Writing the Wryte Stuff Boosts My Ego
Posted: Thursday, November 17, 2011
by Jack H. Schick
When I was about 14, I woke up one night after I had been listening to a Donovan record album. His tunes and lyrics inspired my imagination. I grabbed a pen that was on my lamp table and, in the dark, started writing on the wallpaper next to my bed. By the time I was done I had about 20 lines of poetry. I guess it was pretty good because when I submitted it to the school magazine they decided to publish it and invited me to join the magazine staff. As a staff member, my ‘co-workers’ were required to read all the stuff I wrote. The girls made a big deal over my poems. I was gratified, I felt significant and my ego was boosted.
Miss Potzer asked me to stay after Creative Writing class one day when I was a senior in high school. I’d been very busy the weekend before, I can’t remember if it was girls or boys, but I hadn’t done homework. I’d quickly knocked out an essay in study hall the period before my writing class. She scolded me for my poor work. She told me I had great potential as a writer and usually produced quality work. I was a little embarrassed about the essay I’d turned in, but my ego was boosted by her expectations of me.
At college Dr Taube, the most published professor at the University, gave me an incomplete for the semester. He told me it wasn’t because I hadn’t done enough work, but because several of my stories were “nearly publishable” and he wanted me to keep writing. I did, but was a little bitter that I had to go to his office once a week all summer. By then I had a wife to support and just wanted to graduate and get on with life. There were too many writers better than me and it was too hard to earn a living at it. But, his attention boosted my ego.
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After a graduate level evening school writing class at Casper College, I went out drinking with Greg, my ‘professor,’ like we did nearly every night. He told me what grades he’d given the half dozen students we had in our class that semester. “You and Susan got A’s, Nancy and Linda got B’s and the other two got C’s. It was kind of obvious who was the best writers in the class,” he said.
I was a little angry. I said, “On the first day of class you said that the requirement was to produce 100 pages of original material. I am the only one who did that. Susan recycled stories she did in last spring’s class.” Not being the only one in the class to get an A hurt my ego. I got even drunker than I usually did.
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I was voluntarily in a substance abuse out patient group session at a local rehab center once (many years before I finally got the best of my problem—or, should I say, my problem got the best of me and I quit for good). In the previous session we had discussed a few human interactions that are damaged by our addictive behaviors. During the interim, I’d had an experience with one of my kids that illustrated the changes that can occur when one begins to recover. I prefaced my ‘sharing’ with the statement, “Something interesting happened this week that I think we can all benefit from.”
After I told my anecdote, another patient, not talking directly to me, said something like, “That’s the kind of thing I hate. Like that guy (me), he thinks his stupid story is ‘interesting,’ and should be ‘of value’ to me. I can’t stand arrogant people who think their life is more important or interesting than everybody else’s.” I, of course, was offended and felt uncomfortable in the group after that. It damaged my ego.
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Years later, I was finally sober again, had been for about two years. My energy was high and I began to re-investigate things that interested me before my hiatus from a normal, productive life. I re-read my favorite novel, The Sound and the Fury, and decided that I’d better investigate the criticism on it that was available on the Internet because it was complicated and fascinating to me. I found an article about it listed and followed the link to SearchWarp.com, a site for writers. I decided to join the site and immediately began to submit articles.
Some of my articles were well received. Some got lots of comments. A couple articles were selected as ‘picks of the day.’ Hundreds then thousands of people were reading my stuff. My ego was boosted. I was doing something I used to be good at and liked doing it. It allowed me to express myself. It allowed me to satisfy a creative need that kept me on the path and gave me worth.
Yes, I’ve got personality problems. I think I’m smart. I think I know a lot of things. I think my ideas and opinions are relevant and significant—to the world. I like to talk, tell people what I think and know. I like to relate every fact or circumstance to me; to my inflated, pompous, self-centered, arrogant, know-it-all, all-wrapped-up-in-myself, ego. I like feed back that reinforces my high opinion of myself. But, at least I know I’m like that.
I check WryteStuff to see how many people have read my articles a couple of times a day. I get disappointed if the editors don’t rate my articles high enough. My feelings get hurt. I get insulted and angry if someone leaves a negative comment. I glow and pat myself on the back if some one writes a good comment. But, on WryteStuff, there is a civility clause, so my sensitive ego is somewhat protected. And, I’m writing everyday.
I am inspired to write, and specifically for this site, because it makes me write and it makes me feel good. I learn things from the research I do for articles. I learn how to write articles that are more likely to receive good comments and ratings. When I go back and read stuff I wrote 18 months ago, 200 articles ago, I see how much my writing style has improved. Very few of the old ones do not require major re-writes.
But, most importantly, writing articles for this site makes me feel like my voice is being heard. If no on reads an article, I get a little disappointed, but still, what I had to say has been said. It is no longer pent up within me. If I sit in a corner and talk to myself, I’m crazy. If I sit in the same corner, write an essay and post it, I may be “talking” to myself, but they’re less likely to drag me off and lock me up for it.
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As I grow old, I lament the time I’ve lost and the energy I’ve wasted. To sit alone in my room committing my life to paper in a despirate effort to reclaim it as I see my end creeping up behind me is much more satisfying, knowing someone might read about it, and maybe even appreciate some aspects of it. It’s all about my ego; but, perhaps that is the true reason that most people write. They think they have something important to say.
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Top-level comments on this article: (4 total)Jack...you do have a lot to say. The history is important to people like me, who enjoy the knowledge, and you doing the research. My research is focused on mysteries and murders. We all help each other. Interesting look into your thoughts.Thanks for reading and commenting- not my best effort.
Jack, interesting, you were born a writer. After writing, go back to writing again.
You are very candid. This is a part of you that I am just seeing. I admire your talent, and your ability to write about writing.Thanks- net a real good essay, I'd say- thanks for reading and commenting anyway.
{comment on my "When I was Young" article, if you have the chance}
I'm not so sure it's all about ego, Jack. I think it's a fundamental part of human nature to need quality strokes from people, and to be hurt when they're withheld or people dump on us. I enjoyed reading about you in different times of your life.Thanks for reading and commenting- I'm not real proud of this one--it's not a 5
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