Living on the Margins, Writing Alone
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Sometimes things just hit you—obvious aspects of yourself, known territories, that suddenly swoon large in your own self-opinion. Last night, watching the crowd gather at the bookstore, watching that community of authors engender and inspire that community of listeners, I was smacked about inside my head with this commonplace observation: I really am an outsider. I really do live on margins. The center of things eludes me.
Genetics? Circumstance? I do not know. I know only that my life as a writer is fueled almost entirely by correspondence (the essential literary back and forth with Jay Kirk, Buzz Bissinger, Reiko Rizzuto, Ivy Goodman, Kate Moses, Anna Lefler, Alyson Hagy) and the very rare phone call, not by gathering. That I write my books alone, extraordinarily so. That I miss the trends because I haven't been out among those trading news about them. That the few times that I have been out in person doing book-related things over these past many years is primarily because of one person, Elizabeth Mosier, who made it possible for me to join Patricia Hampl (one of my favorite memoirists) for dinner one evening, who drove me to Swarthmore to see Elizabeth Strout (another heroine), and who was the reason I ventured out last night to see writers who were very much worth the effort.
I have squeezed this writing life into the dark. I have made certain that it didn't interfere with the family dinner hour or the client expectation. I have gone off writing these books in my head without stopping to consider: Will they sell? Are they of the now? Will they find their readers? I have bludgeoned out this path for books, but it's a small path—whacked away and narrow.
Is that the way? Is this the way? Last night I had my doubts.
7 comments:
What I love most about your writing is the way it so clearly expresses who you are...your words seem to me like an extension of your spirit. So in order to keep that quality alive, I think you must continue to write in a way that feels true to you, and not try to fit yourself into a mold deemed appropriate by literary society.
You write that "the center of things eludes me..." but what you express in your work is so clearly the center of you, and it encourages the reader to explore their own center. For me, that's just as valuable (if not more so) than being part of any trend :)
Yes, what Becca said. On whether the answer is thisaway or thataway, only you can answer ... and maybe there is no answer to be had, just only that the way is what works for you and the direction may change because of circumstance, because of genetics, or just ... because.
Oh, my. I have the chills because I was JUST THIS MINUTE going to send you an email that said, in effect, "I'm feeling very left out of things these days (perhaps always have)," but I figured I'd check in on your blog and see what was up before I wrote.
And I found this post. (I swear that's how it happened.)
And I totally understand.
And it's so nice to know that I'm not alone in feeling alone. And neither are you, I hope you know.
Oh, dear, where did these pesky tears come from?
XO
A.
I don't know. These authors who go to this conference and that, who watch the trends and listen with gusto to their publisher's marketing director,and get shorter deadlines and shorter deadlines because of their popularity, I've wondered: Does their writing suffer? Does their home life suffer?
This path you've bludgeoned out, that you keep hacking and whacking away at, it's a good one, Beth. Your home, family, friends, community. It is so very good. The stories that you tell us, of the world which encompasses you and how all of it feeds you and inspires you, make you the writer that you are. I believe it gives your writing depth that cannot be taken for granted; certainly cannot be bought at the expense of exchanging it to be a more high profile, "in the know" kind of author.
I say all this and think of how alone you exactly are not. How in- the-know you very much are. Your blogging, teaching of writers, desire to keep learning and challenging yourself to grow, support that you do find around you - just Wow.
Outside is good, Beth. Outside is good because you can remain true to yourself without succumbing to influence. Both writers and artists, by their very nature, work alone...some more alone than others. It is a solitary passion, really, I suppose - unless you choose otherwise. Trend setters come and go - there is no real substance, ever.
You are singular, Beth, and because of that your work is singular - and brilliant - and timeless.
I am awfully proud to 'know' you and so very grateful for the gifts that you give us with your gentle grace and strong intellect. Your books are my treasures.
Most great writers and thinkers have been outsiders. It is that outside perspective that makes the work insightful and original. Nobody can second guess what will sell. Honestly I think it's a crapshoot. How many times did J.K. Rowling get rejected with her first book of the HP series? How many times did Ted Geisel (Dr Seuss)? And on and on.
To have it all...business, family and the passion to write and balance it. It obviously is the way.
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