I’ve been blogging since 2007.
I’ve blogged quite a few times about ego.
Perhaps because we all have them. Perhaps because I am overly conscious of mine. Perhaps because it pretends to be shy and retiring but is in fact a red-faced blustery Sergeant-Major of an ego. With huge mustaches.
I don’t know.
It’s not appeared only since I’ve been writing. There is nothing much in writing to inflate one’s ego. Much the opposite in fact. (Especially when one’s debut is not the arrival one so hoped it would be).
You might think that because we are creating worlds and moving people around in them that we all have god complexes but we don’t.
I bet there are some very arrogant writers out there, and I bet most of them are male. Could be wrong…
But most are ridiculously disparaging about their own work. For me, I can tell you it’s because every subsequent thing I write makes the previous thing look artless and clumsy. It’s sisyphusean and ironic. So maybe there is a god after all, but he ain’t us.
I was pretty cocky as a record executive. I was a darn good saleswoman, charming, knowledgeable.
“I had ears,” she says modestly inspecting her fingernails.
Ears are important in the music business. Not everyone has them.
But how cocky can you really be if you never quite achieve those transcendent heights?
And my artists were exponentially more arrogant. I had one who referred to himself (always) in the third person. As in, “John Smith is not happy. John Smith needs this album to sell one million copies right now. Then he will be happy.”
And then my company failed and what did I do after I’d picked myself up and dusted myself off? I thought- I’ll try something more solid….like writing. 
When I boxed, my optimistic trainer sent me into the ring a few times. Once or twice with the middleweight women’s champion. Like all boxers she was gentle and courteous, soft-spoken out of the ring, and scary, methodical, and fierce inside the ring. She could have knocked me out in 2 seconds but instead she did my trainer a favor and danced me around, let me take a couple of swipes, connect with her cheek/shoulder, didn’t punch back with anything like her full force.
After two three minute-rounds I was dripping in sweat, barely able to lift my hands, the laced gloves on the ends of my arms feeling like hams made out of concrete…my throat was raw, my chest, ribs hurt.
I thanked her. Got dressed. Said “Bye, Thanks, See ya tomorrow” to my trainer. Went outside with as much jauntiness and noble courage as I could muster.
Sat in my car and cried. I didn’t cry because I was hurt although the next day it hurt to laugh, and my fingers couldn’t hold a pen.
I cried because the reality of my talent was nowhere near where my hopeful ambitions had placed it.
I kept boxing for a few more years. Trained really hard. Went in the ring a few more times. Did better some times.
But I can admit now, that something went out of me on that day. Some heart. I should have pushed even harder, tried more, refused to give up, but I didn’t.
Eventually I stopped boxing although I still like to hit the bags.
As a writer my only real opponent is myself. Everyone else is a trainer or a supporter. So I’m hoping that gives me slightly better odds than becoming next female boxing champion of the world.
hang tough, jo! 🙂
Pretty brave Jo, to write about ego, recording business and boxing all in one go! Great post. I think we can all relate to the trajectory our lives have taken and the lessons we've learned.
I think it's important to have just enough so you can go on, but not so much that it makes you unbearable. Thoughts?
It's all about a healthy balance isn't it. I know few writers who don't have a mental collapse every so often about their own writing or talent. I know I do!
And yet deep down we have to believe in ourselves and the overwhelming hope that one day we will succeed. You need that ego to sit down in front of the computer every day and just write.
Powerful post, Jo. And beautifully written. Publishing is full of disappointments for the published writer as well as the unpublished ones and I know many published writers who are hiding bruises. I'm hiding some myself.
I'm trying to cultivate this separation thing so that the negatives don't bounce back and KO me. Instead they refer directly to the manuscript or book or idea, and often that's something that can be improved or fixed.
Emotional distance, perhaps?
Thanks for commenting all.