“Just set one day’s work in front of the last day’s work. That’s the way it comes out. And that’s the only way it does.”
That’s how John Steinbeck wrote The Grapes of Wrath (1939) according to his personal notebook. As he wrote his Pulitzer-prize winning epic, he kept a diary which was eventually published as Working Days: The Journals of the Grapes of Wrath.
The publication affords an intimate glimpse into the creative process of a generational writer. In it, we can see the discipline and dedication Steinbeck had to his craft.
He also writes at length about his own self doubt, as Maria Popova also pointed out in a 2015 article. Steinbeck, per his journal, shows his determination by lamenting his own limitations and lack of intellect, and then plugging along with the work anyway. He writes:
“My many weaknesses are beginning to show their heads…I’m not a writer. I’ve been fooling myself and other people. I wish I were…I’ll try to go on with work now. Just a stint every day does it.”
The work beats him down, repeatedly, and yet he continues until the job is done. The slow and incremental process of daily writing helped Steinbeck overcome his uncertainties. Action begets action, which produces regular work.
(Isn’t it reassuring to think that even one of history’s very best writers doubted his own ability to write?)
The lessons of the diary entries are manifold. His routines, thoughts and opinions are all there. But the most valuable lesson he imparts is the most simple: Showing up everyday is invaluable.
It is not through genius or a stroke of insight that great work is created, but rather it is in the daily answering of a call to action. “In writing,” Steinbeck writes, “habit seems to be a much stronger force than either willpower or inspiration.” He added:
“There is no possibility, in me at least, of saying, ‘I’ll do it if I feel like it.’ One never feels like awaking day after day. In fact, given the smallest excuse, one will not work at all. The rest is nonsense. Perhaps there are people who can work that way, but I cannot. I must get my words down every day whether they are any good or not.”
Of all the things that could derail his progress, failing to show up to work is most threatening. Not showing up is the easiest thing to do, because it is only natural — especially when you’re shrouded in fears, hesitations, and doubt.
Showing up each day to do the work takes courage and a resoluteness of spirit that Steinbeck’s journals reveal. Steinbeck continues:
All sorts of things might happen in the course of this book but I must not be weak. This must be done. The failure of will even for one day has a devastating effect on the whole, far more important than just the loss of time and wordage. The whole physical basis of the novel is discipline of the writer, of his material, of the language. And sadly enough, if any of the discipline is gone, all of it suffers.
There is a nobility in Steinbeck’s self-doubt. It humanizes him, and conveys a relatability for other writers or creatives. His journals tell us that even the best of the best can lack confidence. It is a wholly human sentiment. But what Steinbeck also communicates is his willingness to lean into his own shortcomings by showing up in the face of everything.
The profound lesson of Steinbeck’s journals is that work can only be done by showing up, regardless of how you feel, or how daunting the task may be. In a sense, the author seems to say that the more imposing a task appears, the greater the obligation you have to show up and wrestle with it.
Despite his amazing financial success and fame, Steinbeck shows explicit signs of imposter syndrome. A well-established and ever-growing reputation did nothing to keep uncertainties at bay. In showing up, however, he shows courage despite everything.
Remember — these journals recount his time writing a novel that earned Steinbeck a Pulitzer and Nobel Prize. And still, at one point he called himself inadequate, and expressed his fears of being found out as a fraudulent talent (which, of course, no one believes).
Most encouraging about his diary entries is the normalcy of the man behind the legend. The Sisyphean struggle; a record of his toil against work and working life. His ability to overcome every struggle by means of returning to discipline is heartening. A reassurance that, so long as the time is put in, if one foot follows the other no matter what, great work can be done.
Let doubt creep in. A creative process is made all the better because of it. Doubt allows the chance to overcome. To prevail over something. Discipline is the fence between the exceptional and the mediocre.
Steinbeck, in all his genius, tells us that it isn’t actually genius that makes a legend — it’s the willingness to show up.
Complement this post with Kurt Vonnegut’s advice on prioritizing plain language in good writing or Ernest Hemingway’s tips to master the craft.
I write about powerful ideas, recession-proof skills, and building a personal brand in my newsletter every week. Join 1,800 subscribers here.
Be First to Comment