You're welcome, Celeste. Everything we learn about storytelling from craft books, from our writing teachers, including this gift of teaching provided by George Saunders, and from each other is grist for the mill. You are going to teach yourself through writing and developing your own instinct of what works for the story. Readers follow that main character/narrator scene by scene, bird by bird. So glad you had this realization.
I want to add to this discussion before it's too late as it is filling me up to the brim with feelings of camaraderie and connection (Story Club Staples!) It is good to know that I am not the only one who faces these ghosts and demons. You have all named so many of them that I have come to know and face down, and even sometime befriend. Time, advancing age, talent (or lack thereof), worthiness, originality, rejection, life/work balance...oh so many. I have them all. Some of them are pests that won't go away, but some of them are helpful and keep me for losing track of those people and things that are keeping me afloat or from falling through the cracks. Or from writing a story that will fail to live up to its potential and mine.
But despite how spooky and difficult it is to keep facing these writerly worries, I do continue writing and so do so many of you, brave story clubbers, because we love to play in this sandbox, with language and ideas in the hopes that we will provide some comfort, or amusement, or impetus to bring about positive change, or if we are very good at this wordplay game, even shed a little light on the human condition and that mysterious, beautiful, separate and not equal, tragic comedy that is commonly called life. When I think of writing this way, as giving form to what I've lived and learned and hoped for, it's easier to separate myself from the words themselves, which really can be arranged in any way, shape, and form I think will make the story come alive for others. If I can pull this off, even for myself, I will be proud and happy. I'll admire my sandcastle before a giant baby or mean bully comes and stomps on it. Or a dog pees on it. Or I win first prize in the sandcastle building contest. And then, it'll be back to the minutia of measuring each tiny grain of sand, the seemingly never ending shoveling, scooping, and packing down, the architectural structure and artistic sculpture of moats, tunnels, and turrets, and the final finishing touches of seashells, feathers, and surprises.
The ghosts are now fully placated for me, for now. But they'll be back. It's almost as if they're a part of me.
About our recent discussion on rejection (Lily, I think you first brought up the topic), there was the following in today's NYT. A new & I think brilliant take on an age-old problem that isn't so much a problem as it may be a way of being: unavoidable, discouraging sometimes, but not without its purpose.
Ageism. That's the big thing for me now. It's not just that I have fewer years left to write, although that gives me a sense of urgency I find harder to dispel. It's the issue of my worth. Agents swear there's no "ageism" but they want young writers whose careers they can "mold." They want to be the next Maxwell Perkins. Yet, here I am, writing from more experience and understanding because I've lived longer. The gift of writing will be mine for as long as I'm a sentient being, and I'm grateful, but sometimes the "dismissal" is difficult to live with. That's why I'm shifting my focus to writing I can submit without reference to my age, where the work is all that's reviewed, and no one asks my age or anything else about me. Where my work is all that counts.
I’m late to this conversation— and so looking forward to our next installment of CommComm— but I did want to say how much I appreciate the question— and the addition of the Mazzoli quote. Years ago I read (though have not been able to find it) that Dostoyevsky said, “Man loves to achieve, but hates to have achieved” (gender bias, notwithstanding.) Those Russians, refusing to stand on their laurels! Still it’s seems true. What I witness. What I personally know.
It makes the question/issue of time that George raises so touching. I recently saw Lizzie Gottlieb’s doc about her Dad (editor) and Robert Caro (writer), chasing the clock to get 5th volume of Lyndon Johnson series finished, but unable, given depth of research and fastidiousness with sentences, to hurry the work. He’s 87!!
As to publishing. The whole enterprise of bringing one’s work out into the world stirs my anxiety. I had a wonderful writing teacher who said, Look, Gail, we’re all thirsty. You go to your corner of the desert and bring back what water you find, you offer it, and hope it will quench someone’s thirst.”
I especially love a response from George here in the chat which encourages us to widen the ground between work and self as it goes out into the world. It’s consoling to think that what starts with myself, my imagination, my obsessions, through all those iterations and revisions, becomes, something other— .
And yet. Regardless how wide that ground, rejection is still somewhere between a pain and a puzzle. It’s great when it comes with a glint of what might be done to make the work better. But this rarely happens. When I was in my 40’s, I circulated a manuscript that was getting favorable attention, but no one would publish it— one publisher included a long letter of apology. One told me I was too old (they were looking for younger writers) I mean he put this in a letter!!! And I won’t say which imprint but you’d be shocked. Another said it was one of 10 final manuscripts sitting on his desk when they could only take 8. On and on like this.
It was hard to come back from all that- I still write prose and poems, but turned my creative juices to film - which has its own challenges ($$$), but which, for all its crassness, involves a more transparent process.
Part of the allure of publishing for me has always been being a part of a community of writers, getting a seat at the table for lively and thoughtful conversation. And now, I have this here with all of you. Thank you, George Saunders for putting all those extra leaves in the table so we could all sit down and feast.
Off topic but related -- I spent some time on the website you linked, that RH created for your work. The duet with Stephen Colbert is delightful! There are enticing media links to investigate further.
Not sure where I should post this, here, in the free part of the Story Club or in the paid subscription part. But I’m here and I have to share this. I just came up from the laundry room. While waiting for the clothes to dry I picked up an old New Yorker, 2019 , to read Hanif Kereishi’s short story. I did not know this writer, but I thought of you, George, because I could read the short story “He Said, She Said” and notice the rise of anticipation and the bowling pins tossed up in the air. Then I read Diana Treisman’s interview with him and he said this:
“As a writer, I don’t like to know too much about what I’m doing. I want to sit down at my desk with hope rather than certainty, and be surprised. “
And I thought of you again. And because I was sliding down the “rabbit hole” I found out that recently Kereishi very suddenly lost the use of his arms and legs! And then I discovered he has started a Substack! And I’m sitting here thinking about the surprises life throws at us and the connections we humans have to make...all of this is because I recently had a shock myself, and a loss...a friend of almost 40 years. These connections all felt like fate or karma. As a writer, and I’m speaking to you, Story Clubber, if you can connect through your writing to another human like me, it’s your gift. Thank you, each of you, for working so hard at your craft...but don’t try too hard to connect with me, just let your story begin with hope and be surprised and have fun.
George, any words on worrying about rejection; (or to follow your lead of breaking worry down) and on worrying about having too strong a response to rejection.
“I don’t think “writing” and “being a good and happy person” are separate but I do think that if a person is just slightly “off” in his orientation toward writing and career and success, it can mess with the “being a good and happy person” part.”
Yes! When I’m writing (and all it entails; the editing, submitting, reading other writers; second eyeing a friends work) or improving, I’m good. On the beam & happy. When I’m not feeding myself properly, I’m off. Caught up in silly bickering’s like over-focusing on people, places & things I cannot change. Luckily, I’ve learned to stop pretty quickly & set myself right. The writing always puts me where I need to be. Right here, right now I’m writing this note in my journal to post. It’s always words that lead me to the heart of what matters. I love the “oppressing the comfortable” of your post. Writing is meant to startle the reader out of complacency. Even if the reader is me writing something I feel I have to get out there. One thing I’m reminded of when I read your stories is what my improv teacher stresses—“go there”. Go where you dare not. Write what you dare not & if and when there’s an uproar, remind them it’s “fiction” or play.
Lastly, the spambot has given us all a story prompt!!
I’ve not been here in a loooong time and decided to read your reply that landed in my inbox just now. And wow - exactly what I needed. Or as I like to say (as I point to my wrist), Right on time.
Especially this part:
“As for ‘on a roll, killing it, living the dream’– well, thanks for thinking that. The main deal there, I think, is to be grateful and keep things in proportion. I sometimes imagine that a person having success’s job is to be glad (yes, of course) but then mentally push that success (and the elation one tends to feel about it) over into….well, this metaphor is about to get complicated – I was going to say: push that elation/pride energy over into the pile of dough that is the forthcoming work.
So: take the energy of elation and pride, skim off a little for yourself, just for fun, then dedicate the rest of it, in the hope that the work to come will 1) be good and 2) leave somebody who reads it marginally better off.”
I had a big win last year, and I love the dough metaphor!! Yes.
I’ve recently begun my first grown-up stab at fiction after 2 decades of memoir and personal essays. I will take the lift from my win and roll that into this new adventure. I will surrender to its power to work whatever momentum it’s here to grace me with.
We are so blessed to be a part of this. It seems unprecedented. Those of us who dreamed of studying writing but for whatever reasons did not. This has been an incredible ride/experience so far. Thank you George.
And I forget to say this, find a model novel that is a story like yours. Very helpful!
You're welcome, Celeste. Everything we learn about storytelling from craft books, from our writing teachers, including this gift of teaching provided by George Saunders, and from each other is grist for the mill. You are going to teach yourself through writing and developing your own instinct of what works for the story. Readers follow that main character/narrator scene by scene, bird by bird. So glad you had this realization.
I want to add to this discussion before it's too late as it is filling me up to the brim with feelings of camaraderie and connection (Story Club Staples!) It is good to know that I am not the only one who faces these ghosts and demons. You have all named so many of them that I have come to know and face down, and even sometime befriend. Time, advancing age, talent (or lack thereof), worthiness, originality, rejection, life/work balance...oh so many. I have them all. Some of them are pests that won't go away, but some of them are helpful and keep me for losing track of those people and things that are keeping me afloat or from falling through the cracks. Or from writing a story that will fail to live up to its potential and mine.
But despite how spooky and difficult it is to keep facing these writerly worries, I do continue writing and so do so many of you, brave story clubbers, because we love to play in this sandbox, with language and ideas in the hopes that we will provide some comfort, or amusement, or impetus to bring about positive change, or if we are very good at this wordplay game, even shed a little light on the human condition and that mysterious, beautiful, separate and not equal, tragic comedy that is commonly called life. When I think of writing this way, as giving form to what I've lived and learned and hoped for, it's easier to separate myself from the words themselves, which really can be arranged in any way, shape, and form I think will make the story come alive for others. If I can pull this off, even for myself, I will be proud and happy. I'll admire my sandcastle before a giant baby or mean bully comes and stomps on it. Or a dog pees on it. Or I win first prize in the sandcastle building contest. And then, it'll be back to the minutia of measuring each tiny grain of sand, the seemingly never ending shoveling, scooping, and packing down, the architectural structure and artistic sculpture of moats, tunnels, and turrets, and the final finishing touches of seashells, feathers, and surprises.
The ghosts are now fully placated for me, for now. But they'll be back. It's almost as if they're a part of me.
About our recent discussion on rejection (Lily, I think you first brought up the topic), there was the following in today's NYT. A new & I think brilliant take on an age-old problem that isn't so much a problem as it may be a way of being: unavoidable, discouraging sometimes, but not without its purpose.
https://www.nytimes.com/2023/02/11/books/review/writers-failure-joyce-melville-boethius.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare
A Writer’s Lament: The Better You Write, the More You Will Fail
Ageism. That's the big thing for me now. It's not just that I have fewer years left to write, although that gives me a sense of urgency I find harder to dispel. It's the issue of my worth. Agents swear there's no "ageism" but they want young writers whose careers they can "mold." They want to be the next Maxwell Perkins. Yet, here I am, writing from more experience and understanding because I've lived longer. The gift of writing will be mine for as long as I'm a sentient being, and I'm grateful, but sometimes the "dismissal" is difficult to live with. That's why I'm shifting my focus to writing I can submit without reference to my age, where the work is all that's reviewed, and no one asks my age or anything else about me. Where my work is all that counts.
I’m late to this conversation— and so looking forward to our next installment of CommComm— but I did want to say how much I appreciate the question— and the addition of the Mazzoli quote. Years ago I read (though have not been able to find it) that Dostoyevsky said, “Man loves to achieve, but hates to have achieved” (gender bias, notwithstanding.) Those Russians, refusing to stand on their laurels! Still it’s seems true. What I witness. What I personally know.
It makes the question/issue of time that George raises so touching. I recently saw Lizzie Gottlieb’s doc about her Dad (editor) and Robert Caro (writer), chasing the clock to get 5th volume of Lyndon Johnson series finished, but unable, given depth of research and fastidiousness with sentences, to hurry the work. He’s 87!!
As to publishing. The whole enterprise of bringing one’s work out into the world stirs my anxiety. I had a wonderful writing teacher who said, Look, Gail, we’re all thirsty. You go to your corner of the desert and bring back what water you find, you offer it, and hope it will quench someone’s thirst.”
I especially love a response from George here in the chat which encourages us to widen the ground between work and self as it goes out into the world. It’s consoling to think that what starts with myself, my imagination, my obsessions, through all those iterations and revisions, becomes, something other— .
And yet. Regardless how wide that ground, rejection is still somewhere between a pain and a puzzle. It’s great when it comes with a glint of what might be done to make the work better. But this rarely happens. When I was in my 40’s, I circulated a manuscript that was getting favorable attention, but no one would publish it— one publisher included a long letter of apology. One told me I was too old (they were looking for younger writers) I mean he put this in a letter!!! And I won’t say which imprint but you’d be shocked. Another said it was one of 10 final manuscripts sitting on his desk when they could only take 8. On and on like this.
It was hard to come back from all that- I still write prose and poems, but turned my creative juices to film - which has its own challenges ($$$), but which, for all its crassness, involves a more transparent process.
Part of the allure of publishing for me has always been being a part of a community of writers, getting a seat at the table for lively and thoughtful conversation. And now, I have this here with all of you. Thank you, George Saunders for putting all those extra leaves in the table so we could all sit down and feast.
Off topic but related -- I spent some time on the website you linked, that RH created for your work. The duet with Stephen Colbert is delightful! There are enticing media links to investigate further.
Not sure where I should post this, here, in the free part of the Story Club or in the paid subscription part. But I’m here and I have to share this. I just came up from the laundry room. While waiting for the clothes to dry I picked up an old New Yorker, 2019 , to read Hanif Kereishi’s short story. I did not know this writer, but I thought of you, George, because I could read the short story “He Said, She Said” and notice the rise of anticipation and the bowling pins tossed up in the air. Then I read Diana Treisman’s interview with him and he said this:
“As a writer, I don’t like to know too much about what I’m doing. I want to sit down at my desk with hope rather than certainty, and be surprised. “
And I thought of you again. And because I was sliding down the “rabbit hole” I found out that recently Kereishi very suddenly lost the use of his arms and legs! And then I discovered he has started a Substack! And I’m sitting here thinking about the surprises life throws at us and the connections we humans have to make...all of this is because I recently had a shock myself, and a loss...a friend of almost 40 years. These connections all felt like fate or karma. As a writer, and I’m speaking to you, Story Clubber, if you can connect through your writing to another human like me, it’s your gift. Thank you, each of you, for working so hard at your craft...but don’t try too hard to connect with me, just let your story begin with hope and be surprised and have fun.
George, any words on worrying about rejection; (or to follow your lead of breaking worry down) and on worrying about having too strong a response to rejection.
In response to:
“I don’t think “writing” and “being a good and happy person” are separate but I do think that if a person is just slightly “off” in his orientation toward writing and career and success, it can mess with the “being a good and happy person” part.”
Yes! When I’m writing (and all it entails; the editing, submitting, reading other writers; second eyeing a friends work) or improving, I’m good. On the beam & happy. When I’m not feeding myself properly, I’m off. Caught up in silly bickering’s like over-focusing on people, places & things I cannot change. Luckily, I’ve learned to stop pretty quickly & set myself right. The writing always puts me where I need to be. Right here, right now I’m writing this note in my journal to post. It’s always words that lead me to the heart of what matters. I love the “oppressing the comfortable” of your post. Writing is meant to startle the reader out of complacency. Even if the reader is me writing something I feel I have to get out there. One thing I’m reminded of when I read your stories is what my improv teacher stresses—“go there”. Go where you dare not. Write what you dare not & if and when there’s an uproar, remind them it’s “fiction” or play.
Lastly, the spambot has given us all a story prompt!!
Thank you, George. This was really beautiful. Somehow it made be breathe a little easier.
George, this post moved me to tears. If the goal of being a writer is to find oneself rather than to strut your stuff, you are succeeding wildly.
I’ve not been here in a loooong time and decided to read your reply that landed in my inbox just now. And wow - exactly what I needed. Or as I like to say (as I point to my wrist), Right on time.
Especially this part:
“As for ‘on a roll, killing it, living the dream’– well, thanks for thinking that. The main deal there, I think, is to be grateful and keep things in proportion. I sometimes imagine that a person having success’s job is to be glad (yes, of course) but then mentally push that success (and the elation one tends to feel about it) over into….well, this metaphor is about to get complicated – I was going to say: push that elation/pride energy over into the pile of dough that is the forthcoming work.
So: take the energy of elation and pride, skim off a little for yourself, just for fun, then dedicate the rest of it, in the hope that the work to come will 1) be good and 2) leave somebody who reads it marginally better off.”
I had a big win last year, and I love the dough metaphor!! Yes.
I’ve recently begun my first grown-up stab at fiction after 2 decades of memoir and personal essays. I will take the lift from my win and roll that into this new adventure. I will surrender to its power to work whatever momentum it’s here to grace me with.
Your kind heart is much appreciated.
🙏🏻💜🙏🏻
Re: the SPAM attempt. The worst of it would be if word somehow went out that George does not know how to use the apostrophe.
Re these messages that say I want to text you.....SPAM.
That isn't me. I do all of my texting right here AND, if I never need to get hold of anyone, I have the emails that you subscribed with.
Wow, what a question! And the response...
We are so blessed to be a part of this. It seems unprecedented. Those of us who dreamed of studying writing but for whatever reasons did not. This has been an incredible ride/experience so far. Thank you George.