Submitted by Daniel Pinchbeck (not verified) on Tue, 09/11/2007 - 2:29am.
Hi Jason,
I wrote two novels that each took me a few years when I was in my late 20s, and neither were published. One was an attempt at a literary book and the other was a far-out fantasy mixing Samuel Becket and Philip Dick.
Although the books never got published, I would never be the writer I am now if I hadn't done that grueling work of apprenticeship. Writing is a real artist profession and requires a dedication to craft that is almost total. Also you really don't know - until it happens - if your labor will ever be meaningful to the public. At least the Net now allows anyone the option to put their texts up for whatever audience finds their way to them (have you looked into Creative Commons licenses?).
The work has to be its own ultimate reward - not just because of what happens on the page, but because of the way that the work transforms your own psyche and opens new doorways in your mind. Rilke's "Letters to a Young Poet" could be a useful text for you to read.
Also I really like a story of Chogyam Trungpa: A friend of mine who was his student talked about his poems and his depression over not getting them out into the world. And Trungpa pointed out that the root of the word "inspiration" was "in-spire," breath. In other words, inspiration is a natural process like breathing. You don't necessarily have to be attached to the outcome, if you realize that art is a natural expression of your own being.
When I wrote "Breaking Open the Head," I was fully involved in investigating something I didn't understand - and felt the need to give the fullest possible expression of my attempts to make sense out of my experiences. I think that my writing became good when I stopped caring about what any presumed audience might make of my ideas - when I knew that I had to solve this puzzle for myself, first of all.
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imaginal worlds
Hi Jason,
I wrote two novels that each took me a few years when I was in my late 20s, and neither were published. One was an attempt at a literary book and the other was a far-out fantasy mixing Samuel Becket and Philip Dick.
Although the books never got published, I would never be the writer I am now if I hadn't done that grueling work of apprenticeship. Writing is a real artist profession and requires a dedication to craft that is almost total. Also you really don't know - until it happens - if your labor will ever be meaningful to the public. At least the Net now allows anyone the option to put their texts up for whatever audience finds their way to them (have you looked into Creative Commons licenses?).
The work has to be its own ultimate reward - not just because of what happens on the page, but because of the way that the work transforms your own psyche and opens new doorways in your mind. Rilke's "Letters to a Young Poet" could be a useful text for you to read.
Also I really like a story of Chogyam Trungpa: A friend of mine who was his student talked about his poems and his depression over not getting them out into the world. And Trungpa pointed out that the root of the word "inspiration" was "in-spire," breath. In other words, inspiration is a natural process like breathing. You don't necessarily have to be attached to the outcome, if you realize that art is a natural expression of your own being.
When I wrote "Breaking Open the Head," I was fully involved in investigating something I didn't understand - and felt the need to give the fullest possible expression of my attempts to make sense out of my experiences. I think that my writing became good when I stopped caring about what any presumed audience might make of my ideas - when I knew that I had to solve this puzzle for myself, first of all.
Hope something in there helps.
Yours,
Daniel