11 november

In teaching writing and in writing in general, it’s sometimes a challenge to imagine that great works were ever rough drafts. Of course they were, though, right? It’s not like Dickens sat down and wrote directly into a bound book: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”

Although – now that I look at it fully – it does seem possible that this paragraph was a rather rough draft that was never revisited prior to publication. Rude! Okay, just kidding. But really – would you have let that go through a writing workshop unscathed?

Anyway.

All I’m saying is that it’s hard to imagine authors struggling to come up with any element of works that we now accept as classics, yet so many pieces could have been woven together differently. What if the little girl who lived in the big old house all covered with vines with twelve little girls in two straight lines was named Georgina instead of Madeline? What if George had never shot Lennie? What if Scout Finch called her father Daddy instead of Atticus? So many things could be different.

Of course the same is true for all kinds of categories – films (What if The Godfather featured a phrase other than the warning to “never go against the Family”?), music (What if Lennon had written “Envision” instead of “Imagine”?), and art (Imagine The Girl With the Pearl Earring winking!). Writing, though, is closest to my heart, and it’s in that direction that I’ve always told other writers – students and colleagues and friends – that you have to start somewhere, that you can have as many drafts as you need, and that nobody starts at the end.

Still, businesses somehow seem different to me – as if the same logic doesn’t apply.

I’ve had this problem before – with running. I can explain all day long that writing makes you a writer. Somehow, though, even when I run, this does not make me a runner. I have no issue supporting others by identifying those who run as runners and encouraging their success as such. In the mirror, though, I do not see a runner. I see someone who sometimes runs. No matter the distance – 5k, 10k, 10-miler, half-marathon – I am still a person who sometimes runs. A pretender out in the field.

What’s the issue? Someone who writes is a writer. I write, so I am a writer. I run, but I’m not a runner. Possibly this has something to do with my skill level in the area in question. Am I an amazing writer? Not necessarily, but I have some skills. Years of practice. Relevant degrees, both undergraduate and graduate. Positive feedback. Etc. Conclusion: a writer. Am I an amazing runner? Nope. Not at all. I’ve had some practice and run in some races, sure, but I’m slow and awkward and red-faced. Conclusion: not a runner.

So, business. I’m not a businessman or a business, man! (thanks anyway, Jay-Z). I mean, I’m not a man, either, so there’s that. But yeah, I’ve never been in business, and certainly not for myself. What will it take to see myself as a business owner? Will it be owning my own business? Or will there never be a point where I really see myself that way, no matter what? Does it have to do with how successful I become?

Anything is possible. The only thing clear is that I won’t know how I can do in business until I’m in business.

So! Let’s get down to business (I don’t got no time to play around, what is this?)(Thanks anyway, Eminem.) (Tough crowd).