the curse of being slightly above average (warning - excessive use of quotation marks to follow)
Hey, I can write. And much as I wish I could deny it, there's still something appealing about clicking that little "publish" button and seeing my words made public. Ok, it's an audience of one, maybe two (and at least one of them is me), but still. It's "published". In the future, everyone will be famous, and no one will be famous.
Do I care to be famous? Not really. Do I want to "be a writer"? Yes, though I'm not completely sure why. Part of it is what I wrote in primatescrewandbearing today. Our life on earth is both a heartbeat and an eternity, and I feel that drive to be remembered. There's also this - I've read things that have made me smile, or laugh, or reevaluate my own beliefs. I think this is an incredible thing. I know what I think good writing is, and I want to do that. I want to have that effect on others.
But here's what bugs me. I'm an "ok" writer. I can write. My sentences are complete, my grammar consistent. My spelling is spell-check-assisted. I can take you through a paragraph without making you trip (oh, unless it's a really trippy paragraph... sorry, that was awful). And every now and then I find something among the debris of my day that I can turn into something beautiful. But, really - big deal. Maybe I can do it a little better than the average person. Maybe. But the bookstores and even the weblogs are full of people who can do it even better than that.
Yes, I'm whining. No, I'm not the only person cursed with above-averageness - by definition, in fact. Only a few people can be really, really good - that's the nature of having a scale to judge by. But I'm reminded of the track team in high-school. I trained, and I ate right, and I even understood strategy, and I turned into a pretty good runner. Just good enough to be at the tail of the fast group of runners or the head of the slow group. Stuck in the middle...
So I keep writing, and I keep running, mostly because both of them feel good. Because it feels better to be a slightly above average runner or writer than not to be one at all.
Do I care to be famous? Not really. Do I want to "be a writer"? Yes, though I'm not completely sure why. Part of it is what I wrote in primatescrewandbearing today. Our life on earth is both a heartbeat and an eternity, and I feel that drive to be remembered. There's also this - I've read things that have made me smile, or laugh, or reevaluate my own beliefs. I think this is an incredible thing. I know what I think good writing is, and I want to do that. I want to have that effect on others.
But here's what bugs me. I'm an "ok" writer. I can write. My sentences are complete, my grammar consistent. My spelling is spell-check-assisted. I can take you through a paragraph without making you trip (oh, unless it's a really trippy paragraph... sorry, that was awful). And every now and then I find something among the debris of my day that I can turn into something beautiful. But, really - big deal. Maybe I can do it a little better than the average person. Maybe. But the bookstores and even the weblogs are full of people who can do it even better than that.
Yes, I'm whining. No, I'm not the only person cursed with above-averageness - by definition, in fact. Only a few people can be really, really good - that's the nature of having a scale to judge by. But I'm reminded of the track team in high-school. I trained, and I ate right, and I even understood strategy, and I turned into a pretty good runner. Just good enough to be at the tail of the fast group of runners or the head of the slow group. Stuck in the middle...
So I keep writing, and I keep running, mostly because both of them feel good. Because it feels better to be a slightly above average runner or writer than not to be one at all.
posted by Dara at 1:34 PM
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