That’s the question that has been plaguing me for some time now. "Why bother? Why would anyone care what I have to say? Why would anyone want to read what I write?"
I'm not talking about this blog specifically but from the lack of posts in the last couple of years you can assume that it too has been affected. I am referring to my work as a writer and an artist. In the past I have used lack of time and energy as an excuse for why I wasn't writing or rewriting or even attempting to come up with ideas but I think that I may have been using those inconvenient factors to avoid a bigger problem. In the world as it exists today why would one more middle aged suburban white hetero male and his 'voice' matter?
Years ago I lived in the big city; living the artist's life. Struggling to make ends meet, working multiple jobs, and working on my craft - as pretentious as that sounds - gave me an identity on which to cling. My writing was original, humorous and insightful... or so I thought.
Nowadays, I live in a house that I purchased in a suburb of a Midwestern city. I have a job that pays rather well for the tasks that I perform, and a family of four that has commitments such as dance class, soccer camp and school plays. I have not been writing all that much. I don't feel original, humorous or insightful.
I have a level of comfort and security that I have not had before. I am privileged. I am static. That does not mean that I am not enraged by the current political atmosphere or uninterested in others and their struggles. I am admittedly more politically-minded these days then I was in the past and am constantly frustrated and discouraged by the actions, policies and tweets of our 'leaders'. I do not understand how those who have always had power and influence suddenly paint themselves as the victim because others such as minorities, foreigners, and 'outsiders' are demanding equality and compassion. I cringe at the fearmongering, hate speech, and xenophobia that has become acceptable again. However, my life is pretty good these days.
So why would a blog post, a short story, or a One Act Play written by myself resonate with anyone other than myself. I don't write about politics, usually, and my scripts aren't attempting to change social norms or make bold statements. I think inserting an agenda into my work would feel forced and not necessarily improve their reception. I'm not saying my works aren't about anything or don't have themes or points but they're much more specific and on a more intimate scale. I like to think I write about the human condition; whatever that means. My characters are often struggling against their own flaws and demons but not social injustice. My protagonists fear personal failure or the loss of love not being separated from their families or forced to live under oppressive regimes. I often don't assign racial identities to characters in my plays leaving the casting choice up to those in charge of production. I write what I believe to be strong, and realistically portrayed female characters although sometimes I must admit to including clichés and or tropes about gender roles. My sense of humor can be inappropriate and chauvinistic at times. All of these factor are present in my writing.
Is that okay? Can I still write a script about an wounded cowboy who seeks revenge on the whore who sold him out? Is my play about a woman who feels empty and lost in her skin and so fakes a disability in order to give herself an identity relevance. What about my screenplay, now over 15 years old, about two childhood friends and their misguided attempts to get their lives back on track? There's unrequited love, exotic dancers, kidnapping, fist fights, guns, and car chases, would that be interesting? (There's also the fact that the proliferation of cell phones has rendered much of the movie improbable. I would have to set in the late 1990s or so when it was first conceived.)
When people find out that I used to live in the city and audition constantly for plays and film work but now I live in Minnesota and work in a grocery store they sometimes say things like 'What happened?' or 'Why did you stop?'. My response is always about how I was one of thousands or more mediocre looking, and mediocre gifted white guys all doing the same thing and I guess I just didn't really stand out. I worked by butt off to get roles and try and perform and most times the productions were mediocre at best. Later when I moved back east and casually auditioned for local theatres for projects I was expressly interested in then I was much more happy and ended up being part of some really memorable shows.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I have been overpowered lately by doubts about my writing. I, as a white hetero male, do not feel threatened by the stories and voices of artists who are different, due to their culture, gender, sexual orientation, or ethnicity. I am inspired by their courage and the depth of their work. I enjoy reading their books, seeing their movies or plays and hearing of their struggles. I am just unsure as to whether or not my work carries the same weight and realness in this day and age.
Maybe that's okay. Maybe I should be more focused on rediscovering my voice and not dwell on whether or not I'm writing something meaningful before I even start writing. I don't need anymore excuses to not write. I've heard it said that there is no such thing as an original idea anymore. Everything has been done before. I don't think that means that I shouldn't try to do it. Maybe I won't write anything politically relevant or profound or even interesting to anyone other than myself but I have to try. I have to get back on the horse and see where it takes me.
