Blog Post

The Devaluation of Writing as an Art Form!

  • By Monica Corwin
  • 29 Jan, 2018

In which I spew out the craziness that is in my brain for a short time.

Fair warning: there will be cursing, missing commas, incorrect usage, and all manner of errors in this post because it will be more of a brain dump than anything else. It will also get some people's panties in a twist. I don't care...just warning you in case you want to share it with others. Not everyone will agree, but this is my opinion, and my blog so...doesn't matter here. 

EXCELSIOR!

Okay but really. My friend Todd visited my house recently and we had a conversation about the devaluation of writing as an art form. I've noticed it more the closer I claw my way to writing as a full time job. People don't consider writing an art anymore. I'm going to brain dump as to why I think that is.

Ease of Access...

Writing a book can take weeks, to months, to years, and in some cases longer. Publishing also runs at the pace of a snail in adderall withdrawal. Getting a book out to the world used to take longer, but the indie marketplace has grown and writers can basically pick and choose how they want to publish (the quality of said work is yours to judge). With this new indie boom it's taken the book from the bookshelves and placed it so much more firmly in front of the reader. Especially with apps, ereaders, serials, zines, the ease of access has grown. But the cost of that access has gone way down...with many authors offering free books and $0.99 titles all over the place. 

It's a little heart breaking to spend a year writing a solid book, spend all the money you're "supposed to"getting it edited, cover art, marketing, etc, then sell the thing to get .35 a book on the back end. Which is still, in many cases, more than traditional publishing. However, with traditional publishing there is the marketing reach from the publisher to help offset the take home money.

So people are getting books for pennies anywhere anytime...can that cause them to not see the art in the end product?

The End Product is Mediocre...

Because readers are wanting cheap books and authors are seeing that they lose reach when they slow down production they are turning over books at a fraction of the pace they used to. This is to meet demand, however, there are many an author out there sacrificing the end product for the expediency of keeping their readers happy. 

Reader demand undermining the writing "process"?

Suffer in Silence...

Writing is a solitary act. Some may see the 3 a.m. steam of tweets about the rousing midnight round of refrigerator scrubbing while up against a deadline, but in general, when a writer is at home we are just writing, or trying to write, or procrastinating on writing...no one sees that in paint smudges, and public alcohol consumption (most of the time). We suffer the same as any artist, but writing is a very solitary art and so the "pain" isn't as apparent.

Because people can't see us in the midst of it, does that mean it's not present in our work?

Anyone Can Write...

My friend Todd brought up an excellent point. Everyone knows how to sit down and write a word, a sentence, a paragraph, a few pages. Everyone learns how to write. The physical act of writing isn't something you have to pay thousands of dollars to attend a school to learn. Everyone is taught how to do it so some of the magic of the process is gone. Now anyone who has sat down and tried to write a novel knows that  just knowing about letters and words and parts of speech isn't enough to produce a book. Many people I've talked to sit down to write a book and finish at 5,000 words. It takes time, practice, dedication, and discipline to write a novel. And even then it might suck and need to be re-rewritten twenty times to be something worth reading. Not everyone learns how to mix paint colors, not everyone can stand in pointe shoes, not everyone can play an instrument...so adding writing into these other art forms seems silly to some.

How many times has someone interrupted you with a task and said...you can do X,Y, Z...you're just writing. Or commented on your full time writing gig as if you are unemployed and can play chauffeur, dog walker, or babysitter?

Because everyone is capable of writing...it doesn't have the magic.

Value in Genre...

I write romance novels. I love romance novels. I don't want to write much else...and yet I couldn't tell you how many times someone has asked me when I'm going to write a real book. Or told me, you're so talented you could write something better. *insert eye roll here* Literary fiction is very different than romance, or sci-fi, or anything that gets lumped into genre-fiction. This subset of the fiction world is sort of looked down upon by the upper echelons of literary fiction (not by everyone but by enough). Even though it takes just as much practice, dedication, and discipline. 

If you write in genre X your book isn't worth being called art.

I don't think I have heard a single author refer to themselves as an artist. Painters do it...graphic designers, potters, dreamcatcher weavers...writer is the more specific noun, but I like to think there is a lot of art in what we do. 

We scour our souls and publicly display our fears, rejections, trials, and triumphs. We mold the simplest expressions into sentences that can make someone cry, or gasp, or moan. We can instill nightmares and inspire dreams. 

So go forth artists...writers...fellow countrymen(er...wrong speech) and create art as only YOU CAN.

<3

P.S. This post is not meant to offend anyone. I am actually surprised there aren't many more f-bombs. I apologize for any errors. Commas and I don't understand each other very well.

Todd had a few things to say as well...

Publishing a “real” book

I see this one a lot in my own life as an artist…er…writer. I have 2 books published (a monumental feat in my humble opinion), but because they were published as part of a boxset, I was often asked when I was going to publish a real book.

Instead of trying to understand why new and independent authors would choose to publish as part of a collection, it is somehow seen as less than if I were to publish on my own.

Nobody asks the drummer of a famous rock band when they are going to put out a real album, instead of the album that their band released.


Skewed Tangible Marks of Achievement

The other thing we talked a bit about was the milestones. Unlike the painter or artist or sculpture with their crumpled sketches of designs, people don’t see that with writers. That part of the ‘design’ process is largely internalized. And along with the milestones, there is devaluation of the actual output, that even we-as writers-are guilty of. For so long I didn’t consider myself a real writer because up the point I release my first finished book, I saw myself as “just a blogger.” Part of that is internal devaluation of my art, but the other part comes from conversations like this:

World: What do you do?

Me: I’m a writer.

World: Oh really? What have you written? (or my favorite—“Have you written anything I might have read?”)

Me: Not yet, I’ve been mainly writing on my blog until I get my book finished.

World: (condescendingly): Ah. That’s nice. Good luck with that.

And you’re right. Many writers have been conditioned to not see their work as an art form because it so closely resembles that which we see every day. We all write, every day. Emails, Facebook posts, texts. So, when someone says they write and want acceptance of that writing as an artist, it’s immediately met with a skeptical eye.


Writing is easier to criticize than other “art”

A missed brush stroke, a knotted thread in a Persian rug, a misplaced strike of the chisel. None of these causes the beholder to dismiss a work of art. There is a forbearance given to the artist because of the time, the blood, the sweat, and the tears they put in to their work. We, as writers, can spend months, even years, working on a novel and if there is so much as a misplaced comma or typo, it’s instantly a piece of shit. Regardless of how much you enjoyed the story up to that point. The great masters copied each other’s painting styles-it’s how they learned. When a writer (usually a new author) gets their feet wet, their influences are usually easy to spot. And therefore, their skill as a story teller is dismissed summarily because “it’s just a rip-off of (enter more established author’s name here)”



And there you go...two authors' brain dump on why writing is quickly devaluing as an art form. :) 

Comment if you have a say/opinion. If you are an asshole I will delete it. If we differ in opinion, but you're not an asshole, I'll leave it.

By Monica Corwin 27 Jun, 2023
God. It's like admitting this out loud, letting it be real, out in the real world makes it real. Which is utterly ridiculous, really.

I've spent my entire writing career advocating for mental health and championing transparency so the world can stop seeing the mental needs of others as flaws.

And yet, when I hit my lowest point. Complete depression and burn out rolled into one I hid away. I pushed harder. I forced myself to do more, be more, work more. 

Some of you probably know what happened next...I made things WAY worse.

Why did I push knowing it was doing more damage, causing more harm?

Because I'm a writer. That's what I do. I couldn't admit to myself that even staring at my office door made me feel like a balloon was precariously inflating in my chest. That the thought of letting one more single person down was another invitation for one more rejection. One more author friend deciding I'm not worth the effort, or the patience.

I get it. I dropped so many balls over the past year. Don't get me wrong, life hasn't been bad. I married a man who understands me on a level I don't even understand myself on. He's incredible. A tiny part of my brain tells me I don't deserve him every single day.

At the same time, I yearn to write. I've been reading, jotting down ideas, playing with little tidbits here and there but I haven't been able to write anything. It makes me feel like I've got phantom limb syndrome. I'm missing a part of my soul right now. How can I give all of myself to my loved ones, to my life, when something so vital to who I am is missing.

I've been trying to work on seeing who I am without writing. That didn't work. I dream in plots and characters. I hear lines of dialogue in my head when I'm washing the dishes, mowing the lawn, organizing my budget. I can't write at the moment but maybe I feel a little comforted that it's there waiting for me. That one day, when the right words whisper through my mind I'll jot them down. And eventually they, and I, will add up to a whole.

For now, I keep tinkering, fight back the imposter syndrome, and maybe write some blog posts about burnout and how devastating it can be when you don't listen to your body.
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