The Art of Merit

In a world where information is everywhere, how do we differentiate what is worth writing about and what is not? In this post, we delve into the subject of merit and recognition, exploring the intricacies of the literary world and the impact that opinions can have on works of art. From the struggle of trying to act on the basis of merit, to the role of patterns in our lives, and the under-appreciation of opinions, we’ll examine how the art of merit is a complex and ever-evolving topic. Join us as we question the value of greatness and the idealistic notion of unlimited potential.

Notes on Patterns, Recognition, and Legacy.

1. WHAT TO WRITE ABOUT?

There are so many things to write about, it’s kind of crazy. But in the age of the Internet, in the age of information-as-a-virus, in the age of white noise, what’s there that I can write about?

I ask myself this question a lot, if not constantly. And then, when I go and sit down, and try to figure out some semblance of an answer — I get distracted.

I begin writing something that feels interesting, or entertaining — maybe even important if I’m in a particularly grandiose mood. But is it really? Is there a seminal idea that my voice can provide on this makeshift soapbox? No, of course not.

So, let me distract myself once again with this argument I’d like to make: Take note of the budding writer on equal terms with the seasoned author. Perhaps a little verbose, and perhaps a little self-indulgent, but I believe it’s true. Each work must be held to its own merit, and not lay on the foundation of previous work.

Or perhaps, if I let myself dive a little deeper into the navel-gazing: The argument of merit versus recognition isn’t a worthy argument at all.

When you’re trying to act on the sole basis of merit, nothing is in your favour. It is an uphill climb, and the incline mercilessly becomes steeper with each step you take.

There are so many people smarter than you, with better and more articulate versions of your idea. There are so many more lived people than you, with better and more authentic voices, that convey stories far more universal, far more passionately.

It is an uphill climb, for every time you manage to get that boulder all the way up, you need to start again, start over from the beginning. There are no sudden shortcuts a soon as you achieve success — right? No, of course there are.

Who’s more likely to become a bestselling author, a debut writer or someone who was already on the bestseller list?

When patterns are broken, new worlds emerge. — Tuli Kupferberg

2. PATTERNS — OR LACK THEREOF

The reason that the uphill struggle becomes easier after the first time has nothing to do with merit at all, though. It is purely fashioned by trust — if you do something good once, people will have faith that you’ll do good again.

We are prisoners to the world’s patterns. They are the shortcuts for our exhausted senses. Any sort of pattern allows our neurons to at least take a slight rest, these patterns provide us comfort. But they shouldn’t.

The real world is so far detached from the world of mathematics — no matter what mathematicians would like to tell you. Or perhaps more accurately, the human condition is so far detached from the world of numbers.

We are so impossibly fickle, fragile and seemingly invincible. No amount of consistency will let you know how well somebody will do tomorrow. Addicts miraculously quit using for the rest of their lives one day. Loving parents suddenly walk out of their child’s lives forever.

These may be extreme examples, but they are not outliers. The only thing that can battle the atrophy-inclined nature of the universe is the person’s unreasonable unpredictability.

Our ability to become something so greater than the thing we once were — with nothing else but our own spirit — can seem as though it violates the basic laws of the universe itself, if you allow me to get a little romantic.

“Opinion is the medium between knowledge and ignorance.” — Plato

3. OPINIONS & THE IDEALISTS

To reign myself back in, I believe that the idealistic notion that every person has the potential for greatness — and great ideas — is not that unbelievable. How many great ideas though, is another question entirely. Perhaps our entropic limit is the answer to whatever amount that is.

Speaking of, the majority of us do not have much influence, do we? Even if we find brilliance in obscurity, there is not much that we can do about it.

Perhaps that is the greatest tragedy when examining the plutocratic nature of power — even if we the common folk do find a hidden gem, it still paradoxically remains hidden. Even if the idealists are correct, nothing much changes because they’re in charge of nothing. Because if they were, they wouldn’t be idealists.

On the contrary, people also under-appreciate the value of their opinion. What we think of as off-handed comments can completely change someone else’s mood — or in the most dramatic of cases, the trajectory of their life.

There are so many wonderful literary works and films that I adore so much, and that a large amount of people adore as well, that still will get their fair share of 1-star reviews. In fact that probably seems beyond obvious. And these people that share these critical views are usually not contrarian by nature, they may genuinely hold the belief that what is generally regarded as a masterpiece may in fact just be plainly awful.

And if you truly take into account the consciousness of that one particular person who believes that — that they themselves have a rich and entire life that goes along with that opinion (often called *sonder*), it can feel debilitating. There is such a weight to it: That no matter how hard you try, possibly over the course of years, there are those that shrug and dismiss it — and perhaps rightly so.

“If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn’t brood. I’d type a little faster.” — Isaac Asimov

4. FREEDOM

With this debilitation, however, comes the contradictory feeling of complete and total freedom. If the greatest works of human creation can still regarded by some as terrible, then you don’t have a battle to fight. You will never be able to convert every single person you meet into a fan of what you do, or who you are.

And this same idea can be applied to recognition as well. There’s not a single entity that every single human being on Earth can recognize. A few brands definitely come close, but all miss the mark.

More importantly, this recognition is so mortal, it is as fragile as we are. If we are on the bestselling list this generation, there is still a good chance we are buried underneath the soft dirt of forgetfulness by the next.

A legacy is the most difficult and most important thing to cultivate. And luckily it is one of the only arenas where merit can win over power. Where we unearth the work of amazing artists who died unrecognized only to sorely love them hereafter.

The uphill climb is often brutal, often seeming like it’s not worth it — but it profoundly is. The only chance we have of building something that outlasts us is to put in our all as vulnerably and genuinely as possible. In every action that we partake in.

It is so much easier to take the path of least resistance when you let yourself forget that you’re going to be wormfood in just a handful of decades — or maybe sooner.

The fight for power is a historical pendulum that swings without much care for you, in particular. But the fight for merit lies within, it is something you are capable of starting to fight — and maybe even win — this very moment.

About B. Kenneth Brown