Friday, May 27, 2011

As the day approaches...

I suppose I have known for a while that I subscribe to a certain notion about what a writer should be like.  In college (both as an undergraduate and as a graduate student) I was in love with the author mystique -- the quirky, larger-than-life stories that make legendary writers legendary.  There was Hemingway fishing for trout in Spain and Steinbeck drinking wine with Ed Ricketts along the Pacific coast.  But in the process of becoming a writer -- not just writing, per se, but creating the "brand" that is "J. Michael Dew," I have come face to face with the writer fantasy. I am at a Holiday Inn in Pensacola, Florida.  I just finished reading some comments about All The Bad Things.  I am drinking wine.  My three girls are restless and won't go to sleep.  My mother-in-law and wife are chattering away in Spanish.  And I am writing.  Like I always do.  And there is nothing larger-than-life about it.  In fact, I think it's quite the opposite.

2 comments:

  1. There is a lot of truth in this post. And it reminds me of a few paragraphs in Stephen King's book, "On Writing." It's been a while since I read it, but somewhere he talks about not separating ourselves from the life that goes on around us when we write, but moving the desk into the living room, into the center of things, and writing from that place. Something about that made a lot of sense to me. ...writing isn't something to be done "away" but "in the midst." At least for some of us.

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  2. I was just talking about this to my partner this morning. I said, isn't it sad how in this day and age, authors can't afford to maintain the mysteriousness they once had, and that in order to be the tiniest bit of a success, you need to let the world know every time you wish to go to the bathroom for them to like you and buy your books.

    I dream of being a Virginia Woolf or an Emily Dickinson. Ha! Yeah ... right ...

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