300 Words

I’ve always fancied myself as someone on the precipice of becoming a writer. I’ll admit to the occasional vague, fleeting fantasy of the prestige that comes with being defined by creativity. But until now I hadn't given much thought to what being a writer actually means. This on its own goes a long way in explaining why I am not that now, and probably never will be. But, since I’m on the topic at the moment, let me flesh out what exactly it means to “be” a “writer”.

So first things first: Is there some measurable threshold that could demarcate who is and who is not a writer; a line in the sand that empirically demonstrates success or failure in the realm of communication and creativity for its own sake? Of course not. That’s ridiculous and probably insulting. So naturally I’ll give it my best shot.

The notion of successfully “being” in this context can be measured in any number of ways. I’ll examine three of them: Audience, accolades, and earnings.

Audience

To me, success in terms of audience is regularly being read by more people than I have friends on Facebook. A crude yardstick if ever there were one, but it skirts the chance that my FB friends are nice, and out of sympathy, read whatever garbage I vomit onto a page. In order to assure myself that it isn’t just my mom and wife who read this stuff, we must surpass that threshold.

Accolades

And speaking of my mom and wife, (the more I look at that phrase, the more it seems as though the two could be one. They aren’t, I assure you) they are suspiciously supportive of my pencil drool. So some good, solid, third-party pats on the back are needed to differentiate between irresponsible encouragement and actual kudos.

Earnings

Replacing my current income (had I any) with money paid for writing would be a great indicator of success, if not entirely over-ambitious. In fact, now that I’m married, if our combined income could match what I made while employed – or even half that – I would count it as a success. Come to think of it, if writing brought enough money to buy one sandwich per day I would count myself a winner.

So that covers the “be”. What about that other part – “writer”. What is that?

Technique and content – two elements that must achieve equilibrium before a message can be properly received by its audience. Simple messages require little technique. Think street signs; just be clear and brief. Likewise, complex thought deserves precision, subtlety, and nuance in execution. The writer’s trick is appropriately applying his technique to match his message. But herein lies a very important implication; that the writer writes something worth reading. Otherwise you, the receiver, might be presented with miles and miles of very readable empty space (see above).

And above all else, ignoring the fact that I categorically fail at each of my own metrics for success, and forgetting for the moment that my technique falls somewhere between teratoma and high school freshman, I have nothing to say. Not worth you reading anyhow. And that’s why, I think, I’ll only develop as a hobby writer, rather than as a professional.

So that’s the landscape I find myself in – resigned to the fact that money will be made elsewhere, and writing pushed the margins of my day. It’s not so bad, really. Like I said before, there is no message that will go unheeded as a result. But I still hope to develop my skills, so my nothing to say won’t go entirely unnoticed. As a result, I am challenging myself to write a minimum of 300 words of nothing, per day, no excuses, for one week. I’ll start tomorrow.