SANTI VILLANUEVA
Plot twist: You’re Wrong.
In the summer of 1946, an essay titled “Why I Write” appeared in the literary magazine Gangrel, written by none other than George Orwell. In it, Orwell explores his motivations as a writer and famously states that his main creative priority is “to make political writing into an art.” But, if you read the essay closely, you’ll notice Orwell makes a terrible mistake — one that you and I and other creatives make time and time again.
Towards the end of the essay, Orwell reflects:
“Animal Farm was the first book in which I tried, with full consciousness of what I was doing, to fuse political purpose and artistic purpose into one whole. I have not written a novel for seven years, but I hope to write another fairly soon. It is bound to be a failure, every book is a failure, but I do know with some clarity what kind of book I want to write.”
Did you catch the mistake?
Orwell began writing Animal Farm between 1943-1944, during World War II, while working as a columnist for the Tribune newspaper in London. The book’s political content made it difficult to publish, but, in 1945, the famous allegorical novella made its debut.
Pay attention to the timeline.
In 1945, Orwell published Animal Farm. A year later, in “Why I Write,” Orwell confidently wrote that whatever novel he wrote next was bound to be a failure, but, three years later, in 1949 his famous 1984 shook the shelves of bookshops across the globe. Far from the failure he predicted, this dystopian masterpiece had a profound impact on society — a cautionary tale about the dangers of unchecked governmental power and how language and media can control thought and behavior. What Orwell prematurely dismissed as a creative failure became one of the most influential books of the 20th century. 1984 was more than successful. It catapulted human consciousness onto a new level of awareness. And, to this day, it still resonates with readers and continues to shape our political discourse.
It’s hard to believe that an accomplished writer like Orwell could so dramatically misjudge the quality (and significance) of his own work. Or maybe not. Either way, this short anecdote gives us an important insight into the creative process: all creatives — regardless of experience, achievement, and status — struggle with doubt, and to create remarkable work we must learn to push through uncertainty and our own insecurities. The best way to do that?
Have a strong why.
Understanding why we create is important, but equally important is having the courage to keep creating even when we think our work will flop. The impact of our creative work lies beyond our ability (or inability) to predict the future — and sometimes, our “predicted failures” might be just the thing the world needs.
So here’s my piece of advice for today: Stop tricking yourself into thinking you know what’s possible and what’s not. You don’t. Just keep creating.