I’ve always thought it unfortunate that a writer is so often portrayed as a reclusive, uninvolved, uncaring idealist who spends more time with his head in the clouds than with his feet in the real world instead of an engaged, outgoing, tenacious truth-seeker who is up to his elbows in the stuff of life and passionately and creatively uses his words to relay his experiences to us all.
Unfortunately, it’s all too true that many writers spend more time with their PCs than with people, are found more often in cozy dens than in corner cafes, and seem to be more concerned with character arcs and plot points than in pursing stories and causes that could change the world.
What readers really want – and need – are literary trailblazers to escape their ivory towers and jump into the fire of life into those intimidating and soul-stimulating places that the average person can’t or won’t go. And then tell us what they've discovered.
Rough riding former President Teddy Roosevelt gave great advice for life and screenwriting when he wrote, “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.”
We’re all surrounded by critics, whether personal or professional.
“The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again;… who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause…”
Are you convicted, motivated, and stirred yet? Keep reading.
“…who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”
I don’t know about you but I’d rather read a story from a dusty, sweaty, bloody, battle-worn, daring gladiator than a safe, satisfied, presumptuous, timid critic any time.
I admit there’s a time for the comfort, security, and solitude of an ivory tower because living life with your feet to the fire can get you burned and burnt out if you spend too much time there. But I think writers - and their audiences - would be better served if they spent far more time in the intensity, thrill, and vivacity of life's turbulent fires than in their pretty, predictable, and presumptuous ivory towers, which should really only be temporary housing.
