Rima Abunasser blogs at Jeff Vandermeer’s Ecstatic Days about how one can love literature but not feel compelled to be a writer of fiction. If you are like me and love literature but don’t feel compelled to write it, then this post is for you.
Several years ago, right after I earned my Ph.D., a friend rather bluntly told me that the only reason people became literature professors was because they had failed at being creative writers. I remember shooting back with something along the lines of, “Not all academics want to be creative writers.” Of course, my friend summarily discounted that statement with, “Yes, they do. If they haven’t tried writing, it’s because they know they’ll probably fail, and they’re cowards.”
I’ve had this exchange, or versions of it, often enough to merit giving it serious thought. Since graduate school, I have surrounded myself with writers, many of whom are now my dearest friends (and one of whom is my husband), and they are a boisterous, savvy, messed up, cuh-razy, brilliant, ignorant, frustrating, stupid, arrogant, elitist, humble, generous, kind, and downright weird group. I can’t imagine feeling closer to or happier with any other type of people. But you know what else I can’t imagine? Being a creative writer. Never. Nuh-uh. No frakkin’ way. Going for a swim in an active volcano? Maybe. Writing a novel? Thank you, but . . . no.
Related posts:
- A professor from my tiny alma mater writes a dystopic SF novel
- My life according to the books I’ve read this year meme
- Part 3: A Manifesto of Imaginative Literature by Justin Allen
- This Writing Life: Why I Read (and Write) Urban Fantasy by Justin Gustainis
- This Writing Life: David J. Williams on The Mirrored Heavens
