Thursday 12 July 2012

Why I Wish I Could Be LIke Ernest Hemingway

Every day I do a lot of writing.  I write emails and blog posts.  I go on Twitter.  I comment on other blog posts.  I write lists.  I write down bright ideas and plans for an imaginary future.  It's all interesting, and it has to be done, but it doesn't count as word count.  The only thing that counts as word count is words written on my novel.

Why is it so easy to write the other stuff, and so hard to write our creative work?  I was reading about Hemingway and how he put his writing first, above anything, even when it wasn't getting anywhere and everyone was saying he should give up.  I find it very hard to prioritise my writing in the same way - there's always something that needs to be done first.

I've never had any inclination to shoot elephants or catch a marlin, but oh, how I wish I could be like Ernest Hemingway.  But, let's face it, that's like wishing I was a stone lighter, or could play the piano really well or speak fluent Italian.  I could do all these things - if I made them a priority.  Or as a friend once wryly commented, 'that's easy - no kids.'

And so I plod on.  And somewhere, around the cracks and crevices of real life, the book will get written, as it always has done so.  Inch by inch, not yard by yard, let alone mile by mile.  But I will get there. I wish I could be like Ernest Hemingway, so I could get there quickly, but so long as I get there, does it really matter how I do it?

8 comments:

penny simpson said...

Maybe. But then you'd have to be a miserable old sod with no life. I visited his house once and god was it isolated!

Anonymous said...

It's probably a woman-thing. Sorry, don't want to start a war of words but men are more calculating/self-centred and can ignore the rest of stuff - women can't!

Sarah Duncan said...

Penny, I always thought Hemingway had a pretty rip roaring life. Perhaps the isolated house was the antidote to all that carousing.

Anon, oooh, that's bound to put the cat among the pigeons. Think men are generally able to focus more and ignore the domestic stuff, but I'm not sure that's the same as being calculating or self-centred.

Sally Zigmond said...

"So long as I get there, does it really matter how I do it?"

This says it all, Sarah.

We can't all be like Hemingway. And thank God for that. He can write but he isn't a writer I would ever want to curl up in a comfy chair with (metaphorically speaking.)

WE can only do what we do.

Rachel said...

My problem, is taking my writing seriously enough. I have a day job, so it feels like a delicious indulgence, and as such, I struggle to put it ahead of other things that need to get done. I need to find a way of rebalancing that in my head, or this book will never get written!

John Edmund said...

Sarah I love your blog although as evidence of your formidable industry it pricks my conscience. No you'll never be Hemingway and shoot elephants but, by nibbling away daily at your novels, you obviously know how to eat them.

Sarah Duncan said...

Sally, yes, can't imagine curling up with EH literally or metaphorically!

Rachel, you're not alone! Lots of us struggle with our writing being perceived as an indulgence, by others and/or by ourselves. No easy answers, apart just getting on with it...

John, don't be deluded by my blog as evidence of formidable industry - it's not writing a novel, which is what I really should be doing!

Edith said...

Thanks for this one! Today is one of those days, rapidly spiraling downwards into one of those weeks, when everything else (read children and cooking and housework...apparently it doesn't actually go away if I keep ignoring it!)is demanding its place. However I must admit that I prefer a full and chaotic life to one devoted entirely to what only I want to do. Maybe it's just too far removed from my own experience for me to imagine what it would be like to say no to everyone else......