Realizing You Are A Good Author · 5:49pm Jun 24th, 2014
Not too long ago I finished reading my first Neil Gaiman book. This book was The Ocean at the End of the Lane.
Neil Gaiman is one of those towering colossi of the literary world, especially where slightly oddball fiction is concerned. Everyone who has picked up a book has probably heard of Sandman, which I still haven't read any of, or American Gods, which seems to be the story that catapulted him into fame and fortune. I haven't read that one either, mostly because the subject matter didn't really draw me in in the first place. Anyway, I like Neil Gaiman and I like how he talks, how he seems to be a huge encouragement to aspiring writers and likes to be a source of inspiration. He is a good writer, perhaps even a great one, and I am infinitely jealous of the way he seems to have hit the sweet spot of being a great writer, a true lover of stories, and a rather decent person all at the same time.
But—and please bear with me here because I'm going to sound so pretentious you'll want to burn me at the stake—when I finished Ocean, I came to realize something.
I could have written this book.
I don't mean that I personally could write exactly like Neil Gaiman. That's never something a writer should strive to do, because finding your own place of zen and creativity is one of the most important things a writer could do. I mean I saw sentences not too dissimilar to what I already write. I saw ideas and characters and things that I think about all the time, or try to. When I looked over some of my own work after reading this book, I felt a chill. My writing—and I mean this in the most general, least grandiloquent manner possible—could, in fact, pass for the writing of a great author like Neil Gaiman. At the same time, I realized I wasn't looking at his writing with the starry-eyed reverence of a fan, but the critical eye of another writer who wanted to learn more than he wanted be taught.
So what do I mean in the midst of all this self-aggrandizement?
You become a good writer when you stop trying to stand in another author's shadow, and get the courage to poke your head out and stand alongside them. Writing is a journey. We need leaders, we need followers, and we need comrades. More than anything we need comrades. That's because when we have peers, defined here as people who are also passionate about writing and can give you a comprehensive list of what does and doesn't work in your writing, we come to realize that we all suck in our own way. But in our own ways we also excel. This is what makes writing so nebulous and so wonderfully mysterious at the same time. We know good writing when we see it, but we cannot universally agree on a single absolute zenith, a paragon of writing that is perfect in every way and everyone else must strive for. Because of this it's really, really hard to find those places where we're comfortable with what we've written.
I don't mean comfortable in that "I know this will get me to the featured box" or "Wow, people will find this HiE about a guy who has sex with ponies really hot." I don't mean that feeling you get when you finish the latest parody or the latest bandwagon of "Noun Verbs X." I mean when you sit down, look at something you've written because it's your idea, your heart and soul on that screen, and your story in a way that it can't be anyone else's... and then nod, tell yourself it's ready, and hit that submit button. It's that moment you find out you don't need anyone else's writing to feel good about your own. That moment when people enjoy your story because it stands on its own two legs, when you know you didn't need to ride the latest bandwagon or eat the crumbs off another author's table. It's a beautiful moment.
Also, it helps if a large amount of people enjoy it too. If only one out of a thousand people like your work and that one is you then it is entirely possible there's still big problems with it.
I've written a blog before about how "goodness" is extremely subjective. It is... but there are, I think, certain milestones that people can reach. There are standards out there. Neil Gaiman is one of them, and after reading his book I believe he's one of the highest you can possibly reach for. The guy's talented and hard-working beyond anything my dumpy brony body could beat.
Does that mean I can't write like Neil Gaiman?
Yes. It does. I'll never write like Neil Gaiman. In fact, I hope I never write like Neil Gaiman.
But I can make someone feel like they've read something just as good.
And so can you.
I take a lot out of the 'I don't know if I'm good, but at least I know I can write better than THAT guy.
E.g.: I know I can write well enough, I wish I could write as well as Terry Prachett, but at least I know I can write better than Terry Brooks.
For some reason, my self worth goes up when I read enough popular/published work that, despite editors and proofreaders, still sucks. It makes me be say, "Well, hell, I can do better than that."
Anyway, AMERICAN GODS rules.
Why yes, you are a good author. Glad you caught on.
*raises a glass in your honor* well said!
It's a war of inches, and it goes:
I could never write as good as X, but I'm going to keep writing.
Some of my stuff is almost as good as X, I need to try harder.
A few of my stories actually seem better than X, I'm getting there.
Hello Mister X, I just wanted to say how much I love your writing. What? You've read some of my stories too? Could we sit down and talk about writing for a while? I'll buy the coffee.
In accepting this award, I would like to pay tribute to X, who inspired me to keep trying. Thank you very much.
I'm still at the first step
Whenever I have this feeling, which is not often, I always immediately lose confidence in the story and fall into a year-long slump where nothing gets done. Too much doubt. I just don't trust self-praise, least of all in myself. It leaves me paranoid that something is deeply wrong that my conscious brain can't work out.
This probably started when somebody compared my writing style to GRRM's in Song of Ice and Fire back when I wrote Pikmin fanfiction. I'd never read GRRM's work, but when the reviewer went over all the elements of style I had in common with this supposedly famous author, I just nodded and said to myself "that sounds about right." Years later I finally read A Game of Thrones, took one look back at the Pikmin fanfiction from junior high, and immediately lost all trust in the comparison made by that reviewer. Which, after reading this blog of yours, I see was a strong enough blow to remove my cornerstone of self-confidence.
All of this may or may not be a false epiphany. I'm tired from driving around in the dark all night. Good blog you wrote here, though.