transformation

We aspire by doing things, and the things we do change us so that we are able to do the same things, or things of that kind, better and better. In the beginning, we sometimes feel as though we are pretending, play-acting, or otherwise alienated from our own activity. We may see the new value as something we are trying out or trying on rather than s

... See more

Doing something badly, she insists, isn’t a sign of unworthiness. Nor is the fear that you are doing it in a way that seems fake, insincere. If you can’t apprehend the value of a writing practice yet, it’s enough to apprehend that there is something there, something desirable and important to you. That’s more than enough to begin. Aspirants, Callar... See more

If we managed, with heroic unselfconsciousness, to really commit to becoming a writer , an artist , a better person— then we would have to acknowledge that we aren’t that person yet. More than that: Striving means we aren’t that person yet—and we might never become that person. It’s easier to not try—and indulge in the subtle, self-lacerating logic... See more

I never allowed [my system of thought] to fall to pieces, but was incessantly occupied in weaving it anew. I never, in the course of my transition, was content to remain, for ever so short a time, confused and unsettled. When I had taken in any new idea, I could not rest till I had adjusted its relation to my old opinions, and ascertained exactly h... See more

For the aspirant, there’s nothing more comforting than realizing you are not alone in trying. You’re not alone in trying to find a subject, trying to develop the discipline, trying to turn your life towards something that you can’t quite understand yet.

You’re a beginner. You haven’t become who you want to be—yet. You want to wake up in the mornings to write, but you often don’t manage it. What we learn from Agnes Callard—and Kafka, and Proust—is that here’s nothing wrong with this state of affairs, nothing to be ashamed of, no reason to stop. We can, and should, continue to aspire.

“Being a well-meaning phony,” Rothman suggested, “is key to our self-transformations.” Phoniness wasn’t a sign I was fundamentally, intrinsically unworthy of my aspirations. Phoniness was, in fact, an essential part of any aspirational project.

What Agnes Callard argues—and what writers’ diaries show us—is that we have to keep trying. Write regularly! Don’t give up! Don’t let the doubts stall you, the doubts that say: Who do you think you are? What makes you think you can write? Aren’t you fundamentally unqualified and incapable, in this moment, of writing well? Why are you trying so hard... See more

...[A]spirants must grow comfortable with a certain quantity of awkward pretense. If someone were to ask you why you enrolled, you would be overreaching if you said that you were moved by the profound beauty of classical music. The truth, which is harder to communicate, is that you have some vague sense of its value, which you hope that some future

... See more