The Inner Artist

Here are two ways to write a story. One works, the other doesn’t.

When I was writing fiction, I didn’t really have a story I was burning to tell. I loved to write, and I had a burning desire to publish something and be successful and feel good about myself, but I didn’t have a story. I had, however, read a number of fiction writers whom I’d both admired and from whom I learned much about how to write. I’d also decided that they clearly knew how to write novels, that they’d figured it out, and theirs were a kind of gold standard against which all stories were measured.

As I was writing my novels, I’d often find myself asking, as one does, “Is this working?” I’d ask it of a sentence, of a scene, and of the entire book. A lot of times I didn’t know how to answer. Since I didn’t have a story I was burning to tell, I couldn’t ask myself if what I’d written accurately captured its heat and light. So, I’d compare what I had to those other writers, as if my story were a picture drawn on tracing paper and I could lay it over something by Picasso or Georgia O’Keefe. This answered absolutely nothing, and always left me feeling vaguely like a failure.

When I started writing essays, I did have a story to tell, which was that everything is okay no matter what. I loved that story. What’s more, I rarely read essays or blogs, and if I had, I didn’t remember them. I had no picture in my imagination of what other people considered a quality version of this type of story. I did, however, feel as though a nameless author resided within me who knew exactly what my essays should read like. So, when I found myself asking, as one does, “Is this working?” I would turn to that Inner Artist, and he would let me know if I should leave it be or rewrite.

If I had turned to that Inner Artist initially, he likely would have told me not to bother with the fiction. I can’t say whether I would have listened. Probably not. I’m pretty stubborn. No matter; he’s infinitely patient. As is yours. I hope you’re listening to him, her, or it already, but if you’re not, don’t worry. That Artist will be with you forever – forever ready, forever eager, and forever unlike anyone else’s.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.

Everyone Has What It Takes: A Writer’s Guide to the End of Self-Doubt
You can find William at: williamkenower.com