Ego Death
Writing is a peculiar way to spend one’s time. It all begins with a few ingredients that are innate to everyone: a bit of lived experience, which in turn provokes thought, and if nurtured, brings about a particular bit of intrigue or problem to be solved. Yes, I am starting this entry with full tilt pretense - it’s all a part of the vibe. So given that the seeds of writing, or of any form of creativity, really, are so intrinsic to what makes us human, how is it that only a portion of us seek to pursue it, either as craft or hobby? Can that extra ingredient the writers and artists of the world possess really just be boiled down to ego? I’d like to believe it’s a little more complicated than that, but of course I would be inclined to say as much.
I do think creatives tend to be more narcissistic than average to some degree, but is that really such a bad thing? I’ve come to believe that there’s nothing special to what I do; trite but true, everyone has at least one book in them. We all have an inner world, and that is one of the many reasons why every one of us is important. That said, I’m not so interested in asking the big questions today (that’s what my books are for), instead I just wanted to establish the idea that the very same thing that gives us wings as writers, is the very same thing that grounds us and holds us down… But before we dive further into the ego, give me a moment to exercise mine with this month’s progress updates.
Right on time to be humbled, I have the mildly embarrassing pleasure of reporting that at long last I’ve finished the rewrite of Shelle’s Island… or at least, just the first act. Yes, it’s taken all summer (and most of spring), but I’ve finally managed to reach the first checkpoint in what has become one of my slowest endeavors in recent memory. Of course I took a long break right in the middle of the season to polish up Codetta - my best hope for publication (or so I hope) - but I think I’m ready to move just a bit faster going forward.
In a lot of ways, it’s very appropriate that it’s taken me so long to get Shelle’s Island to a readable state. I’ve probably mentioned this at some point, or maybe a few times over, but this book is a story I’ve been carrying around and iterating upon since childhood. Talk about egocentric! It’s hard to say why it’s been such rough going, other than all the obvious reasons regarding the end of the world, but I’m tired of making that excuse for myself. I mean, it’s not like a whole lot brings me joy these days, so why not spend more of that unfulfilling void-gazing time grinding away at what I’ve claimed to be my truest passion. Okay, okay, it’s not nearly that bleak, and I am happy to say I’ve made some progress recently with getting back on top of a reasonable daily word count… Maybe I can keep that up for another month. Hold me to it!
To continue my original point, writing is like shadowboxing with oneself but with the general aim of somehow making that entertaining for another person. The inner world is where our stories get created, but it’s also where they can become imprisoned. How is it that some writers, often times the most egotistical among our sort, manage to break through the self-imposed walls and create works that are so beloved by the filthy, filthy masses? I’ve always thought that a little self-awareness can go a long way - however, if one scrutinizes themselves too much, then again, you’ll find yourself hitting the ego wall, just from the other side. This is where a little education comes in and why it’s important to actually read and not just look inward; I would go as far as saying that writing without a healthy diet of exposure to the works of others is a recipe for a particularly potent type of cringe, trust me on that.
Another sort of ego-related problem is in over committing to one’s plans or preconceptions. The thing about reality is that it will fuck with whatever you had in mind - and we all know that very well these days. One may not consider it ego, but after being held by back by my own patterns of thinking, I can say with confidence that the only thing propping up those narrow walls was myself. I’m a chronic over-analyzer and I’ve indulged in quite a bit in magical thinking over the years, so learning to be critical of my own drive was one of the best ways I’ve found of improving it. Everyone has their own ego cage, and while there are some consistent things we all goof up - such as thinking we’re special enough to not have to put in the work like everybody else - every individual writer’s most potent hangups will vary quite drastically and often manifest in ways one can’t anticipate. There is no cure, other than to keep writing and keep digging out of one’s own mind, no matter how messy it gets.
One of the most crucial factors I’ve found when confronting my own ego is to not get hung up on it. Don’t wallow in shame, don’t carry it further than it needs to go, and for fuck’s sake, don’t make it other people’s problems, especially after you’ve figured out what the issue actually is. This is something we all deal with, whether we count ourselves among the masses of special and unique creatives, or instead among the masses who wrap their identity up in the other countless ways these same things can manifest. Never forget, no matter where you are on your journey, no matter what that journey may be, that there was a reason you began doing what you’ve tasked yourself with doing. So as long as your passions come from the core of your being and make you happy, then they are worth pursuing, no matter how complicated and convoluted your motives may seem over the years.
At the end of the day, there’s nothing wrong with a little bit of ego. Just remember my conceit: it’s ego that starts the process of creation, but it takes something more transcendent to make the divine out of such crude material. Be proud of yourself, just remember to simply not stand in your own way. And of course, dear reader, thank you for stomaching my own unwieldy, narcissistic rambling - I would say I hope you got something out of this one, but to be on theme, I’ll just assume that you did.
