I’ll come right out with it: I don’t have an MFA.

Neither does—or did—Stephen King, Don DeLillo, Cormac McCarthy, Neil Gaiman, or Dan Brown.

From Hemingway to Heinlein, Tolstoy to Tolkien, Salinger to Steinbeck—nary a graduate degree in writing to be found.

Isaac Asimov had a doctorate and a handful of other degrees, as do I, but nope—no MFA.

Don’t get me wrong: there’s certainly nothing wrong with a Master’s in Fine Arts. Case in point: Chelsea Bieker—currently one of my favorite writers—has an MFA and wields it like a surgeon’s scalpel (she has also taught creative writing at Berkeley). Seriously, if you haven’t read any of her work, run out and get it. Now. I’ll wait.

To be fair, the MFA didn’t really come into vogue until the 1960s, but my point stands: great writing—great art—is not necessarily the product of a formal degree.

Disclaimer: I was a professional musician, long before I was a writer. And I do have a university/conservatory education in music, so I have seen both sides of the arts-education spectrum—formal and informal. While I focus on writing here, my comments pertain to writing and music; I suspect they apply to the other arts as well.

So what does it take to create art—in this case, to write—at a high level?

Mindset

Writing as a hobby is great. It can even be therapeutic. I have encouraged friends, students, clients and patients to journal, for instance, for years.

But what does it mean to be a professional writer?

The stock answers—getting paid for what you do and being able to produce on a deadline—are necessary, but not sufficient. The most significant difference lies in the way the writer views the work itself.

A professional artist sees art as purpose. For a writer, writing is the primum mobile of life itself, the chosen task to which all other pursuits are secondary.

Professionals don’t wait to feel like artists. They work like artists.

To get a first-hand perspective from a different art, go to LA and spend some time on Santa Monica Boulevard and you will encounter some astoundingly talented actors…in the restaurants and coffee shops.

These folks have drive for days and are totally committed to their art.

The frustrating truth is that you and I will probably never hear of the most talented actors, musicians, and writers. They will never be famous. But that won’t stop them. They work because they are in love with the work.

It is not mere cliché to say they create because they “can’t not create.”

Discipline

Writers—like other professionals—actively practice their craft, whether or not they are “in the mood.” In this regard, discipline beats inspiration every time.

It’s fine to wait until inspiration strikes—to sit idly by in anticipation of a collect call from your muse—if you are a hobbyist. But if you’re serious about your craft, you want—you need—to “do the thing you do so well,” because it is a huge part of your identity and your life meaning.

But you're also human. Discipline comes to bear on days when you aren’t quite as “on fire” to write.

But write you will.

And write you must.

Writing

Writers write.

Every day.

Even when it’s hard.

Even when it’s bad.

Even when you’re distracted.

Even when you’re not sure anyone will ever read it.

Even if it’s not ready to be published.

Even if it will never be published.

It seems simple and sounds redundant, but if you are a writer, you write.

You write when it’s hard and when it’s lame, when you can’t focus and when you’re distracted. You know that there’s no such thing as “writer’s block.” That’s procrastination—an excuse for lacking the courage to face a blank page or a new chapter.

“Just a few words” almost always become hundreds—or more—over the course of a day.

First and foremost—if you are a writer, you write.

Reading

Writers read—constantly and voraciously. In their genre and far afield, well-known authors and the newly discovered.

We look for book recommendations from friends and acquaintances, from “must-read” lists created by people we respect, in book clubs and readers’ circles, and from the little “recommended” cards on bookstore shelves.

The written word is manna for a writer—spiritual, intellectual, soul-enriching sustenance—whether creating or consuming.

Have you ever seen a writer’s house or office that wasn’t crammed with books?

Am I the only one who will drive long distances to visit a storied (pun intended) old bookstore? Who irritates significant others by spending hours—sometimes several—in a good bookstore? Who knows and patronizes the best bookstores in every town they visit?

Writers read.

By their libraries shall ye know them.

Focus

Writers develop a preternatural, almost otherworldly ability to concentrate on a story—their own or someone else’s.

I like to be around other people when I write, so I typically spend a lot of time in coffee shops (with good Wi-Fi). Coffee shops and bookstores are my milieu (that’s writer-speak for my jam).

I likely developed an affinity for crowded creative spaces during the pursuit of several college degrees in a number of subjects, many of which were earned when I had no other place to read and write. Crowded, busy spaces are a great training ground in which to develop focus.

Many are the nights I have endured the acerbic “We’re closing…” from a barista or librarian.

Environment helps. I am particular about the way I arrange my workspace, whether in my office or abroad. Hemingway, King, and Asimov have famously detailed their own predilection for efficient, uncluttered spaces—all in the name of focus.

If you have difficulty concentrating, a life of writing may not be for you.

Life Experiences

This is the big one.

Whether writing or composing music, I find that a steady flow of life experiences is truly grist for the mill.

We write to make people feel something.

Which means we have to feel it, experience it, first.

When I do nothing but write, my work starts to feel two-dimensional to me. This was always the case in graduate school, where the unrelenting deadlines of malicious professors (I try not to be one) mandated a copious emesis of words from my computer.

I swear points were given for sheer volume. No human can read that much terrified student drivel, so grades must have been awarded on the basis of word count.

Not so for my creative work.

I try to have experiences that keep me excited about life. When I write, I try to express that excitement, that interest.

You have to get out and touch some grass. See big sights; think big thoughts.

If you follow my work, you know I am fond of long, undistracted drives. I spend a great deal of time staring at mountains, rivers, cities, and the road ahead.

It may seem as though I'm "spacing out," but there are things brewing in there—people and places and events: stories.

Because at the end of the day, it's all about telling stories.

Be mindful of your experiences.

Then use your imagination and focus.

And watch what comes out.

My novel, The Calling is available now in print and as an eBook.


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To learn more about how to use these concepts or to inquire about working with me, go to the Jeff W Welsh website, subscribe to my Substack or Medium accounts or the Hardcore Happiness blog page, and follow my Instagram account for daily insights.




- JWW