It's a strange thing, having an acute awareness that one's skills are atrophying -- particularly a skill like writing, which has the tendency to be romanticized. I find that people who are good at writing (or, more often, believe themselves to be good at writing) often wrap the entirety of their being into their skill with the written word.
I am not innocent of this, of course. In any given class, I operate under the assumption that I am the best writer in the room, because I am "the writer."
I have always been "the writer."
Even amongst a group of equally skilled and talented folks, I am "the writer."
I once articulated this sentiment (in a somewhat more roundabout way) to a college minister here at UT.
I spoke about how much I loved writing, and how my strongest ambition was to be known as a great writer.
When I had finished pontificating, he responded by saying, "So do you think God has brought you out of that?"
I was taken aback. I'd never considered my authorial ambitions to be prideful. I didn't want to be well-known for the sake of being well-known. I wanted to be well-known because it would validate who I was as a person.
This kicked off a rather strange period in my life, where my attempts at sanctifying myself led to a lot of negativity. I pursued a brand of holiness that I now recognize as somewhat misguided. It was also a time of great spiritual turmoil.
The odd thing about all this, was that I had stopped writing because I had been made to feel that Kyle's Magic Blog was hubris. I was in an unusual state, having just moved to Austin, and instead of doing what felt natural (and is easily the most cathartic thing I know), I took some bad advice and stopped writing.
As time passed, I stopped thinking about writing. The thing is, when you write almost every day, like I did with my first blog, you look at everything that happens to you as material for exposition.
I stopped doing that, and in the meantime, I've become very proficient at journalistic writing.
Lots of white space.
Short paragraphs.
Third grade reading level.
It's pretty easy, and once you master it, you can throw in just a little bit of flair -- professors love judicious flair.
Anyway. Over Christmas break, Jordan started writing his novel, and it's very good.
It's funny, it's touching, it explores big ideas -- it's everything that I wish my writing could be.
As such, I've started writing again out of spite. I will be better than Jordan. I will reclaim my rightful title as "the writer," and never accede it again.
