Journeyman

My thoughts at the moment are along the same lines as several previous posts. I've been reading short stories recently. In part I've simply been in the mood for short stories for the past six or nine months or so, but also I've been quite busy with teaching and grading and working and commuting; I've had less time to sink into a full novel, so it's easier to pick up shorter pieces that I can read in a single sitting. I've been dipping into collections, reading Raymond Carver, John Cheever, J. D. Salinger, George Saunders, and others. I've also recently picked up the latest O. Henry Prize, Best American Short Stories, and Pushcart Prize collections. What strikes me about these stories is that--and this is certainly a "duh!" statement--they are really, really good.

When I read stories by these artists--Pulitzer prize winners, MacArthur Genius grant recipients, writers with decades of experience, and some publishing their very first story--it hits me that I'm plain and simply not that good yet. I don't abandon hope or anything. I plan on being that good someday. But at the moment, I'm still struggling to find my own voice, my own style; I'm in the process of figuring out what exactly I want to say with my fiction. I have a couple of themes I keep returning to, but I also have ideas for stories that I haven't yet figured out what they're really about. Sometimes I manage a beautiful set of sentences followed by some awkward prose that completely disrupts the flow of the piece. I have a couple of stories I think are nice, but many more that are still far too rough to even seek feedback on.

Essentially, what I'm getting at is the notion that I am at the journeyman stage of my career, at least I think I am. I find it a useful metaphor to think of grad school and that period of formal education as an apprenticeship, a time of study under a master craftsman (or several master craftsmen), learning and improving and developing. But now I'm out on my own, and yet I'm not yet a master craftsman myself. I'm a journeyman. I have the basic knowledge and experience to be on my own, but I have yet to prove myself.

I sometimes find it frustrating when I'm looking for full time employment that there are jobs out there for creative writing teachers, but I don't yet meet the minimum requirements. I came across a great position recently for a one-year visiting writer instructor position specifically geared toward writers at the early stage of their career, and I have the education and teaching experience to qualify, but not yet the publication credits. There are many opportunities for small steps into the academic world, but before one is able to take those steps, one must publish and have a demonstrated mastery of the craft. Or, in other words, one must be further along the journeyman path than I am right now.

But I find it oddly comforting to think of myself as a journeyman and to read the work of masters. If I genuinely felt that I was their equal already, that I was an unrecognized master, then I would be endlessly frustrated by my lack of advancement. But instead I can try to continue learning from them, honing my own craft, pursuing my efforts, and hope that soon I will reach their level.