Here is Bernard DeVoto explaining how, and it’s true for any art:
Whatever his age in years, a writer is still young so long as he feels his work as an enhancement of himself. He is essentially frivolous about writing: it is a setting for or an adornment of his ego. A mature writer is one whom experience and reality have taught to subordinate himself to the job. His discipline is to determine the implicit requirements of the job and then to do it wholly in terms of those requirements, disregarding everything else, disregarding himself most of all. Let the chips fall where they may: what counts is the job. Not his satisfaction (though it may be great), not those who may praise or condemn it, not those whom it may infuriate or bore or delight, but the job as it may be of itself complete. He has no option, he is committed. He has sufficiently mastered his tools and he uses them toward a deliberately chosen end, the job that sets its own terms. Between him and that end nothing whatever can come except his limitations and the fallibility he shares with the rest of the race. Everything else is irrelevant; if anything isn’t, he has not grown up.
(From Bernard DeVoto’s essay, “What Counts is the Job”; pages 52-57 in The Writer’s Handbook, by Udia G. Olsen et al., 1959.)
For a brief biography of Bernard DeVoto, click here.
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