Mark Manson Simplifies Life by Giving Fewer Fucks

A reader of my blog post about The Fine Art of Not Giving a Fuck thought I’d enjoy The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck by Mark Manson. He was right, but he couldn’t have predicted how The Subtle Art changed my life by contributing a crucial concept to my Fine Art of Not Giving a Fuck.

Manson begins his book explaining why “Don’t Try” is inscripted on Charles Bukowski’s headstone. Bukowski struggled to make a career of writing for a long time. But once he stopped caring about a career and started writing for himself, he stumbled into one, both figuratively and literally. Bukowski isn’t suggesting we do nothing because nothing matters. He’s just offering the same advice Yoda gives Luke in The Empire Strikes Back: “Try not. Do, or do not. There is no try.”

If you’re like me and struggle to find happiness or even contentedness in this life, Mark Manson’s The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck can help you determine the things worthy of the limited fucks you have to give. You see, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck is giving fewer fucks and focusing the fucks we give on truly important things.

Don’t waste your fucks on bad drivers holding up traffic or coupon-cutters holding up the line at the grocery store, Manson writes. There’s no result that’ll make you feel the fuck you gave was worth a fuck. Instead, focus the few fucks you have to give on things you find fulfilling.

What fulfills me is the same thing that tortures me: writing. Filling a blank page with words is always rewarding because of that torture. Every writer struggles with this catch-22 occasionally. It’s commonly known as writer’s block, but it’s really just a result of giving a fuck. Not giving a fuck about results allows us to stop worrying and start doing, and the doing, not what’s done, is responsible for our growth.

I’ve often avoided writing to partake in more enjoyable but less fulfilling pleasures. I’ve watched movies I’ve seen dozens of times to avoid writing. I’ve subjected myself to the swamp of social media and trolled ignorant assholes to avoid writing. I’ve even avoided writing by reading, convincing myself that I lacked the knowledge required to start writing. That and working on my house have been my most employed excuses to avoid writing during the COVID-19 pandemic.

I’ve tried to hold myself accountable by setting reminders on my phone to write everyday. I ignored them like most notifications I receive. Then I asked an acquaintance to hold me accountable, which I would also do for him. But it didn’t seem fair to expect my acquaintance to be a reliable accountability buddy once I learned he had recently attempted suicide.

I also kept a writing calendar on a whiteboard in my office. I wrote daily goals I wanted to accomplish at the top and denoted which goals I accomplished each day. That only lasted a few months because the days I didn’t accomplish all my goals made me feel like a complete failure, even if I wrote something. Eventually I stopped attempting any of the daily goals.

“You’re giving too many fucks about too many things,” Mark Manson would have told me. “Why try to accomplish four things everyday when you struggle to accomplish one?” There is no logical explanation for my expectations, but the old me would have defended my illogical expectations with illogical excuses.

I’ve always bitten off more than I can chew. In college I took up to 21 credits per semester because every credit after 12 was free. As a result, I completed two undergraduate degrees and three minors in five years, saving myself a bit of money in the process. Then I went back to complete a Master’s degree in English while working two jobs.

I often overworked myself into mental breakdowns. I worked roughly 32 hours per week while enrolled in high school and community college courses. I worked overnights at hotels and grocery stores during college, often missing my morning classes to sleep or ski if it snowed. One summer, I worked overnight at a hotel for eight hours before starting another eight-hour shift working construction. I worked between 72 and 80 hours per week with very few days off. I’ve never made more money than I did that year, and I don’t think I’ll ever try it again.

I’ve been trying to write for a long time, but I’ve rarely just done it. Some of my creative writing classes in college required us to use class time for “freewriting.” Freewriting is writing about the first thing that enters your mind without worrying about what ends up on the page. Freewriting is the instructor not giving a fuck about your topic or your words so you, in turn, can not give a fuck and get writing.

Freewriting proves the point Mark Manson makes in The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck. Freewriting frees writers from the shackles of expectations and the burden of selecting a suitable subject, setting, and style, so they can stop trying to write and start writing. Inevitably, freewriting almost always puts the writer on the path they were trying to find in the first place, because the best way to find something is to stop looking altogether. In short, “Don’t Try.”

I’m going to stop looking for the path and just start walking. Instead of trying to accomplish multiple goals each day, my only goal will be to do the one thing I give a fuck about: writing. And I will no longer evaluate my writing based on clicks, likes, or shares, because I benefit from the act of writing whether people read it or not. You might remember just a few weeks ago I set a goal of attracting more readers with each blog post I published. But “number of readers” isn’t a valuation method I can control. I would be setting myself up for failure just like I did with the four daily goals.

Mark Manson has inspired me to do more by trying to do less. All I can control is what I do, which is why my one goal will be to write everyday. That writing might not always be for Go Gonzo Journal. It could be for my sports blog, Foul Play-by-Play. It could be for the book I just started writing, or for a screenplay, or an advertisement for an affordable bidet. It could just end up being a few hundred words scribbled on a piece of scratch paper that ends up in the recycle bin. But if I can answer the question, “Did you write today?” with a “yes,” I’ll be a success.