The Delightful Lightness of Writing as an Amateur

I have, from day one, approached my author/publishing career as an amateur. I have had no regrets for doing so. Indeed, it was the best decision I've made both as a writer and a publisher. It made both writing and publishing simply fun, as it should be, since, as a decade in the business has shown me, writing fiction is a rotten career; a "career" where failure is the norm. Take it seriously at your own (considerable) risk.

I should define the term "amateur" as I mean it. I take up the banner of K G Chesterton who defended the amateur in his biography of Robert Browning thusly:

“The word amateur has come by the thousand oddities of language to convey an idea of tepidity; whereas the word itself has the meaning of passion. Nor is this peculiarity confined to the mere form of the word; the actual characteristic of these nameless dilettanti is a genuine fire and reality. A man must love a thing very much if he not only practices it without any hope of fame or money, but even practices it without any hope of doing it well. Such a man must love the toils of the work more than any other man can love the rewards of it.”

Or, as he put it more succinctly; “If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.”

The brilliance of this approach is that, while it allows for success on your own terms, it eliminates failure, save, once more, on your own terms. And if one focuses on the love of, in this case, writing, failure is found only in the sense that one thinks one can, hopefully, do it a little better the next time. Little "failures". Really, these little failures are merely challenges to build on, the spice of life, rather than a real failure. Besides, success is always built on failures. So whether something one writes seems to work or doesn't, it's always a matter of choice, your choice alone.

And irrelevant. 

Irrelevant because the only thing that is relevant is the making of the art, the writing of the story, and the joy of doing so, not the results. Creating is what is relevant. The result will, hopefully, give you joy as well, but if not, you just dive back into the process that you enjoy to produce something better.

The delightful lightness of approaching writing, or any creative endeavor, as an amateur, is the freedom the amateur mindset gives you to create, or attempt to create, exactly what your heart desires. No norms to comply with, no markets to serve, no accolades, rewards, or the mirage of wealth to bend and shape your creation into something that isn't entirely yours. As an amateur those considerations don't, or at least, need not matter. You have the freedom to pick and choose what you think should matter, and what doesn't. You can even try to make a commercial success out of writing, if you care too, just as long as you remember that it is just a game, and the odds are heavily against you. You can do just what you want, and how you want to do it. No compromises are necessary.

This is the thread that runs through the joy of approaching art as an amateur; it gives you freedom, and along with that freedom, comes the control you have over the entire process. You are your own master, answering to no one. How many things in life can you say that?

Freedom and control! The ability to keep your work entirely yours. To create a work of art rather than produce a product. The professional writer, a producer of a product, must become a clog in the machine, a small part of a bigger enterprise, over which the writer has little control over.

Still, if the rewards of the professional approach to writing compensated for the loss of freedom and control, I wouldn't kick. But they don't. It is estimated that 1 in 1000 manuscripts get published in traditional publishing, and only 1 in 10 of those lucky few are still getting published ten years later, i.e. you have a 1 in 10,000 chance of having a ten year plus long career as an author. Then consider the fact that most of those authors are aren't actually making a professional income from their work, despite being "professionals". Indeed, for most writers, no matter what they call themselves, their writing is only a part time job, a paying a hobby. And the same is true for most self-publishing authors, even those with professional aspirations, since the vast majority are probably making pocket change, if not losing money, when trying to meet the "professional" standards promoted by the people who may actually make their living off of selling their services to authors.

But enough negativity. I'm here to celebrate the lightness of playing with words, with characters of one's own imagination, and with a story of one's own to tell. And the challenge of doing it just right, by your own lights. And to write the next one even better.

And maybe someday, should you may find that you're not afraid of making a fool of yourself. That you think what you've created is good, at least good enough. It's something you can share with whoever you want to, however you want to, all the while remembering that, as Chesterton, points out, if it's worth doing, it's worth doing badly. Failing is not an option when sharing, even if you charge money for your story, since making money is not your goal. It is the doing of it, the writing, the creation, that is what is what is worth doing. Making it is yours, and yours alone.

Have fun writing!