I’ve been reading a lot lately. This is mostly due to the fact that I’m not doing very much of anything else. Right now I’m trying to catch up on titles that I’ve been meaning to read.

Most of the writing is written by favorite writers like Diane Goodman and Susan Perabo. These writers are a wealth of inspiration. I like to think that I’m learning through example.

I have noticed that the more I read, the less I write. I’m not sure why this is but it seems as if my thoughts and energy are focused on other people’s ideas.

Have you had a similar experience? Can reading stifle creativity in some way?

Use your local newspaper as a source of inspiration.

Here’s the game…
 
 

The Spark: I’ll start by briefly describing a character.

The Flame: The next person will list that character’s two main vices—one public, that all her friends know, and one private, that she indulges alone or with strangers. Be creative.

Re-Spark: Then that person will give quick details of another character.

 
 
Now I’ll start the ball rolling with…

My Spark: A man who lives alone with eight cats.

My grandmother/grandfather saved the day

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So begins “The Tale of Peter Rabbit.” When you were a child, did your parents read those words to you? Mine did. And I read them to my children. Although, as they grew older, we donated most of my children’s books to various organizations — several boxes of “Goosebumps” stories went to our local elementary school, for example — there were a few that I simply could not part with. And our six-volume set of Beatrix Potter’s most popular stories was remains on the bookshelf.

I recently watched “Miss Potter” again. The 2006 film tells the story of Beatrix Potter’s refusal to conform to late-Victorian societal norms and determination to see her stories about her animal “friends,” as she called them, published. She was a naturally gifted artist who, as a solitary child, escaped into her own imagination, developing the characters and storylines that would ultimately make her the most popular children’s author of all-time. It is a charming movie featuring exceptional performances by Renee Zellweger, Ewan MacGregor, and Emily Watson.

Potter was a story-teller and artist from early childhood who struggled from her early 20’s until the age of 36 to get her first book published. In 1902, “The Tale of Peter Rabbit” defied publishers’ expectations and secured Potter’s legacy.

Beatrix Potter found her calling as a young girl and channeled her interest in natural history, mycology, archeology, fossils and farming into her delightful stories about Benjamin Bunny, Samuel Whiskers, Tom Kitten, Jemima Puddle-Duck, Mr. Tod, and all the rest. She had to draw — and write.

Watching “Miss Potter” again caused me to ponder the point in my own life that I knew I was a writer and would continue to write throughout my life. I realized, not all that surprisingly, that I have self-identified as a writer my entire life. I literally cannot remember a time when I did not enjoy writing or feel compelled to write, although my writing has taken many different forms over the years.

When did you know you were a writer? Was there a moment or period in your life when you realized that you were meant to write? Did a specific event or occurrence compel you to write? Or, like me, have you just always considered yourself a writer?

Leave a comment or a link should you decide to write about this topic on your own site.

In our family … was comic relief.

One year on, Lessing has called winning the prize a disaster. It has left her in such high demand that it has completely sapped her of creativity, and she is now unable to write.

Last week I mentioned a long discussion carried out across blog posts and comments on blog posts about great books, books you have to read, and popular books. Very early in the discussion, Jodi asked whether it was possible for a writer to have both literary and commercial success at the same time. I could recall very few writers who have enjoyed the commercial success of a Dan Brown, or a J K Rowling, while at the same time being given the literary recognition of a Salman Rushdie or a Kingsly Amis.

At the time the question was framed as “is it possible to have both”? Lessing’s dilemma prompts a further consideration - would you want both?

With critical acclaim comes expectation, often unreasonable expectation. Your book is brilliant, a staggering work of unadulterated genius. The critics rave, raising you to the pantheon of the literary gods, a worthy successor to Shakespeare, Dickins, Hemmingway. What do you do next?

Unless your next book is an even more staggering work of sheer unadulterated genius, the knives will come out. You’ve lost your edge. A flash in the pan. I guess we were wrong about you. That’s an awful lot of expectation on a book that hasn’t been written. Every word should be gold. Every idea original. Every sentence quoteworthy. I can’t write that! And all of a sudden it is “hello writer’s block”.

As writers we want to have both. Do I want to open up a copy of the New Yorker, or the London Review of Books, and see my name, read critical discussions of my work, and have adulation heaped upon me? Of course I do! But I want to walk into my local Waterstones, Borders, Barnes & Noble and see my book in a prominent place, recommended by the staff. I want to sit on public transport, look over at the guy sat down reading a book, and realise that it is MY name on the cover.

Good reviews generate good sales, but there is a difference between being liked by the book critics of the popular press, and being critically acclaimed by the literati.

Was winning the Noble Prize a disaster for Lessing? It can be described as the pinnacle of a writer’s career, and it has come at a late stage in her life. Better to be suffering from such a “disaster” now, rather than early in a writing career. With a substantial body of work, coupled with a Noble Prize, it is unlikely that Lessing will fade into obscurity. A younger writer with only one or two novels may vanish. And from her descriptions, it is simply that she lacks the time, and consequently the energy, to write. The Prize has put her in demand, but has not robbed her of her creative voice. Instead, it has robbed her of the opportunity. This too shall pass.

So, would you rather have literary acclaim, or commercial success? Can you have it all? Would you want it all?

Identify your most unloved possession. How did you acquire this thing? Why did you think you needed it? How did it disappoint you?