Transcript of a recent dumb discussion:
Whippersnapper: Do you want to know the real problem with late-blooming novelists, as you call them?
Me: Do you have a specific problem in mind?
Whippersnapper: You bet… (Smug simper.) You’re all on ego trips. That’s why you insist on producing paper books to give to friends and relatives. And why you still crave to do book signings. And why you print bookmarks (that nobody uses any more) and tacky business cards that proclaim your title as: “Author.”
Me: [Not quite sure how to respond] Umm… well…
Naturally, all kinds of appropriate answers (and accompanying gestures) popped into my mind later.
Had I been as sharp as I used to be “in the olden days,” I would have pointed out that most of those “prideful sins” are committed in the hope of promoting sales, not to increase the author’s sense of self-importance. (Well, that’s true most of the time.)
More decisively, I would have also noted that a healthy ego — a well-balanced sense of self-esteem — is an essential piece of creative equipment for every fiction writer.
When Norman Mailer died in 2007, The New York Times titled his obituary: “Norman Mailer, Towering Writer With Matching Ego, Dies at 84.”
An especially relevant passage from the piece: “Mr. Mailer belonged to the old literary school that regarded novel writing as a heroic enterprise undertaken by heroic characters with egos to match.”
I agree that writing a novel is a “heroic enterprise.” I say this even though many of the heroic novelists I know are shy introverts — personality traits that lead some people (including themselves) to conclude they have small egos.
Not so! How can anyone with low self-esteem accomplish the daunting job of assembling upwards of 100,000 well-chosen words to create a publishable manuscript?
Because the odds of writing even a moderate best seller are miniscule, few novelists earn minimum wage for the many hours they’ve invested in writing their manuscripts. The authors who finish novel-length manuscripts need more than commitment and writing skill. They also need a big helping of self-confidence that keeps saying, “You can write something worth reading — and beat the lousy odds.”
And there’s another factor I see as particularly significant to late-blooming novelists. We’re late bloomers either because…
- We didn’t think about writing fiction until many decades had passed.
- We wanted to write novels years earlier, but didn’t think we were ready.
IMO, both of these explanations for delay have their roots in the way we were brought up. We learned from our parents and teachers that books were special — and by implication, that the authors of books were equally special. That being so, sitting down to write a novel is inherently an act of high self esteem for a late-bloomer.
Of course, there are bound to be periods of doubt. Here’s another relevant passage from the Mailer obituary: Mr. Mailer later said of [his first novel, The Naked and the Dead]: “Part of me thought it was possibly the greatest book written since War and Peace. On the other hand I also thought, ‘I don’t know anything about writing. I’m virtually an impostor.’”
My point is that even Norman Mailer did not have complete self-confidence in his abilities. But unless an author’s self-regard significantly outweighs his/her inappropriate modesty, he or she will never actually finish a novel.
I won’t deny that ego gratification is one of the rewards for finishing — and publishing — a novel. The burst of excitement produced by receiving a box of newly printed books from a publisher (or seeing your eBook on sale in the Kindle Store) doesn’t last long for most authors, but it’s a nifty feeling while it does.
We’re entitled to a moment of joy — given all the hours we spent writing the darn thing.
I’ll also admit that some late-blooming authors seem a tad “egotistical.” (A few minutes spent browsing randomly through novelist websites will prove the point.) However, I doubt that a true egomaniac (a person suffering from truly obsessive self-centeredness) could write a compelling novel because of his/her lack of empathy with others — along with the inability to follow-through and finish something as demanding as a novel.
On balance then, a robust ego is a fine thing for any novelist to have — even if it does occasionally annoy people in the immediate vicinity.
I love ego trips. I think they are one of the most entertaining rides you can go on. What’s more, I think if you don’t have a strong ego (in any competitive arena) you will crumple up with the first cruel wind that blows against you. As an author, I have had to practice hard at just keeping mine up and running. Loved how you tagged “inappropriate modesty,” Ron, because I think that is one of the biggest hinderances to sales, especially in the Christian market.
I also love reading about people who have taken ego trips (they end up in the most fascinating and entertaining situations). I actually find their stories inspirational. Oh, yes, and I love bookmarks, too. So much nicer than a receipt from the grocery store, or a piece of tissue from the pocket of your robe. I need a lot of bookmarks, myself, because I have so many wonderful stacks of books I am currently reading.
I only wish some young whippersnapper would invent an electronic version that was as much fun to look at and collect as the traditional ones used to be. Some creative little visual thing you could click on or off at whatever place you stopped reading in your Kindle. With the same quality as some of the ones I spent an hour perusing, last week, at a fantastic online museum. Then again, I suppose only those of us “of a certain age” have enough time to do exactly what we want to every day. Which is another thing the whippersnappers seem to get upset about. But you know something? I wouldn’t go back to that age, again, even if you paid me. I love it over here on this side.
Anyone out there who decides to start an online ego club, I’ll be the first to sign up.
Well, I guess my response to Whippersnapper’s inane comments would be, “Who cares what you think?”
My response to Mr. DeWitt’s writer friend would be, “Guess what, partner, if you don’t publish them yourself, your stories will never see the light of day.” The publishing world is changing so fast and mainstream publishers are so unsure of the future that they are less likely than ever to publish an unknown author unless they are absolutely sure that they have a major hit on their hands. Indie publishing isn’t an ego trip, it is reality … that is, if you want anyone to read your stories.
I had a rather heated but still friendly debate about “Vanity Publishing” with my writer friend Dennis D. in which he explained that by publishing two how-to books for Kindle and Nook on Amazon’s and Barnes and Noble’s websites that I was engaged in the lowest form of publishing, self-publishing. It was just for the ego of the writer, he said. I countered that all publishing is vanity publishing involving someone’s ego! How much greater is that ego which demands that they, the publisher, are the final arbiter of quality and publishing success for everybody else? Anybody who writes for publication is writing in great measure for the sense of ego satisfaction that comes with having a byline, if not, why put your name on it? My good friend firmly believes that someone else must decide if his writing is “worthy” of publication. He has written five novels, all unpublished to date. They are all rather good novels, too. But he will not submit them for publication online, refuses to become an “Indie Publisher” and while traditional publishers are nibbling at the bait so far no publisher has deigned to make him an offer of publication. We both have published short stories, and once, in the same anthology, but if hadn’t occurred to one of us to republish those stories we still have rights to, and older but unpublished work on Amazon and B&N so they will be read during out lifetimes! Dennis is a prolific short story writer. Nearly all unpublished. These stories are rather brilliant, I think. Why doesn’t he publish them? I think his ego is getting in the way…