Do writers think they’re as great as their readers do?
In my last post, I talked about how a bit of mindless housework helped me to overcome writer’s block. Later that day, my husband and I went out for lunch and I asked him a question I had been thinking of during the said mindless housework:
Do writers think they’re as great as their readers do?
I had wondered about it because, as I uncrumpled and smoothed out sheet after sheet of newsprint, I noticed that I don’t really feel very connected with any of my stories. I mean, I do feel connected, but not nearly as much as I feel about some of my favourite short stories others have written. I can easily read Lorrie Moore’s Dance in America every month and still love it as much as I did the first time I read it – and that’s just one example. So it made me think – does Lorrie Moore hate Dance in America? Does she lose herself in it the same way I do, reading it? Or does she think, “Now why did I make him say that?” like I think about my own stories? I mean, I’ve never finished a story, sat back and thought, “This is among the greatest things ever written.” I’ve only ever thought, “This is finished now.”
I’m not saying I don’t like my work. I do. I just never like it as much as I like Lorrie Moore’s, or Alice Munro’s, or AS Byatt’s.
My husband’s opinion was that writers probably can’t disconnect themselves from their own work enough to adore what they write the same way their readers do. And, basically, I’m not a freak who writes consistently boring stories. Which, I suppose, was the secondary, underlying question to that.
So, what do you think? Can writers hold their work in the same high regard as their readers? Or, because they created it, are they always examining their work with a critical eye?



