W. Somerset Maugham
Writers are a self-conscious lot. When they are not analysing their emotions and setting every pulse and palpitation down on paper, they are introspecting about their craft, wondering whether to use pen or pencil, PC or Mac, coffee or cocaine. Dozens of questions present themselves each day before they can sit down to write. What kind of music will get their juices flowing? What is the best time of day? Does word count matter? What genre are they in? Dare they call themselves a writer yet? What is fame really like? Can they expect payment for their grand opus in their lifetime?
Then there is the delicate issue of self-promotion. Facebook or Twitter? WordPress or Google? Should they self-publish by e-book or go the traditional route and deal with those dastardly devils called agents?
They look to luminaries of the industry for inspiration. How did Stephen King avoid the horrific pitfalls? Does Dan Brown have divine wisdom? Is Stephenie Meyer in possession of immortal truths?
Lately I have been studying the life and works of Somerset Maugham. Having written a few novels and plays with little success, he was on the point of giving up and resuming his career as a doctor when he heard that one of his plays had been unexpectedly taken up by a producer.
Lady Frederick, rejected by seventeen managements and all the leading actresses of the day, became the passport to lasting fame and fabulous wealth. Written on the back of a discarded typescript because the author was so short of money, it was an overnight success. By the following year he had four plays running concurrently in London and he became known as England’s Dramatist.
But how did Maugham look back on his life as a writer? Like this…
… I began to meditate upon the writer’s life. It is full of tribulation. First he must endure poverty and the world’s indifference; then, having achieved a measure of success, he must submit with a good grace to its hazards. He depends upon a fickle public. He is at the mercy of journalists who want to interview him, and photographers who want to take his picture, of editors who harry him for copy and tax-gatherers who harry him for income tax, of persons of quality who ask him to lunch and secretaries of institutes who ask him to lecture, of women who want to marry him and women who want to divorce him, of youths who want his autograph, actors who want parts and strangers who want a loan, of gushing ladies who want advice on their matrimonial affairs and earnest young men who want advice on their compositions, of agents, publishers, managers, bores, admirers, critics, and his own conscience. But he has one compensation. Whenever he has anything on his mind, whether it be a harassing reflection, grief at the death of a friend, unrequited love, wounded pride, anger at the treachery of someone to whom he has shown kindness, in short any emotion or any perplexing thought, he has only to put it down in black and white, using it as a theme of a story or the decoration of an essay, to forget all about it. He is the only free man.
[From Cakes and Ale]
I like the freedom quote. And i think it’s true.
It’s weird to get inspiration from the hardships that successful writers have gone through, but it does help…;)
It has been some time since I have made it over here, and I see your posts still bring a giant smile to my face.
You forgot to add ritalin as an option for us up and coming authors (notice I did not say struggling?)
Jennifer, I didn’t mention Ritalin because I’ve never heard of it. Does it help? I’m willing to give it a try but, after consulting my friend Google, I’ve noticed it comes with these warnings…
Stop taking Ritalin and call your doctor at once if you have any of these serious side effects:
- fast, pounding, or uneven heartbeats caused by an agent expressing interest in your work;
- feeling like you might pass out after writing the best paragraphs of your career ;
- fever, sore throat, and headache from all those stressful contract negotiations;
- aggression, restlessness, hallucinations, unusual behavior, or motor tics (muscle twitches), often associated with reading of another author’s success;
- purple spots on your skin after pummelling your forehead in a desperate quest for ideas;
- dangerously high blood pressure (severe headache, blurred vision, buzzing in your ears, anxiety, confusion, chest pain, shortness of breath, uneven heartbeats, seizure) caused by seeing your book in a real bookshop.
LOL, Joseph.
When I was doing my graduate studies in the medical building, a lot of medical students were using ritalin like candy!
Hello again, Dwanderingmind! Have you tried Ritalin? It’s supposed to help with ADD.
By the way, I have to confess that I’ve never suffered any hardships to speak of and certainly none associated with writing for a living. That’s partly why I admire people who stake everything on their writing talent. I’ve never been confident enough to do that and, in retrospect, I think I made the right decision.
Of course, I can still write things out of my system, and I do!
Yes, Jennifer, I’ve met a few medical students over the years, which is one reason why I never go to the doctor if I can help it. I have to drive to the clinic tonight, though. For my wife’s repeat presciption. Don’t ask me what it’s for. Whenever she needs to talk to a human being she goes to Munich. There is a little old man there she trusts. If he were English he’d be called a gentleman even though he pokes about in places most gentlemen don’t even mention. In fact we’re going there in December precisely for this reason. Lanying comes from a family of doctors and rather enjoys these visits. My grandfather was a herbalist and had a deep distrust of them, which has been passed down to me through my father.
Beautiful quote.
So come clean, Joseph: coffee or cocaine?
I’ve never tried cocaine actually. I’m too mean to spend money on idle pleasures. But for a more complete answer, please see my next post… er, unless I succumb completely to the lure of decadence.
Intriguing post, Joseph (as are all your posts; I’m having a great time reading back through them).
Wonderful quote, too. Thank you for sharing!
Although I’m not exactly sure that we can purge our demons entirely through writing. Certainly writing is a good way to try to cope with our problems, but I find myself revisiting the same ground a lot — I wish that I could just work my emotions and perplexing thoughts into a story and forget all about them!
I don’t dispute that writers have a measure of freedom, though; like readers, we can escape into other worlds and other lives, but unlike them, we have the luxury of being able to make those worlds whatever we want them to be.
Thank you for your flurry of kind comments, Erin. It’s very nice to be appreciated by a sensitive artist. I hope you found my post about The Big Sleep. Or was it about nymphomaniacs? It seems I’ve forgotten now. Anyway, one day I’ll write something about Raymond Chandler.