Today, I taught a university class. Which means I was up earlier than I wanted to be, exercised, cleaned up and slightly damp as I tramped across the entire campus of my alma mater. The campus is so changed from my days there – new buildings where old ones are expected, more new buildings where there once was grass. Odd. Disorienting.
I was to address Communications majors, almost all of them print journalism majors, on the heady subject of “The Life of a Writer.” Hmmmm. There have been times when I could have done this with more aplomb—back when I was regularly published. But I suppose a has-been has a certain perspective to share. Well, I know she has one—because I shared it today.
Basically, what I told them was this: if you want to write with any depth, any true passion, with grounded perspective—be part of a family. Anchor yourself there. Sacrifice for your children, or your mother, or your cousins. Be full time there. Otherwise, you are writing about the ocean from the perspective of a sea-foam borne organism.
When I say be part of one—I mean: not a nasty, cynical, standing-outside, rolling your eyes kind of member, but a participating, sacrificing, functional, compromising (not your principles, just your pride) one. Protect someone. Provide for someone. Be responsible for someone. And if it’s not the family you were born to, build your own – out of relationships that are difficult and complex and wonderful and that you mean (mutually) to keep permanent in your life. (Love affairs do not come close unless they come under contract.)
This is how you find depth. This is how you learn meaning. And this is how it might turn out in the end that your writing is worth the time it takes to read you. Even if you’re only a journalist. (smug novelist jab)
Oh. And I mentioned something about the terrible power of words. And the mirroring responsibility of a writer. And there must have been something else, because I was there for fifty minutes.
Anyway, that’s mostly what I said.
12 Responses to Into the Halls of Wisdom