When Writing... Strive to Be Like Uhtred

But realize you might be more like Finan or Osferth (Baby Monk) or even lower.

Writing and creative endeavors are a lot like going to battle in Wessex in 970 AD. I know what you are thinking, he's lost his mind, for real this time, but hear me out here. 

Uhtred of Bebbanburg

I just finished the 10th book in The Last Kingdom series (The Flame Bearer by Bernard Cornwell) and while I was reading about Uhtred and his men taking back Bebbanburg in a pitched battle against his cousin I started to make a connection. Uhtred, our hero, like many similar central leaders in reality, is in the fight and some of his men we've grown to know, fall in battle, right beside him in the shield wall, while others we know, and don't know, win the day and live to see Uhtred take back his home. The connection… Uhtred is like the popular writers, musicians, or artists that make it. They are central characters in society. For whatever reason, they set their sights on a goal and things fall into place (and yes, sometimes it takes a lot of work). The men who survive beside Uhtred (Like Finan and Osferth (Baby Monk)), are those that are trying to make a name for themselves or have settled into their level or state of being. They are out there writing, making music, or trying to make it in a creative endeavor, but for whatever reason… they can't reach that central pillar of success. They are not in the direct spotlight. They are not Uhtred. Then there are those men who fell in the shield wall, those that reached for the glory but utterly washed out. So badly that their quest for top honors ended with them no longer being able to do the thing they once loved. The writer stops writing and dies inside as those men died in the shield wall. 

Osferth (Baby Monk) and Finan

Why is this? Why is it that some of us give it our all but can never break through the enemy's shield wall and claim the greatest victory, all the while, someone, maybe right next to us, does? 

It was my birthday last month and with age, I think about all the dreams I had that I could never make happen. When I was in my early 20’s (and music was life), I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that someday I would be on stage fronting a band, in front of tens of thousands of people a night. Never happened. Nothing I did with music ever broke my way. 

I was a DJ for a while but again, never broke out from the pack. Never was able to move to bigger venues. I could never break the enemy’s shield wall. 

Then I found writing and people are always saying, this stuff is good, you should be doing this. You should get published. Still… Can't find a way to break that shield wall. Luck of the draw I guess. 

I don't want to disparage others but I happened upon a Substack last week, where the person took pictures of stupid shit (like an ashtray with old cigarettes in it), with minimal writing (3 sentences or so) and the article had quite a few likes and comments. This person also has quite a few paying subscribers. My internal monologue revs up and the Id was saying, “What the fucking hell is this???” I looked through more of this person's articles and there was nothing mind-blowing there. Inane photos and juvenile platitudes… but people are paying a monthly fee for more. Congrats dude, you found some secret sauce that I have yet to discover. You may not have made it to an Uhtred level but you are definitely one of his men that gets to celebrate and feast with the victors below him. 

It's hard to be an optimist when you know you can do something but the fucking winds of fate refuse to blow your way. It's also hard to put out things that you feel are top shelf but end up getting passed over. The numbers and views don't come in and the paying subscribers are but a myth. If you have paying subscribers for your Substack, congratulations and hallelujah. You've found some of the secret sauce that eludes so many of us. 

Realization starts to set in. I never wanted to be just another face in the crowd. I wanted a legacy. I wanted to be someone that did something spectacular. Alas… another face in the crowd, I am. No need for pity. It (as do many things in life) is what it is. And maybe the words I write or have written will bring a smile to someone's face or anger to their inner being or a somber feeling on a pleasant fall morning. That will have to be enough. For I know I will never be an Uhtred. 

Fucking hell… and now 30 day views are back in the gray. The enemy’s shield wall is becoming stronger and stronger. And so it is, and so it does, and so it goes. Onward we fight… without rhyme or reason.