30 July 2009
Some wonderful things happen when you teach; as do terrible ones.
Terrible: had to ask a student to withdraw from class (my boss did this, with grace and kindness, God bless him) for a variety of reasons. It was one of those “for the good of the whole” decisions, and not an easy one. I’m generally a believer in the wide gate when it comes to The Writing Life.
Wonderful: I suppose “wonderful” isn’t quite the right word. Stunning, maybe. In both senses. Let me back up a little.
Back in April, I wrote about a class I was hoping to teach, called “Writing Self/Writing Other.” My interest was in proposing an alternative to the memoir and autobiographical fiction craze. I love writing characters (and settings, and events) that have nothing to do with my personal experience; I love the exploration, the research, and the process of connecting with a character or place or time that is “other.” I love how this process is almost always, ironically, a process of self-discovery.
That class has not yet materialized, but I’m still working on it.
A few weeks ago, I wrote about Sarah Palin and empathy (or, her apparent lack thereof). The gist of that post was that the artist’s vocation is an empathic one, requiring the development of an essential compassion; and that I’m glad to take part in this work, to the best of my ability.
Recently, I assigned a class a writing exercise, wherein the students were asked to write a letter, from one friend to another, at mid-life, after the experience of a great difficulty. It was an exercise in Voice. One student wrote a letter in which the narrator described the aftermath of her child’s tragic death.
The Voice in this piece struck me as a bit too breezy, perhaps a bit too articulate. As if the loss were not nearly as bizarre and incomprehensible as I imagine such a loss would be. There is no experience further from my own — not only do I not have children, but I’ve yet to lose someone close to me to death — and so I treaded lightly as I provided comments. “It seems like something that would live more in the subtext of a voice,” I wrote. “That it would be unspeakable for quite a long time.”
The student wrote back to me (this is an online class) to let me know how much she appreciated my comments. “That’s exactly it,” she wrote, and went on to tell me that her daughter and son-in-law were killed in a plane crash some five years ago, leaving three little boys.
I can’t tell you what a gift this was, this student’s generosity and trust. Life is hard, and we put on our armor to get through — layers of cynicism, irony, and stoicism. It would be easy to lose our compassion, our empathy. I am deeply grateful to know, in this small way, that in the midst of life hardships and learning to buck up where I am perhaps over-sensitive, I am also somehow managing to be a human being; and am more convinced than ever that our efforts to develop empathy are at the heart of our human-ness.
29 July 2009
From Publisher’s Weekly online yesterday:
Barnes & Noble is partnering with AT&T to provide free in-store Wi-Fi access to customers at all stores nationwide.
CEO Steve Riggio said providing free Wi-Fi to customers is helping the retailer “[extend] the sense of community that has always been in our stores.” The company also stressed that in offering free Wi-Fi, customers will be able to easily download and preview e-books. The company said the number of e-books it carries in its new e-book store is expanding daily, and it expects to hit the one million mark soon. Riggio called the addition of free Wi-Fi in all stores “a natural progression of our digital strategy to provide customers with more choices in how, when and where they want to read.”
Big change for B&N, I suspect we’ll be seeing more seating as well, and a friendlier atmosphere for lounging around in general (if you’ve ever tried Union Square or Upper West Side B&N in NYC for a lunch-hour or after-work pit stop, you’ve probably seen the hordes of people sprawled out on the floor, leaning up against bookshelves and heating units). It all makes sense: if you’re selling online, you need to give your customers access.
As for the AT&T partnership… is Starbucks next for free Wi-fi? It’s gotta be.
27 July 2009
I’m only just now beginning to seek out counsel and talk to other writers about their experiences in publishing. And I’ve noticed that people often couch their counsel in terms of the one thing I’d recommend, which is usually born of either a very good, or very bad, experience they had, and learned from.
Right now I’ve got two of those one things on my mind, and it occurs to me that it’s good to have two — one that helps you manage the big-picture, and one that provides a concrete, short-term action you might take.
The big picture piece comes from independent publicist Lauren Cerand, from an interview at Three Guys One Book:
The authors that I see consistently lining up the best gigs and getting enviable exposure are not the ones with the most money to burn or endless time to spend but rather the ones that take the long view of their careers and keep a sense of perspective on things. Fiction takes a while to get going.
Cerand goes on to talk about historical trends in cultural consumption, how writers like Melville and Whitman did not “sell” well in their time, how a once-popular and still-vibrant art form like jazz can become sidelined from the mainstream; but cautions against resigning oneself to irrelevancy. “A healthy outlook is somewhere in the middle,” she says.
This counsel seems sound and wise to me; but I can’t help but worry its realism. What I mean is that, from this writer’s perspective, the messages are mixed: novelists are made acutely aware of the fact that much of their careers rides on how the first novel is received. There is less forgiveness than ever for a first novel that doesn’t sell well, an all-or-nothing short-term menace hovers. We understand that our publisher is not committing to developing and supporting our writing careers over time, but rather calibrating the cost-benefit with each individual work. I don’t lay any blame or judgment here, I recognize that editors hate this possibly as much as writers do. (I would hope that the cost-benefit of this larger systemic shift is also part of the discussion in publishing right now, but I don’t know that to be the case.)
So the second one thing came from a fellow novelist, who published her first book a few years ago. She advised: for your first novel, hire an independent publicist. Because, she reasoned, you only have one first novel; and this is the moment when people might just be paying attention.
Funny that the publicist would be the one to say, Take the long view; and the novelist the one to say, Make sure you focus on this short-term moment. It gives you a sense of the potential for how tense and fraught this whole process might get.
My six-months-before-release promotional push for Long for This World will begin in a month or so. Stay tuned: we’ll see if/how well my two things materialize. Once again, I seem to be seeking that middle path.
23 July 2009
I’m over at The Millions blog again, chewing over the idea of “free” — featuring an ensemble cast: Toni Morrison, DH Lawrence, Chris Anderson, Adrienne Shelley, Jozef Czapski. Click on over (your views, links, and comments most welcome).