Creative Election

Since I've started this attempt at novel writing, I've realized that I have some peculiar ideas about authorship. Over the years I've read a great many blog posts about the writing life, some of which, perhaps unhelpfully, detail the devotion, emotional involvement, and obsessive habits of true writers (in slightly-too-artistic-and-emotional prose, at that). I always find these posts off-putting, because the truth is, I am not like those writers. Maybe just because I haven't yet committed enough time to the craft. Maybe because those posts are overly dramatic and certainly generalized. But my authorial insecurities always whisper to me that the real explanation must simply be that I am not a true writer.


Behind these insecurities, I've discovered, lurks a strange concept of what it means to be a writer. It's a concept I've recently labelled "Authorial Calvinism"--although it might be called "Artistic Calvinism," because I find our assumptions about authors usually stretch to encompass the fine arts as well.

What do I mean by "Authorial Calvinism"? I mean that I usually think of truly great writers as somehow chosen, suited by talent and disposition for the writing life, while the rest of us, mere mortals, make ourselves look foolish in an attempt to mimic their inspiration. Writers are those who have an unnatural compulsion to record experience, who view the world around them in unique, penetrating, and unfathomable ways. All those who lack these traits need not apply to the Muse.

I'm certain that there's truth behind these perspectives. After all, it takes immense commitment and discipline to write anything good, and it certainly helps, in the process of being a writer, if one likes to write and, indeed, does so habitually. It would be foolish for someone to say, "I hate to write, but I've always wanted to see my name on the cover of a novel--so I'm going to be a writer!" (I often have to reassure myself that I do not fit into this category, that I do in fact like to write, because I certainly have always experienced the deep desire to see my name on the cover of a novel)

These qualifications are practical--to be a writer, one must be dedicated, and one probably should enjoy at least some part of the process. But in spite of these practicalities, I find myself inclined to believe in some mystical calling behind them, something other than love and perseverance shaping a human into an inspired vessel of sorts. I've never managed to finish a novel, although I like to write--I must not be one of the chosen. The anxiety reminds me a bit of the uncertainty which seems to me a part of Calvinism. The believer cannot know, ultimately, whether he or she is one of the elect.

My solution has been to suppress (repress?) all convictions of authorial election as quite silly, and to ignore the critical voice in my head in an attempt to move forward and actually say something. But even if one believed that true writers (or great writers) are somehow chosen, gifted, set apart, the logical response would be to continue, because no writer becomes great without hours and years of practice, failure, frustration, disappointment, and love. I doubt I'm cut out for all that, but I'm going to give it a try.

I don't, of course, mean this post as a comment on Calvinism, a theological perspective I have wrestled with but not tried on thoroughly. The category of thought simply struck me as suitable (and somewhat humorous). The predetermination of God, central to Calvinist belief, conveniently describes my fear of a hard-and-fast division between authors and non-authors. But, of course, when such a theology is applied to the human life, its concrete categories must become dynamic to suit the temporal trajectory of the individual. And the status of writer is dynamic as well, however it is elevated or misunderstood in our culture.

As a post-script, I recently watched an interesting TED talk by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love, about the pressure on artists and how to cope with it. Her solution looked something like a belief in inspiration of the Muses or the artist's genius, which perspective I actually find attractive, modified to fit Christian belief. We do our work faithfully--be that work art, teaching, engineering, anything--and trust to God to give it life if doing so serves His purpose. And then the next day, we wake up and continue to do our work. You can find her thoughts here.

These are peculiar ramblings of mine, but I wonder if any of you have thought the same from time to time? Does the analogy between this perspective of authorship and Calvinist belief make sense? And how does our culture as a whole view what it means to be an artist, do you think? I'm still puzzling over these questions in spare moments, but trying not to allow them to draw me away from doing this new work.