Lazy Ambitions: Thoughts on Writers and Hope
The word ‘hope’ manifests itself in various ways in my mind. As a writer, hope seems to come in multiple forms: that anxiety when someone’s reading your work for the first time, or having a genius new idea and hoping you can do it justice. Then sometimes you’re just hoping no one ever reads what you’ve written before you take immediate action to make sure no one ever will. This abundance of experiences probably resounds within many writers so I hope this post will sympathise with some of you.
The most common form of hope I’m experiencing currently is the one just after you click submit on your final piece for the term. You say a little prayer and plead to any God that may be listening that your tutor will understand you. That they’ll think that you’re the most talented writer they have ever taught, hand you your degree there and then before retiring early as there’s no point teaching anymore for the greatest writer of the 21st century has just submitted their portfolio. And then you get a publishing deal straight out of graduation and live, wealthily, off your best-selling royalties for the next few years. But then you open your eyes. And you’re just sat at your desk, high off the daydream of ultimate success. And suddenly you feel like you haven’t actually done anything yet. And the future feels dangerously close. And your tea’s gone cold.
I admit that sometimes my ego can overpower my logic but honestly, I think these fantasies can do wonders for your self-confidence. Imagining yourself walking down the aisle of a huge theatre after the host calls your film’s title. You look out onto the standing ovation with the knowledge that you’ve achieved everything your younger self dreamed about. If you can believe that you are an award-winning writer, then you will be an award-winning writer. Just fake it for now and see how far you get.
Alternatively, there are times when what we write can feel insignificant and these huge aspirations can make writing overwhelming. We don’t want to let our future selves down. Yet we hang onto this little thread of hope until it becomes blanket. The warm, comforting thought that one day you will amount to something and one day you will succeed. Sometimes I like to think that my future self is mentioning me in one of her speeches, maybe even mentioning this piece you’re reading right now. She’s probably saying how bad my writing was at Uni. She’s probably right.
So I’ll leave you with your hope-woven blanket and leave you to your daydreams. I’ll just finally add that my latest form of hope is the one that’s been praying I write a good enough last sentence. And I’m still not sure this was sufficient.
by Lucy Gill
About the briefs and co-ops
On week 1 of the Post-Digital Content module, students where asked to respond to the brief of Writers and Hope. This piece from the Dauphin co-op was selected for publication by the editorial team of the module. Dauphin specialises on beginner audiences. Lucy shares her experience and reflections of hope in this piece.