My first full-time writing job was as a science writer. I would not have gotten it if I hadn't had credentials as a scientist, combined with evidence of publication. But the first things I sold were short stories and reviews, and, for those, the work credentialed itself. To me, that reveals the limits of qualifications. Boxes checked may be real or arbitrary. Quality is always the best credential.
Now, the world of science writing is both collegial and competitive. When I began, veterans were always willing to give me advice so that I could ask better questions, probe a little more deeply, and direct my articles toward readers. But they also mumbled about who had better or worse jobs, who had won awards, who had science backgrounds, and who to avoid listening to because their journalistic ethics were questionable.
It occurred to me this week, as I mourned one of the better science writers (one without a science degree), that considering what was either guidance or gossip was relevant to this week's topic. Essentially, qualifications tend to be more complex than we pretend. Many people with great resumes don't live up to them.) And a lot of the criticisms I heard early on, direct at other writers, emerged from a need to bring the competition down a peg. Which in turn, reminded me of someone familiar to all writers, the editor in your head.
In the first draft or when considering a new project, the editor in your head is not your friend. The editor in your head uses qualifications as a weapon to stop you from writing. When it gets things right, it's often accidental.
I'm not a big fan of imposter syndrome, but I think confidence – even among the most talented and skillful people — is always under threat. The fear of not being qualified can manifest itself in a lot of unpleasant ways. A topic could make you defensive, and while the arguments to take it on anyway might be sound, having a chip on your shoulder closes off possibilities for a new work. Openness and curiosity have much more power and are likely to lead to more interesting ideas and questions.
Hopelessness is also a strong indication of the fear of qualifications. In your bones, you want to tell a story that means something to you but doesn't seem like a good fit for who you think you are. You may be right, but you won’t know that until you do a little work. Exploring a topic, recognizing whether your perspective is fresh or banal, and coming to estimate the time involved – whether it be doing research or allowing yourself to grow and mature – will reveal if internal objections are valid.
My best guess is that you'll find your intuition is right most of the time, and the reason why you chose this topic is because you can bring something new to it. (Now, actually following through and doing the work and standing up to critics and daring to pay the emotional price is another story. No one guarantees that a work you were meant to do, in some sense, will be executed well.)
Isn't this presumptuous? Don't you need permission to write on a topic? No. Today you have less need for permission to write than ever before. It's still valuable to have support and the acknowledgment that comes from gatekeepers approving you, but anything you write can be made available to the world. The apparatus of creating books or commentary or even movies is much more available than ever has been in history. (We also live in a time when no qualifications are needed to be a critic. Thus, trolls.)
More relevant here than reaching the public with your work is a permission that has always existed – You are allowed to write whatever you want to (except when there are political or privacy concerns). You get to decide to write about a different culture, not someone who standing on the sidelines waiting to accuse you of appropriation. You get to decide to try your voice through a character of a different sex or age or income group, which is likely to reveal something about how you, being human, connect with people were very different from yourself. You can write from the point of view of a robot or an alien or a 17th-century serf. You have that freedom. And, without a doubt, when you exercise your freedom you will learn and become a better writer.
This is not to say that reaching into new areas doesn't involve responsibility. Too often, someone will use their imaginations to create or defend conspiracy theories or "cures" or accusations against innocent people. If they keep these private, they do little damage. But if they make them public, they are being irresponsible. As a human being, there are things you don't know about and need to explore. There are things you think you know about and you need to verify. And you are, certainly, blinded by your own perspective and need to seek out alternate views.
Even if you have the qualifications on paper, such that no one would question your work, you need to be thoughtful, inquisitive, humble, and diligent. Qualifications are complex because individuals, our society, and nature itself are complex.
I make a practice of crossing lines, doing things that would not meet with the approval of the editor in my head (and often of people I know) with the intent of challenging myself to learn more and discover what I might have to offer on a topic. When this is a disaster, the work is set aside (or even destroyed). When it seems like the work has value despite the arguments against it, I begin to share it.
What I've found is that much of what I'm glad I wrote could be challenged (as I was writing it) because I didn't have a full set of qualifications. Take more care if you don't have credentials. Expect a lower chance of acceptance. But give yourself the opportunity to do work that you'll be proud of.
Note: I'm teaching a course on writing a novel in a month beginning next week. That means there's a bonus blog post you might want to check out, The Best Prompt Is Passion.
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