Tag Archives: John Gardner

I Can’t Write Because I Hate You: The Fourth Step and Resentments

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Step 4: “Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.”

Let me start the 4th step stuff with this quote:

“Another writer’s blockage—a more serious blockage—may arise from an excessive need for a success not actually related to good writing: an excessive need to please admirers (that is, to be loved), or prove himself vastly superior to others (that is, to be superhuman), or justify his existence against the too obstreperous cry of some old psychological wound (that is, to be redeemed). No amount of work can solve this writer’s problem, because nothing he writes satisfies the actual motive behind it.”

–John Gardner, On Becoming a Novelist, 135

In the 4th step, we inventory exactly what is keeping us wounded and blocked and scared like rabbits on the road. It’s probably my favorite step because we get to write and I’m a writer. I’ve learned, though, it’s not about quantity, but more about quality. To really get to the heart of who I am, it doesn’t take many words or many resentments, just some good soul-searching.

In the 4th step, taken from the book of Alcoholics Anonymous, affectionately called the “Big Book,” there are three parts: Resentments, fears, and sex. In writing, I haven’t had much to write about sex—writing is lonely thing, so I’ll just concentrate on the first two.

Let’s take resentments as any negative feeling we feel over and over. Generally, resentments are colored by anger, envy, or self-pity (my personal favorite). I’ve heard it said before that self-pity is the coward’s form of resentment. That’s me. Big coward.

So when I think about writing and I get angry over how unfair the publishing industry is, well, that’s a perfect resentment to start with. Just perfect.

Or another good one is when someone in my critique group has a huge success, and I feel so much envy I can’t write. I hate them. God loves them, not me, so why bother? Yeah, been there. It’s ugly.

But self-pity is such a lovely thing for a writer to feel. Oh, how cursed I am to want to write, to spend hours and hours of my life struggling to write something worth reading only to fail because I don’t have a literary agent and my e-pubbed books sales are so dismal. This is when I take my hand, put it squarely on my forehead, and give the universe the self-pity salute. Oh, woe is me.

The basic fourth step is that we list out what we are resentful of, people, places, and things. I resented California for years—it took away my innocence, that modern-day Babylon. California! When will you fall into the ocean so I can be done with you!!!
So we make a list of resentments, then write down why we are resentful, and then what that affects: our self-esteem, ambition, security, pocketbook, personal relations, or sex relations.

For those keeping track, that’s three columns. The fourth column is where the real work is done. That’s where we see what our part is in the drama. Where was I selfish, dishonest, self-seeking, and afraid. Not “or,” but “and.” Every resentment I have I am all of those things; selfish, dishonest, self-seeking, and afraid. Most of the times I’m just dishonest with myself, but not always.

So those are the first four columns and it looks like this:
Resentment:
The person, place, thing I resent. Resentment is re-feeling a negative emotion over and over
The Cause:
List the causes of the resentment.
Affects My:
How does this resentment affect my self-esteem, security, ambition, pocketbook, personal relations, or sex relations.We are trying to get to belief systems – use these prompts:self-esteem – I am…
security – I need…
ambition – I want…
Pocketbook – NA
personal relations – A real woman…
sex relations – A real man…
My Part:
Where have I been selfish, dishonest, self-seeking, and afraid? Read self-seeking as image management. How do I want people to see me?

Next week I’ll give you specific examples.

The 12 Steps to Writing Success – Donut Love Introduction

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Another writer’s blockage—a more serious blockage—may arise from an excessive need for a success not actually related to good writing: an excessive need to please admirers (that is, to be loved), or prove himself vastly superior to others (that is, to be superhuman), or justify his existence against the too obstreperous cry of some old psychological wound (that is, to be redeemed). No amount of work can solve this writer’s problem, because nothing he writes satisfies the actual motive behind it.
–John Gardner, On Becoming a Novelist, p. 135

Everyone loves a dirty little secret, the kind you’ll take to the grave, the kind that just drips with filth and depravity. Yeah, I have some of those, but for years, my biggest secret was nothing so dramatic. Unfortunately. My dirty little secret was that I was a writer who was terrified and lonely and oppressed. I was the Nelson Mandela of literature, locked away in chains I forged out of nothing, nothing at all.

It took literally a decade for me to understand that being an artist isn’t something I needed to hide. It took a little longer for me to understand it was something to celebrate. But I couldn’t have made this journey on my own. I couldn’t have broken the chains without the tools I learned by working the 12 steps of recovery. On my blog, on Tuesdays, I will tell you the story of what I was like, what happened, and what I am like now. And hopefully, by my experience with the 12 steps, I can help others to unleash the creative angels that we keep locked away.

I added a new page, outlining the 12 Steps, and yeah, this isn’t the AA or NA or another other A program’s steps, and I took some liberties, but the basic ideas are still there. Powerlessness, unmanageability, hope, surrender, that kind of thing. I’m going to go through this process slow, step by step, hitting each step, and telling you my story. Next week, Tuesday, I’ll start with a little biography.

Now, I truly believe in the anonymity of the 12 step program model. So I am not going to say what kind of addict I am. Some addictions are more acceptable than others, but it really doesn’t matter. This is not so much about my spiritual ailments, but more about how I used the 12 steps to break through writer’s block and to write. I can write. I’m iffy on social media, and I’m iffy on querying, and I’m iffy on a lot of things, grammar, story structure, laundry, but I can sit down and churn out pages. I’m finding that a lot of people can’t do that and it’s really hard to get published if you can’t write the book. And it’s really hard to stay published if you don’t continue to write books.

But here is your chance to guess what program I belong to. As long as you buy me donuts, then you can guess. Or maybe we can hit a bar. Or meth, I like meth, a lot. I know, we can fly out to Vegas and play Texas Hold ‘Em until we’re both being hunted by loan sharks. And yeah, Vegas has strip clubs. We can go to strip clubs while you try and guess what kind of addict I am. But then, maybe, I’m not an addict, but I love you so much, that you can get drunk, and I’ll stay at home and worry about you and try to control every little part of your life. Wait, that’s the other side of addiction, the co-addict. Maybe I’m one of those. Or maybe I’m a TV addict, a movie addict, a Bioshock addict, or maybe I’m addicted to early morning rosaries at my local Catholic church.

So yeah, addictions abound. I blogged about that.

So, next week, Tuesday, my biography. Where I will tell you the horrible bottom I hit watching Joss Whedon television shows.

I was in the police station, and screaming, “First, just one episode of Firefly, than I’ll talk. I swear to God! Just one episode! Okay, okay, how about fifteen minutes of the Firefly movie, that should work. Avengers trailer? Ahhhhhh yeah, that’s the ticket.”

And then they showed me episode one of Angel. And I got nasty.