Did that get your attention?
A while ago, I began a three way conversation with two other writers I admire greatly, Tania Hershman and Lauri Kubuitsile. Actually, it was Tania’s idea. She began to ask us all sorts of questions about our writing lives, wondering aloud how we all differed from each other. The result is a 3 parter which we are all simultaneously publishing on our blogs today. I urge you to read all three parts if you can. It was a fascinating discussion that I know you’ll enjoy. Although the 1st section can be found on Tania’s site here and the second on Lauri’s here, you can really read any of the sections in any order. Here’s mine:
Lauri:
Hi Ladies,
Sue, one thing you’ve mentioned is something I think about often. It is on the list I pull out when I am trying to convince myself that I am a complete poser. I once had an argument with a now famous writer – “she who will remain unnamed”- and she told me that any writer who writes for a particular contest or market is not a real writer. It was a way to cut me down to size as that is where most of my writing originates and she knows this. Yes, I do occasionally get an idea and write but more often especially nowadays I see a contest – I write a story for it. Currently I am slowly moving into romance writing — a place I never thought I’d be but there was a gig and I tried my luck and now my book will be one of two that launch a new imprint. Mostly I want to write, there is only a slight itch to write. I hear writers in interviews all of the time saying I need to write. I’m not that writer. I write because I like it. I love stories and I wanted to be a bigger part of them. But my starting point is almost always external. For some this is considered bad form. It’s my way and I’m trying not to bash myself with it. You shouldn’t either. I don’t see why I must write some experimental introversion that will never find a publisher just so i can be considered to be a “real writer”. What is the point? Perhaps I am too practical for that.
Your character (see earlier discussion about a character I wrote that got left out of my 1st novel – sg) intrigues me. I do sometimes start out thinking it’s a short story and realise the characters and the story just will not fit. They need more space. Maybe that’s the case with him. Or linked stories. Have you read Esther Stories by Peter Orner? He does an interesting batch of linked stories.
Sue:
Hi again. Lauri, this is so great and helpful. Not “a real writer”? Unbelievable. I may torture myself with all these questions, but ultimately it must be true that a writer is someone who writes, ESPECIALLY someone who gets paid for it. If the blogosphere has done anything, it’s brought together people who want to support each other rather than just compete with each other. And yes, the idea of linked stories has always intrigued me. It has been my original thought about what sort of structure I’d like to investigate for my next novel. After “Olive Kittredge” became such a hit I thought I better not pursue that , since it would look too “derivative”. But maybe I’ll think about it again. If anything, I could then easily answer the question that publishers always ask, ie “What book is this like?”
Tania: Ok, next question: What did holding your first book do to you/for you?
Sue:
Of course my answer is complicated. My first book was my poetry play, “Dreams of May,” and the publication purposefully coincided with the production of the play. This was 2006. Now, I remember that the books were later than I had hoped (of course), and they didn’t arrive until opening night. I had to have them at the theatre to sell otherwise the entire concept would fall apart. Needless to say, I was a bit of a basket case, so my main feeling upon receiving the box of books was utter relief and then, “okay, come on, let’s go.” There was no time for excitement. The arrival of my box of novels was a different story. That was also late (!) and I was afraid they wouldn’t be there in time for the launch, but they did arrive, and I remember I almost kissed the courier. As it happened, my parents were in town, and so we sat in the sitting room together, looked at the box silently, then finally opened it. When I held “Tangled Roots” in my hands for the first time, I was numb. I couldn’t believe it. I think I cried a bit — I know my mother definitely did!
Although having my poetry play published was a huge event for me, I am ashamed to say that holding my novel in my hands was the first time I really felt like I was “really” a writer. It was a dream I’ve had since I was 8 years old. It completely changed me and my identity. Why I didn’t feel that affirmation with my poetry, I don’t know. I did feel it when I saw my first poem printed in a magazine, but the feeling didn’t last.
I now, of course, have had the experience of receiving the box full of my second novel, “A Clash of Innocents.” I am happy to report that the excitement was just the same this second time around. I certainly would hate to think that you ever become blasé about such things. Each new book is like a new baby – exciting and thrilling and petrifying in its own way.
Lauri:
My first book was The Fatal Payout, actually it was my second book but my first work of fiction. Perhaps this will sound arrogant but I knew eventually I would have some success, mostly because I am phenomenally bullheaded once I set out on a course. When I first saw my novella I felt like I’d jumped my first hurdle. I was now published. It was lovely and I took a few moments to take it in and then I set off for hurdle number two.
Hi Ladies,
Sue, one thing you’ve mentioned is something I think about often. It is on the list I pull out when I am trying to convince myself that I am a complete poser. I once had an argument with a now famous writer – “she who will remain unnamed”- and she told me that any writer who writes for a particular contest or market is not a real writer. It was a way to cut me down to size as that is where most of my writing originates and she knows this. Yes, I do occasionally get an idea and write but more often especially nowadays I see a contest – I write a story for it. Currently I am slowly moving into romance writing — a place I never thought I’d be but there was a gig and I tried my luck and now my book will be one of two that launch a new imprint. Mostly I want to write, there is only a slight itch to write. I hear writers in interviews all of the time saying I need to write. I’m not that writer. I write because I like it. I love stories and I wanted to be a bigger part of them. But my starting point is almost always external. For some this is considered bad form. It’s my way and I’m trying not to bash myself with it. You shouldn’t either. I don’t see why I must write some experimental introversion that will never find a publisher just so i can be considered to be a “real writer”. What is the point? Perhaps I am too practical for that.
Your character (see earlier discussion about a character I wrote that got left out of my 1st novel – sg) intrigues me. I do sometimes start out thinking it’s a short story and realise the characters and the story just will not fit. They need more space. Maybe that’s the case with him. Or linked stories. Have you read Esther Stories by Peter Orner? He does an interesting batch of linked stories.
Sue:
Hi again. Lauri, this is so great and helpful. Not “a real writer”? Unbelievable. I may torture myself with all these questions, but ultimately it must be true that a writer is someone who writes, ESPECIALLY someone who gets paid for it. If the blogosphere has done anything, it’s brought together people who want to support each other rather than just compete with each other. And yes, the idea of linked stories has always intrigued me. It has been my original thought about what sort of structure I’d like to investigate for my next novel. After “Olive Kittredge” became such a hit I thought I better not pursue that , since it would look too “derivative”. But maybe I’ll think about it again. If anything, I could then easily answer the question that publishers always ask, ie “What book is this like?”
Tania: Ok, next question: What did holding your first book do to you/for you?
Sue:
Of course my answer is complicated. My first book was my poetry play, “Dreams of May,” and the publication purposefully coincided with the production of the play. This was 2006. Now, I remember that the books were later than I had hoped (of course), and they didn’t arrive until opening night. I had to have them at the theatre to sell otherwise the entire concept would fall apart. Needless to say, I was a bit of a basket case, so my main feeling upon receiving the box of books was utter relief and then, “okay, come on, let’s go.” There was no time for excitement. The arrival of my box of novels was a different story. That was also late (!) and I was afraid they wouldn’t be there in time for the launch, but they did arrive, and I remember I almost kissed the courier. As it happened, my parents were in town, and so we sat in the sitting room together, looked at the box silently, then finally opened it. When I held “Tangled Roots” in my hands for the first time, I was numb. I couldn’t believe it. I think I cried a bit — I know my mother definitely did!
Although having my poetry play published was a huge event for me, I am ashamed to say that holding my novel in my hands was the first time I really felt like I was “really” a writer. It was a dream I’ve had since I was 8 years old. It completely changed me and my identity. Why I didn’t feel that affirmation with my poetry, I don’t know. I did feel it when I saw my first poem printed in a magazine, but the feeling didn’t last.
I now, of course, have had the experience of receiving the box full of my second novel, “A Clash of Innocents.” I am happy to report that the excitement was just the same this second time around. I certainly would hate to think that you ever become blasé about such things. Each new book is like a new baby – exciting and thrilling and petrifying in its own way.
Lauri:
My first book was The Fatal Payout, actually it was my second book but my first work of fiction. Perhaps this will sound arrogant but I knew eventually I would have some success, mostly because I am phenomenally bullheaded once I set out on a course. When I first saw my novella I felt like I’d jumped my first hurdle. I was now published. It was lovely and I took a few moments to take it in and then I set off for hurdle number two.
——————————————
Now do go read the other sections if you haven’t yet. There’s so much we can learn from each other’s differences. I know this was a terrific learning experience for me. Thanks so much to Tania and Lauri for letting me be a part of this.
Thanks so much, both of you, I really enjoyed this and found it very educational and inspirational – I sense there might be more in the future!
When we were doing this I wasn’t sure we were making any progress but now I see we’ve made some important points, an honest discussion about this writing business. Thanks ladies!!
What a brilliant thing to do, and the conversation raises so many issues and thoughts, it’s hard to know where to start. But I will start with Lauri’s point :
“I once had an argument with a now famous writer … and she told me that any writer who writes for a particular contest or market is not a real writer. It was a way to cut me down to size…”
Now I have no idea who this was, or is, and it doesn’t matter. But there is deffo something strange that happens – some writers feel it is incumbent upon them to jockey for position by cutting colleagues down to size, making daft statements – as above. Heaven’s sakes, we are ALL writers. We do it differently. Isn’t that fantastic? Wouldn’t it be bleedin’ boring if we all approached writing in exactly the same way?
Is it helpful to anyone to compete like this? Nah. And isn’t that the point? It isn’t intended to be helpful, at all. It’s just a negative, nitty, ‘mine’s bigger than yours’ willy-waving statement – even if it was said by a woman!
I met one this week. How’s this for a list of ‘put-down’ statements hardly intended as jolly banter- and NONE of those statements was in response to any question or comment from me. It was like being shot by a Gatling gun! The writer in question knew my first novel was in the pipeline, and that I have a couple of short story collections with a great indie publisher.
I don’t need an agent. I’ve written books for forty years, and have publishers fighting over them each time.”
“I’ve been book of the week in the USA a couple of times you know…”
“My latest book’s first print run has run out. They are fighting to get another done before Christmas.”
“I am translated into many many languages – not just the core European ones…”
“I never have to ask a publisher if they’d like to publish me. They come to me and ask me to write books.”
“I have never accepted a contract from a publisher without them changing it to suit me…”
“Short stories? I used to write those, stopped a long time ago, they are so boring.”
“Novel? Yes, done that too. Something more challenging came up.”
The worrying thing is that this was effectively a rather senior representative from one of the most respected UK writers’ societies. God help any less grounded writers she tackles with that lot. What was the intention? To show she was a bigger baboon on a bigger rock. ‘Me big monkey you little monkey’.
Gah. Leave it out!
Is this normal behaviour? Yup. Sadly, I think it is. At least, normal behaviour for a very few, who ought to know better, and have a little more humility when they are so successful.
What to do? Dunno. Maybe we just need to remember we have our own values, our own skills. And our own friends who love us for what we are and do, and don’t need to crow, and stamp on our dreams. Thank heavens.
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Ach, V! Whenever anyone goes on like that I try to remember that it is really just a sign of their own lack of confidence — the old over-compensation thing. But it’s hard to remember, and I know even if I do, it still hurts. The important thing is we have each other and don’t need eejiots like that.