My short story cycle of inspiration, writing, and imposter syndrome. It's uplifting, I promise.
It's vague. I'm vague.
These are the two morning thoughts, phrases really, distracting me right at this moment. And they're in reference to my artist's purpose statement in my writing resume. And also, my writing in general. Every short story idea feels specific, and then I draft it and reread my own work and it oozes with a sensation of "been there, used that cliched phrase" before and I feel like a fraud. Except I know I'm being hard on myself and first drafts are really about telling myself the story. And what I need to do now is tell someone else the story. Most important of all is I need to be specific when telling them the story. Otherwise, why would they even care?
See, ever since I've been entrenched in the whirlwind cycle of short story inspiration > writing > editing > submitting I've been mainlining short stories. From the best of the iconic (Amy Hempel, Raymond Carver, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, the usuals) to the brilliant contemporaries (Weike Wang, Kirstin Valdez Quade, Jenny Zhang and more) I've been drinking in as much as I can for research, for entertainment, for my own edification. It's daunting reading a witty, layered piece that debuted in The New Yorker (cough, Quade, cough). Not to mention it's also bewildering, in that inspiring way that makes you feel totally inadequate. The way Amy Hempel's In The Cemetery Where Al Jolson Is Buried has a throughline that's a joke, in a nonstop shockwave of jokes that are relatable but unique and fresh, and you read it feeling haunted and sad and shaken and wonder why your brain can't come up with something so shatteringly subtle yet important.
That's where I'm at this Sunday morning.
Rather than feeling utterly inadequate, I'm trying to learn. To learn craft, sure, and what makes a compelling story, absolutely, but mostly to learn what it is exactly I want to say. What do I need to say through my writing? I've been told by so many people I have a breathless writing voice, a distinct tone, fast-moving plot and beautiful sentences. But what's it all for? If I stand for nothing, what will I fall for? (I've been mainlining the Hamilton soundtrack as I'm sure many of you have, and honestly, the lyrics just apply to everyday life so deal with it, thanks for listening to my TED Talk).
Which is where I've arrived at, a decision to do some self-analysis. Perhaps even to partake in a Q&A with myself to get at the answers I'm trying to find to inform my purpose and to imbue my writing with meaning and beauty and the raw truth we're all trying to get at about life's many miseries and intricacies.
Here are a few questions I'm getting started, which you can totally use. Because why not?
- How do I identify myself? List all the words and thoughts that come to mind.
- What am I most ashamed of/what's my darkest secret? Why?
- What's important to me? Why are these things important to me?
- What piques my interest most in the world? Why?
- What are my obsessions?
- What makes me vulnerable?
- If I could do anything over again, what would I do?
- If my influence was pervasive, what would I want people to know and do and understand? About me, but also about the world?
Existential, right? A bit trippy and self-analysis-y, right? But oh, it's so much damn fun.
Answering these questions are now my writing priority for today. And it doesn't mean I have to abandon the 8+ short stories I've "finished." Ha! Finished, yeah right. It means I can revisit them, with an arsenal of knowledge and ideas and thoughts to help me shape the narratives I'm trying to tell the and the truths I'm trying to reveal through my words.
Are you planning to answers these questions or ones you come up on your own? Have you already done an exercise like this to help you shape your writing and perspective? Let me know in the comments!
And have a happy, restful, possibly rainy (like it is here in the Northeast) Sunday.
