The Immaculate Conception
For those of you who clicked on this with understanding this
related to religion, I am sorry for disappointing you. Or relieving you. But
this is a writing blog, and thus when I say “Immaculate Conception,” I am
talking cheekily about artist conception.
I
do not believe that people should try to change or ignore their motivations in
doing something. If a writer prioritizes being finically successful more than
critically (of course he probably wants both), then it helps him make decisions
that will lead to his goals. Trying to lie to himself and say, “I am a true
artiste, therefore I shouldn’t want money!” will only lead down a path of not
getting any, and then he will either be a starving artist for life or a
contradictory hypocrite or both.
The Immaculate Conception is a term I use for those people
who believe that writing needs to come from a pure place, that true art is
conceived without worldly sin. What that pure place is varies from person to
person, but it can be anywhere from expression of self, catharsis, or even “a
love of fiction” (whatever that means.)
But, like a real immaculate conception, that shit doesn’t
happen nowadays. Unlike the real immaculate conception, I know for a fact it
never has.
For starters, even if a book were to be born free from sin, no
one would ever see it. The reason why we write and the reason why we get
published are two very separate things. If an author is not trying to get some
sort of recognition, whether it be money, love, or respect, there’s no reason
to get published. Sure, we might say a writer wants to expose a problem to the
world, but that just makes his goal even more about getting readers to like and
love his work. He might be doing it for the “right reasons,” but it does not
change that a person must have some form of narcissism to believe that he’s the
one who should make the change. Though I personally applaud that, if it’s a question
of being born without sin, then ego is a big one.
Furthermore, it’s important to recognize why people want to
believe in the Immaculate Conception. There we’ll find another reason why it is
impossible for a book to be born without sin; the definition of sin keeps
changing. One of the reasons why this idea is so frustrating is that it is
about snobbery, not quality. People enjoy believing in the elitist world of the
artist, thinking of them like kings of yore. The true author has a God-given
right to rule. They are meant to be great, and those peasants who were not born
into it (e.g. with innate talent) should not try.
Of course, that is an exaggeration of magnitude, people’s belief
being less exaggerated than my dramatization, but the sentiment’s still there.
We like to utilize motivation as a reason why a person shouldn’t be trying: “You’re
doing it for the wrong reasons and so you’re doomed to failure.”
But what that means is that “the wrong reasons,” are centered
around a post-excuse, not a preexisting truth. Like someone trying to
legitimize why they don’t want to wear their seat belt, the feeling of “wrong”
is there first and then they try to
explain why. Thus it is impossible to prevent judgment because the judgment is already
there and the excuses arise to fit the circumstance. If the author says he is
writing as a catharsis, the reader says that it should be for a love of
fiction. If the author says he is writing for the love of fiction, the reader
says that it should be to expose a problem in the world. There is no right
answer, which is why that same person who says a book needs to only be made for
the right reasons will also be the person who denounces self-publishing. The contradiction,
from my eyes, being that if the author does not have any foul intention of
making money and receiving respect, then self-publishing might be the way to
go.
Now, I actually do believe that when a person feels
something first and then tries to
gather evidence proving their point, it’s a viable way to go. In an argument,
the problem isn’t that they are trying to prove what they already thought, but
that they are leaving out their real reasons in the argument because they know
it isn’t convincing: “I don’t want to wear my seatbelt because it is
uncomfortable, a nuisance, and I don’t think anything is actually going to
happen.” Instead they say something that is, if not more irrational, less arguable:
“What if I am in a lake and I can’t get my seatbelt off?”
But the issue here is that, though an author’s motivation
can affect the story, it is rarely noticeable enough to be criticized before the author admits to the why. And
it’s not the big picture motivation that affects it the most. A story with forced
dialogue isn’t bad because the author wanted to make money; the dialogue is
forced because the author’s only trying to deliver information.
Lastly the assumption behind the Immaculate Conception is
that people only have one reason for writing. A person who finishes a book has
thousands. People who only want to make money won’t. A person who only loves
fiction won’t. A person who only wants to get it off his bucket list won’t. In
order to write a full book the author has to enjoy writing just a little. He
has to feel proud and anticipate feeling pride. He has to foresee wondrous
rewards forthcoming. He has to have something he wants to say that he can’t
anywhere else, and he has to believe that no matter how crappy it’s coming out,
he can and will make it better. Making money may not be a priority, getting
fans may not even be in the top ten, but the desire, no matter who you are or
how much you write, is still there.
But this article is not for those people who have faith in
elitism. It is a form of comfort that we utilize to say, “I am different.” Many
do it. Most of us don’t even realize when we’re doing it. And, quite frankly,
someone’s belief in the Immaculate Conception does not affect why I write. The
point to this article, and what I hope to achieve, is to reveal to ever author
and aspiring author, that people think this way, and we have to take that into
consideration while writing.
Now what you do with this knowledge is up to you. You may
even believe that there is good that comes from this exclusiveness; that better
books will come from it. My opinion is, however, that we should do unto others
as they would onto us, but that we should not expect the same in return. Which
is to say, if an author writes a book without the purest of intentions, he
should forgive others for doing the same, but he should also remember that
there are those who will judge him when he announces, “I want to write a good
book.” Sometimes he should just keep his mouth shut.