Writerly Process: Special Features

An impromptu gathering at our home last night—two dear friends and our son coming in and out from a party of his own. Late into the night (rather, earlier today), the conversation turned not to books, but to writers and to writer talk.

It was suggested (by one) that the writerly process is too internal to be of any communicable interest. That what goes on inside a writer's head should stay right there, in a writer's head—the poem or the story or the book ideally speaking exclusively for itself. Process talk has inherent wings in the field of design (how did the green swan-footed couch come to sit beside the pink silk lampshade?) or in film (who doesn't luxuriate in the "Mad Men" special features? who doesn't want to know every last thing about that series' how?) or in the kitchen (which spice and how much and what is the chemistry of baking powder?), but not in writing, where the obsession is the writer's alone and the gist, the longing, the choice making, the fears, the megalomania do not make for relatable tales.

I didn't sleep the rest of the night, retracing the contours of this conversation in my head. I considered how long it takes to produce a story, even, that is worthy of another's glance—of all that time in between that is only choice making, only process. I thought of this blog, which is nothing if not process talk—the splintering off of obsessions, the dwelling with them, the fervent hope that what is said will be of some inherent interest.

I thought of you, reading this blog. I thought to say, Thank you. And happy new year.