Please welcome Missy Bedell, who blogs at The Literal Mom, where she puts into words things she’s been thinking about over the last decade. She encourages parents to think about parenting and gently reminds us all, through wit, humor and sometimes even tears, that hope is the most important emotion you can carry through life. You may also find her on Facebook and Twitter.
“For all of you would-be writers out there who think you can easily shift your craft to legal writing? Forget it. Law school will suck the creativity right out of you.”
Yes. These words were shared with me in an ampitheatre filled with fellow law students in my first year of law school.
Before that, I’d fashioned myself as just what this professor said – a “would-be writer” who was taking some time at law school to give myself a cushion to land on should the writing “thing” not happen right away.
And I pshawed that professor. I had the confidence of youth on my side. No middle-aged, has-been, wannabe-but-never-made-it-trial-lawyer-turned-professor would cut off my writing dreams.
Nope.
And then indeed, it happened.
The creativity was sucked away, like a wild animal sucking bone marrow out of the bone. Quickly, swiftly, with no remorse.
Law school builds lawyers. It does not build artists. (Though I’d argue that in hindsight – truly gifted lawyers are indeed artists. Because the best lawyers are the ones able to think outside of the box and come up with novel “first impression” arguments. But I digress.)
I learned the “law school formula,” which is a fast learning curve handed to you in Year 1. If you can’t keep up, they kick you out. It almost happened to me because I couldn’t “get” a contracts class and flunked the final, which of course meant I flunked the course. One test, one grade.
But because of my good grades in the other classes, I eeked into my second year. And eventually made it through to the end. And by then my creative writing skills were indeed gone.
I was still a creative person, but I’d lost the passion for writing a good story.
Maybe I was an amaryllis during my law school, attorney, and eventually early parenting years. Lying dormant during those years, just a bulb, waiting for my time to bloom.
If so, that’s okay. Important things are happening to an amaryllis while it lies dormant.
Important preparations are being made for its time to bloom.
And during those years where my writing hid dormant, important changes were occurring in me too. My ideas were developing. My backbone was strengthening. My desire to bloom was growing.
And here I am.
I don’t say these things anymore:
“Someday I want to be a writer.”
“I’m an aspiring writer.”
“When I get more time, I’ll become a writer.”
Writers don’t just become. They ARE. Whether they’re practicing their craft or not, they are still writers.
And I am one of them. My amaryllis bloom is starting to peek out of the bulb.
Missy
The Literal Mom
www.literalmom.com
What a beautiful analogy. Thank you for sharing your story.
Thank you, Jana. Nice to meet you!
it’s so true, I say it more now and I mean it. “I am a writer” and it feels so good, so right as if I should have been saying it for a lot longer than I have.
I stand in quiet awe of your law degree and I always wondered how much of the Whismy it took out of someone who pursued it. It’s almost sad to know that it happens, that it can QUIET the artist in you.
You know that I am so happy that you have found that voice, that color, that whismy again. I love reading your words. 🙂 xo
It does feel good to say “I am a writer!” Doesn’t it? Except I’m still fighting the urge to laugh or say something self-deprecating immediately after.
It is sad that a law degree took away my creativity for a time. But I don’t regret it. It changed my life in so many ways for the better. And because of that failed class I talked about? I met my husband. Hey – I think that’s a blog post idea . . . 🙂
What a beautiful analogy Missy!! It is funny because the closer I get to my transition out of the classroom to try this whole “writing” thing on full time, I have more and more doubt about my being a writer. Your writing, like you, is stunning, and I am so glad that those dormant days are over!
Elena – I think it’s totally natural to have more doubt about your authenticity as you move toward devoting more time to it. You are making it more “vocation,” instead of “avocation.” And that’s a scary thing to think about. I totally get it. I, for one, am thrilled we’re going to see more of your craft in the coming year.
I love that — “Writers just are.” I have an old friend trying to convince me of the same thing. I don’t know why an hem and haw when someone asks me the question, “Are you a writer?” I’ve started answering, “I am now.”
I love that – I am now.
Missy. You have no idea how much your story is applicable to my life right now. I just started studying for the LSAT (I’ve wanted to go to law school for as long as I can remember)… but now you just freaked the heck out of me about losing my creativity and passion for writing (not that I ever wanted to combine those things.)
But anyway – I love how you said all of this… and I will likely be in touch. (Not sure if that’s a good thing or bad thing for you.) 😉 Thank you for sharing this!
You can be in touch anytime, Julie! Happy to talk. Despite it’s somewhat tarnished reputation, I will always believe practicing law is one of the most noble professions there is. And as someone once said to me, “there’s always room for another GOOD lawyer in the world.”
Yes.
Yes you ARE.
Thanks so much, Jenni. 🙂
Grad schoo, too, Missy. Nobody said those words, but it happened anyway. And I have always known I was a writer. That dead period damned nearly killed me. Here’s a funny story, though. My husband is a historian. His parents convinced him to follow science because he’s good at it. So his undergrad degree is in chemistry. He took nearly as many history classes, but didn’t double major because he didn’t want to do a second senior project. But he hated the job he got with the chem degree.
So he loves the law and decided to try lawyering. In his first year of law school, a prof asked for the definition of some word, and after shooting down every answer in the class informed them, “It means whatever your client needs it to mean.” Scott finished the year, but he decided right there that there was too little room for him as an ethical attorney.
Then, and ONLY THEN did he follow his heart and get the history Masters and PhD. He will probably (though he doesn’t realize it) go back and finish the JD because he’s a legal/constitutional historian with a focus on WWI.
But if I ever ‘make it’ my advice will be that if you are a writer, just fucking write already. Don’t get a backup career. Take writing classes as they help you. Stop when they interfere. And write.
Jessie – LOVE this story. And you know I can totally hear you in an interview giving that advice and getting bleeped out on Oprah or something “just bleeping write already!” I know Oprah’s not on TV anymore, but you know what I mean, right?
I think you’re doing so much more than simply peeking out of the bulb…
Go, amaryllis, go!
The little amaryllis that could! Thank you, Julie. You’re quite the amaryllis yourself!
Missy, I don’t know if it is because I am just getting to know you or I feel the same way or both but this last part of peeking out of the bulb brought tears to my eyes. You just painted a beautiful picture with your writer’s words!
Kristen- thank you so much. I’m so happy we’re getting to know each other better. Like Sela said in the comment above yours, this is why blogging is so wonderful – finding kindred spirits.
Wow, a law degree and a writer. Those were the two things I wanted to be. I can write, but as to becoming a lawyer, I would need a backbone made of steel to do that and I’m anything but steel. Love your post Missy. I’m glad you didn’t become a lawyer for a living. You’re writing shines and it touches the heart. I said it before and I’ll say it again, this is why I love blogging. Meeting amazing people like you. Thank you.
Sela – thank you. I actually did spend 6 years practicing law. And you’re right about the backbone. We called it being a “duck.” Which means you need to be able to let anything roll off of you to survive in law – “like water off of a duck’s back.” Thank you very much for the compliment. I am touched.
Erin – thank you SO much for having me here at your place. It’s a true honor to explore my writer roots with someone I consider to be a fantastic writer herself!
I think you’re definitely correct that writers just ARE, no matter what. I love the wonderful, positive ending to this post and the tie in with the amaryllis to your “roots”. 🙂 Loving getting to know you, Missy!
What a perfect metaphor. You’re such an amazing writer, it’s hard to imagine there was ever a time when you weren’t creative. Thanks for the advice to sop waiting to become and realize that we ARE writers. Nice seeing you over here!
Beautiful, strong, inspiring, and holy smart you! Love! 🙂