From Writing Agony to Hope
- Apr 6
- 6 min read
No matter how much we love writing, we all get fed up with it from time to time. This feeling can become overwhelming when we can’t think of a good plot or are worried that our writing won't be appreciated. I find this perfectly understandable. After all, even the most celebrated writers have experienced the same challenges at some point in their careers. Many of them struggled to get their books published or to achieve the success they’d dreamed of. Sometimes this took a long time, while at other times luck intervened in unexpected ways. Today, I’d like to revisit the work of some of these authors to boost my spirits. I hope it will have the same effect on others who feel the same way.
I’m announcing this for the first time in this post: I’m currently nearing the publication stage of my book, which comprises forty-five poems and prose pieces in total. I hadn’t really wanted to talk about this until now. Experience has taught me not to speak of certain things before they come to fruition. Perhaps you have had similar personal experiences.
Naturally, I find myself wondering and worrying from time to time. I can’t help but think about whose hands my book will end up in, and which minds it will reach. That’s why I’m writing this post, both as a reminder to myself and to you.
While chatting with an old friend recently, the conversation turned to my book. The first question he asked was the classic one: “Do you think you’ll make any money from your book?” He was taken aback by my firm “no”. I told him that wasn’t what mattered.
I know that, especially in the current climate where people are struggling to meet their basic needs, saying you’re doing artistic work and you “don’t have high expectations” might seem arrogant to some. However, I think the opposite is true, and I find this attitude harmful. I’ve long since placed art amongst my basic needs. Rather than cutting off a vital part of my life, I’ve made it a principle to create something artistic. I don’t see this as some kind of exaggerated self-sacrifice, either. Whenever the same question is asked, my answer is always the same: “I don't know, probably not.”
On the other hand, that familiar doubt sometimes creeps in. “What if what I’ve written isn’t mature enough? Have I produced a good piece of work?”
Two things have been important to me for years:
Firstly, I create all my art primarily for myself. Not for art or society, but for myself. The real issue is embracing those who appreciate my work and continuing to create. This is not a selfish attitude: pleasing myself with what I write is far more challenging and can be a major obstacle.
Secondly, I have a simple yet powerful mantra: “Even Dostoevsky had his critics; what if your art isn't liked?” This thought gives me strength. It is the truth. No matter how successful we are, there will always be differing opinions about us. I accept this as natural. That is why I treat every comment equally and carry on writing as long as I'm enjoying it. Of course, we're all human, so it's inevitable that we'll make mistakes every now and again.
In short, time doesn't have to treat everyone the same. I don’t know how it will treat me, but for now, at least, my mind is clear. The publisher is one of the key players in this process, of course. These days, there are several different ways to get a book published. I’d like to talk about these options and keep you informed once my book is published.
So, what was the situation like in the past? The great writers whose names we all know were actually not that different from us. Most of them are still famous today and many of them experienced the same struggles beforehand.
One editor found George Orwell’s “Animal Farm” “politically problematic”. Another editor remarked that “animal stories don't sell in the US”. Yet the book went on to take its place among the classics.
H. G. Wells' “The War of the Worlds” also received negative reviews. Nevertheless, this work, published in 1898, had a significant impact on the depiction of aliens and made many accurate predictions about technology. It remains one of Wells' best-known works.
In this post, I’ve previously written about Stephen King's experiences, as well as those of a few other authors. At the time, he was told, “We’re not interested in science fiction dealing with negative utopias. They don’t sell.” I wonder if they thought the real world was dystopian enough?
The Rowling case is a completely different matter. Although she received numerous rejections, she often encountered the comment, “You can't make a fortune from children's books. You realise that, don't you?” What are your thoughts on the fact that every editor seems to use similar phrases? Rowling has also shared two of her rejection letters to inspire new writers.
It's interesting that someone once said of Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby: “If you remove the character of Gatsby, you might end up with a decent book.” In other words, they were essentially telling him “not to write it”. Yet the novel went on to become one of the most powerful satires of the American Dream.
If you’d like to read about other authors and the messages they’ve received from editors, you can also find an Instagram post on the subject.
When it comes to literature, history is full of such surprises. How many brilliant writers have come and gone without us ever discovering them? But sometimes, luck is on our side. Of course, the same cannot be said for the writers themselves. Some only achieved true fame after their death. Isn't this situation a little paradoxical?
Franz Kafka is one of the first names that spring to mind. During his lifetime, only a few of his stories were published. Before he died, he asked his closest friend to burn all his work, but his friend refused and thus saved masterpieces such as “The Trial” and “The Castle” for posterity.
Edgar Allan Poe’s first book was printed in very limited numbers. The author's name wasn't even on the cover. It remained virtually unknown for many years. No one bought it. Years later, when Poe mentioned the book, people mocked him, claiming that it didn't exist. The first copy was discovered at the British Museum in 1876. Original copies now sell at auction for hundreds of thousands of (in fact five hundred) dollars. Had Poe known this would happen, who knows what astonished exclamations he might have come up with?
Another writer who surprised me when I learnt about him was Herman Melville. Although he gained recognition mainly after his death, he briefly achieved fame with his first two novels, only to be swiftly forgotten. “Moby Dick” received negative reviews because it was considered too long and complex. Around thirty years after his death, to mark the centenary of his birth, his works were rediscovered, and Moby Dick came to be widely regarded as a masterpiece of American literature.
Fernando Pessoa never published any books apart from a few poetry collections. Instead, he jotted down his thoughts in a diary-like manner. After his death, these were compiled into a book. However, the book was essentially never finished.
There are similar examples in our country, too. Oğuz Atay's “The Disconnected” sold almost nothing while he was alive. It only gained a wide readership after his death, particularly from the 1980s onwards, and is now considered one of the most significant works of Turkish fiction. Sabahattin Ali is undoubtedly another example. Years after his murder in 1948, his works received significant attention through new editions, particularly from the 1980s onwards. “The Madonna with the Fur Coat” remains one of our most widely read classics to this day.
Those who think like editors chase after bestsellers. However, those who wish to practise their art as it comes from within simply want to be read. I hope that what flows from our minds and hearts finds its way onto the bookshelves of the right readers at the right time. Let them read it properly, let them criticise it; whether they love it or hate it, it matters not. A book only gains its true value when it is read. Sales records are not a prerequisite. In my view, true art arises from the convergence of sincere curiosity, the anxiety that sparks creation and the emotions and thoughts that shape it. Its value is not measured by material gain or records, but by the time and effort expended by both its creator and reader.
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