Thanks so much for being part of Story Club. Before we leap in, I thought it might be good to talk a little about how this is supposed to work – how I’m going to approach it, and how I hope you will. We might think of this as our first class together – me standing nervously at the board as you sit out there with your fresh new notebooks, looking out longingly at the late-summer day because, in Story Club, it’s always fall semester.
If I'm really going to try to do this all the way, and I intend to, then I suppose I need to confess what actually makes me anxious about writing now. My fear is that I won't be heard through all the other voices. As a younger writer, I was up for the fight, taking on other voices head to head, always pushing to be more concise, engaging, and dominant. In my memory, I think it was almost fun to struggle in the crowd this way. Life has since softened me, perhaps broken open my heart. Fighting for ears to listen has become so much less appealing. My love for writing hasn't diminished at all. When I sit at my desk, I believe I can truly create anything. But my army I once had to advance on the intense competition has fallen back. I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm actually sitting here in a cafe crying secretively because I fear that I don't know how to continue fighting for my work to be read. But I do appreciate this community very much and everything that you're giving us here, Mr. Saunders. This feels like a lovely bunch of people that have come together. I am going to do what you asked of us and trust this until our work is complete.
Your mention about fighting for your work to be read reminded me of myself fighting to convince some people to treat me better. The right people will read your work (and treat you well), no effort is necessary. And the wrong people will never read your work, no matter how much you fight for it.
So true. Go wherever you're celebrated. Avoid and ignore the places where you're barely tolerated. I'm a fan of "families of choice" and I think the concept can apply to creative efforts too.
I agree Sue! I don't like being an uninvited guest to dinner or feel as if my invitation was under some obligation rather than someone really wanted to be around me to enjoy my company. Writing isn't any different, but it took me a few years to learn to be okay with taking my toys and leaving.
"I don't know how to continue fighting for my work to be read." I second this. Personally, I also wonder: How do you know what you are saying is of value? How can you make sure you are saying valuable things? How do you find again that "army to advance on the intense competition" that you speak of?
"My fear is that I won't be heard." I fear that too. But I must remind myself... I likely won't be heard, and I have to be okay with that because I can't let myself write for that reason. Many haven't been heard in their lifetime. That is the cruelty of history. Many who deserve to be heard are only heard belatedly. But that is the glorious thing about writing, isn't it? It is immortal...
Don't worry. I don't argue for a gnomic socially-agreed arbiter - although those gnomes exist in all our gardens.
But we DO need to be thinking about WHAT we are saying. Is it of any value? Does it add something to the conversation? Or is it merely self-expression. The world needs another book/poem/short story/song like I need a hole in my head.
And so I ask what Harold Bloom asked: "From where shall wisdom be found?" And I often wonder as I write, am I confident I have something to say here? And am I certain there is someone who needs to hear it?
Too often the value of a work is found much much later, sometimes after the writer died. There's no way a writer can know in advance whether there is someone who needs to hear the writing they're about to write. That's only knowable after the writer is finished and the work exists in the world. So I say write what you will, what is important to you and trust that there will be someone who benefits by reading the words. Even if, as the writer, you never know your work mattered. Kindof like having a elder relative say things to children that are often ignored at the time they're said but the children recall the words many years later and then they have meaning.
I spent most of twenties and thirties writing poems and trying to get them published, did some here and there, but that was long ago now, when we had actual little magazines.
I was so intimidated by the process of publication, applications, buddying up to local poets and writers of the appropriate stature, soliciting reviews, giving readings, presenting myself as worthy of some nice local college hiring me to teach what I had somehow gotten a degree to do. Which meant getting hired to teach Expository Writing 101, etc , and maybe get a chance to do some kind of "creative writing" class here and there -- I gave up on all of that. I could no more stand in front of a class of college students and talk about Writing or Poetry than I could plumb a stopped sink or rewire an outlet. Turned to early childhood education, the kids were so much easier to deal with, so much more fun. Wished I had trained in a useful field, so I could be paid something more than almost nothing to teach preschool. Technology rolled in, computer, software industry. Back to college again. Technical writing, that I could do. And did, until I was able to quit and work as a gardener.
I hear you Stephanie. You seem to have found a way to be heard - your post seems to have bubbled to the top. I just came out of a small (6 people) weekend writing class where we each read all of our writing to everyone. We spent more time listening to each other's writing than we did writing. That was hugely beneficial. The generosity of the listening changed my experience of my writing. The format of this Story Club does not support that kind of investment in each other, so I will invest in cultivating a small group of readers who can read and give feedback generously. That (more than constructive feedback) is what I need to encourage me on my writing journey.
This excerpt from a letter Martha Graham wrote to Agnes de Mille gives me some solace:
“There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique.
And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, nor how valuable it is, nor how it compares with other expressions; it is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly to keep the channel open.
You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you.
I'm just now reading through these comments, and this one stood out. I feel ya, Stephanie. I wanted to second Clive's mention on generosity. Sometimes I feel like inside my desire to be heard is a desire for feeling like there's some sort of purpose to what I'm doing. When I pivot my attention to being a generous set of eyes and ears for other voices, it helps fill that hole. To get even cheesier with this and a sure-fire way to get myself crying (but in the so-kind-to-myself it hurts way), self-generosity can be the best balm as well. I can be a crappy listener to myself - unkind, distracted, closed-off, cynical. Being a generous, open, fully receptive listener to your own voice - really hearing yourself - is sometimes even more painful than fighting to be heard, but damn if it don't fill that meaningless void.
Thank you for your vulnerability, Stephanie. My "army I once had to advance on the intense competition" has also fallen away. I am not sure if it's my age, living in our current times, or getting worn down from fighting for validity from others. I'm glad you are here and that your love of writing is strong. You are not alone.
I'm loving this experience so far. If you ever want to meet up for coffee and chat I'd love to hear more about your writing or other writerly stuff happening in ATX. Being a theatre maker I'm a bit out of the loop on that stuff.
Wanting to be heard… I feel this so deeply. I think this is what is so joyful in writing for an audience (sharing work). For me, sharing writing quiets (at least a little bit) a howling loneliness in my heart. Thank you for sharing this
Do you share your writing with people close to you? Support and encouragement from people I love and trust gives me the energy to keep going. I also recently read some of my work out loud to friends. First of all, it is just plain fun. A way of turning a solitary activity into a social one. Second of all, the experience gave me the energy to fight for my work to be read (i.e. finally get the courage and motivation to submit some stuff). It is not a way of being heard through all the other voices, but it is a way of being heard by ears that matter.
I will keep this in mind next time I meet Robinia Wood, who I met when I landed on this planet. She is constantly ‘fighting’ to have people around her who love trees as much as she does, and the interaction with the non-human nature. Yet, she finds no ‘community’ like you Earthlingers call it so warmly. You are with so many on this planet, communities can exist. I had only Me on my planet Moon. We were a great team, I have no complaints about our relationship, until everything started to break down off course...
I really think we should not too much ‘fight’ for our place, but should have the consent of the other to ‘owe’ the place.
@Attendant Moon, We all have our fights, hopefully for good things like trees. I feel fortunate that we have nice communities on Earth. I just wish we had better diplomatic relations between our communities and more caring.
So many of us writers, aspiring writers… fight every day against writer’s block, overcrowded schedules that block us from what we love to do and love to be with… and of course that place in the sun where we can blossom, read and be read, be appreciated, and even published. Perhaps we need a bigger picnic table.
I heard you and I loved what I heard. I'm quite sure I'm not the only one who had tears in their eyes when they had finished reading. Thank you for your generosity Stephanie. You are a very fine writer.
Thank you so much, Katie. You’ve reminded me that there is a real person on the other side of every comment. And thank you for YOUR generosity. You’ve impacted me as well.
Thank you for your honesty. I feel like this is the perfect place to be for us to realize it’s not a fight. Perhaps finding alignment, peeling away of layers that obstruct the view, subtle tuning into the flow. Happy to share this space with you.
I am a shy (writer) who has struggled with this exact same fear for years. The more technology advances (social media, etc), the more intimidated I get. I believe I have something beautiful in me that is worth sharing, that wants to come out and greet the world. But the moment I think about trying to do so in any formal capacity, I freeze. I am fine being invisible if it is my choice - in fact, I prefer it - but I can’t bear the thought of giving a part of myself to the world and then having it tripped over, trampled on, or brushed aside by hordes of unseeing feet.
This is the thing that scare me as well (and maybe all of us). :( But the world will miss out if you hide in your shell. I think that you should share with close friends – or with us in story club! :)
Stephanie, perhaps wanting to find a real voice and be heard is why people turn to writing or join a choir. The only difference is what we write will last longer than the notes we sing.
Establishing authority within brackets of humility on the first day of class. I wish more of my professors had the wisdom to do that. Smashing start to this journey, George!
I'm still high off this whole Story Club announcement. Did George Saunders really say he's launching a kind of democratized MFA course on Substack or am I hallucinating? Is this real life.
That is such a great comment. It puts it in perspective. At the minimum, this experience is the cost of one cup of fancy coffee per month, but so much better. It's like a packet of seeds for the imagination.
all the comments, links to peoples substack newsletters, a kind of inbox with various folders, options to sign up for other substack things -- still working thru it. I'm all new to substack, but have been around the tech block more than once.
So far, everybody is seeing everything I'm posting. The way I understand it, there will come a "parting of the ways" (sad) between paid and free sometime in....January?
I recently started a new novel after putting away the one I had worked on for two years. While a new project is always exciting, it hurts to admit defeat on something into which I poured so much of myself (the worst part is family gatherings when my cousins, aunts, and uncles, meaning well, ask how that whole writing thing is going.) Right now I'm trying to figure out how to tend to a story so it grows at a steady, healthy pace. What writing habits work best for me? How much should I plan? How much should I revise before proceeding to a new part? How do I find the write voice/style/tone for this story? How do I know when I've found something that's worth working on for a long time? I've been thinking about these questions for years, and the answers come slowly.
Kevin, these are, one hundred percent, the right questions. And as for the family - when they ask how it's going, I recommend you say, "Great, amazing." And just smile knowingly. :)
Kevin can I first say you sorry to hear it hurts and that you describe it as admitting defeat. I'd say you are brave for putting aside something that you have worked hard on to realize you need to start something new. I had the privilege to direct and conduct interviews in the 1990's with some of the greatest writers for CBC and TVO. One small story; Michael Ondaatje told about his start with The English Patient. He'd spend six months writing the first version and couldn't make sense of this story about a young man who crashed in the desert and so he finally abandoned it. 18 months later he had a dream that connected his crash landed pilot to a nurse working in Italy and then he started it again and it flowed into the stunning final text. You are moving forward– keep going.
I'm sitting here in my favorite coffeeshop grinning ear to ear because a kind stranger told me something I needed to hear. Thank you, so so much. I hope to see you around here again.
Also, sounds like you have had a fascinating career.
Smiling back at 'cha as I think of all the strangers (and friends) who have kept me going throughout a crazy winding series of starts, stops and re-starts of my ongoing journey. We're all connected:)
Thank you, Dorothy, what a great story about the creation of one of my favorite stories! I'm working on something right now (I mentioned this story last Sunday, the father not a father whose child is not a child) that makes absolutely no sense until I sit down and begin typing, discovering (excavating?) a tiny bit more of their story. It's encouraging that even the most lauded writers have no idea what they're doing until their subconscious story-goddess comes welling up like a birch tree through concrete.
Kevin the project has been put to the side, don’t think of it as finished or failed. This is a long game, and if you move onto next project — as you have — the first might start speaking to you again. As for finding your way into the next one and all your questions, time is what will help bring clarity, and attention.
How do you know if it’s something worth working on for a long time? Your energy and hunger for spending time with it will be the gauges.
I've found it helpful to keep notebooks on my project, a place where I can dump every thought related to it...this way I have a breadcrumb trail I can follow as I start and stop the project over time. All of my projects have had a time of "less-flow". I've learned not to panic, to let it marinate, to let my subconscious work. I'll look through my notebook often during the less-flow time and add bits that I can until the dam breaks and it's
finished. Each project has it's own timetable I find. Hang in there. Just breathe. It'll happen at it's own pace.
Instead of thinking of it as "putting it away", you could think of planting it in the garden then waiting for sprouts to appear ... flowers? weeds? veggies? ...
Hi George ! Its Sunday evening , near tea-time , here in Ireland. I’m sitting in my car in the dark watching the lights of Northern Ireland across Carlingford Lough. I’ve a box of soggy cod and chips (“fries” to you !) on my lap and I thought I’d check my email to see if you’d started class yet . And there it was - first class ! How lucky am I? . I’ve read it over twice now so that the chips are cold and I’m so excited that I’m going to drive home and write something , anything ! Thanks George , I’m really looking to this course . I can tell already that it’s going to an enjoyable experience of genial provocation . .. there goes the box of fish ‘n chips , Grainne
Fellow Irish writer here, Grainne! We live in a country steeped in literary tradition and yet we've all somehow found a way into our respective cars with our boxes of fish and chips, unaware of all the others doing just that around them. Best of luck with it! I'm also excited to have a space and a path!
Hi JM! Lovely to hear from you and that II’ve a fellow countryman on here .Fish n chips in the car is grand once in a while but not a great habit. And as you quite rightly point out we’re not alone . Isn’t it great ?!
Too often I find that I don't know how these disparate parts come together as a whole to say the thing that I feel inside is trying to be said. I'll have little plot ideas or characters I'm curious about and then not sure how to work them together and grow discouraged. I also tend to want to protect my characters from putting them through an endless string of conflicts -- which doesn't lend well for nearly as compelling a story. And finally, I never know "how much" of anything is enough: enough to compel the reader without confusing them; making them work so as to be compelled without spoonfeeding them and without confusing them; and without overly explaining things that a well-read reader would understand quickly and more simply.
Thanks, George. Things are going well, but if I had to put my finger on a nagging piece of anxiety about both reading and writing, it is: how to regard one's own influences, i.e. those writers who made you excited about writing in the first place [!] but who also maybe loom a little too large and get in the way while you're trying to become a writer yourself, i.e. mimicking them at difficult moments in the narrative, etc. How do you continue to love your writing heroes while also keeping them at a distance to make space for your own originality?
Yes, that is a great one, Daniel. Speaking for myself...I just got sick of imitating (mostly) Hemingway. And felt, "Well, I have lived a full life and know some unique things, I really do - and those things (and I may not know what they are yet) can't be said in someone else's voice. No offense to you, heroes of mine - but I have to move on."
But it took me many years to get there, ugh.
Btw - as I'm reading these comments (and even if I don't respond), I am making notes for future posts.
This is an awesome question. When they loom so large they tend to fall over our mouth and pen and crush our voices. How do we each tap into our unique spirit as we write? I'd love to hear from George.
If everyone could be as generous as you while watching the world end, we may just build it back up again.
Thank you so much.
(I don’t know if you will recall but last year—2020, month unknown—NCTE put on a meditation for teachers workshop, and you were a guest speaker and I found the courage to ask and confirm that I wasn’t going insane by concluding that we have a real aversion to authentic discussion of “class” in the US, including in fiction, compared to other Western countries and the world.
As someone who teaches despite all the challenges we face now, thank you for this reminder, “I’ve come to believe that one of the essential jobs of a teacher is to reduce the student’s anxiety (thereby making her process open to more joy/celebration/fun.)”
That day of the NCET workshop you offered a chiropractic adjustment for the spirit and very much so today.
I am incredibly moved by people's honest sharing. I will try and stop editing myself to silence here, and share a bit. I wrote a book after my husband's sudden death in a car accident. I wanted to honor him, to keep him with me. Every night after teaching (high school English), I'd curl up in bed and write. I set myself the task of writing a minimum of 500 words a day. I didn't know the final form, but I knew I had to write. I wrote memories musings. I wrote pain and I wrote joy. When I was blocked or too overwhelmed by grief, I'd explore etymologies. I wrote to my husband, Steve. I wrote to poets I loved (Keats, Whitman, Dickinson, etc.). And I did this for months. Until I was overwhelmed by what I thought were disjointed fragments without any structure holding them. A dear writer friend helped me find the structure. Three threads––essentially––that I could weave together. I did write and publish the book, A GRIEF SUBLIME, and it seems to speak to people. I'd always wanted to write, but it wasn't until Steve's death that I trusted my voice. But––and here's the problem––I am struggling mightily to focus and write the novel I'm in the early stages of writing. I don't know how to do it. The way I wrote the book about Steve was very much an inspired write. And, of course, came out of profound loss. So . . . I'm hoping that this group can give me a gentle push and the reassurance I need . . . as I hope to give to others.
Beth, I ordered A Grief Sublime (great title). Looking at your website also led me to Roberta Silman, who wrote an impassioned review. Another writer I can't wait to read! Thank you for setting me on these paths.
(As far as your novel goes, remember the adage about writing just what you are able to see with your headlights at any given moment. When you have enough on the page possibly the rest will suggest itself. I'm trying to see if this will work for me also. Happy writing!)
Wow! I'm so happy to read this! I hope you enjoy the book. I'd love to hear your thoughts. It's an unusually crafted one––fragmented. Just like grief, I guess. But written in love.
That's a great reminder about writing what is visible. I think that's part of what's tripping me up. This feeling that I need to be expert in the 1800s (the time I've set my novel in), to have walked the paths the characters have. Anyhow, I'm feeling a glimmer of possibility and hope around this new work. So, thank you for the encouragement. Happy writing to you, too!
Thank you so much for sharing this, Beth. I am so sorry that you had to go through that. And what you did to honor him, and to keep him with you, is so moving and inspiring. It sounds like it helped you immensely to write and complete that story, and others as well.
I have thought for a long time now that I need to write something about an experience I had, years ago, with a woman I was in the process of falling in love with when she suddenly died. My attempts to do so have for the most part gone nowhere. I think I simply have not found the way yet. But I feel that it will come, if I keep working, and that the world will see Susan in at least a version of the same light in which I knew her.
Best to you on your novel. I am so thankful I happened to decide to take a look at these early comments!
I can't thank you enough, David, for taking the time to write. I am sorry to hear about your loss. It sounds as if you have a tale to tell. I hope you find the way.
I believe that I will. Thank you again for sharing all of that, which opened several doors and windows for me. Have a great week, and I hope to encounter you on this amazing Substack again soon! (And I will probably send you a message later, when your book arrives. I love the glimpses I got of it earlier today.)
Hi George and everyone, this club already has the vibe of a community, albeit a massive diaspora of spread out across the globe. I'm really happy to be a part of it. I'm reading these posts on a train heading home to the coast after a long day at work and I love the way we're already set up to appreciate creativity, George's, our own, and established that of famous writers. Someone posted about George democratising the learning process, isn't that an amazing, relaxing, liberating idea?!
You are one of my heros. I'm an old lady who helps at our high school with reading and writing. I love your open and humble approach. I've learned much from your books and interviews...very psyched about this as I try to keep from balking at the blank page and dive in.
If I'm really going to try to do this all the way, and I intend to, then I suppose I need to confess what actually makes me anxious about writing now. My fear is that I won't be heard through all the other voices. As a younger writer, I was up for the fight, taking on other voices head to head, always pushing to be more concise, engaging, and dominant. In my memory, I think it was almost fun to struggle in the crowd this way. Life has since softened me, perhaps broken open my heart. Fighting for ears to listen has become so much less appealing. My love for writing hasn't diminished at all. When I sit at my desk, I believe I can truly create anything. But my army I once had to advance on the intense competition has fallen back. I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm actually sitting here in a cafe crying secretively because I fear that I don't know how to continue fighting for my work to be read. But I do appreciate this community very much and everything that you're giving us here, Mr. Saunders. This feels like a lovely bunch of people that have come together. I am going to do what you asked of us and trust this until our work is complete.
And I will keep this comment in mind, Stephanie. Thank you.
Your mention about fighting for your work to be read reminded me of myself fighting to convince some people to treat me better. The right people will read your work (and treat you well), no effort is necessary. And the wrong people will never read your work, no matter how much you fight for it.
So true. Go wherever you're celebrated. Avoid and ignore the places where you're barely tolerated. I'm a fan of "families of choice" and I think the concept can apply to creative efforts too.
I agree Sue! I don't like being an uninvited guest to dinner or feel as if my invitation was under some obligation rather than someone really wanted to be around me to enjoy my company. Writing isn't any different, but it took me a few years to learn to be okay with taking my toys and leaving.
Yes!! Absolutely true what you say!! It took me a while to figure that out too. ❤
Yup!
❤
"I don't know how to continue fighting for my work to be read." I second this. Personally, I also wonder: How do you know what you are saying is of value? How can you make sure you are saying valuable things? How do you find again that "army to advance on the intense competition" that you speak of?
"My fear is that I won't be heard." I fear that too. But I must remind myself... I likely won't be heard, and I have to be okay with that because I can't let myself write for that reason. Many haven't been heard in their lifetime. That is the cruelty of history. Many who deserve to be heard are only heard belatedly. But that is the glorious thing about writing, isn't it? It is immortal...
What you have to say has value in the grand scheme of things. I can be hard without external affirmation, but remember this.
The only arbiter is yourself.
Don't worry. I don't argue for a gnomic socially-agreed arbiter - although those gnomes exist in all our gardens.
But we DO need to be thinking about WHAT we are saying. Is it of any value? Does it add something to the conversation? Or is it merely self-expression. The world needs another book/poem/short story/song like I need a hole in my head.
And so I ask what Harold Bloom asked: "From where shall wisdom be found?" And I often wonder as I write, am I confident I have something to say here? And am I certain there is someone who needs to hear it?
Too often the value of a work is found much much later, sometimes after the writer died. There's no way a writer can know in advance whether there is someone who needs to hear the writing they're about to write. That's only knowable after the writer is finished and the work exists in the world. So I say write what you will, what is important to you and trust that there will be someone who benefits by reading the words. Even if, as the writer, you never know your work mattered. Kindof like having a elder relative say things to children that are often ignored at the time they're said but the children recall the words many years later and then they have meaning.
Thank you for this, Sue. Spot on!
Oh! Thank you!
I spent most of twenties and thirties writing poems and trying to get them published, did some here and there, but that was long ago now, when we had actual little magazines.
I was so intimidated by the process of publication, applications, buddying up to local poets and writers of the appropriate stature, soliciting reviews, giving readings, presenting myself as worthy of some nice local college hiring me to teach what I had somehow gotten a degree to do. Which meant getting hired to teach Expository Writing 101, etc , and maybe get a chance to do some kind of "creative writing" class here and there -- I gave up on all of that. I could no more stand in front of a class of college students and talk about Writing or Poetry than I could plumb a stopped sink or rewire an outlet. Turned to early childhood education, the kids were so much easier to deal with, so much more fun. Wished I had trained in a useful field, so I could be paid something more than almost nothing to teach preschool. Technology rolled in, computer, software industry. Back to college again. Technical writing, that I could do. And did, until I was able to quit and work as a gardener.
I hear you Stephanie. You seem to have found a way to be heard - your post seems to have bubbled to the top. I just came out of a small (6 people) weekend writing class where we each read all of our writing to everyone. We spent more time listening to each other's writing than we did writing. That was hugely beneficial. The generosity of the listening changed my experience of my writing. The format of this Story Club does not support that kind of investment in each other, so I will invest in cultivating a small group of readers who can read and give feedback generously. That (more than constructive feedback) is what I need to encourage me on my writing journey.
This excerpt from a letter Martha Graham wrote to Agnes de Mille gives me some solace:
“There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique.
And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, nor how valuable it is, nor how it compares with other expressions; it is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly to keep the channel open.
You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you.
Keep the channel open…”
I'm just now reading through these comments, and this one stood out. I feel ya, Stephanie. I wanted to second Clive's mention on generosity. Sometimes I feel like inside my desire to be heard is a desire for feeling like there's some sort of purpose to what I'm doing. When I pivot my attention to being a generous set of eyes and ears for other voices, it helps fill that hole. To get even cheesier with this and a sure-fire way to get myself crying (but in the so-kind-to-myself it hurts way), self-generosity can be the best balm as well. I can be a crappy listener to myself - unkind, distracted, closed-off, cynical. Being a generous, open, fully receptive listener to your own voice - really hearing yourself - is sometimes even more painful than fighting to be heard, but damn if it don't fill that meaningless void.
Thank you for your vulnerability, Stephanie. My "army I once had to advance on the intense competition" has also fallen away. I am not sure if it's my age, living in our current times, or getting worn down from fighting for validity from others. I'm glad you are here and that your love of writing is strong. You are not alone.
A fellow Austinite I see :)
Yes! Are you in ATX?
Yes!
I'm loving this experience so far. If you ever want to meet up for coffee and chat I'd love to hear more about your writing or other writerly stuff happening in ATX. Being a theatre maker I'm a bit out of the loop on that stuff.
Yes, CB! Sorry for the delay. This is a great idea.
Wanting to be heard… I feel this so deeply. I think this is what is so joyful in writing for an audience (sharing work). For me, sharing writing quiets (at least a little bit) a howling loneliness in my heart. Thank you for sharing this
I would love to read your work. Please share with me. Much love and hugs in this journey together..
Thank you for reaching out, Radhika. Of course. I will share something with you very soon.
Wonderful, finally i am on top of all the lessons. yet to read the Falls and listen to the podcast.
Do you share your writing with people close to you? Support and encouragement from people I love and trust gives me the energy to keep going. I also recently read some of my work out loud to friends. First of all, it is just plain fun. A way of turning a solitary activity into a social one. Second of all, the experience gave me the energy to fight for my work to be read (i.e. finally get the courage and motivation to submit some stuff). It is not a way of being heard through all the other voices, but it is a way of being heard by ears that matter.
I will keep this in mind next time I meet Robinia Wood, who I met when I landed on this planet. She is constantly ‘fighting’ to have people around her who love trees as much as she does, and the interaction with the non-human nature. Yet, she finds no ‘community’ like you Earthlingers call it so warmly. You are with so many on this planet, communities can exist. I had only Me on my planet Moon. We were a great team, I have no complaints about our relationship, until everything started to break down off course...
I really think we should not too much ‘fight’ for our place, but should have the consent of the other to ‘owe’ the place.
@Attendant Moon, We all have our fights, hopefully for good things like trees. I feel fortunate that we have nice communities on Earth. I just wish we had better diplomatic relations between our communities and more caring.
So many of us writers, aspiring writers… fight every day against writer’s block, overcrowded schedules that block us from what we love to do and love to be with… and of course that place in the sun where we can blossom, read and be read, be appreciated, and even published. Perhaps we need a bigger picnic table.
I heard you and I loved what I heard. I'm quite sure I'm not the only one who had tears in their eyes when they had finished reading. Thank you for your generosity Stephanie. You are a very fine writer.
Thank you so much, Katie. You’ve reminded me that there is a real person on the other side of every comment. And thank you for YOUR generosity. You’ve impacted me as well.
Thank you for your honesty. I feel like this is the perfect place to be for us to realize it’s not a fight. Perhaps finding alignment, peeling away of layers that obstruct the view, subtle tuning into the flow. Happy to share this space with you.
Hi, Stephanie,
I am a shy (writer) who has struggled with this exact same fear for years. The more technology advances (social media, etc), the more intimidated I get. I believe I have something beautiful in me that is worth sharing, that wants to come out and greet the world. But the moment I think about trying to do so in any formal capacity, I freeze. I am fine being invisible if it is my choice - in fact, I prefer it - but I can’t bear the thought of giving a part of myself to the world and then having it tripped over, trampled on, or brushed aside by hordes of unseeing feet.
This is the thing that scare me as well (and maybe all of us). :( But the world will miss out if you hide in your shell. I think that you should share with close friends – or with us in story club! :)
Stephanie, perhaps wanting to find a real voice and be heard is why people turn to writing or join a choir. The only difference is what we write will last longer than the notes we sing.
Establishing authority within brackets of humility on the first day of class. I wish more of my professors had the wisdom to do that. Smashing start to this journey, George!
Whta a wonderful sentence. Wish I could write like that.
I'm still high off this whole Story Club announcement. Did George Saunders really say he's launching a kind of democratized MFA course on Substack or am I hallucinating? Is this real life.
That is such a great comment. It puts it in perspective. At the minimum, this experience is the cost of one cup of fancy coffee per month, but so much better. It's like a packet of seeds for the imagination.
"packet of seeds for the imagination." YES! love that framing
pretty sure its real life. I just paid $6.00 for a month and I get to see everything. I think.
So... may I ask what is the "everything" that you see?
all the comments, links to peoples substack newsletters, a kind of inbox with various folders, options to sign up for other substack things -- still working thru it. I'm all new to substack, but have been around the tech block more than once.
So far, everybody is seeing everything I'm posting. The way I understand it, there will come a "parting of the ways" (sad) between paid and free sometime in....January?
I've already jumped in. Having faith that this will be a great experience.
crazy!!!
pretty sure it's real life and I'm HERE FOR IT.
p.s. good to see you, friend :)
omg and you're here too hi Lyle really though is this a dream HI!!!
Thanks for such an empathetic introduction!
How things are going....
I recently started a new novel after putting away the one I had worked on for two years. While a new project is always exciting, it hurts to admit defeat on something into which I poured so much of myself (the worst part is family gatherings when my cousins, aunts, and uncles, meaning well, ask how that whole writing thing is going.) Right now I'm trying to figure out how to tend to a story so it grows at a steady, healthy pace. What writing habits work best for me? How much should I plan? How much should I revise before proceeding to a new part? How do I find the write voice/style/tone for this story? How do I know when I've found something that's worth working on for a long time? I've been thinking about these questions for years, and the answers come slowly.
Kevin, these are, one hundred percent, the right questions. And as for the family - when they ask how it's going, I recommend you say, "Great, amazing." And just smile knowingly. :)
Kevin can I first say you sorry to hear it hurts and that you describe it as admitting defeat. I'd say you are brave for putting aside something that you have worked hard on to realize you need to start something new. I had the privilege to direct and conduct interviews in the 1990's with some of the greatest writers for CBC and TVO. One small story; Michael Ondaatje told about his start with The English Patient. He'd spend six months writing the first version and couldn't make sense of this story about a young man who crashed in the desert and so he finally abandoned it. 18 months later he had a dream that connected his crash landed pilot to a nurse working in Italy and then he started it again and it flowed into the stunning final text. You are moving forward– keep going.
I'm sitting here in my favorite coffeeshop grinning ear to ear because a kind stranger told me something I needed to hear. Thank you, so so much. I hope to see you around here again.
Also, sounds like you have had a fascinating career.
Smiling back at 'cha as I think of all the strangers (and friends) who have kept me going throughout a crazy winding series of starts, stops and re-starts of my ongoing journey. We're all connected:)
This whole exchange, that I am seeing for the first time (since I joined later in December), is also beautiful, encouraging, and liberating.
This is great. Thanks for sharing Dorothy.
Thank you, Dorothy, what a great story about the creation of one of my favorite stories! I'm working on something right now (I mentioned this story last Sunday, the father not a father whose child is not a child) that makes absolutely no sense until I sit down and begin typing, discovering (excavating?) a tiny bit more of their story. It's encouraging that even the most lauded writers have no idea what they're doing until their subconscious story-goddess comes welling up like a birch tree through concrete.
Kevin the project has been put to the side, don’t think of it as finished or failed. This is a long game, and if you move onto next project — as you have — the first might start speaking to you again. As for finding your way into the next one and all your questions, time is what will help bring clarity, and attention.
How do you know if it’s something worth working on for a long time? Your energy and hunger for spending time with it will be the gauges.
I've found it helpful to keep notebooks on my project, a place where I can dump every thought related to it...this way I have a breadcrumb trail I can follow as I start and stop the project over time. All of my projects have had a time of "less-flow". I've learned not to panic, to let it marinate, to let my subconscious work. I'll look through my notebook often during the less-flow time and add bits that I can until the dam breaks and it's
finished. Each project has it's own timetable I find. Hang in there. Just breathe. It'll happen at it's own pace.
Instead of thinking of it as "putting it away", you could think of planting it in the garden then waiting for sprouts to appear ... flowers? weeds? veggies? ...
I love that! Gotta eat some tomatoes so I don't have to write other stories while hungry.
Hi George ! Its Sunday evening , near tea-time , here in Ireland. I’m sitting in my car in the dark watching the lights of Northern Ireland across Carlingford Lough. I’ve a box of soggy cod and chips (“fries” to you !) on my lap and I thought I’d check my email to see if you’d started class yet . And there it was - first class ! How lucky am I? . I’ve read it over twice now so that the chips are cold and I’m so excited that I’m going to drive home and write something , anything ! Thanks George , I’m really looking to this course . I can tell already that it’s going to an enjoyable experience of genial provocation . .. there goes the box of fish ‘n chips , Grainne
Love that you’re telling us where you are...
Fellow Irish writer here, Grainne! We live in a country steeped in literary tradition and yet we've all somehow found a way into our respective cars with our boxes of fish and chips, unaware of all the others doing just that around them. Best of luck with it! I'm also excited to have a space and a path!
Hi JM! Lovely to hear from you and that II’ve a fellow countryman on here .Fish n chips in the car is grand once in a while but not a great habit. And as you quite rightly point out we’re not alone . Isn’t it great ?!
Too often I find that I don't know how these disparate parts come together as a whole to say the thing that I feel inside is trying to be said. I'll have little plot ideas or characters I'm curious about and then not sure how to work them together and grow discouraged. I also tend to want to protect my characters from putting them through an endless string of conflicts -- which doesn't lend well for nearly as compelling a story. And finally, I never know "how much" of anything is enough: enough to compel the reader without confusing them; making them work so as to be compelled without spoonfeeding them and without confusing them; and without overly explaining things that a well-read reader would understand quickly and more simply.
THIS. All of this. I feel your pain, friend.
We're not alone!
You are not. I think ALL writers feel this way. Truly.
I have thoughts about protecting my characters, and endless conflict as well. I like subtle novels.
"A Skate on a Pond in the Fall"
Thanks, George. Things are going well, but if I had to put my finger on a nagging piece of anxiety about both reading and writing, it is: how to regard one's own influences, i.e. those writers who made you excited about writing in the first place [!] but who also maybe loom a little too large and get in the way while you're trying to become a writer yourself, i.e. mimicking them at difficult moments in the narrative, etc. How do you continue to love your writing heroes while also keeping them at a distance to make space for your own originality?
Yes, that is a great one, Daniel. Speaking for myself...I just got sick of imitating (mostly) Hemingway. And felt, "Well, I have lived a full life and know some unique things, I really do - and those things (and I may not know what they are yet) can't be said in someone else's voice. No offense to you, heroes of mine - but I have to move on."
But it took me many years to get there, ugh.
Btw - as I'm reading these comments (and even if I don't respond), I am making notes for future posts.
This is an awesome question. When they loom so large they tend to fall over our mouth and pen and crush our voices. How do we each tap into our unique spirit as we write? I'd love to hear from George.
If everyone could be as generous as you while watching the world end, we may just build it back up again.
Thank you so much.
(I don’t know if you will recall but last year—2020, month unknown—NCTE put on a meditation for teachers workshop, and you were a guest speaker and I found the courage to ask and confirm that I wasn’t going insane by concluding that we have a real aversion to authentic discussion of “class” in the US, including in fiction, compared to other Western countries and the world.
As someone who teaches despite all the challenges we face now, thank you for this reminder, “I’ve come to believe that one of the essential jobs of a teacher is to reduce the student’s anxiety (thereby making her process open to more joy/celebration/fun.)”
That day of the NCET workshop you offered a chiropractic adjustment for the spirit and very much so today.
Thank you.
I remember that workshop fondly. And class, yes - we’ll do some talking about that, I bet, and its relation to the ability to be productive.
"Is this helping?" What a great question for workshop.
I am incredibly moved by people's honest sharing. I will try and stop editing myself to silence here, and share a bit. I wrote a book after my husband's sudden death in a car accident. I wanted to honor him, to keep him with me. Every night after teaching (high school English), I'd curl up in bed and write. I set myself the task of writing a minimum of 500 words a day. I didn't know the final form, but I knew I had to write. I wrote memories musings. I wrote pain and I wrote joy. When I was blocked or too overwhelmed by grief, I'd explore etymologies. I wrote to my husband, Steve. I wrote to poets I loved (Keats, Whitman, Dickinson, etc.). And I did this for months. Until I was overwhelmed by what I thought were disjointed fragments without any structure holding them. A dear writer friend helped me find the structure. Three threads––essentially––that I could weave together. I did write and publish the book, A GRIEF SUBLIME, and it seems to speak to people. I'd always wanted to write, but it wasn't until Steve's death that I trusted my voice. But––and here's the problem––I am struggling mightily to focus and write the novel I'm in the early stages of writing. I don't know how to do it. The way I wrote the book about Steve was very much an inspired write. And, of course, came out of profound loss. So . . . I'm hoping that this group can give me a gentle push and the reassurance I need . . . as I hope to give to others.
Beth, I ordered A Grief Sublime (great title). Looking at your website also led me to Roberta Silman, who wrote an impassioned review. Another writer I can't wait to read! Thank you for setting me on these paths.
(As far as your novel goes, remember the adage about writing just what you are able to see with your headlights at any given moment. When you have enough on the page possibly the rest will suggest itself. I'm trying to see if this will work for me also. Happy writing!)
Wow! I'm so happy to read this! I hope you enjoy the book. I'd love to hear your thoughts. It's an unusually crafted one––fragmented. Just like grief, I guess. But written in love.
That's a great reminder about writing what is visible. I think that's part of what's tripping me up. This feeling that I need to be expert in the 1800s (the time I've set my novel in), to have walked the paths the characters have. Anyhow, I'm feeling a glimmer of possibility and hope around this new work. So, thank you for the encouragement. Happy writing to you, too!
Ha! Life itself seems fragmented.
Your new book sounds like it will be worth waiting for!
Thank you so much for sharing this, Beth. I am so sorry that you had to go through that. And what you did to honor him, and to keep him with you, is so moving and inspiring. It sounds like it helped you immensely to write and complete that story, and others as well.
I have thought for a long time now that I need to write something about an experience I had, years ago, with a woman I was in the process of falling in love with when she suddenly died. My attempts to do so have for the most part gone nowhere. I think I simply have not found the way yet. But I feel that it will come, if I keep working, and that the world will see Susan in at least a version of the same light in which I knew her.
Best to you on your novel. I am so thankful I happened to decide to take a look at these early comments!
I can't thank you enough, David, for taking the time to write. I am sorry to hear about your loss. It sounds as if you have a tale to tell. I hope you find the way.
I believe that I will. Thank you again for sharing all of that, which opened several doors and windows for me. Have a great week, and I hope to encounter you on this amazing Substack again soon! (And I will probably send you a message later, when your book arrives. I love the glimpses I got of it earlier today.)
Take care!!
Currently reading this in the quiet before a Monday morning. I've got a sleepy daughter in my lap and my heart is so full
I believe everyone here now feels a tiny bit less alone in the nightmarish and beautiful writing process.
Yup!
Hi George and everyone, this club already has the vibe of a community, albeit a massive diaspora of spread out across the globe. I'm really happy to be a part of it. I'm reading these posts on a train heading home to the coast after a long day at work and I love the way we're already set up to appreciate creativity, George's, our own, and established that of famous writers. Someone posted about George democratising the learning process, isn't that an amazing, relaxing, liberating idea?!
I hope, even without a chalkboard right in front of us, we'll be treated to plenty of your drawings.
I second this motion Shane!
You are one of my heros. I'm an old lady who helps at our high school with reading and writing. I love your open and humble approach. I've learned much from your books and interviews...very psyched about this as I try to keep from balking at the blank page and dive in.
If you are helping at a high school, Anne, you are one of my heroes.
Anne B--what part of the country are you in, or from?
San Francisco Bay Area