I have no right to call myself a writer.

I could easily claim end of summer activities have gotten in my way, that my day job has taken up more time, or that a week-long migraine has turned me into a pseudo-vampire whose fatal weakness is the stabbing glare of a computer screen. All of this is true, but as my brother so aptly likes to remind me, excuses are like armpits….

Everyday I see other writers posting their goals for the day, how they’ve written so many words by a certain time, how they’ve stayed up late and are celebrating with a bowl of ice cream, and I think: these people are the writers, not me. Their lives are just as busy, but somehow they’re making it work.

This evening, I happened to look at my bookshelf and noticed “How to Grow a Novel” by Sol Stein. It had been a while since I read it so I took it out and opened it to the foreword where I saw I had at some point in time underlined the following passage, “A writer is someone who cannot not write… a nonwriter is someone who can write or not, who does not have the drive and need to put words on paper.”

In re-reading this, it suddenly dawned on me. I haven’t worked on any of my fiction writing lately, but I have been writing every single day. I’ve written a couple of blog pieces, a human-interest piece for work regarding the damage a small model manufacturer suffered at the hands of Hurricane Irene, and I also spent several days working on a devotional piece for my youth group’s monthly newsletter.

My fiction writing is still a skill I’m learning to master. The notes (though thankfully largely positive) from my beta readers on my WIP are proof enough of that. My fiction writing has not yet made it out into the world, though I am ever hopeful that it will soon. My non-fiction writing, however, is a completely different matter. It’s already being seen and, more importantly, it’s already being used to make a difference in the lives of those who read it.

Last week I received an e-mail from a young woman I’ve never met in response to my post “The Honest Writer.” In it, she shared a good deal of her life story, which bore an uncanny resemblance to my own. As a result, we exchanged a few additional messages that encouraged both of us in our writing and everyday lives. If I was a nonwriter, the words that spoke to her at that particular moment would never have been set down on a page. If I was a nonwriter, I would be in bed sleeping off the effects of a migraine right now rather than braving the light emanating from my screen. And if I was a nonwriter, than I would never have told my mother years ago: Sometimes all I want to do is write. Most of the time it’s all I can think about. When I don’t write I have this ache inside me, right here in the middle of my chest. My arms get tense, like there is this pent up energy inside of me that can only be channeled through a pen.

I said earlier that I often see writers talking about their achievements, but I also see writers struggling with the same sense of guilt and helplessness in their writing endeavors that I’ve faced this past week. So I put to you Sol Stein’s words — a writer is someone who cannot not write; whether it’s a story; an article for a newspaper, magazine, or newsletter; a blog piece; a devotional; a poem; or a song. If that describes you, if the only relief you can find to that odd “ache” in your chest, your arms (or your head) is by putting the pen to page or filling a blank Word doc, then you, my friend are a writer.

When life gets hectic and you can’t write for a week, a month, or even years, don’t let senseless guilt prevent you from picking up again right where you left off. Just take it one step at a time until you reach that final goal. And then, start again.

The Writer’s emotional bond

As a writer I have a ton of books I’ve collected over the years on becoming a better writer (I’ve often joked that if you want to make money writing, all you need to do is write a book about writing). One of the books I turn to the most, and often lend out to other writers, is Stein on Writing. He reminds me of my favorite writing professor in that he doesn’t pull any punches.

In the chapter, “The Writer’s Job May Be Different Than You Think,” Stein discusses the importance of considering the reader’s needs, the necessity of capturing emotion, and the importance of practicing, developing a thick skin, and becoming an observer of the unspoken.

“It is our job,” Stein writes, “in nonfiction as well as fiction, to juxtapose words that reveal what previously may have been blinked, and prove insights obscured by convention and shame.”

In other words, we have to be willing to say what is otherwise left unsaid. We not only need to answer the question “What?” but “What if?” as well.

Throughout the chapter, Stein compares and contrasts nonfiction with fiction, but boils the differences with the following: Nonfiction conveys information. Fiction evokes emotion.

One of my favorite writing quotes by Dave Lambert says essentially the same thing: Nonfiction communicates truth to the intellect, through logical thought. Fiction communicates truth to the heart, through emotion.

As a writer, my job is not to focus on saying what happened, but to allow my readers to feel what is in progress.

It’s the age-old “show don’t tell,” yet before I was introduced to Stein, this concept had never been expressed in this manner to me. Stein points out that when we curl up with a good book we forget about the words on the page. We love a book not because of the writer, but because of how the writer makes us feel. We thrill and despair without leaving our chair. Each word is carefully crafted and chosen to excite us and break our hearts.

I’m currently reading a series of books that does just that. I’m invested in the lives of the characters because the author forges strong emotional ties between the reader and the characters. There are the wicked people I long to see brought to justice because of the pain they’ve caused without remorse, there are the “innocents” trapped in situations far beyond their control who I want to see brought out safely, and even when I’m not reading I’m thinking about them, wondering what hand fate will deal them.

It is that essence I long to capture in my own writing.

Like in the real world, so much of what happens in a story happens underneath the surface. 

For example, my sister can read my emotions by looking at my eyes. She knows when I’m thinking about a particular person because the corner of my mouth will twitch. It doesn’t matter which words I use, she knows via subtle clues if I’m being honest or not. It’s determining how to take those clues and commit them convincingly to the page that often becomes the challenge for me.

I once heard someone say, “Everything is easy once you know how to do it.”

So this evening after work I’m going home to practice conveying emotion through the written word a little more.