Tag Archives: writing

As a writer, I think I’ve discovered my metier, the genre in which I excel above all others: letters. Unfortunately, that’s kind of like taking a career aptitude test and finding that you are best suited to be a cooper. It’s not an entirely obsolete field, but there’s not much call for it these days and the job opportunities are pretty limited.

How do I know this? I’ve tried my hand at an awful lot of writing over the years; I even got paid for some of it, though never all that well. In recent years I’ve worked at it more deliberately and diligently, determined to find a way to make some kind of living at it. I’ve had no success as yet, but I’m not giving up. Heck, I’m just getting started!

I’ve learned that I don’t have a novel in me right now, at least not one anywhere near enough to the boat that I can land it. I seem to be able to write very, very short pieces — poetry, flash fiction, anecdotes — which is quite encouraging. I haven’t found a market for the stuff yet, but at least I enjoy it and feel reasonably competent about doing it. That’s more than half the battle.

Today, however, I realized in the shower (which is where all truly useful and brilliant thoughts occur to me) that the writing I love most and do the best is letter writing. I even spent my drying time analyzing why.

1. A letter has no plot. It has purpose, which may be singular or plural, but it doesn’t have to conform to content expectations the way a story or essay does. A letter can develop in a linear fashion, but it can just as easily meander or jump around.

2. A letter’s structure is chiefly physical in nature. It has certain functional parts (salutation, body, closing, signature) that take specific forms defined by cultural convention and dictated by purpose.

3. A letter has no specified length. I have written letters that were ten pages long, double-sided, and letters that were two paragraphs of two or three sentences each.

4. A letter is personal. It may be formal or intimate, but it is always a direct and personal communication. That’s why form letters bother us so much: they intentionally violate the essential nature of the letter as a form of communication.

Alas, even were letter writing not so unfashionable as it is these days, it would hardly offer much opportunity for income or gainful employment. I clearly haven’t yet found an answer in my pursuit of a successful writing career, but I do feel as though I’ve uncovered an important clue. I don’t quite know what to make of it; I guess I’ll just keep working at it until something falls into place or the next clue appears. I do hope, however, that happens sooner rather than later.

I’ve been working on my fiction writing lately and talking quite a bit with other writers about their work. Last week I finished listening to an unabridged audio version of a bestselling novel and realized that I’ve been working way too hard at this. I enjoyed the novel; the plot was interesting, the characters were quirky, the dialogue was hysterically funny, and the situations were wacky and amusing. It was a very entertaining read, but not even the author would call it great literature. She has published dozens of novels in various genres, all best-sellers, and makes a good living at it. She writes to formula, but her work isn’t hackneyed because she brings her imagination and sense of humor to bear on the aspects of each novel that aren’t governed by the formula: character, dialogue, setting, and plot details.

I don’t have to write great literature to be a successful writer. In fact, I’m far more likely to be successful if I don’t write great literature. That may seem surprisingly obvious, but it’s a blazing revelation that takes all kinds of pressure off my writing.

Now I just have to get myself to believe it.