The Gift of Inspiration

One of my mornings this week began with a visit to the dermatologist. All of my suspicious spots were above the waist so I was issued a "cape" rather than a "gown." Dressed in a sleeveless, shapeless paper garment when the doctor and his assistant entered the room, I informed them that I wouldn't give them a nickel for a whole case of the things. The doctor smiled. The assistant replied, "You're right. They have no architectural integrity at all."

Instantly she became a character to me. Throughout the time my flesh was being frozen, hacked and cauterized I was in another world, imagining the background of my delightful character, dreaming up other dialogue and conjuring the situations in which she might find herself.

I wonder how non-story tellers transport themselves from unpleasant situations.

Oh, No! Not Another Blog

Several years ago I had the good fortune to be seated at a luncheon next to Dr. John Pilkington, my grad school mentor, and took the opportunity to tell him that he taught me everything I know about reading and writing. He replied, “What makes you think you know anything now?”

Excellent point. So it’s not the goal of this blog to impart knowledge.

Last year my unpublished manuscript, Every City or House, made the quarter-finals of the Amazon Breakthrough Novel contest—along with 500 others. Yes, it was heady for awhile and it was gratifying that my kind friends and family members took the trouble to read the excerpt and post glowing reviews.

As I read the other writers’ excerpts my giddiness quickly morphed into humility. I was awed by the depth and quality of the submissions and was reminded that the path to publication is next to impossible to maneuver. This impression was underscored by the laments of the many who vented their frustrations on the online forum.

While it has always been hard, today the publishing industry is in such disarray it appears that the odds of breaking through are longer than ever.

I don’t have the answer. Just a hunch that social media might offer a new portal.

My other goals are more concrete. Some of my happiest times have been spent sharing thoughts and ideas with other readers and writers. I believe that there can never be too many sources for insights about and recommendations of good books.

As for writing, we feed off of each other. One writer friend is fond of remarking that she’s always happy to share her inspirations because even if someone else seizes on her idea they will write it differently. So it is my hope to entice here the writer friends who have kept me going so far. We are too busy or too scattered now to gather in traditional writers groups. Why not here?

If others wish to join us, all the better.

What Gives?

Okay, who's had this experience--you read a book, fall in love with it and wait eagerly for the author's next one. For Marilynne Robinson we waited, what, about 20 years? And Gilead could not be more different from Housekeeping. Equally brilliant, no doubt, but the emotional tone was worlds and worlds apart.

Then there's Ann Patchett. It's hard to believe that the writer of The Magician's Assistant followed up with Bel Canto and Run. And don't even get me started on Anne Tyler and Joyce Carol Oates.

I must reluctantly conclude that the authors I love write the books they are moved to write with no regard for the fact that I'm out here waiting for an encore. As a writer I intend to do the same thing but there's still this lingering sense of disappointment. Whatever happened to Ruth and Sabine? Just saying...