It doesn’t help a writer to succumb to a myopia that abets lazy observation. This is a grandiose way of saying it does no good to make lazy assumptions and then to be made miserable by them.
For example, I will observe in a facile manner the untamed arrogance and confidence of Donald Trump, the sheer mastery of the bat by Miguel Cabrera, the flawless technique of Carlos Santana, the swagger of corporate titan Jack Welch, the aura of control and eloquence, and, well, you get the idea.
And I figure, they have no doubts, no hesitation or fear that they can and will continue to excel and be brilliant. But I do. There are times, often, when I feel inadequate, incompetent, unworthy and never fully confident of anything.
But that is a simple myopia, because aspects of human nature are universal and feelings like mine are shared regardless of an individual’s specialized prowess. In fact, many of the finest minds and talents were constantly racked by spasms of self-doubt and depression—much worse than mine and probably yours, because gifted individuals are unique and tend to experience in greater intensity than us mediocrities.
No, the people I envy are truly special and seem to accomplish more in their lives than I could in multiple lives. Dave Eggers, who writes brilliant nonfiction and fiction prose while running a publishing company, a writing and tutoring lab for underprivileged kids, a daily humor website, a program in which he assembles books comprising oral histories of oppressed people to publicize human rights abuses around the world, not to mention his role as a husband and father. People like Dave Eggers strikes awe and envy in my soul.
But you know, I bet Dave Eggers doesn’t always feel like a master of the universe, a splendid achiever, a genius even though he had the gall to allude to himself as such in the title of his memoir and then goes ahead and proves it! I bet there are days when Dave Eggers feels unworthy, untalented, and unmoored.
I sure the hell hope so.
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