Publish or Perish: It's Not Only for Academia, Part 2
The Writer's Journey Is the Biggest Payoff of All!
There are ways, too, to share our writing short of being
published. Several come to mind. I think of Terry, a writer in
one of my weekly workshops. He'd been working on his book for
several years and during that time, the make-up of the group
hadn't changed much. All five of us had pretty much been with
Terry throughout the creation of his novel. When he read the
last chapter for what he hoped would be the last time, we
listened, wanting it to work for his sake, but knowing if it
didn't, we would tell him that, too. I remember my heart beating
faster as he read. It's working, so far... so far... I kept
thinking. And it was! When he finished, we spontaneously burst
into applause and cheering--there were even a few wet eyes! The
ending was perfect. Grinning, Terry said, "This is as good as it
gets, isn't it?" I have to agree with him. For what agent,
editor or reader is going to know all that it took for Terry to
triumph as he did? No one else, but Terry himself, can love his
characters so deeply as those of us who had shared in their
creation. I think, too, of my own experiences during the writing
of Petersburg. My daughter was a freshman at the University of
Vermont. She was quite unhappy the first semester, so my husband
and I made the seven hour trip to Burlington at least twice a
month. During those drives, I read chapters and chapters of the
book. He gave me feedback. We talked and argued over characters.
He challenged me, as he is wont to do. Our love for the
characters as well as the characters themselves grew with the
sharing. And together we developed the plot. (I called him "The
Plot Meister".) We cried, too, as events brought pain, sorrow,
joy, redemption and finally resolution into the character's
lives. I remember the day I read him the last chapter of
Petersburg. We were driving down a highway banked in snow and
tears were flowing so furiously, my husband had to pull over to
the side of the road. Another memory... It was eleven o'clock at
night and the phone rang. I picked it up and my daughter shouted
at me, "How could you? I'll never forgive you! Never!" "What? I
asked. "What did I do?" She was very angry and I couldn't
imagine why. "You killed him! You killed _____!" (I won't tell
you who, in case you haven't read Petersburg yet and would like
to. Don't want to ruin the suspense!) "How could you kill him
off? I loved him. I'll never forgive you for that. Never!" I
smiled. My Inner Writer and I were taking flight! Even now,
writing this brings back the intensity of these experiences,
none of which would have been diminished if the book had not
been published. And each of which hold far deeper, more tender
places in my heart than any publication kudos.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ One of the great challenges
that we face as writers is to understand in the core of our
beings that the journey of being a writer is the biggest payoff
of all. That's when the magic happens, when unknown corridors
within open, when writing becomes the song of the soul. There is
inexpressible pleasure that comes from the unleashed
imagination; the effortless flow of words; the appearance of
characters who say the unexpected and do the unpredictable.
There is inexpressible pleasure in waking up in the morning,
hungry to return to my characters and their stories. Then there
is no such thing as a "bad writing day." Then there is only the
writing, and my doing what feels as natural as breathing. I have
come to believe that the "bad days" only seem more prevalent
than the "good days" when I am dry of passion. And that only
happens when the insidious brute, Publish or Perish, sneaks up
on me. I hope one day soon to be fully free of the brute, to
know as surely as I breathe that every day I write will be a
good day, simply because I have written. In closing, I am taking
lines from a cumulative poem, Why I Write from The Message Board
of The Fiction Writer's Journey. Why I Write... A cumulative
poem Writing is soul, breath, it is the way into self and the
universe. Words become like one-way mirrors, our characters see
their reflection, while we see through the mirror, in search of
the I I do not know I am. Giving life to imagination, filling it
with color, texture, passion. Sipping the wine of words with the
Muse I am emboldened, enlivened, at one with the Universe.
Inside there is chaos waiting to be understood ... waiting to be
written into order. And there is also order waiting to turn into
wildness and freedom through words. Writing is a WOW! It is the
punch of life pulsing through minds. To add flames to a fire
that burns inside. To explore parts of my soul that I have not
yet touched. To satisfy something with-in. To find a voice. To
dig deep. To be. To revive the lilting, longing of the
impervious soul... To feel my pen glide across the paper To
become more human And somehow less. Less afraid to be the real
you, Less willing to give into others. More willing to grow as a
person, More able to fight your demons. I write because then I
can be heard, and fully known ....heard by the universe of my
mind. To give in to the desperate longing of my soul to reveal
itself. To provide a voice For silent thoughts That scream to
have a choice I write to remember who I am. to drink in the
light of the moon... to illuminate the day and extinguish the
night to fight fright. I write quite simply, because my
characters want me to. They have a tale to tell, and have chosen
me to tell it. Who am I to ignore such generous offers of story
telling?