Written Notes for a Discussion about Writing

Before a writer speaks, a writer should write

So much goes on behind the scenes before any conversation, or presentation (or classroom lecture, or book, or…you get the picture), it seems worth sharing some of the pre-gaming that occurred before my recent appearance on Lisa Cooper Ellison’s excellent Writing Your Resilience podcast (video of the chat below). Even though we agreed it would be both fun and preferable to have an unscripted conversation, most serious podcasters like to tee up some talking points for prep—or even points of departure for the eventual discussion. Lisa sent me some high level questions, and I spent some time ruminating and jotting down notes. As it happened, much of the subsequent Q&A was indeed off the cuff and “in the moment,” so as a companion piece to the final product, here are my very rough sketches.

You’ve been in the business for decades and watched it evolve, and at times devolve into something that can strip away all hope. What keeps you motivated to stay with it? How has your podcast helped with this?

Whether or not this is provable, I’m more convinced than ever that the work itself, at a certain point, has to be the reward. Why else would anyone put up with the isolation, anxiety, ceaseless rejection, self-doubt, etc.? Because the occasional feelings of achievement or satisfaction scratch an itch that no other feeling can approximate. Obviously, we create so we can connect, and there’s, at least with creatives who take this work seriously, a genuine attempt to engage with an audience, with other artists, to make the equation a plus instead of a minus. But the reality is, even some of our most successful artists, spanning both genres and generations, have struggled to make a living or be reviewed, or appreciated, and so on. That is not to be negative or a buzzkill; it’s the absolute and undeniable reality. What then does it say that so many people, and I think of jazz artists like Charles Mingus or writers like Charles Bukowski, and so many amazing human beings I personally know, continue to do this work when –if you’re looking for fame or fortune—there are so many easier, more reliable ways? Because the work itself is addictive, it can expand the world, but also can enlarge one’s own world.

One of your recent guests, Robert Anthony Siegel, shared this brilliant metaphor: Writing is like water; it always finds a way. How is this playing out in your writing life? What new opportunities have you recently discovered?

I think this gets at the whole yin/yang aspect of writing: serious writers can’t or won’t abide writers block because that’s just an excuse. So you find ways to keep the mind and muscles sharp, even if it’s muscle memory. And I think most of us would agree that some of the best things that have happened is when the subconscious or the process itself serves up things we never would have anticipated; you have to be willing and able to receive those moments for them to be written and preserved (and, ultimately, revised) but to me this speaks to an expression I’ve heard many times, attributed to Picasso: inspiration exists but it has to find you working. For myself I’ve tried to create a life where I’m intentionally open to ideas and possibilities; it’s kind of like making your brain into flypaper: you can catch whatever flies by—so while I once used to be focused on academic work, or poetry, or had to access an entirely different space to write fiction, it’s possible for me to dip in and out; it sounds chaotic and can be a bit much, but if you regard everything as a first draft, it’s an effective way to capture imagination or inspiration when it blesses you. So I’m currently working on a non-fiction project about music, I’m also working on a longer project about storytelling, I keep my Substack active, and I write poems as often as I can!

Your essay “Primer for Helping—and Tolerating—Your Annoying Artsy Friend” was just published in Writer’s Digest. Congratulations! We’ll link to it in the show notes so listeners can read it. Can you offer us a teaser and talk about one way friends and family can support writers?

Absolutely! I think we, as writers, forget how difficult it can be to commit something to paper, or certainly share it when we feel it’s finally ready for public consumption. Now imagine your friends and family, who don’t write, don’t want to write, don’t enjoy any part of it. Asking them to write a review, while seemingly facile for us, can be a huge commitment, filled with anxiety. As such, I dole out my requests judiciously and understand, in advance, if some people simply can’t or won’t leave reviews in a public forum. But they can recommend to friends: word of mouth, even or especially in a social era environment, remains the most effective way of generating enthusiasm. Buying and/or gifting a book is a wonderful way to pay it forward—I think the ultimate goal in a very cramped space is to stand out, if even for a brief time, and have a chance to garner a little attention. The piece is prefaced with a lengthy admonition to writers themselves: making the occasion of the book launch a festival of narcissism may end up having the opposite effect, and turning off not only friends, but folks in the broader communal and literary circles.

Speaking of support, you are a huge proponent of literary citizenship. I’d love to talk about literary citizenship, including how you approach it and what you’re teaching your students.

First, I’d like to acknowledge you in kind. I think the ideal writer is someone for whom little else is more important in the sense that they commit the time and industry to get the work done. But for most writers to survive and remain sane, one way to ameliorate the ceaseless anxiety, the rejection, and the ways we live inside our own minds, is to look outward: being a literary citizen means you at once recognize and embrace that each of us is one tiny star in a huge constellation of fellow strivers, including the millions who have come before us and all those that, hopefully, will follow. As such, while a reflection like this hopefully imbues the necessary humility, it’s not meant to minimize one’s import or presence; rather, it focuses on the fact that together, as creatives, as human beings, we are much bigger and stronger together than apart.

I also believe that for those of us fortunate enough to have had some small measure of success, it behooves us to recognize the many, many people who are probably equally if not more talented and committed who, due to geography or circumstance, were never afforded the opportunities we may take for granted. That allows me to remain genuinely gracious, and it frankly provides real pleasure to help lift up other worthy art. I’m so inspired and consoled by all this great art, it seems the least I can do is celebrate it loudly and often.

As it relates to 1455 and my academic endeavors, I’ve simply tried to cultivate an existence where there’s very little separation between “life” and creativity; I’m constantly striving to make it one unbroken line where every action and moment feeds the next, so there’s a state of humble, open, eager receptivity to all the vibrations around me—both literal and spiritual.

This episode will air in June. Years of teaching and coaching experience have taught me that summer is often a wild card period where writers are either uber-productive or checked out from their writing lives. What does summer hold for you, and how will your writing life change as we enter this season?

The time you don’t spend writing, or creating a reality that will facilitate productivity, is time you likely will regret. Anyone who has well-earned free time should make sure to take care of their physical and mental well-being—but also appreciate the opportunity of having some uninterrupted time to create!