Last year, I took Margaret Atwood's Masterclass, and though it was marketed as a creative writing course, it turned out to be a lecture on how not to be a self-absorbed and pretentious little shit.
Here are 10 brutal lessons she didn't say, but 100% meant.
1. Your reader doesn't care about your feelings.
They care about their own. Most of us write diary entries and call it art, but creative work, although therapeutic, is not a therapy session — it's an exchange, a dialogue.
If you want to express yourself, just buy a journal. If you want to be read, appeal to your reader's curiosity, not your ego.
2. You're not blocked. You're afraid.
Afraid of the truth you need to tell, afraid of being vulnerable, afraid your work will suck. The fastest way out is through. Ask yourself what you're terrified to say. Then say it.
3. First drafts are supposed to be ugly.
Mess is the soul of the creative process. Your first draft is supposed to suck. That is its literal job. You're not building a cathedral — you're clearing your throat.
Get comfortable with messy, chaotic, shitty work. Perfection kills the creative process before it even starts. Give yourself permission to make a mess.
4. The classics aren't suggestions.
Most contemporary work will be forgotten by next Tuesday. The classics are tattooed on humanity's collective consciousness. Read them. Immerse yourself. They're classics because they survived the most ruthless critic of all: time.
5. Reading is non-negotiable.
Reading is to writers what exercise is to athletes. You wouldn't trust a personal trainer who never works out. How can you expect your readers to trust a writer who never reads?
6. The beginning doesn't arrive when you start.
The opening will evolve. The vision will crystallize later. Stop choking your work with impatience. Be impatient with action, but patient with results. Trust the process.
7. The muse ghosts spectators.
Picasso once said: "Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working."
The muse is attracted to those bleeding in the arena, not those theorizing and criticizing from the nosebleeds.
Nothing will improve your work faster than showing up and doing the damn thing.
8. Your life is your material.
Boring life, boring work. Diversify your experiences and obsessions to create diverse and exciting ideas. Your best stories often come from the world around you.
If you want your work to come alive, do things that make you feel alive. This is the easiest way to generate fresh ideas.
9. Three questions before you write anything:
Who am I writing for?
What do I have to tell them?
How do I want to make them feel?
These questions shift your work from self-serving to serving others. Skip them and you might as well just reach for your journal.
10. Discover your own set of rules
Discover your own rules by working on your material. Find what works. Ignore the rest.
Yes, including this list.
Love,
