Woolf was so wise. I've always been wary of the myth of the struggling artist - that to create Great Things, you must suffer Unimaginable Misery.
Say, Orwell living in poverty and squalor in France and England, which allegedly turned him into the writer that banged out "Animal Farm" and "1984", plus the autobiographical "Down And Out In Paris In England."
But the thing is: he didn't write any of those things *at the time*. He wrote those books later. And I'm not even sure this example counts at all, because he was making a deliberate attempt to learn about life on the poverty line first-hand, so he could write about it. He wasn't trying to escape his privation, he was leaning into it as much as he could bear...
Anyway, every time I hear about the Struggling Artist myth stories, I want to look really hard at them - and when I do, I usually find the Actual Writing didn't happen at the time, and it wasn't quite as simple as "those terrible times forged them into the amazing writers they later became [so you young folk need to get out there and suffer if you want to get really good]".
I also have a personal example to fall back on. From 2015 onwards, I all but lost my ability to write, because of immense stress due to family stuff. It wasn't like I could use writing to escape from what was going on - it was, there was nothing in my tank to start with. It was all gone, all driven out by the incredible pressure. And it took me years, and much happier circumstances, before all that voice I wanted to write with started to come back. But at the time, I thought I was done, end of career. (One Substack newsletter later, I'm starting to think otherwise.)
So yes, absolutely yes to what Woolf said. As writers, we're seedlings sprouting new shoots and growing towards the light. So what we need at that time is enough light, enough water, and enough rich soil for our roots. Translated into human experience: we need whatever 'Enough' is for us to keep going without breaking apart.
(This is also why I totally respect writers who don't "quit their cubicle hell to live the dream" as the aspiratonal Instaquotes go, and instead spend a while working part-time, using that security as a platform to build their foundational work.)
But everyone's Enough should look a bit different. We are all unique casseroles of talent, enthusiasm and grit, so the weirder our Enough looks to someone else, the better, I reckon...
Anyway. I'm rambling. As always, you said it perfectly, Ali.
As always, a thoughtful and thought-provoking piece, Ali - it really resonated. Coincidently, just this week I kept turning the phrase 'a room of one's own' over in my head. I am trying to create just that in my small home so I have a space to work and write that feels solely mine. No matter how small or simple, even if it is the same table in a coffee shop, I really believe everyone needs somewhere they can be alone in their thoughts. Probably why I love baths so much!
I've waited three days to read this. I've known I wanted to be a writer forever. To me the process is a magical one. I believe money and a room of one's own isn't necessary to just write fiction, but to write what matters.
At first I shared a room with one of my brothers, but when I was eight I got to have my own bedroom and bathroom. I had no idea what a gift that was. By the time I was 20, finding solitude became practically impossible. I started to get the picture. But still, the picture was present but not in focus.
Throughout my many journals is that constant desire, demand, delight. 1) I wish I was alone. 2) I'd rather be alone. 3) Will having solitude ruin me? 4) Is being by myself selfish? 5) Why does this feel so dang delicious when I'm listening deep within and obeying her, married to her, taking care of, and delivering her?
I chose not to marry and reproduce because I decided early it wasn't ruinous or selfish.
I've forced myself to learn how to be alone.
A friend asked if she could move in with me and when I said no she said I was isolating. Nope, just protecting what it took me over 60 years to claim for myself.
Just as I was forced to become more externally motivated, as a child, from my internally motivated soul born into this world, I have forced myself to regain the shamed introverted self I was encouraged to disregard as she wasn't convenient for or desired from others.
It took me 20 years to regain her footing.
Now, the more time I spend alone, the more I love it. I still enjoy the synchronicity of gifts involving others when out in public and certainly with friends. But the inner journey, the depth of that soul who has been guiding me and who helped me navigate through the family pressures that almost put a stop to me altogether... now that I've got the $500, the room of my own, and the ability to choose as much solitude as desired it amazes me how the stories just keep on coming.
Just last week as she was guiding me to work on a certain project, part of me was saying, "Is this a waste of my time?"
Now I know, she's guiding me to do what makes me uniquely my voice.
Someday, she'll inspire others to reclaim their own and to dwell in the dome that resonates, marinates, and manifests.
This is SO true. The financial strain of not having a safe space erodes creativity a millimeter at a time. Her foundation does such great work, offering women the money and space they need to create. I long for a world where art is as respected as the money of the patrons who support (and often dictate) it. Thank you so much for writing this.
You wrote "Aspiring writers grasp at minutes and hours in between other jobs... External factors prevent us from unleashing the full creativity inside of us."
What role do you think these trials and tribulations play in forcing us to take our crewtivity seriously? If it was easy, how many creative people would get bored and move on?
When I was a teenager, I was a quitter. I hated it even while being it. Now in my thirties, I have an uncomfortable (not quite pathological) need to prove to myself that something is worthwhile. I've overcompensated and I insist that things be harder than necessary, at least in the beginning, as a agent of attrition of the things I'm not ready to take seriously.
There's definitely such a thing as too much testing oneself through trials. But it seems easier to judge "too much or too little" in hindsight.
So true. I relate to so much of this. I do have alone time but all of the time is taken up job hunting lately and money arranging. I was sitting so pretty with my last permalance gig AND having writing time.
Woolf was so wise. I've always been wary of the myth of the struggling artist - that to create Great Things, you must suffer Unimaginable Misery.
Say, Orwell living in poverty and squalor in France and England, which allegedly turned him into the writer that banged out "Animal Farm" and "1984", plus the autobiographical "Down And Out In Paris In England."
But the thing is: he didn't write any of those things *at the time*. He wrote those books later. And I'm not even sure this example counts at all, because he was making a deliberate attempt to learn about life on the poverty line first-hand, so he could write about it. He wasn't trying to escape his privation, he was leaning into it as much as he could bear...
Anyway, every time I hear about the Struggling Artist myth stories, I want to look really hard at them - and when I do, I usually find the Actual Writing didn't happen at the time, and it wasn't quite as simple as "those terrible times forged them into the amazing writers they later became [so you young folk need to get out there and suffer if you want to get really good]".
I also have a personal example to fall back on. From 2015 onwards, I all but lost my ability to write, because of immense stress due to family stuff. It wasn't like I could use writing to escape from what was going on - it was, there was nothing in my tank to start with. It was all gone, all driven out by the incredible pressure. And it took me years, and much happier circumstances, before all that voice I wanted to write with started to come back. But at the time, I thought I was done, end of career. (One Substack newsletter later, I'm starting to think otherwise.)
So yes, absolutely yes to what Woolf said. As writers, we're seedlings sprouting new shoots and growing towards the light. So what we need at that time is enough light, enough water, and enough rich soil for our roots. Translated into human experience: we need whatever 'Enough' is for us to keep going without breaking apart.
(This is also why I totally respect writers who don't "quit their cubicle hell to live the dream" as the aspiratonal Instaquotes go, and instead spend a while working part-time, using that security as a platform to build their foundational work.)
But everyone's Enough should look a bit different. We are all unique casseroles of talent, enthusiasm and grit, so the weirder our Enough looks to someone else, the better, I reckon...
Anyway. I'm rambling. As always, you said it perfectly, Ali.
As always, a thoughtful and thought-provoking piece, Ali - it really resonated. Coincidently, just this week I kept turning the phrase 'a room of one's own' over in my head. I am trying to create just that in my small home so I have a space to work and write that feels solely mine. No matter how small or simple, even if it is the same table in a coffee shop, I really believe everyone needs somewhere they can be alone in their thoughts. Probably why I love baths so much!
I've waited three days to read this. I've known I wanted to be a writer forever. To me the process is a magical one. I believe money and a room of one's own isn't necessary to just write fiction, but to write what matters.
At first I shared a room with one of my brothers, but when I was eight I got to have my own bedroom and bathroom. I had no idea what a gift that was. By the time I was 20, finding solitude became practically impossible. I started to get the picture. But still, the picture was present but not in focus.
Throughout my many journals is that constant desire, demand, delight. 1) I wish I was alone. 2) I'd rather be alone. 3) Will having solitude ruin me? 4) Is being by myself selfish? 5) Why does this feel so dang delicious when I'm listening deep within and obeying her, married to her, taking care of, and delivering her?
I chose not to marry and reproduce because I decided early it wasn't ruinous or selfish.
I've forced myself to learn how to be alone.
A friend asked if she could move in with me and when I said no she said I was isolating. Nope, just protecting what it took me over 60 years to claim for myself.
Just as I was forced to become more externally motivated, as a child, from my internally motivated soul born into this world, I have forced myself to regain the shamed introverted self I was encouraged to disregard as she wasn't convenient for or desired from others.
It took me 20 years to regain her footing.
Now, the more time I spend alone, the more I love it. I still enjoy the synchronicity of gifts involving others when out in public and certainly with friends. But the inner journey, the depth of that soul who has been guiding me and who helped me navigate through the family pressures that almost put a stop to me altogether... now that I've got the $500, the room of my own, and the ability to choose as much solitude as desired it amazes me how the stories just keep on coming.
Just last week as she was guiding me to work on a certain project, part of me was saying, "Is this a waste of my time?"
Now I know, she's guiding me to do what makes me uniquely my voice.
Someday, she'll inspire others to reclaim their own and to dwell in the dome that resonates, marinates, and manifests.
This is SO true. The financial strain of not having a safe space erodes creativity a millimeter at a time. Her foundation does such great work, offering women the money and space they need to create. I long for a world where art is as respected as the money of the patrons who support (and often dictate) it. Thank you so much for writing this.
You wrote "Aspiring writers grasp at minutes and hours in between other jobs... External factors prevent us from unleashing the full creativity inside of us."
What role do you think these trials and tribulations play in forcing us to take our crewtivity seriously? If it was easy, how many creative people would get bored and move on?
When I was a teenager, I was a quitter. I hated it even while being it. Now in my thirties, I have an uncomfortable (not quite pathological) need to prove to myself that something is worthwhile. I've overcompensated and I insist that things be harder than necessary, at least in the beginning, as a agent of attrition of the things I'm not ready to take seriously.
There's definitely such a thing as too much testing oneself through trials. But it seems easier to judge "too much or too little" in hindsight.
Yes to time alone! We need it! I need to check out your retreats!
Love this!!! I'm so inspired to sign up for this class. 💜
So true. I relate to so much of this. I do have alone time but all of the time is taken up job hunting lately and money arranging. I was sitting so pretty with my last permalance gig AND having writing time.