Writers: Tough as Hell!

Writers are often portrayed in the media as introverted nerds, men and women possessed of buttery muscles barely suited for carrying a ream of paper to their printer.  And if you want to be really honest about it, a lot of writers are indeed introverts, preferring to dwell in the worlds of their own making than deal with the hassle of navigating the real world outside of their cozy, little writing nook.  But hey, what's wrong with that?  And besides, there have been plenty of famously tough writers, like Ernest Hemmingway and Dashiell Hammett, among others.  But it's not always about physical toughness, writing, contrary to what many, if not most, non-writers believe, is hard work!  It isn't easy creating believable characters, engaging dialogue, thought-provoking conflict, and so on.  Is it any wonder then that so many writers develop writer's block?

Writer's block - Wikipedia
Writer's block is a condition, primarily associated with writing, in which an author loses the ability to produce new work, or experiences a creative slowdown. The condition ranges in difficulty from coming up with original ideas to being unable to produce a work for years.

For many writers, their biggest obstacle is that first blank page.  Yet, a writer cannot and must not wring their hands in frustration and cry, "Woe is me!"  A writer has to reach deep inside and overcome whatever physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual obstacles may be hell-bent to deter them from accomplishing the task at hand.  And believe me it isn't easy.  As I have mentioned earlier, a lot of writers are introverts.  This is of necessity.  How can you write that great poem, short-story, novel, or script, if you're out and gallivanting about instead of actually writing?  Okay, I know, I know...   F. Scott Fitzgerald, the author of "The Great Gatsby," was famous for doing just that.  But that argument brings us back to the question of toughness.  He had to have been hella-tough in order to have written as well as he did, after spending much of his time living it up.  And as I've pointed out before, it's not just a question of physical toughness.  There are many, many writers out there that have suffered through break-ups, the death of a loved one, the trauma of becoming homeless, the horror of being abused... and yet these same folks have the guts to sit down, look at a blank sheet of paper, and share their experiences with the world.  They are quite literally laying their souls out to be scrutinized by an audience that is no way guaranteed to be understanding, accepting, sympathetic or even polite.  That takes an enormous amount of guts.  A writer has no choice but to be tough as nails.

"By far the most damaging thought I’ve heard from the confessors – and other authors have told me the same thing over and over – is the expectation that writing should be a “fun” or “leisurely” activity. Pop culture reinforces this by perpetuating the image of the writer as a mega-talented, but lazy and self-indulgent buffoon (think Hank Moody).
And so, many overcome the first hurdle – deciding to start – ready for the magic to happen. Expecting it all to emerge, freshly baked and ready for primetime.
Then, of course, it doesn’t.
Then anxiety kicks in.
Fear of judgment by others, doubts about one’s abilities. Mounting frustration as to why it’s so much slower and more agonizing than one expected.
The plain truth is, writing is a predictably painful process. It is far more hard labor than careless play.
And it’s not like the greats haven’t warned us.
Becoming a masochist early on – embracing the pain to the point of enjoyment – may be the single best investment an aspiring writer can make.
The pain takes many shapes, all of them useful along the writer’s path.

1. Embrace the Road to Hell
As Hemingway once so elegantly put it, “the first draft of anything is shit.”
And that’s only when one produces something so elaborate as to be called a “draft”.
Most of the time, writing remains stillborn, in a kind of literary purgatory. Outlines, random notes, sketches, hackneyed bits and pieces – they have a way of quickly prematurely bursting into life, only to suddenly stop breathing and just hang there.
Philip Roth was slightly more inclusive when he said “the road to hell is paved with works-in-progress.”
Both Hemingway and Roth touch on the elemental truth of all writing: it’s not good.
At least not at first.
Kerouac’s celestial typewriter notwithstanding, good writing doesn’t just naturally “babble flow”. And when it does, it’s usually shit.

2. Connect to the Pain of Others
Pain is not, however, an end in itself.
Its purpose is often times to link the writer to the pain felt by others. Most entertainment distracts us from the pains of daily life. Writing and reading, can, at their best, be about placing those pains under a shining light.
Anais Nin implores us that “if you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don’t write. Because our culture has no use for it.”
Likewise, for Kurt Vonnegut, the pain of writing is a mere reflection of the pain of existence – you provide others with relief by admitting to the suffering publicly.
“Do you realize that all great literature is all about what a bummer it is to be a human being?” Vonnegut asks. “Isn’t it such a relief to have somebody say that?”
One of the tragedies of social media has been its penchant for turning writing into oceans of brainless typing – another trivial form of expression in a culture filled with them.
But, at its core, writing is – and perhaps always has been – a cathartic activity.
Those who disagree would do well to keep Nin’s advice handy."
 - Frederick Pinto

When it comes to the toughness of writers, we can even turn to a group of people that are world-renowned for their toughness: The Marines!

“In my younger days dodging the draft, I somehow wound up in the Marine Corps. There's a myth that Marine training turns baby-faced recruits into bloodthirsty killers. Trust me, the Marine Corps is not that efficient. What it does teach, however, is a lot more useful.
The Marine Corps teaches you how to be miserable.
This is invaluable for an artist.
Marines love to be miserable. Marines derive a perverse satisfaction in having colder chow, crappier equipment, and higher casualty rates than any outfit of dogfaces, swab jockeys, or flyboys, all of whom they despise. Why? Because these candy-asses don't know how to be miserable.
The artist committing himself to his calling has volunteered for hell, whether he knows it or not. He will be dining for the duration on a diet of isolation, rejection, self-doubt, despair, ridicule, contempt, and humiliation.
The artist must be like that Marine. He has to know how to be miserable. He has to love being miserable. He has to take pride in being more miserable than any soldier or swabbie or jet jockey. Because this is war, baby. And war is hell."
― Steven Pressfield, The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks & Win Your Inner Creative Battles

And there you have it.  It was probably tough just reading through all of this stuff, but I also hope it was worth it.  When it comes to your chosen profession, nobody ever promised you a rose garden.  Writing is hard work, it costs you, it bleeds you dry and then asks for more.  But it's the job we chose... it's what and who we are.  So gird your loins, strap on the big guns of patience, research, and talent, grab that second or third cup of coffee, and go kick some ass!