Lately, I’ve been thinking about what it means to be a writer. What does it mean to be a good writer?
Can anyone do it, or is it something that should only be attempted by trained professionals?
I’ve been thinking about this after hearing a new term: outsider artist. An outsider artist is someone who did not get any formal academic training about being an artist. They’re totally self-taught, they picked things up by trial and error, or by asking other artists, but they didn’t pursue a four year art degree to learn all of the different schools and styles, techniques and tricks.
In some circles, outsider art — Art Brut, French for “raw art” — is a label given with some disdain. It’s said with a slight sneer, like the person who said it just got a whiff of something you stepped in. The outsider artist is not in that special circle. They’re excluded from polite society, and are looked down on, or talked about behind their backs. They are outside the circles of culture, acceptability, and the success that a $10,000+ a year tuition brings.
In other circles, being an outsider artist is a badge of honor. They’re the rebels, the artists from the wrong sides of the tracks. Many outsider artists are not discovered until after their death, if they’re ever discovered at all.
I’m an outsider writer. (A term I’m not fond of, mostly because the rhyming makes it sound silly.)
I was not formally trained as a writer, at least not four years’ worth. I took the required English comp class, a couple journalism classes, and wrote for my college newspaper. My writing skills are completely self-taught, sharpened over the last 23 years.
Does this make me less of a writer? Am I somehow outside the mainstream because I didn’t get the creative writing degree, or the Master of Fine Arts (MFA)?
I’ve met some of these MFAs and creative writers. Most of them are fine people who have skills I’m envious of. Some of these insider writers are not as good as they believe. Some of them just plain suck. And some of them are snobbish, arrogant, and. . .well, let’s just say I came up with a different meaning for “MFA.”
I’m often torn in my views on writing: on one hand, it’s an art form that should only be practiced professionally by people who have a mastery of the language, and can create compelling sentences and stories. Their work shouldn’t be clumsily manhandled by non-writers who claim to be “editing” it.
On the other hand, writing is egalitarian: anyone can be a writer. It’s something we were all taught to do throughout school and college. It’s something that even a person with a high school education can excel at.
Most days, I fall into the egalitarian camp. Anyone can be a writer. You just need the desire, determination, some basic skills, and a pen. From there, you can be any kind of writer you want. Who am I to say whether you’re “good enough,” or shouldn’t enjoy every apple of success you can grab? I’m the outsider, remember?
I’m an outsider writer, but I’ve claimed the awards and accolades the properly-trained writers should have gotten. You have to wonder just how good all their training is when a stone-cold noobie can make a bigger impact with one piece than the people who spent several years of their life preparing for.
I’m an outsider writer, and I wear that badge, that literary leather jacket, with pride. I’ve scratched and struggled for every success I’ve gotten, and I earned every one of my scars. I’ve spent the last 20+ years, studying, reading, practicing, and honing. I’ve been rejected by some of the best and the worst in the business. I like my outsider writer status. It suits me, and I wear it better than a lot of the insiders wear theirs.
Please note: I am not saying I can outwrite any MFA or creative writer. I’m not some Wyatt Earp wordsmith. Far from it. I have several friends who are trained writers, and frankly, they can kick my ass, and I gape open-mouthed at their ability to string words together. But I offer this idea of the successful Outsider Writer to anyone who has an urge to write, but thought that a lack of training or education should hold them back.
Are you an outsider or trained writer? Did you get an education in creative writing, or did you just figure it out as you went along? Are you better off or worse off for your choice? And do you wish you could do it any differently, if you had the chance?
My husband is a digital artist, trained in commercial art. He has use his artistic talents to provide a living for our family. According to MFA types who create art for art’s sake, he would be an “outsider” artist.
Erik, I wonder if the outsider writer is an unwriter. As a commercial writer, you write and earn a living. That is something many writers struggle a lifetime to do.
My opinion as a writer is biased; I was trained in literature, philosophy, and life, with minimal creative writing training.
Decades ago, I met Wayne Booth, writer of The Rhetoric of Fiction. He argued that all writing is analyzed both by text and author. So my response to you is –
If text is analyzed by both text and author, I would prefer an author with a full range of education and experience – more than just formal training in the crafting of words
Cathy,
That’s a good point about writers feeling like outsiders (but then again, don’t we all)? I think what I was wondering more was are the non-MFA writers (or the non-B.A. writers) a classification called Outsider Writers, even as an unofficial term. I understand being an outsider because of topic, genre, or even publication, but is there a big divide between the academic and non-academic writers?
I had someone tell me once that they were afraid to send me work material, because I was a “real” writer, and he didn’t like writing. I was actually a little sad, because I never wanted to be that guy, and someone thought I would automatically look down on them because I was a writer. Who knows, maybe I just did the same thing to a whole group of academically trained writers. To whom I now have to apologize (except to the snotty ones. They’re just too snotty. Besides, it ruins my MFA joke if I completely backtrack.)
Outside of what, exactly? I think all writers feel like outsiders. Except for Jonathan Franzen. I sometimes feel like an outsider because I’m a woman who writes about being a woman, and because I grew up in and write about the Midwest instead of the East Coast. I have a BA and an MFA in creative writing, which to you, makes me an “insider,” but those degrees aren’t from Ivy League schools, which makes me an outsider to some people. Some writers feel like outsiders because they write something other than literary realism, or because they write stories instead of novels, or because they write inspirational essays instead of fiction, or because they publish with independent presses instead of a NY trade publisher, or whatever makes someone feel snubbed because they weren’t invited to sit with the cool kids at lunch. I disagree that lack of formal training makes one an “outsider,” although it’s true that many people who emerge from academic writing programs can be terribly snotty about what “counts” as publication or a literary life. We forget that creative writing instruction in higher education has only existed for about 50-60 years. Before that, if you wanted to be a writer, you taught yourself to write by voluminous reading, or you moved to city with an active literary community and got yourself invited to someone’s salon. You worked a day job, and this didn’t make you any less a writer than another person. These days, creative writing programs are conceived of as laboratories in which new writers are cultivated. “Success” is defined as becoming a writer, someone who publishes printed books, but I think the time has come to broaden that definition of what constitutes “accomplishment,” if for no other reason than to prevent people like you from feeling like the life you are living isn’t a writer’s life, because it is.