✍️ The Subtle Art of Not Writing a F*ck
or, How Letting Go of Your Writing Worries Can Free Your Creative Mind
Do you care about your writing?
This isn’t a trick question, though I don’t blame you for thinking so since the answer is obvious. Yes, we all care about our writing! It’s why I’m writing this. It’s why you’re writing that. It’s why we’re all gathered here today.
There is, however, the risk of caring too much. In a way, that’s also why we’re all gathered here today...
Because caring too much leads to writerly fears and insecurities. We start caring about whether or not our writing is as good as Shakespeare’s – before we’ve even written a word. We start caring about whether or not we will write the Great Canadian Novel. We start caring about whether or not readers will like this story better than our last story. We start caring about whether or not this piece of work is worth writing in the first place.
In short, we start caring if people will like our writing before we’ve written it. And, if we’re being honest, we start caring if people will like us.
Mark Manson, on the other hand, is one of those few people who no longer gives a fuck what people think. (At least, that’s his brand...)
“In my life, I have given a fuck about many people and many things. I have also not given a fuck about many people and many things. And those fucks I have not given have made all the difference.”
https://markmanson.net/not-giving-a-fuck
He goes on to say that not giving a fuck doesn’t mean being indifferent. It means being comfortable with being different.
It means being comfortable with people not liking you, your writing, or the horse you rode in on...
The Writerly Way to Not Give a Fuck
The idea for this post comes ripped from the headlines of another Substack, Stock Fiction, by Meg Oolders. At the end of a recent post, “The Novelist”, she writes about embarking on an agent search.
“I’ve reached a point in my writing journey where I don’t actually care if every single agent I tirelessly research and dance for rejects me. I mean, it’d be cool if that didn’t happen, but I’ve already decided it won’t change the way I feel about my books or make me believe they’re less good or less special or less worthy of a reader’s time.” [Emphasis mine.]
This really resonated with me, because I had almost a verbatim conversation with a writer friend of mine two weeks before. Yes, I would love to get my latest WIP published, I told her. But if it doesn’t happen, that’s okay too.
I pressed Meg a bit on her personal viewpoint – how she got to her Zen place about the agent search, etc. – and this is (in part) her reply:
“In short, I do still give many ‘effs’ about what happens to my stories. But what I'm trying to do now is allow for things to take shape on their own. Opportunities have come my way in the past year that I haven't even been looking for, and TBH, those are the best ones anyway. The ones that find you when you're just happily making art and showing up in the spaces you feel most confident and at ease. I'm trying to lean into those spaces more and worry less about dropping in on the spaces that don't serve me. AND I'm doing my best to lower my expectations (a hair) with regard to determining when I've really ‘made it’ as a writer.” [Again, emphasis mine.]
This is a healthy philosophy, I think. As mentioned above, caring too much leads to worrying too much. Fears like imposter syndrome creep in. We start having helmet fires. We compare our first drafts (and sometimes even unwritten drafts) to some of the most famous writers. We fall prey to a myriad of imagined miasmas that real-ly hold us back from creativity and motivation.
Why It’s Important to Stop Giving a Fuck
So what would happen if we stopped giving a fuck about all that? Here’s what I think could happen, in no particular order:
We’d write more.
We would be more creative, focusing our energy on the process instead of some rando’s opinion of the as-yet-unwritten product.
We wouldn’t be as nervous about “putting ourselves out there”.
We’d recognize that Shakespeare is different from Atwood is different from King – and they’re all different from us. But who cares? You do you.
Our writing skills would develop.
We’d become more confident.
This newfound confidence would create a positive feedback loop that would make us more creative, more motivated to write, and yes, more confident still.
We’d start pleasing ourselves first – and that would be easier to do than trying to please grumpy, muppet-headed critics in the balcony (or whatever form your inner critic takes).
Ignoring and/or accepting criticism – even imagined criticism – is a big part of growing your confidence as a writer. That being said, if your writerly confidence had a Facebook profile, its relationship status would be, “It’s complicated...” Because you can’t ignore the reader completely, even if you’re pleasing yourself. This idea is worth a whole post on its own, but quickly: I’ve always said you have to keep your reader in mind. What you’re doing is trying to communicate to people through your fiction, non-fiction, poetry, or some other writing medium.
This tenet leads to obvious questions! Like, how can you care about the reader and not care about the reader at the same time? Answer: by focusing on the right reader. And this is where Mark Manson’s quote makes even more sense to the writerly perspective. Not giving a fuck isn’t about being indifferent. It’s about being okay with being different.
In short: not everyone is going to like what you write. That’s okay, too. They aren’t the right reader for your work. But the right readers are out there – and they are probably a lot like you. You please yourself, you’ll please your right readers.
Key Takeaway: Caring too much about what your readers are going to think before you’ve written a thing will only lead to loss of confidence, lack of creativity, and a serious shortage of words on your page. If you’re worried that not everyone is going to like your work, then guess what. You’re right! Make yourself happy first, trust in the process, and worry about finding readers after you have the damn thing written.
Over to You – What Worries are Holding You Back?
...or, have you already mastered the art of not giving a fuck about your writing? Let us know in the comments below! I would love to hear how everyone tackles their worries.
In the meantime, I’ll leave you with an “interview” with Mark Mason on how he writes. (It looks like a staged interview to me, but...)
Shoutout...
...and thanks to Beverley Bley of Beverley’s Substack. Such kind words about my post, “When It Comes to Writing, Are You Guilty as Charged?” I’m always so glad to hear when one of these topics has connected with and inspired someone. Her post, “Write What You Know”, details her own struggles around writing guilt when the world gets to be too much with us. A common writerly theme! I love Beverley’s honesty and determination, which comes through in every post.
Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!
~Graham
email me if you get lost.
I love how writing sums up life philosophy. The subtle art to give it our all without losing ourselves in attachment, performance anxiety and expectations. Thank you for sharing Graham!
I know you well enough, Graham, to know that you won't mind a little dissent from the peanut gallery. While I agree wholeheartedly that we writers shouldn't give a fuck what others think, I think we do need to give quite a few fucks about what we think, and mull over our writing long and hard until we're satisfied that it does exactly what we wish. I see too much evidence of sloppy writing out in the world to encourage writers not to worry at all, a lot of it encouraged by those (not you) that suggest that you need to write every week in order to win an audience and GROW, GROW, GROW. I wish some people worried more and took the time to make their writing better.