10,000 writing hours

It’s always a problem to start writing. I don’t know why. Supposedly, I’ve always thought of myself as a writer, but I do precious little writing compared to my other activities. I spend more time cleaning my house and doing chores than writing. You would think—if I truly think of myself as a writer—that I would write more. You don’t see professional swimmers saying they are swimmers without actually swimming.

It’s like I have a version of what people tell me when I say I write books: They say, “Oh, I’m going to write a book when I have time.” The implication being that anyone can write a book if they only make the time to do so. And I know that’s not true.

Despite a lot of the trash published—both traditional and independent—the majority of writers are working at their craft. They’re learning about grammar and structure, plot and scenes, dialogue and action. They’re writing their hearts out, and if we lived in a more just world, they would receive the success that their effort truly deserves. It’s said that to master anything, you have to put in 10,000 hours; they’re putting in their time.

Am I putting in my time? Have I served my sentence? I would think—after all the writing I’ve done over the years working for various newspapers, magazines, newsletters, and blogs—I have passed 10,000 hours a long time ago. Of course, that time wasn’t spent in fiction. I have spent most of my life making money off service articles and humor; I don’t know how many hours have been spent on fiction.

A writing friend of mine with a more structured approach to life said that she is dividing up her 10,000 hours, spending so many hours on plot, dialogue, voice, characters, etc. I think she has worked out that she needs to spend 1,000 hours on each of what she considers to be the most important components of fiction. To keep herself from getting bored, she does one hour a week on each. She says that, while the first 200 or so hours were rough, she is now producing short stories and book chapters that feel professional. I admire her tenacity. I’ve known her since she started her apprenticeship, and her skill is growing. I’m not sure if she needs the whole 10,000 hours before her work is published. She could publish right now as an independent and be better than the majority of material out there.

But she wants more. She wants to master her craft. She pointed out, however, that the more she learns about writing, the more there is to learn. That’s a wise statement. The truly great are always learning, always experimenting, always aware of how much more there is to learn in any craft. It’s the pursuit of perfection, a perfection that no one can reach, but the tension between that lofty goal and the reality of the struggle informs and elevates great art.

 To close, I will say this: She has inspired me to be more systematic in my approach to my craft. More books, more writing courses, more writing itself. I hope to share my journey with you as I explore the many facets of our craft. And I hope you, too, keep progressing in your creative apprenticeship.