I love this rule, because Masello takes to task the oft-asked question, "Do you want to write...or do you just want to be a writer?"
Here's the background. Aspiring writers are often asked that question by more well-established writers, who know that the private life of a writer is different from that of the public perception. The point of the question is to remind the aspiring writer that real writers don't just sit back and receive admiration from the world around them. Nor do they sit around fantasizing about the accolades that will one day be theirs. Instead, they go back to their computers, day after day, filling their actual need to write. If you don't need to write, the question implies, then you're not a real writer. And to be a real writer, you shouldn't waste your time imagining your life as a success.
To which Masello says: hogwash.
(Well, not quite. But you get the idea.)
Masello points out, quite correctly in my opinion, that there's nothing wrong with imagining yourself as the writer you want to be. He notes that it can serve as a form of motivation. And I have to agree with him. Yes, I work at writing my stories. But I also dream about how those stories will be received by others, and how people will react favorably toward me when they've read something of mine that moved them.
In other words, I think all of us who write have, in some way, bought the smoking jacket. We're writers, after all, with (we hope) vivid imaginations. Surely we've imagined ourselves in a variety of successful scenarios and used those dreams to help us get started.
Another writer, Carolyn See, discusses this as well in her book Making a Literary Life: Advice for Writers and Other Dreamers. She talks about visualizing yourself as the kind of writer you want to be -- and then becoming that person once you've proven you can.
Let me take you through a small piece of my own personal journey for a moment, if you're willing to come along.
Years ago, when I was a teenager, I performed this visualization exercise myself. I wanted to be perceived as a writer. So I did something that, in retrospect, seems very silly. Before I ever graduated from high school, I ordered a box of business cards with my name, address, and phone number on it, and under my name I had them print one word: Writer.
Before I go on, I do have to point out that I had a legitimate claim to the title. Just prior to ordering those cards, I managed to sell two reviews of computer games to a now defunct magazine devoted to such things. So the fact is that I had indeed received payment for freelance writing, and therefore had no problem calling myself a writer.
Anyway, the story moves forward now to my college tenth reunion. By that point, I had published quite a bit more, including those science fiction stories that had been my goal all along. And when I encountered my freshman year roommate and we got to talking, he reminded me that I had spent my first week at college passing out those business cards to all my new acquaintances. Apparently, I told everyone and anyone I met that I was a writer (even though I was planning to become a scientist).
My roommate wasn't the only one who remembered me passing out those "Writer" cards. I myself had no memory of it, but I had no reason to disbelieve the reports, as it sounded just like the sort of thing I would have done at the time. But here's the payoff: even though at the time it was rather presumptuous of me to pass out those cards, fourteen years later some of my friends were impressed that I had actually achieved that goal. My desire to call myself a writer helped me become one.
So I have to recommend that visualization exercise to anyone who wants to become a writer. Sit back, relax, and close your eyes. Imagine yourself as the kind of writer you want to be. And then get up and write, but also do something else to start living that role, even if it's only in your own head for a while. Order the "Writer" business cards and keep them locked in your desk for the moment. Create a set of personalized stationery for yourself that calls you a writer. Or, as Masello recommends, buy that smoking jacket.
Once you've published a bit, you can begin to take on the public persona that you wanted to develop. For example, when I started to go to conventions, I chose to wear a blazer over a button-down shirt, but with no tie. Now, I know that ties tend to be mostly absent from science fiction conventions, but blazers also aren't as common as T-shirts. However, I decided that I was the kind of writer who wore a blazer, and so that's what I did. And sometimes, when the words flowed like molasses in winter (to use a cliche), keeping up a self-image of a successful writer was what kept me going at the keyboard.
So dream. It's what we writers do best.
Copyright © Michael Burstein