hmmm. I've got a lot of "bad" stories hidden in files on this computer somewhere. I'm okay with them sitting there, mostly because they tell me that at one point I put in the hours. But they are not going anywhere. They are, frankly, terrible. The good thing about all of those words and hours I put into those terrible stories, is that i learned from them. The learning was very slow, but we all learn at our own paces. And i couldn't be the person i am now (a person who has managed to publish books, stories, poems, etc) if i hadn't written all of that dreck. But here's something interesting (to me, anyway): even the stuff that I've published--a lot of it is simply not me anymore. So, questioner, here is my question for you: Are you still the person who began that "bad" story long ago? or are you someone else now? I'm thinking it's time to give up on that previous you and move forward into the person you are now. Yes, perhaps there are some good bits and pieces that you can salvage. If you're still in love with the idea, but not with what you've written, then one option is to begin again, from the beginning. As Beckett said, fail better (or maybe you won't fail). George may be right that every time you go back to the old story, it's because you need that time/distance from the new one. But oh my god, that old story is taunting you! The new one is fun for you--it's where the discovery is happening.
So. My unasked for advice: Put that old story away. It's not serving you any longer. Look forward, not to the past.
I'm pretty sure I mentioned that I only started writing again in October. I started my SUBSTACK in June. I've been putting up old stories, and in doing that, I've had to sort through them all and decide which ones to put on my page. This time around, I'm putting up the first story I ever published on-line (no pay, of course). I had written that story three different ways before I settled on a three layered story: the narrator meeting someone who tells him another kind of story. The point is, I couldn't figure out how I was supposed to approach the story. I think the inspiration came from the opening of TARZAN of all things: 'I got this story from someone who had no business telling it'. And Conrad. Once I looked at it like that, the story sort of wrote itself. But boy, before that, damn what a pain in the ass!
Ben, you are a great writer and what a story. I subscribed. Thank you, today is my day off and now I have all these new thoughts and experiences rolling around in my brain.
I, also, have a computer full of bad stories. But, you’re right, they are evidence of work. I once attempted a « get a hundred rejections » challenge and although I didn’t submit a hundred pieces, it did change my mindset to appreciate the process and the work. And to see a rejection as the proof that you are doing something. Putting yourself out there. Getting a little better with each attempt.
The "Year of 100 Rejections" project was a turning point for me as a writer. Or perhaps I should say a turning point for me as a reader of my own writing.
Previously, I always believed that I wasn't afraid of rejection. Still, often when I got something ready to submit for publication, I would second guess myself and decide it wasn't ready to go out yet. Surely I had another piece, one that was closer to "finished," that I should submit instead.
When I got into the Year of 100 Rejections, though, I quickly realized that in order to meet my numerical goal, I would have to submit far more individual pieces each month than I was used to doing -- two or three per week, instead of one a month. I started submitting flash fiction, and poetry, and essays on craft, and anything I had lying around that seemed pretty coherent. Much to my surprise, the pieces that I sent off feeling that they "needed a little more work" got accepted just as often as the ones that I was happy with.
That's such an essential question, Mary, and such a great one. "Are you still the person who began that story? Are you someone else now?" And I'd echo what the original post said, perhaps these "bad" stories lead you down other paths, or bits and bobs of those stories on your computer will be used for something else, like saving fabric for a bigger project.
Thanks, Sea. Everything I write here is really about me, when you get down to it. And i look at my old stories and think, oh wow, that's who I once was. Unlike others, i've never been able to save bits and pieces and then put them in a new story. I don't write that way.
Beckett's 'fail better', love that. Might give it to my youngest today. Or perhaps that would sound partonising from a mother to son in his man cave. How to bring the poet out of the cave?! Writing is sometimes easier...X
I get this endless rumination with oneself about a story that's not working. I tend to look at my options: struggle on, let it rest and for how long, give up, read it over once a day until something 'breaks,' the list goes on. The one thing that's absolute with me, however, is never deleting it. I have woken up in the middle of the night months, even years, after setting aside a story and known what to do with it. So no matter which option I pick when I'm stuck, the key is to store it somewhere and, more importantly, know how to find it again. Maybe some of that comes from being a librarian all my life where storage, search, and retrieval are eternal watchwords, but I've relied on those tools so many times, I don't give up on them. Or my stories either. They're just "resting."
I forgot about the end: "Yes! A lumberjack! Leaping from tree to tree of the [unintelligible] down mighty rivers of British Columbia!" That's where I was born!
I did this, too. For years. Then one day, my computer blew up and I lost everything. After a period of feeling like i was going to throw up, I came to be thankful for all of those lost words. I knew i'd written them. But they weren't serving me anymore. And now i didn't have to live with them any longer. (I'm a firm believer in moving on, in case you couldn't tell...!)
At this point in my life, I've learned a lot about loss. (You probably have, too.) So much is in the past, and though I have a fondness for much of that past, I find it's not at all in my best interest to remain there for long. So I let things go these days, as best I can. Losing all of those words--it was all for the best, really.
I’ve mentioned before that I’m an architect and I’m constantly amazed at the parallels between that world of creative structure and the world of writing. We have a phrase in the design world that when you are on the right path, the project begins to ‘design itself’. It’s like building a puzzle from scratch then realizing that things on your desk fit perfectly into the weirdly shaped leftover voids. In the opposite version, I keep trying to hammer those pieces into poorly suited spaces - proverbial round pegs in square holes, which happens more than I like to admit, but less and less as I know myself better and hold the reins more loosely. When the thing designs itself, or writes itself, I sometimes feel more like I am channeling something than creating it. So thanks to questioner, and to George, for reminding us we are not alone in that struggle with emerging ideas.
About the scrapped conspiracy-related story, the one that seemed too unkind / sneering, I want to recommend chapter 7 of "Art in the After-Culture" by Ben Davis – it is a compassionate and level-headed take on the conspiratorial mindset that is everywhere these days, and the way it was written reminded me of your writing.
I believe there is yet still great art to be made about those who are wrapped up in conspiratorial thinking. And it will not come from a place of sneering.
In 2017 I was at a bus stop with this elderly couple who, after some time talking with me, pivoted into reptillian conspiracies about world leaders. I was incredulous, and because we were both trapped there waiting for our bus, I interrogated this line of thought, and even asked them, well how do you know *I'M* not a reptile?? Which seemed to shake them a bit. They kept telling me to research this, it's all online, and it occurred to me they were just trying to help me. When the bus pulled up, I saw them lean into each other, weary about a world that betrayed them, and I felt like they must really love each other, and they must feel very alone.
I agree that there's a story to be written somewhere in that topic. I've even toyed with the fantasy of writing one myself. But I think I came to the same conclusion as George, even before making the attempt. It's so hard to get into it properly from the outside. Maybe it needs to be written by someone who's been led out of the cave?
(In my childhood and teenage experience) those on the inside can't tell any story but the authorized one. Those who come out will have their own story to tell. What would be really interesting, would be the story a person who had one foot in, one out, could tell.
But back to the question. One of the things I love and cherish about writing is how much it reveals about ourselves. So, this may not play at all into what's happening with our questioner but are you someone who can't let a challenge go? Are you feeling the need to prove to yourself that you WILL find the key to the "bad" story? Because there's a difference between being haunted by a story and being held hostage by it. Only you know. But as others have noted, never discard anything completely because as Mary G pointed out, it may be a story from the you of the past but it could also be a story from the you of the future. Either way, wishing you luck.
We live in a culture that puts emphasis on looks to such an extreme degree, I think it causes the “swings” in some. Hopefully we can separate our feelings about ourselves from all of that.
That would be key. To separate our feelings about ourselves from everything. I had a long and enlightening conversation about this, among other things, while hiking with a new friend on Sunday. Separate self-worth from the teeter-totter!
i just read in the piece Lucinda links to in this thread that he was 32 when this photo was taken. So, still fairly healthy, I think, though already affected (he died at 44). Such a horrible death--and, being a doctor, he knew what he was in for.
To die so young, and yet leave behind such a body of work! Just imagine what else he could have created had he lived to a ripe, old age. I can't help but feel bereft.
I remember the story of Alberto Giacometti's sculpture "The Palace at 4 a.m." (https://www.moma.org/collection/works/80928) - how it is less of a solid sculpture than Giacometti had previously been creating, and how he came to realize that this outline of a sculpture represented an idea he was haunted by: that he had tried for six months to sustain a fragile, powerful love affair each night - how fragile this love was, and how this private would fall endlessly fall apart. And yet Anton and his lover endlessly rebuilt their "palace" each night, even though it would collapse again... And so his sculpture came into being, although he did not consciously understand it, nor its form, to start.
As importantly, the the writer William Maxwell apparently saw this very sculpture and then realized it was the key to a story he had been laboring to write -- and so Maxwell's novel "So Long, See You Tomorrow" crystallized.
I think we have to keep going with that idea that haunts us, to be open to signs that will help us to realize the story we are trying to tell, and the form to tell it, whether a more unusual sculptural form for Giacometti or a long-percolating novel for Maxwell... In other words, please, don't anyone give up or walk away on expressing these hard-won stories unless they no longer haunt you. But so long as they do, continue. (Imagine if, as examples, Giacometti, or Maxwell, or our George did... How much smaller this life would be.)
(And by the way, does anyway else get momentarily stunned when they look at the photo of Chekhov?)
Dear MVM, thank you so much for sharing! I just love "So Long, See You Tomorrow," and had no idea it was inspired by Giacometti. I had the great fortune of being in Seattle this last summer while a special Giacometti exhibit ("Toward the Ultimate Figure") was at the Art Museum. Before I would have said there's something disquieting about his work, but now I think, there's something haunting about his work.
(And there is something that haunts me about that Chekhov photo as well! I'm seriously considering printing it out and hanging it near my desk for, um, "inspiration")
I re-read So Long See You Tomorrow yesterday (inspired by this thread)! I'd been telling people for years to read it, but it turns out i'd forgotten so much about it. Or maybe this time around, I got more out of it (even though I've always loved it). What a great book. What he manages to get across in such a short space! And yes, right in the book, he talks about Giacometti's Palace at 4 a.m. It was fun to come across. I feel like I've seen a lot of Giacomettis in my life, but I didn't know anything at all about that sculpture. So anyway, thank you Manami and MVM for getting me to pull that book off the shelf again. (It was right next to The All of It, which i've also been touting for years--time to re-read that one as well, I think!
Oh it was actually mentioned in the book! I had no idea! But there it is, "Palace at 4 a.m.," right at the bottom of page 25. And so important to Maxwell that he chose to include a passage from Giacometti about its creation. And I don't remember this at all! I wonder why not. Maybe it just didn't seem important to the story—but I have to reread it now too, knowing that it was an important key in unlocking its creation.
P.S. I've never heard of "The All of It" but am adding it to my list! On my shelf, "So Long, See You Tomorrow" was wedged between Train Dreams and Tove Jansson's "The Summer Book." (Actually that shelf seems to have a theme: stories I love under 200 pages. Housekeeping is there, too!)
That's short enough! I've not read The Summer Book, so i'll put it on my list. Just started Aftermath (Rachel Cusk)--146 pages! I didn't have any memory of the Giacometti mention either, but there it was. And apparently, when he saw the sculpture, he said There's my novel! Or something like that. Did you ever read Pobby and Dingan? Probably under 200 and I remember loving it (but you know, it's been a while--can't vouch for things I used to love anymore).
I’m recalling (I hope correctly) the first line from a poem by Sylvia Plath: “The poems do not live; it’s a sad diagnosis.” That’s about it. She describes her struggles, then moves on. Makes better poems.
Plath, so memorable, so beautifully brittle and brilliant. So wronged. I love it that her poetry lives, that she is now stronger than Ted. I'm still waiting for the book that explores the bruises laid on her by him.
This year has been the hardest of my life for reasons I won't bore you with. In helping me cope, a friend suggested I find three things that still "fill my cup" and be sure to do each of these every day. The theory being that even if I had a bad day, I can say to myself, "Well I did those three things, so it was a day well spent."
Reading and rereading "A Swim in a Pond in the Rain" had been one of those things in 2021, so discovering Story Club (a little late to the party, this is my first post) was a wonderful surprise in this challenging year. Spending time, even if passively, with you fine folks and George's insightful and life-affirming posts while discovering new authors and short stories to discuss has most definitely kept my cup full to the brim.
Thank you all for your company, and happy birthday, George. To many more!
That was a wise and good friend. I used to do something similar during a period when I felt at loose ends, depressed, and uncomfortable. I wrote this on my daily calendar: RWESC. These stood for read, write, exercise, spiritual, craft. I found that on the days I managed to cross off each of these five things, i felt that i'd had a good day. (Spiritual meant whatever worked for me on a given day--thoughts, finding awe outside, meditating, listening to music, etc. Craft meant making something or working on an art project of any kind. But this could also be baking a loaf of bread. Reading meant really reading--not just the newspaper. And writing meant writing for me--not a letter or emails.) The knowledge that i had that little list of five things that were meaningful to me--that somehow was a huge help to me. I felt purposeful. I'm sorry the year has been so hard for you and i hope that things improve for you in the very near future.
Welcome, Matt. I'm sorry you've had a no-good year but if nothing else, you've found a good place to land here among us Clubbers & "Swim" a good & buoyant (oh, sorry) choice.
The post today is a great example of how it’s good for young or developing writers to think more expansively and creatively about craft advice. We’re inundated with craft advice (well, speaking for myself, I am, from all sorts of mostly online sources). But too much of it is formulaic. What I notice in this post and other craft-y posts by George is that they tend to illustrate the messy process in which real writing actually takes place. It’s one step forward, two steps sideways, another step upside-down, then back, then forward again. But in today’s post are also some extremely useful and revelatory tidbits: Like, pay attention to when something we’re writing is off, like veggies or fruit gone bad in the fridge. Immensely useful, practical stuff.
It's funny how Story Club posts sometimes seem to be in conversation with my private thoughts earlier in the week. This week is one of those times. Thanks, George. And happy birthday!
I like the idea of cutting out keepable bits and seeing what can be built around them. Another thing I ask myself when a story isn't working is, What is this story really about? Maybe I haven't gotten a clear head around that quest and that's what's making it not work.
I had a similar feeling with one story idea I’d been kicking around for a couple years. I had the inspiration behind it, had slowly put together the vague outlines of its plot, but I could never quite get into it. Then a professor of mine gave an assignment to write a contemporary version of ‘The Waste Land’, and for whatever reason, that story idea poured directly into writing that piece, and I was able to write it in an afternoon. All that is to say--sometimes a perspective shift, or a new medium, or basically switching your mindset from “I’ll do X” to “I’ll do X by way of Y” can be a little bit helpful.
this piece made me think a bit about what a curse it could be to a writer if everything they submitted for publication was published. what a curse! mind you, it happens, I suppose, we all know great writers who go bad. symptoms: their books get longer and longer (you
can’t edit me, I’m famous!) makes rejection seem more palatable in these terms
** unsettled by Anton’s eroticism **
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2013/mar/01/anton-chekhov-lifetime-lovers-play
Yes, we see that Chekhov knew his subject matter (love stories) well. This makes me understand The Lady and the Dog better. Thank you!
thanks, that was a fascinating read.
It was and James Wood's commentary on the bio worth a read, too. I knew by that sexy picture that AC was a "dude."
hmmm. I've got a lot of "bad" stories hidden in files on this computer somewhere. I'm okay with them sitting there, mostly because they tell me that at one point I put in the hours. But they are not going anywhere. They are, frankly, terrible. The good thing about all of those words and hours I put into those terrible stories, is that i learned from them. The learning was very slow, but we all learn at our own paces. And i couldn't be the person i am now (a person who has managed to publish books, stories, poems, etc) if i hadn't written all of that dreck. But here's something interesting (to me, anyway): even the stuff that I've published--a lot of it is simply not me anymore. So, questioner, here is my question for you: Are you still the person who began that "bad" story long ago? or are you someone else now? I'm thinking it's time to give up on that previous you and move forward into the person you are now. Yes, perhaps there are some good bits and pieces that you can salvage. If you're still in love with the idea, but not with what you've written, then one option is to begin again, from the beginning. As Beckett said, fail better (or maybe you won't fail). George may be right that every time you go back to the old story, it's because you need that time/distance from the new one. But oh my god, that old story is taunting you! The new one is fun for you--it's where the discovery is happening.
So. My unasked for advice: Put that old story away. It's not serving you any longer. Look forward, not to the past.
I'm pretty sure I mentioned that I only started writing again in October. I started my SUBSTACK in June. I've been putting up old stories, and in doing that, I've had to sort through them all and decide which ones to put on my page. This time around, I'm putting up the first story I ever published on-line (no pay, of course). I had written that story three different ways before I settled on a three layered story: the narrator meeting someone who tells him another kind of story. The point is, I couldn't figure out how I was supposed to approach the story. I think the inspiration came from the opening of TARZAN of all things: 'I got this story from someone who had no business telling it'. And Conrad. Once I looked at it like that, the story sort of wrote itself. But boy, before that, damn what a pain in the ass!
If Conrad tried writing a Tarzan story - now, there’s a wonderful conceit!!
It sounds like a wonderful read.
You're more than welcome to take a look... https://benwoestenburg.substack.com/p/st-freda
Ben, you are a great writer and what a story. I subscribed. Thank you, today is my day off and now I have all these new thoughts and experiences rolling around in my brain.
Wow! Thanks. I don't get a lot of that, and really appreciate it.
I'm a subscriber now.
Going there now! Thanks for the link.
I, also, have a computer full of bad stories. But, you’re right, they are evidence of work. I once attempted a « get a hundred rejections » challenge and although I didn’t submit a hundred pieces, it did change my mindset to appreciate the process and the work. And to see a rejection as the proof that you are doing something. Putting yourself out there. Getting a little better with each attempt.
A one hundred rejections project! What a great idea! (Hope you got a couple of acceptances in there...)
A few in the very specific cancer world. But that was my intended audience.
The "Year of 100 Rejections" project was a turning point for me as a writer. Or perhaps I should say a turning point for me as a reader of my own writing.
Previously, I always believed that I wasn't afraid of rejection. Still, often when I got something ready to submit for publication, I would second guess myself and decide it wasn't ready to go out yet. Surely I had another piece, one that was closer to "finished," that I should submit instead.
When I got into the Year of 100 Rejections, though, I quickly realized that in order to meet my numerical goal, I would have to submit far more individual pieces each month than I was used to doing -- two or three per week, instead of one a month. I started submitting flash fiction, and poetry, and essays on craft, and anything I had lying around that seemed pretty coherent. Much to my surprise, the pieces that I sent off feeling that they "needed a little more work" got accepted just as often as the ones that I was happy with.
I don't know who originally came up with the idea for A Year of 100 Rejections, but here's the article that introduced me to the idea: https://lithub.com/why-you-should-aim-for-100-rejections-a-year/
Wonderful, thank you so much for sharing this!
Thank you, Annie! This is terrific!
That’s how I feel, Lanie. Otherwise I’d be so discouraged.
That's such an essential question, Mary, and such a great one. "Are you still the person who began that story? Are you someone else now?" And I'd echo what the original post said, perhaps these "bad" stories lead you down other paths, or bits and bobs of those stories on your computer will be used for something else, like saving fabric for a bigger project.
Thanks, Sea. Everything I write here is really about me, when you get down to it. And i look at my old stories and think, oh wow, that's who I once was. Unlike others, i've never been able to save bits and pieces and then put them in a new story. I don't write that way.
or a quilt^^
Yes!
^..^
Beckett's 'fail better', love that. Might give it to my youngest today. Or perhaps that would sound partonising from a mother to son in his man cave. How to bring the poet out of the cave?! Writing is sometimes easier...X
just about anything a mother says to a son who is in his man cave is going to be perceived as patronizing, no? Say it anyway.
Matronizing?
<runs away>
lol
I agree with mary g's "Say it anyway", but does a poet need bringing out of his cave? Won't he come out on his own, if and when he's good and ready?
I get this endless rumination with oneself about a story that's not working. I tend to look at my options: struggle on, let it rest and for how long, give up, read it over once a day until something 'breaks,' the list goes on. The one thing that's absolute with me, however, is never deleting it. I have woken up in the middle of the night months, even years, after setting aside a story and known what to do with it. So no matter which option I pick when I'm stuck, the key is to store it somewhere and, more importantly, know how to find it again. Maybe some of that comes from being a librarian all my life where storage, search, and retrieval are eternal watchwords, but I've relied on those tools so many times, I don't give up on them. Or my stories either. They're just "resting."
I love this response, the librarian storing stories, resting them. When stories come to us in the night - fragments, voices - they deserve to live.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vZw35VUBdzo
hahahahaha! But maybe those stories have nice plumage anyway?
I'd forgotten this skit. Terrific.
I forgot about the end: "Yes! A lumberjack! Leaping from tree to tree of the [unintelligible] down mighty rivers of British Columbia!" That's where I was born!
I had forgotten how much the exalted use of language made Monty Python so worthwhile. Thanks!
leaping from tree to tree as they float down....
Thanks!
Oh yes, I never fully delete anything. Even sections I remove from a story, I store somewhere.
I did this, too. For years. Then one day, my computer blew up and I lost everything. After a period of feeling like i was going to throw up, I came to be thankful for all of those lost words. I knew i'd written them. But they weren't serving me anymore. And now i didn't have to live with them any longer. (I'm a firm believer in moving on, in case you couldn't tell...!)
Oh man, that made my heart rate go up! But that’s a good, healthy perspective that I should maybe consider should I befall the same fate.
At this point in my life, I've learned a lot about loss. (You probably have, too.) So much is in the past, and though I have a fondness for much of that past, I find it's not at all in my best interest to remain there for long. So I let things go these days, as best I can. Losing all of those words--it was all for the best, really.
Took a break from working on my own "bad story" to read this, and now I don't know what to do. Is it lunch yet?
I’ve mentioned before that I’m an architect and I’m constantly amazed at the parallels between that world of creative structure and the world of writing. We have a phrase in the design world that when you are on the right path, the project begins to ‘design itself’. It’s like building a puzzle from scratch then realizing that things on your desk fit perfectly into the weirdly shaped leftover voids. In the opposite version, I keep trying to hammer those pieces into poorly suited spaces - proverbial round pegs in square holes, which happens more than I like to admit, but less and less as I know myself better and hold the reins more loosely. When the thing designs itself, or writes itself, I sometimes feel more like I am channeling something than creating it. So thanks to questioner, and to George, for reminding us we are not alone in that struggle with emerging ideas.
Dear George –
About the scrapped conspiracy-related story, the one that seemed too unkind / sneering, I want to recommend chapter 7 of "Art in the After-Culture" by Ben Davis – it is a compassionate and level-headed take on the conspiratorial mindset that is everywhere these days, and the way it was written reminded me of your writing.
I believe there is yet still great art to be made about those who are wrapped up in conspiratorial thinking. And it will not come from a place of sneering.
In 2017 I was at a bus stop with this elderly couple who, after some time talking with me, pivoted into reptillian conspiracies about world leaders. I was incredulous, and because we were both trapped there waiting for our bus, I interrogated this line of thought, and even asked them, well how do you know *I'M* not a reptile?? Which seemed to shake them a bit. They kept telling me to research this, it's all online, and it occurred to me they were just trying to help me. When the bus pulled up, I saw them lean into each other, weary about a world that betrayed them, and I felt like they must really love each other, and they must feel very alone.
– Joe
Lovely…
I agree that there's a story to be written somewhere in that topic. I've even toyed with the fantasy of writing one myself. But I think I came to the same conclusion as George, even before making the attempt. It's so hard to get into it properly from the outside. Maybe it needs to be written by someone who's been led out of the cave?
(In my childhood and teenage experience) those on the inside can't tell any story but the authorized one. Those who come out will have their own story to tell. What would be really interesting, would be the story a person who had one foot in, one out, could tell.
Wow. I forgot about the reptile theory.
Dangerousss lapssse, SSSea...
Hahahaha! I almost spit out my coffee. Still laughing.
Oh, Anton, those eyes!
But back to the question. One of the things I love and cherish about writing is how much it reveals about ourselves. So, this may not play at all into what's happening with our questioner but are you someone who can't let a challenge go? Are you feeling the need to prove to yourself that you WILL find the key to the "bad" story? Because there's a difference between being haunted by a story and being held hostage by it. Only you know. But as others have noted, never discard anything completely because as Mary G pointed out, it may be a story from the you of the past but it could also be a story from the you of the future. Either way, wishing you luck.
Very smooth appeal to those free subscribers. That wink! Maybe lay out a plate of cookies too.
That smoldering Anton look. Whew!
It seems like he knew he was hot...at least in that one photo.
Nobody ever knows they're hot, and if they think they are, I don't want to know them.
If someone goes around 24/7 thinking that they’re a hottie, that’s not appealing. But we’ve all had our peacock moments.
Don’t we all usually go straight from thinking we are the worst to thinking hey we’re not so bad, and back around again?
We live in a culture that puts emphasis on looks to such an extreme degree, I think it causes the “swings” in some. Hopefully we can separate our feelings about ourselves from all of that.
That would be key. To separate our feelings about ourselves from everything. I had a long and enlightening conversation about this, among other things, while hiking with a new friend on Sunday. Separate self-worth from the teeter-totter!
Alas, he was dying of tuberculosis.
Wow. That’s a shock. He’s vibrating with life.
Sometimes imminent death accentuates the life vibration.
Well, that's cool. I'm feeling sleepy right now.
Did you get some rest?
Yes, that happens, so I hear. Or a sudden burst of what seems like health and recovery.
The life force asserting itself one last valiant time.
i just read in the piece Lucinda links to in this thread that he was 32 when this photo was taken. So, still fairly healthy, I think, though already affected (he died at 44). Such a horrible death--and, being a doctor, he knew what he was in for.
To die so young, and yet leave behind such a body of work! Just imagine what else he could have created had he lived to a ripe, old age. I can't help but feel bereft.
Reminds me of a character of his…
I remember the story of Alberto Giacometti's sculpture "The Palace at 4 a.m." (https://www.moma.org/collection/works/80928) - how it is less of a solid sculpture than Giacometti had previously been creating, and how he came to realize that this outline of a sculpture represented an idea he was haunted by: that he had tried for six months to sustain a fragile, powerful love affair each night - how fragile this love was, and how this private would fall endlessly fall apart. And yet Anton and his lover endlessly rebuilt their "palace" each night, even though it would collapse again... And so his sculpture came into being, although he did not consciously understand it, nor its form, to start.
As importantly, the the writer William Maxwell apparently saw this very sculpture and then realized it was the key to a story he had been laboring to write -- and so Maxwell's novel "So Long, See You Tomorrow" crystallized.
I think we have to keep going with that idea that haunts us, to be open to signs that will help us to realize the story we are trying to tell, and the form to tell it, whether a more unusual sculptural form for Giacometti or a long-percolating novel for Maxwell... In other words, please, don't anyone give up or walk away on expressing these hard-won stories unless they no longer haunt you. But so long as they do, continue. (Imagine if, as examples, Giacometti, or Maxwell, or our George did... How much smaller this life would be.)
(And by the way, does anyway else get momentarily stunned when they look at the photo of Chekhov?)
The look in his eyes! Chekhov and the photographer had a good energy between them, for sure. What a shot.
MVM, I love that you use the word "haunt" for ideas that won't go away.
Oh Stacey -- you make me wonder: Who, indeed, was behind the camera at that moment?
What a gaze... A 2023 Chekhov Calendar would be a wonderful holiday gift.
Lucinda just now posted a link--and it credits that photo to Chekhov's brother.
Well that makes sense. There's an ease there.
Photographers can bring out so much expression-- or not.
I wish there had been a photo of him really smiling. Only a slight upturn of bemusement is seen in a few of the shots. I agree, rather a hottie.
Dear MVM, thank you so much for sharing! I just love "So Long, See You Tomorrow," and had no idea it was inspired by Giacometti. I had the great fortune of being in Seattle this last summer while a special Giacometti exhibit ("Toward the Ultimate Figure") was at the Art Museum. Before I would have said there's something disquieting about his work, but now I think, there's something haunting about his work.
(And there is something that haunts me about that Chekhov photo as well! I'm seriously considering printing it out and hanging it near my desk for, um, "inspiration")
Story Club pin up boy...
I re-read So Long See You Tomorrow yesterday (inspired by this thread)! I'd been telling people for years to read it, but it turns out i'd forgotten so much about it. Or maybe this time around, I got more out of it (even though I've always loved it). What a great book. What he manages to get across in such a short space! And yes, right in the book, he talks about Giacometti's Palace at 4 a.m. It was fun to come across. I feel like I've seen a lot of Giacomettis in my life, but I didn't know anything at all about that sculpture. So anyway, thank you Manami and MVM for getting me to pull that book off the shelf again. (It was right next to The All of It, which i've also been touting for years--time to re-read that one as well, I think!
Oh it was actually mentioned in the book! I had no idea! But there it is, "Palace at 4 a.m.," right at the bottom of page 25. And so important to Maxwell that he chose to include a passage from Giacometti about its creation. And I don't remember this at all! I wonder why not. Maybe it just didn't seem important to the story—but I have to reread it now too, knowing that it was an important key in unlocking its creation.
P.S. I've never heard of "The All of It" but am adding it to my list! On my shelf, "So Long, See You Tomorrow" was wedged between Train Dreams and Tove Jansson's "The Summer Book." (Actually that shelf seems to have a theme: stories I love under 200 pages. Housekeeping is there, too!)
Ah crap, scratch that. Housekeeping is 219!
That's short enough! I've not read The Summer Book, so i'll put it on my list. Just started Aftermath (Rachel Cusk)--146 pages! I didn't have any memory of the Giacometti mention either, but there it was. And apparently, when he saw the sculpture, he said There's my novel! Or something like that. Did you ever read Pobby and Dingan? Probably under 200 and I remember loving it (but you know, it's been a while--can't vouch for things I used to love anymore).
I haven't heard of Pobby and Dingan either! I'll have to revisit the Summer Book too, to see if it still holds the same power it did before...
One recent-ish short work I love love loved was Grief is the Thing with Feathers. LOVED.
Soulful.
He looks to me like a charming, extremely intelligent person of the... mid-twentieth century.
Thanks for this, MVM. I so admire William Maxwell. This is interesting to know.
I’m recalling (I hope correctly) the first line from a poem by Sylvia Plath: “The poems do not live; it’s a sad diagnosis.” That’s about it. She describes her struggles, then moves on. Makes better poems.
Plath, so memorable, so beautifully brittle and brilliant. So wronged. I love it that her poetry lives, that she is now stronger than Ted. I'm still waiting for the book that explores the bruises laid on her by him.
An aside to thank George on his birthday...
This year has been the hardest of my life for reasons I won't bore you with. In helping me cope, a friend suggested I find three things that still "fill my cup" and be sure to do each of these every day. The theory being that even if I had a bad day, I can say to myself, "Well I did those three things, so it was a day well spent."
Reading and rereading "A Swim in a Pond in the Rain" had been one of those things in 2021, so discovering Story Club (a little late to the party, this is my first post) was a wonderful surprise in this challenging year. Spending time, even if passively, with you fine folks and George's insightful and life-affirming posts while discovering new authors and short stories to discuss has most definitely kept my cup full to the brim.
Thank you all for your company, and happy birthday, George. To many more!
That was a wise and good friend. I used to do something similar during a period when I felt at loose ends, depressed, and uncomfortable. I wrote this on my daily calendar: RWESC. These stood for read, write, exercise, spiritual, craft. I found that on the days I managed to cross off each of these five things, i felt that i'd had a good day. (Spiritual meant whatever worked for me on a given day--thoughts, finding awe outside, meditating, listening to music, etc. Craft meant making something or working on an art project of any kind. But this could also be baking a loaf of bread. Reading meant really reading--not just the newspaper. And writing meant writing for me--not a letter or emails.) The knowledge that i had that little list of five things that were meaningful to me--that somehow was a huge help to me. I felt purposeful. I'm sorry the year has been so hard for you and i hope that things improve for you in the very near future.
Very similar practice! Thank you for the insight and words of encouragement.
Thanks, Mary. So much good sense that I've appreciated in other posts of yours.
oh, thank you for this, Charlie.
Welcome, Matt. I'm sorry you've had a no-good year but if nothing else, you've found a good place to land here among us Clubbers & "Swim" a good & buoyant (oh, sorry) choice.
Welcome Matt. Glad you're here. For me Story Club has been like this thing I didn't know I was looking for, but once found seems essential.
The post today is a great example of how it’s good for young or developing writers to think more expansively and creatively about craft advice. We’re inundated with craft advice (well, speaking for myself, I am, from all sorts of mostly online sources). But too much of it is formulaic. What I notice in this post and other craft-y posts by George is that they tend to illustrate the messy process in which real writing actually takes place. It’s one step forward, two steps sideways, another step upside-down, then back, then forward again. But in today’s post are also some extremely useful and revelatory tidbits: Like, pay attention to when something we’re writing is off, like veggies or fruit gone bad in the fridge. Immensely useful, practical stuff.
It's funny how Story Club posts sometimes seem to be in conversation with my private thoughts earlier in the week. This week is one of those times. Thanks, George. And happy birthday!
I like the idea of cutting out keepable bits and seeing what can be built around them. Another thing I ask myself when a story isn't working is, What is this story really about? Maybe I haven't gotten a clear head around that quest and that's what's making it not work.
Great answers, as always!
I had a similar feeling with one story idea I’d been kicking around for a couple years. I had the inspiration behind it, had slowly put together the vague outlines of its plot, but I could never quite get into it. Then a professor of mine gave an assignment to write a contemporary version of ‘The Waste Land’, and for whatever reason, that story idea poured directly into writing that piece, and I was able to write it in an afternoon. All that is to say--sometimes a perspective shift, or a new medium, or basically switching your mindset from “I’ll do X” to “I’ll do X by way of Y” can be a little bit helpful.
this piece made me think a bit about what a curse it could be to a writer if everything they submitted for publication was published. what a curse! mind you, it happens, I suppose, we all know great writers who go bad. symptoms: their books get longer and longer (you
can’t edit me, I’m famous!) makes rejection seem more palatable in these terms