Everything I write is terrible

I had a mentor early on who went by the mantra that everything he did was shit. Only it wasn't. It was great most of the time, but he didn't want to hear it. It was his way of motivating himself for the next project, trying always to be better.

I've got the same mindset, for the most part, but I think it's OK to sit back occassionally and honestly evaluate what you've done. If you believe everything you do is shit that tends to grind on your self esteem and job satisfaction.

 

Doubtful. That's pigeonholing the "people at the better papers" into a path that many people don't take.

Writing is a learned craft, although there is a certain amount of talent needed to be "the best." Of course, some writers start at a higher level than others. And very good writers/reporters have a je ne sais quoi that can't be taught.

But high school and college papers suck. All of them. (And MizzouSportsJournalists.com, don't delude yourself into thinking otherwise. ) They can be great learning experiences and great for connections, but if you think that the best writers at those places make the best writers, period, you're mistaken.

And the reason is: There are so many avenues into writing that great writers can take -- not everyone follows the "professional sports" path of high school-college-minor leagues-The Show, starring at every level until they reach the top. Great writing is too diverse for that. And this field is too diverse for that.

 

I've happily mellowed over time -- my self-loathing reached Gollum-like depths at times -- but I can't say I've written much that I've been really, really happy about.

Very rarely, you'll write a story and you'll know that you've connected. It just feels good -- really good, in fact; everything hangs together, fits seamlessly. But most of the time, I feel like I've missed that perfect connection, at least when I'm hitting the send button. Just then, I mostly feel like I should have done better.

But as has been pointed out already, when you go back to read your stuff months or years later, the shortcomings -- and the triumphs, too -- will seem leveled off somehow. A story you hated and a story you loved will read pretty much the same.

I think the truth is, a good writer will produce mostly good stuff, despite whatever doubts he has about himself, and a bad writer will produce mostly bad stuff. It's those very occasional outliers that make it hard for us to decide how good or bad we really are. I think sometimes we judge ourselves too often by exceptions, by the best and worst of what we do. What you do everyday, that's what counts.

 

Try to remember this: It's all relative.

Right now, somewhere, maybe even lurking on SportsJournalists.com, there is a college kid who is bummed because he or she doesn't think they're a very good writer. They're realizing they're not going to land a coveted intership at a major metro, get praised as an 'effing stud, and will have to settle for something smaller, like a 50,000 cirq paper in Texas.

At that same major metro I just mentioned, there is a young, aspring preps reporter who is bummed out because, at 24, he thinks he's not a very good writer. He's done some quality stuff, but there is already a kid at the paper who is covering the NFL beat at 25, and getting praised every day on SportsJournalists.com.

The NFL beat reporter works hard, writes good features, even wins a few awards, but he's convinced his writing isn't as good as a friend of his. She is a takeout writer who breezed through a year as a beat writer before she was promoted to do big picture, award-winning, long-form narrative stuff. When he reads her artful sentences, it makes him want to pull his hair out.

The takeout writer can turn a phrase, construct a tearjerker, but privately she's devastated because she really wants to write for a magazine, and when she reads the stuff in Esquire or Sports Illustrated or the New Yorker, it breaks her heart because she knows she's just not that good. She's done some stuff people tell her is excellent, but it's never made it into BASW, and now she wonders if she ever will. She's sent her clips to a few magazines, but she never hears back, and that only confirms her worst fears.

Over at SI, there is a young staffer who is churning out stories and doing some major take-outs. But he's not Rick Reilly or Gary Smith or Frank Deford, and everyone knows it. No one has to tell him either; he understands it in his heart. And so every time he looks at his copy, he feels like a failure. Why can't he write like THAT!!?? How in the world do they do that? I grew up reading Reilly and now I feel like a phony, he thinks.

Higher up on the masthead and the payscale at SI, there is a senior staffer who has been there for years and years, has won some major awards, and while he' not quite Reilly or Gary Smith, he's one of the best in the country, universally respected, and has been in BASW multiple times. But when he picks up books by Tim O'Brien, or Philip Roth, or Cormac McCarthy, or some of the best writers of his generation, he feels like a fraud. What happened, he thinks to himself. In college, I always dreamed of writing like that, and all I do is write about men who swing sticks at baseballs. There's no poetry in that, no transcendence.

Down in Texas, bottle in his hand, Tim O'Brien sits around, depressed, quietly devastated by the fact that he never quite became Hemingway or F. Scott Fitzgerald, or even, arguably, Philip Roth.

Across the street from O'Brien, there is a kid who is passionate about writing, wants to write about sports for a living, but worries he's not quite good enough. It's a long shot, but he applied for a job covering preps at a 50,000 cirq paper. Instead, some guy who went to a better college and had a previous internship got it after he was turned down by a major metro. The kid who lives across the street from O'Brien is pretty certain he's not as good as the guy who was hired at the 50,000 cirq paper, but he'll get that good someday. He hopes.

For now, he'll take a job at an 18,000 cirq. weekly. He beat out 40 other applicants for the job.

Because, his new boss tells him, he was the best writer who applied.




You can beat yourself up pretty easily when you agonize over the words on your screen. But one of the best writers I know told me not that long ago, "I'm always 10 years away from being the writer I want to be. I'll feel that way 10 years from now."

I read his stuff, and I want to weep, it's so good. It makes me, in some ways, want to give up writing for a living. He reads his own stuff and thinks, "It's not that good, not as good as I want it to be. A.J. Leibling would have done it better."

If you feel like your stuff sucks, don't worry. Most people do. Don't beat yourself up too much, just critique it, or ask someone else to critique it, and vow to get a little bit better each story.

 

That's an early candidate for Post of the Year. Well done, DD.

 

This is me.

I was at a game two weeks ago. To my right was a major metro columnist and one of the best beat writers in the New York/New Jersey/Conn. Tri-State Area. To my left was a guy who has been covering hockey for 15, 20 years. All three are writers who have experienced success and are highly regarded in the business. Then there's me, some schmuck freelancer. I spent a great deal of time during and after that game just beating the ever-lovin' hell out of myself emotionally. It ain't fun spending a weekend thinking you're a no-talent loser. I was at a very low point, until I talked to a friend who pointed out that maybe I wasn't at a preconceived level of success that I wanted to be at, but I am getting experience and my stuff is better than I give it credit for.

 

It's good to see that you at least care enough to want something better. I hate a lot of the stuff I put out; but my editor - and more importantly, my readers (all three of them) - seem to like most of it. I wan't to get better, and I guess it comes with practice. Even after 12 years ...

 

Also remember there are thousands of guys who'd like to trade places with you. Hell, I'd love to be able to cover a pro sport for a living, freelance or not. That by itself is beyond the reach of many.

 

DD, if even for one post, you were a fucking stud.

 

DD, your posts on the Wire already make you an All-SJ lock -- even an SJ Hall of Famer -- in my book.

But that...That's just money. Fantastic stuff.

Of course, now I'm sitting in a press box knowing I'll never be able to write like Double Down.

 

I usually think everything is pretty good that I write, sometimes almost to the point of cockiness. I think its important to be confident, though I do like to read the writing of fellow journalists just to get different perspectives on a particular event. Sometimes I think the way I do it is better, sometimes I kick myself because someone else had what I thought was a better approach. Either way, I try to learn with every story.

In general, I'm not worried about crafting a masterpiece. Sometimes a shitty game is a shitty game and doesn't need some tearjerking prose. Whenever I press to craft a masterpiece is usually when I'm at my worst. I think if you let your natural ability come out and just do the job, the results will be positive. Sometimes the stories really do write themselves, and I think those are the best.

 

Simply this: Thanks for writing that post, DD. It’s one of the best things I’ve ever read on this site.