One of the realities writers have to face is this: you will write and even publish things that suck.
It’s a truth I’ve had to come to terms with as I’ve started publishing my poetry and writings online. Before I started posting things I was safe: since no one ever read my words, their suckiness (or lack thereof) was effectively irrelevant. Instead, the only thing that really mattered was how much a particular piece of writing amused me, or how much I had enjoyed the process of creating it.
As I’ve started publishing my words online, I’ve had to think more carefully about what it means if I post things that I perceive as fundamentally flawed. My conclusion: it’s more dangerous to let fear of failure paralyze you than to occasionally post writing that sucks.
The dirty secret that means it’s ok to suck
Actually, there are two secrets:
- Suckiness is subjective.
- Suckiness is a variable function of time, mood, and context.
What I think is the greatest poem ever isn’t going to do it for everyone else. The important thing is to remember that that’s just life and that it’s ok. Not every poem is going to rock the world. Nor should every poem do so. (Or else we’d be in for one very bumpy ride…)
The poem that I read and loved on a particular sunny Saturday may not do it for me on a subsequent gloomy Tuesday. That’s ok too. Sometimes you pick up a book and just can’t get into it, only to pick it up two years later and find it irresistibly compelling.
Our tastes change to suit our needs, and those are forever changing as a function of time.
Take with you whatever is of greatest value right in this particular moment.
So, what does this mean for writers?
At first, these features might sound like bad things, right?
The thought of people hating the words and ideas I’ve labored over is enough to send me to bed on a bad day, and the addendum that I may in fact have no control over other people’s thoughts can make that notion even scarier.
After all, we writers know our words inside out and upside down. We know each and every fragile sentence, with all its potential and its imperfections.
No one knows more clearly than the writer how painfully flawed the writing is.
As a writer I birth first the idea of the writing, and it’s perfect and shimmering and totally, inevitably unattainable. But it lives vividly in the mind that nonetheless I find myself compelled to try it out, to attempt to capture it’s unachievable splendor in ink and fiber, just knowing that it can never work out as well as you thought it could have.
But you still feel compelled to try.
I recently described the writing process to a friend as, “the ooky slog of watching your brilliant idea turn to ash as you attempt to render it in words on a page”.
I stand by my sentiments.
Writing is a process and it’s often an ugly, brutal one, a process that can leave the author feeling gutted, small, and incompetent. It’s a process that, inevitably, will lead to writing that sucks.
Instead of giving up, free yourself by embracing the promise of failure
I’m trying a new strategy with the content on this blog.
It’s not highly curated. I post it as it comes along and I’m not holding much back. I spend time on revisions, but I do it all myself. No one edits the work I post here but me.
And if you pay close attention you’ll notice that the pieces that show up here exist in a state of occasional flux.
Sometimes I come back later and work them over again. Sometimes the words change.
Because change is a part of the writing process. And the phrase that sang in the moment you penned it often falls hopelessly short upon re-reading.
But that’s just life, and it’s all fine.
This means it must be ok to post writing that sucks
The saving grace is that my worst poem may someday be the one that changes someone’s life.
There are far too many variables to ever hope to control for.
So I’m setting my failure free, and attempting instead to achieve only that which is deliciously imperfect.
Because what they’ve forgotten to tell us is that the road to greatness is paved, not with good intentions, but rather with uncountably many imperfections.
I invite you to join me.
Does embracing suckiness have the power to set you free? Let me know in the comments below!