Writers are the same as everyone else. Some of us are wall flowers; others are attention mongers; and there are, of course, the ones in between. Some are straight-laced; others are totally off the wall; and, then like the majority of any group, there are the ones who arise to the occasion as needed.
I’ve heard it said that artists, whether a painter, musician, or a writer, are classified as “sensitive”, as if they’re so distinct from the rest of society. I’m sure there are some who are emotionally delicate, but there are sales people, accountants, iron workers, teachers, et cetera who are the same way.
I’ve referred to articles written by Jami Gold before. I love her no-nonsense attitude about the craft of writing. Approximately a month ago, she wrote about the ego of the writer. Unquestionably, I was already mindful of how the ego could help or hinder in the work. Still, see it written, roused thoughts about how the domain of the craft can evoke changes in the ego, and therefore altering the general attitude.
Can the weight of being a writer bend your basic characteristics? I’m still puzzled by the probability. I know I have changed in recent months and years because I’ve become so devoted to writing. If you are a writer, have you noticed any changes in yourself?
I’m not as likely to aspire to pleasing others as I used to be. Although I’m still a clean person to the point of being a neat freak, I’m not driven to appear as part of the majority of society anymore. Cleanliness and order have become more of a private preference. The need for approval of my person had diminished.
Does this mean the pursuit of writing has made me arrogant, lofty, and disdainful? I could appear so without thought to how I’m behaving or what I’m saying.
The role of a writer is generally knotty. The time spent writing is self-contained and with the only conversation being with oneself as he or she pounds on the keyboard or puts pen to paper. However, in order to get what is written to the reader, most scribblers must be social to some extent. For some, this comes easy, and I wish with my whole heart I was one of them. I, like others, find much of social activity difficult and sometime even trivial.
Yes, probability is I come off seeming aloof, and maybe even pretentious. I don’t like the judgment, yet I do understand how people may come to this conclusion about me. Is this a possibility with you?
I do put on my “best face” for social interaction. I smile, supposedly at easy, and make appropriate introductions. I contribute to conversations, oftentimes asking questions because I know nothing about the subject being discussed. Still, much more often than not, I’m wrung out by the end of the event and can hardly wait to get where there is utter silence and solitude.
Does this reaction to social functions insinuate that I’m petulant or despondent? I wouldn’t be surprised if it did. I don’t like this deduction myself, yet how can I be anything other than who I am?
Maybe I should be an accountant instead. Can I remember those classes about stocks and bonds?
What is your take on the prestige of the writer?
“But this I know; the writer who possesses the creative gift owns something of which he is not always master — something that at times strangely wills and works for itself. If the result be attractive, the World will praise you, who little deserve praise; if it be repulsive, the same World will blame you, who almost as little deserve blame.” — Emily Bronte