In the late 1960s, Kurt Vonnegut wrote a letter to a fellow
novelist, a friend who was about to teach at the legendary Iowa Writer’s Workshop. Vonnegut, who had done so earlier, had some
tips about living and working in Iowa City.
He provided some practical suggestions. For example, he told his friend
to use the Cedar Rapids airport, not the one in Iowa City. He commented on the workshop’s staff — who to
beware of and who might be of help. He
also told the novelist turned professor not to worry about credentials. “The University is perfectly used to
barbarians in the work shop.” (Vonnegut wasn’t a college graduate either.) But my favorite line in the letter was that
if the new guy wanted to enjoy his stay, he should…”run with the painters.”
This seemed odd to say at a place known for its famous writers.
Nightscape by Iowa City Artist Mark Stevenson (2010) |
Years ago, when I first found out it existed, I joined the
Private Eye Writers of America and have attended a couple of annual dinners,
one at the famous Slippery Noodle in Indianapolis. It was a combination of awards ceremony and
roast. A lot of the writers knew each other.
They had been coming to these dinners for years and it was a chance to
catch up, talk about old times. I also
joined the Mystery Writers of America (MWA) and have taken advantage of a few
of their incredible annual conferences (Bouchercons). They have kindly put me
on a panel whenever I could attend. I
was in the midst of all sorts of writers, some of them legends, but they seemed
to gather together in groups, calling each other by their first names, again
sharing stories and probably pretty often taking a new, young writer under
their collective wings. From all that I
could tell, writers are a generous lot and, while seemingly highly competitive
— awards, sales, etc. — in many cases very supportive.
I’ve never been hail fellow well met. I’m pretty sure that
at these convergences of writers, my stand-offishness was interpreted as aloof
or even snobbish by some. I’ve attended a number of meetings of MWA’s northern
California chapter. These were lunches
usually and often with a speaker who provided valuable, expert information to
crime writers — criminal attorneys, homicide cops, medical examiners. These meetings
have been worthwhile, but here again there seemed to be established groups who
hung out together, veterans in the cause. I don’t fault it. It’s natural. I gravitated to those wanting
to write more than those who have already written. I think it is because they seemed a little
lost as well.
Poster from the "red scare" McCarthy Era of the 1950s |
Friendships, I think, are bonds formed by participation in
common struggles. Among writers,
especially crime novelists around my age, many came up the same way even if
they didn’t know each other. They knew
the publishers and editors and other characters in the game.
This is probably happening now, with younger writers, though
perhaps in a slightly different way.
Pardon the cliché, but publishing is in the process of creating its “new
normal”. It has to do with ebooks and
social media, tweets, facebook pages and shared blogs and all sorts of stuff
yet to be conceived. As an aside, I was
never really part of the older group (though I am certainly enough) and I am
stumbling and fumbling in this new publishing world as well. Another aside, there was a young man on
Charlie Rose who invented a new and popular “app.” The kid is now worth
millions. He was fifteen when he
developed it. He predicted that future
applications will be developed by 12-year-olds.
And the conservatives want to raise the retirement age?
But back to the point — painters and writers. I find it difficult to relate to other
writers, perhaps for the reasons I mentioned above. I didn’t come up, to the extent that I have,
the same way. We don’t share the dimly
lit past. And the truth is, as I observe
it, that being with other writers prompts a kind of constant evaluation, an
ongoing comparison of each other’s work in one way or another. I’m not sure we can help it. It is a kind of constant reminder of the
business of writing, of getting published. I prefer to think and talk about
other things. For me, writing is not
something one does in a group setting.
My guess is that Vonnegut’s advice to “run with the
painters” had something to do with that.
If you are going to spend all day with upcoming writers for months on
end. And your cohorts are also writers,
isn’t that a bit much? Painters are
creative folks. Most of the ones I have
known have great minds, provide stimulating conversation and are often
inspiring without posing any sense of competition, at least to writers. If I
could still run, I’d probably be running with the painters.
1 comment:
Reminds me of times I've gone to Litquake events, which leave me feeling like a Hatfield who stumbled into a giant reunion of the McCoys. Maybe we should start a new movement: walk with the unaligned.
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