On Writing

By Stephen B. Bagley

"If you would be a reader, read; if a writer, write.” -- Epictetus

The first thing I have to say about writing is this: it is hard. This always seems to come as a shock to people. Many times I meet people who, upon learning that I write, will say, “Oh, I intend to write a book as soon as I have the time.” I wonder if they go up to heart surgeons and say, “Oh, I intend to transplant a heart as soon as I have the time.”

The implication is writing is easy. That, as soon as they have a few minutes to themselves, they will dash off a bestseller. This is not to say writing requires the same skill as heart surgery – it certainly doesn’t pay as well, dang it – but it does take effort and time.

I particularly like (dislike) the people who say they would like to be a writer but when you ask them what they write, they confess (actually, they state, because they don’t seem to be ashamed of it) they haven’t ever written anything. These same people will watch wrestling and reality shows. Avoid them.

Not that I really want everyone trying to be a writer; I have enough competition as it is. Still, more should try if only for the things they would learn.

For instance, you would learn that the editors who reject your work are evil. And the ones who haven’t sold their souls to darkness suffer from terminal stupidity. That probably sounds like a harsh judgment, but listen. At first, you’ll try to be reasonable about your rejections and tell yourself the editor simply had a bad day or perhaps your work didn’t meet his needs. I will tell you now those thoughts will not help you recover from rejection. Say to yourself that the rejecting editor has all the intelligence of gravel and the personal hygiene of a jungle pig, and you will immediately feel better. (Of course, keep this opinion to yourself. You will probably send work to him again because there aren’t that many editors out there in the first place, and they gossip about authors in the second place.)

You will also learn the only entities that profit from everything you write are paper mills and the post office. Every now and then, I toy with a conspiracy theory involving lumberjacks, paper mills, and editors. Think about it. I’ll wait.

In midst of all these frustrations, you will begin to question why you write in the first place. I have occasionally thought I would have been a happier person if the desire to write hadn’t taken hold and if I hadn’t fallen in love with sweets and fattening food.

I blame a monkey for starting me down the path of a writer. Curious George introduced me to the joy of the written word in the third grade. I remember closing the book about that mischievous monkey and thinking, “I want to be a writer.”

Of course, there were a few career detours as astronaut, international spy, and scientist crossed the mind of my younger self, but those other choices had no staying power. Writing was always waiting impatiently for me to return. I don’t know why. I may have been dropped on my head as a baby, a theory advanced by my older siblings – who could actually have dropped me now that I think about it. They have always been jealous of my magnificence.

I do know I write to bring order to my thoughts and to the world in which I live. Most of the time I don’t know what I think about a hard issue until I write it down where I can examine it – and then decide I don’t know what I am talking about.

And some ego is involved. When you write, you are saying your words are worth reading, your thoughts have merit – and that you want to be paid for them. You want to be paid a lot.

Writing a story is also a brain engaging activity, a difficult pastime like puzzles or crosswords. How to use words to paint pictures in the minds of your readers – and those pictures be the ones you imagined – can consume your life. The majority of it is a drive to put words on paper. I don’t understand it. I complain about it some, but I wouldn’t be me without it, and I wouldn’t get rid of it for anything.

Excerpted from Floozy & Other Stories. Copyright 2010 by Stephen B. Bagley. No copying without express written permission from the publisher and author.