Too /insert/ To Write

Well, here it is…my very first blog post. We’ll jump right into the deep end.

Am I too young to be a really good writer?

Really good. Adj. Technical term. Of a story that leaves you so dang moved that you feel your life might darn well never be the same.

There’s an alternate definition of really good that means “has a dang awesome plot and is as exciting as spelunking in a volcano.” If that’s your definition, then no, I don’t think you can be too anything to write really good stories. You need skill and practice, yes, but anyone can master that.

But if we’re going with my definition…can you be too young? Or too old? Or too biased? Or — ooh, here’s a good one — too privileged?

The answer is…I’m not sure. To write a really good story, you have to know something about the world. Truth moves us, and the more raw truth a novel has, the more really good it is. (Really gooder? Realier good?) The problem is, that truth is hard to come by. Especially if you’re young or lead a fairly sheltered life. (Spoiler: I am both.) Logically, then, the best authors should have lived a rough life and have a considerable amount of years to their name, right?

However, there’s a second component to writing those really good-un’s, and that’s connection. You can have all the truth nuggets in the world, but if you aren’t connected with real people, you’re not going to move anyone. This is where being too old could be an issue. There are a million articles out there to help adults write teenage characters, because apparently once you grow up, you forget what that’s like. (I don’t blame them. I can hardly remember what being seventeen was like and that was just last year.) Then again, if you’re too young, you haven’t had time to make those connections. So where does the balance lie?

When it comes down to it, I think the only solution is to write as honestly as we know how. Don’t be afraid to ask the hard questions. And don’t be afraid to talk to people. (Cue introvert screaming.) Really, don’t. I always assume people will be offended if I ask them about their lives — particularly if theirs are very different from mine — but then again, when someone asks about my life, I can’t shut up.

There’s my first blog post! From the very depths of my soul. (Alright, fine…we’re sort of in the shallow end. I have to get to know y’all first.) Write what you know. Write what you don’t. Write the questions that tear you to pieces at night.

Write your heart out, my friends. I’ll see you on Monday.

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This is not my post, but it inspired me. Go, and be inspired.