When I grow up

“I want to be like that person when I grow up.” How many times have you said something like that in your lifetime?

No doubt the sentiment was expressed many times in your youth, if not out loud, then at least in your mind. You may have wanted to be like your parents. You may have discovered a neighbor with a cool job. Perhaps you dreamed of being like your favorite athlete. Or maybe you hoped to step on stage alongside a talented pop star. Whatever ambitions you may have had for yourself, many were generated by observing others in their glory.

I find myself saying “I want to be like so-and-so when I grow up” even well into my adulthood. In fact, I recently told an academic colleague that I wanted to be like her because I truly admired her fabulous syllabus for an adult learning course. There are professionals in the learning and development field whose work I deeply admire – their savvy in design, or in making theoretical ideas practical, in developing a thriving business, or anticipating the next thing. I have wanted to be more like them as I have grown in my career.

My learning and development background gives me insight into how one can learn from other people. It’s critical to first select exemplary role models for specific skills. Then you can study their work, their process, and their advice – hearing them talk about their craft or taking opportunities to observe them in action or talk with them directly. To make their skills your own, you need to reconceptualize and articulate their techniques and advice for personal use, then practice those lessons in appropriate opportunities and seek constructive feedback on those efforts.

As my next chapter begins to unfold, the people I want to emulate have changed – they are writers, and advocates, and thinkers that inspire me, that make me want to stretch my own skills in specific ways. I want to ensure that I learn from them, not just admire them. When I grow up as a writer, I want to be more like these people:

The creative genius

I have long admired Lin-Manuel Miranda’s creative capacity – the scope and breadth of his work in the decade that I’ve been following him is beyond impressive. I don’t want to morph into a gifted composer or Broadway mogul, but elements of his creative life would be helpful for my own approach.

Lin identifies what he can learn from every project, often covertly apprenticing himself to the creators he works with. He has said that he took notes about songwriting from Tom Kit (Bring it On); about directing from Rob Marshall (Mary Poppins Returns), about maximizing a creative team from Tommy Kail (Hamilton) and on and on. That seems to me a generous and developmental way to approach work – putting aside his “genius” status to engage with others with humility and openness.

He wholly relishes feedback. Lin recognizes the value of seeking input from every creator in the room and invites both ideas and critique. Applying his superpowers of listening to and sifting through feedback, he effectively gathers varied perspectives and uses them to refine the work.

Lin continues to deepen his understanding of his craft. With his encyclopedic knowledge of music and expert-level facility with how songwriting and musical storytelling works, Lin is not just pouring out raps and melodies; he composes with honed intention. His precision in selecting the right sound (style) and the right placement for key story ideas is made possible by accessing that expertise. Even as an acknowledged expert, Lin remains committed to learning more, going deeper, and exploring the new.

That attention to honing craft has been part of my DNA for my entire career, and I’m activating that for my reinvigorated interest in writing personal essays. Lin’s approach underscores for me the importance of constant self-development, drawing from a range of learning techniques – apprenticeship, feedback, and craft study at the top of the list.

The prolific worldbuilder

One of the writers on my role model list is the amazingly prolific fantasy author Brandon Sanderson. His Mistborn trilogy ranks at the top of my list of favorites for authentic characters and edge-of-your-seat reading. During the pandemic, when his travel schedule was curtailed, Brandon secretly wrote five additional books outside of his planned work on existing commitments. Sale of those books exploded into the biggest Kickstarter of all time, with 185,341 subscribers and $41.7 million pledged. But that degree of success in writing fantasy is not what I want to emulate; I want to take lessons from Brandon about how to organize a creative life that allows for productive writing time and getting work into publishable form.

Brandon is extraordinarily adept at juggling multiple projects to completion – and his secret is simply to stick with a project until the entire draft is finished rather than allowing himself to divert energies to more exciting ideas when the writing gets hard. He says that concentrating effort on one story has the added benefit of focusing his subconscious mind on that work-in-progress as well. (A lot of writing, plotting, and problem-solving happens in the recesses of your mind when you’re doing other things.) Of course, good ideas come at inconvenient times, and Brandon agrees that sometimes a writer needs to get a few notes or a quick outline on paper, but he doesn’t allow himself leeway to follow those detours very far.

Brandon organizes his life to protect his writing time. As an aspiring author, Brandon earned money as an overnight hotel clerk because it allowed him time to write when things were quiet. These days, his typical daily schedule allocates two four-hour blocks for writing, but he’s nocturnal, so those blocks are 2-6 pm and 10pm to 2am. He just as diligently prioritizes time for his family and for his other interests. Brandon’s creative energies have been diversified into related forms – script-writing, publishing, game development – but he remains intent on keeping his book-writing projects moving along. He checks in with himself and his fans with an annual “state of the Sanderson” report that prioritizes upcoming work. His success has enabled him to hire a cadre of collaborators and assistants who take on project tasks thereby “allowing Brandon to be Brandon” – to put hands to keyboard and write.    

Brandon has taken creating “a room of his own” to the next level. He’s built an underground “lair” attached to his home as his own creative abode. Decorated in dark wood paneling, stained glass, and other luxe materials, his is a space that not only provides privacy and quiet, but also an ambiance suitable to writing fantasy. Nice if you can get it. But for decades, Sanderson’s writing space was a corner of his bedroom, and he did just as well there.

My condo’s designated “writing loft” will do just fine for me, and now that my time is more my own, I can choose to dedicate substantial chunks of it to my writing projects. I’m often tempted to toggle through multiple in-progress essays, so I’m working on my stick-to-it-iveness so that I won’t have a pile of half-finished pieces. Brandon’s example and advice is just what I need.

The exemplar essayists

I most want to take cues from amazing essayists, since that is the genre I write (a.k.a. blogging, newsletter writing). The list of people whose work I admire is diverse. Rebecca Solnit, Audrey Waters, and Sherrilyn Ifill write beautifully in support of a cause. Oliver Burkeman, Rob Walker, and Kate Bowles give lyrical life advice. I’ve read charming work in O Reader and Orion Magazine. John Warner and Kate Smith and bloggers on Brevity write passionately about writing.

I notice their command of language, rich vocabulary, imagination in turns of phrase and use of metaphor; their ability to capture sense of time and place that is immersive and emotive; the varied rhythm, cadence, and musicality in their essays’ structure. They take everyday experiences and use them as entre, illustration, or summary in ways that make their points more personal and powerful. For the most part, they focus their writing on one topic; their bodies of work cover a lot of ground within their subjects, and their message is amplified in the retelling and expansion.

I’m reading these authors as much for writing lessons as for their content. When I am especially moved by a piece, I review it again to discern the nuances that generate reaction and emotion and action. Through that kind of analysis, I continuously expand my personal set of principles and self-editing prompts for improving my own writing (a quality review checklist of a sort).

Growing up to be like them

The practical lessons here seem straightforward, but this summary doesn’t capture the richness of what I’ve learned about these creators’ deeper processes and commitments as well as their writing craft. As I continue to follow their work and their creative journeys, I pick up additional nuances and insights that influence my own creative life.

Learning from others is a primary human inclination; this natural observational learning process is how we learn culture, and roles, and language, and emotional regulation – and skills. Even when we grow up to be like those we admire, we also grow up to be uniquely ourselves. I’ll put my own spin on these lessons and be a better writer as a result.

They say the secret to a long, happy life is finding what you love to do and keeping your mind sharp doing it. For me, a long, happy life will be growing up to be a writer-beach-walker, learning from the best along the way.