We’ve got a changing weather pattern happening that’s destined to hang around after a bout of cold, unseasonal temperatures, waking to frost in May, snow accumulations in the mountains, and profound rainfalls drenching the valleys.
On Sunday I ventured out to a giant, outdoor plant and garden sale wearing a heavy sweatshirt and jeans, tbick socks, wool cap, winter jacket and boots. It was windy, and while the rain wasn’t heavy, at times it felt like ice pellets. And I became so thoroughly chilled as when I got home, grabbed a blanket and made hot tea, it took awhile to warm up.
But there are hundreds of shades of green here and I don’t mean dozens. Flowers blooming everywhere. And I bought five tomato plants and other beauties so planting them is on the agenda.
Photo credit: Simon Kuznetsov
Last week I was advising writers to affiliate with other writers for support, comraderie, and knowledge. On the surface this might seem like a simplistic or glib suggestion. But let’s delve deeper about this topic.
Years ago, I met a woman in Portland who once told me that it wasn’t until she was in her late thirties that she realized how vastly different her life might have been if only she’d had a mentor. It was spoken with regret, sadness, and a deep knowing about what she might have achieved. How she might have lived her most precious dreams. But there weren’t many female mentors around when we growing up. In my case it was teachers and librarians. In her forties, she went back to school and earned a master’s degree and changed professions. And eventually found mentors while pursuing her degree.
Writers need mentors. Guides. Trail blazers. Seers.
And there’s a tribe of thousands of authors still living and countless others who have passed on. Aren’t we incredibly fortunate?
Mentors can be found in books, of course. Because one of a writer’s main pursuit is to read widely. {If you don’t you’re in the wrong field, by the way.} Our eyes dance along word after word. Our powerful brains render stories as if playing on a magical movie screen streaming within. We drink in the exotic smells of a Marrakesh bazaar or muck around a Midwestern farm, follow a character transforming from victim to survivor, or a nerd becomes a warrior.
But writers need to look around at the wider world, and deeply analyze our favorite stories along with the habits of the people who wrote them. And then study the legacies of writers outside your genre: colunistis and opinion writers, podcasters, graphic novelists, science writers, and those who create how-to books. We need to gaze far afield, beyond our doubts, our latest not-so great chapter, and coping with a not-enough-alone-time schedule. We need to seek out big-hearted souls who will suggest strategies for getting words on the page, for crafting intricate plots, and then for getting our words out into the world. We need to meet writers who can throw an arm around our weary shoulders. We need to stay engaged.
Some mentors we’ll find in books, some we’ll meet, some we’ll hire to help us along. But don’t ever forget: this is not a go-it-alone profession.
Like most writers I read a lot as a kid. If I didn’t have a current book I’d reread a classic or tackle a volume of our Collier’s Encyclopedia. I was also drawn to biographies. From my vantage our small northern town didn’t hold a lot of inspiring types so I sought out exemplars from the pages of books.
As I reached adulthood I started studying authors whose works would shine a light on my hidden dreams: F Scott Fitzgerald, Truman Capote, Eudora Welty, John Steinbeck, Shirley Jackson. Not all were role models, but their stories could be deciphered, their techniques dissected. In my twenties the list grew: Maxine Hong Kingston, Zora Neal Hurston, MFK Fischer, Marge Piercy, William Styron, and others. I read Michner’s sprawling tomes for their scope and narratives. And wanted to know how he gathered the research materials for his books, and then wove them into a tale.
While I’m typing here it’s midmorning and I’ve gone outside to water windows boxes and hanging planters and the birds’ morning chatter and songs have died down some. Filling the watering can I realized that I’ll never be able to recall or list all the authors, novels, and nonfiction books that left their mark on me. But I’ve never forgotten the Joad family in Grapes of Wrath or that final intimate scene that gives hope. Or how Holden Caufield felt like a brother from another mother. Then there was the shocking ending of Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery.” Or the heartbreak in Tillie Olsen’s “As I Stand Here Ironing.” These stories changed me and never left my cellular memory. But there are so many more.
In my thirties I was figuring out the suspense genre, realizing that Sue Grafton had created a singularly quirky protagonist in Kinsey Milhone, with a both vulnerable and hardened view of life. An inner aloneness that seemed impenetrable. I read every Robert Parker Spenser book and appreciated the enterwining of his lady love and sidekick Hawk into the storyline. Learned from Grafton and Parker that voice can be intimate, and how a POV character’s self deprecation and snark went a long way in creating a series.
After my first book Writing Out the Storm was published I was invited to be the Writing Expert at iVillage.com and it was an outstounding education and ultimately taught me to become an editor. I worked with hundreds of writers, taught online classes, and interviewed authors, who enlightened us all. A friend just gave me Lisa Scottoline’s What Happened to the Bennetts and I recall my interview with her at iVillage. She described how she bet everything on becoming a suspense author and had maxed out her credit cards just as she landed her first publishing deal.
Chatting with Dennis Lehane confirmed my thinking on how central themes can weave through a story since his book Mystic River was based on the theme loyalty. In fact, several plot points hinge on loyalty and the story everberates with this underlying thread. Natalie Goldberg and I talked about shaping a life around a writing practice.
I also received invitations to speak or teach at conferences and started meeting more mentors. Jane Friedman, publishing guru, formerly the publisher at Writer’s Digest Books, comes to mind. She sat in on a workshop I taught at a writing conference and afterward approached me to write Between the Lines.
A few years later I was at dinner with Friedman and other authors teaching at a conference in Pennsylavania. And a well-known suspense
author predicted Friedman was going far, had just begun what would become an amazing career–even though she was already a publisher in her thirties. Because she’s brilliant. Friedman is now a leading go-to expert about the publishing business. The biggest lesson I’ve learned from her is to keep up with changing times, because the pubishing industry has evolved into something almost unrecognizable. Because who could have predicted downloading a book in mere seconds and reading it on a device?
Hanging with other authors was elucidating, but then life provides so many moments and experiences to surprise and teach us, doesn’t it? This meant dinner conversations, green room chats, and listening to keynote addresses. These connections led to more opportunities such as when I interviewed authors like Diana Gabaldon of Outlander fame–this was after I’d started emulating her fashion sense. Because Diana is as lovely and magical as her fictional protagonist Claire Fraser. I gathered my own collection of flowy skirts and silky shawls and I wanted to sort of float across rooms like she did, minus her long black hair.
Before I met Diana, I met her fans, the Ladies of Lallybroch, dressed in homespun dresses and shawls –they too wanted Diana’s touch in their lives. If you haven’t read any of the Outlander books, it’s hard to describe this deeply imagined, intricate world with a sizzling and romance at the center between Claire and Jamie Fraser.
Gabaldon is witty, highly educated, is in a long-term marriage, has 3 adult children, and lives in Arizona. When I interviewed her she took me inside her research techniques since her series starts in the 1700s in Scotland and ends up in a North Carolina homestead. She described her writing method that began when her children were small and described how she followied a snippet or small detail, and then built scenes from these instinctual threads. Something that struck me was how she structured her days, how she walked five miles every day, and went to bed early after spending time with her husband, then got up a few hours later and wrote in the stillness of nightime. Then she’d go back to sleep and write again in the morning. I’ve never forgotten our conversation.
Then I started creating my own conferences and inviting fabulous authors/mentors to teach at them–which is another chapter. I’m frankly rich in mentors and hope you are too.
Keep writing, keep dreaming, have heart, and look for mentors
Addendum: Speaking of celebrity book clubs, I just read this piece on Reese Witherspoon’s book club and how she chooses her selections. The writer is Elisabeth Egan and it’s titled Insider Reese Witherspoon’s Literary Empire; When her career hit a wall, the Oscar-winning actor built a ladder made of books–for herself and for others. Notice how the memory of her grandmother’s influence bookends the piece–it adds a lot, doesn’t it?
I’m hoping this New York Times link is going to work for you. I’m adding the link as a ‘gift’ since I’m a subscriber.
I post paintings on my Facebook page because in these often-trying times I believe that art affords a unique form of solace. I’m reeling from the Supreme Court ruling granting presidential immunity as are millions of people in this country and countless others around the world. And am in great need to solace.
new embracing book, when you can’t wait to turn the page and the next and the next.
