On self-deprecation and timing

KAFKA AND HIS DYING WORDS

If I had to choose an archetype for the workings of a writer’s mind, Franz Kafka would be my model.

Image by Mathieu Laca

Throughout his literary career (if one could call it that), Kafka consistently doubted himself. He was his biggest critic and never saw much, if any, recognition for his works. Kafka was so displeased with his work - collections of short stories, essays, and unfinished manuscripts - his dying wish, scribbled on bits of paper from his deathbed in Vienna, was to burn every piece of unpublished writing he ever produced. 

“My last request: Everything I leave behind me…in the way of notebooks, manuscripts, letters, my own and other people’s, sketches and so on, is to be burned unread and to the last page, as well as all writings of mine or notes which either you may have or other people, from whom you are to beg them in my name. Letters which are not handed over to you should at least be faithfully burned by those who have them.” ¹

This request came with little surprise to Kafka’s literary executor, Max Brod. He was Kafka’s closest friend and encouraged him to write and publish his work throughout Kafka’s short life. But even in health, Kafka’s deprecation of his writing seemed inconsolable. Here’s an excerpt from his journal entry in 1915: 

“Lack of appetite, fear of getting back late in the evening; but above all the thought that I wrote nothing yesterday, that I keep getting farther and farther from it, and am in danger of losing everything I have laboriously achieved these past six months. Provided proof of this by writing one and a half wretched pages of a new story that I have already decided to discard . . .” ²

This kind of harsh self-criticism might seem extreme, but I speak with writers regularly. This mindset is common, if not normal, for the majority of the writers I engage with. It’s like there’s this constant, looming doubt about their abilities that weighs on their minds. And as writers, we struggle to lift our minds from that weight. 

I want you to keep Kafka’s self-criticism in mind. Now Google him.

The first sentence in his Wikipedia summary reads,  “He is widely regarded as one of the major figures of 20th-century literature.” 

I want you to pause and think about that for one second. 

This is the same person who called his writing “wretched.” 

The same person who wanted his writing burned. 

This is the same person and the same writing that is still being read and studied over a hundred years later. 

Kafka had 40 years of life of which he spent approximately 19 years writing and those same 19 years hating what he wrote. But you are alive. You can still keep writing. 

Because the reality is that none of us know when our time will come. We can be thrust into the spotlight tomorrow, or in the next month, or in the next decade (ask Colleen Hoover).

That’s why as a writer, you absolutely must create from a place of passion first. 

It took me six years to write and self-publish my first novel (Thoughts of a Fractured Soul) and another three years to self-publish my second. Three years after that, I earned my first publishing deal. But since securing numerous deals with renowned publishers, I’m still not someone who lives purely off the sales of my novels. 

As a matter of fact, 2024 marks the ten-year anniversary of Thoughts of a Fractured Soul. I’ve been at this for quite some time and the biggest lesson I’ve learned is to keep writing and keep learning. 

I do both of these activities daily. My mornings start with words and the stories those words create. Similar to Kafka, there are often times when I hate what I’ve written; when those same words push me to question why I’m even writing in the first place.

Despite his apparent disdain for his own work, Kafka also wrote every day. He was passionate about his writing, which is partly why he was so hard on himself. Where I veer from his deprecation, however, is that I keep working until the words on the page fill me with a joyful satisfaction that’s hard to explain. 

My days end with learning. I study the craft, study the industry, and read till my eyes fall dim. This daily routine is how I express my love for writing.

They say discipline is the ultimate sign of self-love. I take that saying to heart, because there is nothing outside my family I love more than writing stories. And even through his self-doubt, I am sure Kafka felt the same way. 

1. Batuman, Elif. “Kafka’s Last Trial.” New York Times , September 22, 2010

2. Temple, Emily. “8 Famous Writers Writing About Not Writing.” July 10, 2017