Hey everyone,
As a new writer, one of the things I wanted to overcome quickly was this sense of indecision I had about my career. Did I want to focus exclusively on books, did I want to write freelance articles, could I potentially be good at blogging?
I wanted to know. I wanted the certainty. I assumed that the hallmark of success, the difference between the writers who were doing well and who were established in their careers and me was that they knew what they wanted to do and they then just did it, whereas I was flailing about trying to figure out what kind of writing would define my life.
It has taken almost two decades for me to understand that the difference between writers who know exactly what they want to do and the writers who keep trying new things isn’t the difference between success and mediocrity, it’s the difference between two personality types.
Some writers only ever want to write romance or crime fiction novels and so that’s what they do. They have one dream and they put everything into that dream. They’ll work full-time jobs and have alternate careers if they must, but in their heart they know exactly the kind of writing they do and they devote every bit of their energy to it. I love these people. I respect these people. I have often wanted to be like these people.
But I am not one of these people. Perhaps you aren’t either?
Writers like me have varied interests. I love writing, it is the only thing I have ever wanted to do with my life, but I am not devoted to one particular kind or style of writing. In fact, sticking too long to one style or type of writing bores me and makes me lose interest. So I’ve done a ton of journalism on a whole host of different subjects, I’ve done corporate writing, I’ve done blogging, I’ve written short stories. my first novel is very different in voice and style from the second one I’m now writing, and I imagine the third one will be a departure still.
One of the things I’ve started noticing quite frequently is that when writers get on the phone with me for a coaching session, this issue is one of the first that comes up. Many writers are interested in a wide variety of different styles and means of writing but they feel that they have to pick one. If they do, and they get a certain level of success with it, they feel that they are then not allowed to change their minds about it. They’re not allowed to dump that thing that worked for them in the past to go after something else that excites them now. They think it’s all been a waste.
And I get it, I really do. Because that’s how I thought about things for a long time.
But I don’t think about it like that anymore.
For one, I have come to understand who I am and what I want out of my writing career— challenge, variety, freshness— but more importantly, I have given myself permission to do the one thing most writers feel they’re not allowed to do:
I allow myself to change my mind.
I allow myself to say, “I’m never writing short stories ever again because they take so much time and never sell and I feel defeated at the end of it!” and then, three months down the line, change my mind and say, “You know what, I miss it. I think I’ll give it another go.”
I no longer judge myself for going back on my decision or being so indecisive or not being capable enough of picking one thing and sticking to it like so many other writers seem to so effortlessly do.
Instead, I now celebrate that I’m a writer of varied interests and a myriad of skill sets and I allow myself to explore all the different alleyways and pathways on my journey to creating a whole bunch of things that, on the surface, have nothing to do with each other except that they came from me and allow me to grow in my own creative capacity.
I understand now that one of my goals as a writer is to go deeper and deeper into seeking my truth and finding ways and means to express that truth. Sometimes that leads me down paths that are tried and tested by others and that have frameworks and roadmaps, and sometimes I find myself in the woods by myself creating little narrow pathways of my own, figuring out how to say things in the way that best serves my message and my creativity.
And if I find myself going down a pathway that seemed like the right one but that seems to be leading further into the darkness and not away from it, I no longer feel guilty about turning right back and going back to where I started so that I can find a new path out of the problem.
So I write nonfiction books and I write novels and I write articles and essays and blog posts.
And I understand now, what I didn’t as a new writer:
All writers, successful or not, face uncertainty and choice.
Some of them know exactly what choice they’ll make before they’ve even been presented with a dilemma.
But for the rest of us?
We try. We experiment. We fail. We change our minds and start again. And sometimes— often really—that’s when the pathway opens, the sunshine appears, and the road out of the woods becomes known.
Cheers,
Natasha