That Voodoo That Writers Do SO Well…
I was reading over at Storytellers Unplugged and got all caught up in Brian Hodge’s new essay on - of all things - despair. I’m not going to try and follow in his footsteps or belabor a point, but he got me thinking. There are emotions and experiences that are unique to writers. There are behaviors that when witnessed in a writer are met with shaking heads, or knowing smiles, that would bring suggestions of therapy to most others.
We are obssesive. We are single-minded at times to the point of irritating everyone around us. We are reclusive, and at the same time crave attention. We write for ourselves, and yet we whine if the world doesn’t notice. And the most important point I have to make here? We have to share these experiences with one another.
There is a certain exultation to finishing a book, or a story. There is another wash of goodness that follows a good review, and an equally vitriolic stomach-acid burst accompanying a bad one. While we understand the world doesn’t know our stories - only a small group of readers we cultivate over time has that distinction - we wish that they DID know so that we could discuss the good, and the bad - so that we could explain the things we failed to impart with our words and learn the things that would make them more powerful.
We share the utter loathing for the business side of publishing and writing with its sometimes arbitrary decisions, huge waits and severe let-downs - it’s inability to explain why the world would rather see a hacked together unauthorized biography of some congressman’s ex hooker than a novel we spent months slaving over. We get tired of being asked if wew know writers more famous than we are, whether we’ve written anything people would have read, whether we wouldn’t like to write the books our friends have thought up in a few minutes time - share the wealth - and get famous.
The lucky among us have close circles of like-minded crazy people to share with. The love of my life, Patricia Lee Macomber, is a writer of talent, and a lady of great insight. My friends and colleagues at Storytellers Unplugged represent a huge pool of relief I can dive into when the world is chasing a bit too close to my delicate derriere - and I have, over the years, connected with writers, artists, poets, and musicians. They understand, at least a little.
In the end, what more can one hope for?
DNW
