Don’t Fire Until You See the Whites of His Eyes
I knew this guy back when I was a sophomore in college who wrote poetry. He wrote some of the most brilliant poems I had ever read by someone my own age. As far as I know he never submitted them. Then the strangest thing happened – he quit writing. I have no doubt that if he had continued on his path, he would have become one of the greatest poets of his generation.
When I asked him why he quit, he simply shrugged and said, “I didn’t feel like doing it anymore.” I’ll admit, I didn’t understand his decision. Most of the writers I know can only dream of having his talent and would, in fact, kill to possess half as much. Yet, despite his ability, he didn’t love doing it. Try to dissuade a no-talent hack who loves to write to stop. He’ll keep writing, failure after failure.
Fear plays a role, of course. Anything we care about instills in us as much fear as it does love. What fear I have as a writer serves me more than it hinders me. When I choose to walk away from the blank page, it’s rarely because I have nothing to say. It has more to do with the fact that I’d rather do something else at that moment. To me, fear of writing is all about having respect for the process and in wanting to get it right. The blank page is the enemy, but you have to respect the enemy enough to stay away when your mind and heart aren’t seriously into it. It takes much more courage to walk away at those moments than it does to sit down in front of a blank screen when the desire and commitment are not there.
