Gasp!

How should authors handle publicity?

"Dear Abby" has printed a letter from a published author who is afraid of success.

"I am a somewhat shy and reflective person by nature, preferring to live quietly rather than being in the spotlight... However, since my book’s debut, I have felt myself pulled into a different sort of world."

Not comfortable with the public aspect of being an author, the writer feels like a big phony.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who identifies with this problem. It's a bit like being caught between a fear of success and a fear of failure. If you choose to forgo publicity, your work won't sell. If you embrace it, you could be labeled a narcissist.

During my second go-around living in NYC, I learned about the business side of writing. It seems that I dealt more with publicity and agents rather than actual writing. That's probably a lie, but the business side took infinitely more out of me. It changed the way I viewed my own work, probably not for the better.

Most writers, I believe, have a hard time promoting their work without feeling like a braggart. That's normal. In an age where everyone must appear larger than life to get media attention, it's difficult to be authentic.

I do agree with Abby's answer - there is more to being an author than writing a book. And if it helps, you are not alone in feeling like a phony. In my opinion, it's a healthy reaction. Remember, truly obnoxious folks rarely realize the depth of their narcissism.

Reconsiderations

Since my dramatic exit back in 2007, I haven't given all that much thought to theater. It's been as far from my consciousness as my apartment in Brooklyn. Only recently did I discover that I couldn't remember what street I used to live on. 73rd? East 73rd?

But something has made me reconsider theater, and I think I'd like to talk about it.

Undefined

Sickness is an allowance. It provides time and space to reconsider choices.

Over the past few days I’ve been thinking about labels: playwright, writer, reviewer, critic, whatever, blah, blah.

I thought about how I’ve tried to fit into a hole: “Oh, I’ll be (fill in the blank.)” or “(Fill in the blank) is what I’m doing now.”

I don’t know how I became preoccupied with providing descriptions of who I am. Perhaps it was the slug line exercise: Create a sound byte describing yourself as a writer.

I wonder who benefits from these descriptions. Marketing people? Agents? Because boxes don’t benefit creators.

Rather than letting the work define itself, those descriptions define and limit people.

It's time to dump all that. I will no longer tell people that I’m (fill in the type of writer).

Maybe who I am hasn’t been invented yet.

Project 1968, my blog docu-novel

Long-time readers will remember a play I wrote that I talked about back in 2006 to early 2007 called: War is Kind: The 1968 Democratic Convention. It was the story of two young women in 1968 - a campaign worker for Senator Eugene McCarthy and a peace activist. The first act of the play followed the events from January to July of that year. The second act was the convention itself, including the riots.

I spent just about 18 months in Austin, Texas researching the play at the LBJ Presidential Library. I also went to the Chicago Historical Society, as well as the National Archives in Chicago to conduct research. I dug through many used books, collected ephemera, and made every attempt to bring an historically accurate version of events to the stage.

This story is important because the perspective of women from that time period has been largely ignored. This is due to the rampant sexism of that period. There was a reason, after all, that the women's movement gained momentum - just after 1968. McCarthy's story has also been ignored. He hasn't been given the credit he truly deserves for the role he played that year.

I was not alive back then. This is an advantage. I'm not plagued by the nostaligic baggage of those who are still invested in memories of their youth. I will publicly admit, for the first time, that I'm a political agnostic. For me, the question isn't who I will support in 2008 - it's whether or not I'll vote. After all, the last time I voted in a presidential election was in 1992. There are a number of reasons for that, which is just one of the reasons I chose to write this story.

After the third draft of the play was completed back in 2006, I began submitting it to development organizations throughout the country. I needed to hear the play out loud to get a better understanding of where I was in the writing process. Theater is an art that requires community. I was lucky enough to get a reading from Austin Scriptworks, which helped a great deal. After that, I edited the play rather mercilessly. When the fifth draft was completed, I once again attempted to get a reading of it. That's when I hit a brick wall. No development organizations would touch it, and I couldn't get a reading of the play anywhere.

Several agents looked at the fifth draft. One well-known agent said "It is original, well written and constructed with good parts and makes a valuable contribution to the understanding of the historical period." Despite that, she wasn't sure if it would be "commercially viable" in New York. But could she keep a copy of it anyway?

Another agent thought the play was a good idea, but alas, I didn't have the proper resume to have written it.

For a while after that, I tried to get readings - without luck. Finally, there came a point when I just didn't have the money to continue submitting the play. It also seemed like a losing proposition. Either I pay my bills or pay reading fees and postage. Since this project was entirely self-funded, meaning no grant money either, I had no other choice than to shelve the play.

My friends and family, however, had other ideas. They insisted that I do something with the story because it was worthwhile and needed to be told. I had gotten so much positive feedback from "audience members" that it was beginning to seem that the only people who didn't want to do something with the story were theater people.

Last year, I committed to blogging the story. Taking a play, which was a macro version of events and whittling it down to a day by day accounting required more research, more writing and more thought. Sometimes, I wasn't sure if it would be worth the effort, but I figured at the very least I would finally have a voice for my work. That alone would make it worthwhile.

And so today, on Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday, I'm launching Project 1968, a blog docu-novel about the lives of two young women during that turbulent year. As the sidebar says, "Janine Stephenson, an 18-year old freshman from the University of Wisconsin, took the semester off to campaign for Senator Eugene McCarthy. She is accompanied by her best friend, Becca.

Amy, an anti-war protester, works at a well-known peace group in Chicago.

Links to source notes, ephemera and commentary are located at the bottom of many entries. Comments are allowed on these back pages."

Project 1968 will be updated daily.

I had some domain-mapping issues, so for the next few days, you can reach the site by www.project1968.com. It will be a dot net very soon.

Since this is brand new territory, I'll be tweaking the site as I go. The sidebars will say different things. The comments are moderated, for the moment. We'll see how it goes. The subject matter is volatile, but the moderation may be temporary.

I'll discuss other thoughts and issues with the creation of this project periodically on this blog. Otherwise, welcome to the world of 1968, though the eyes of Janine and Amy.

Dream Bit

This morning I had a dream that said I should write plays along with everything else. Sigh.

A Writing Exercise

This is one of the oddest things I've seen. I know it's Britney Spears, but if you can get beyond that for a minute. There are a few thing to notice about it.

A) They are taking so many pictures. Why? Can the paps really sell all of those pictures?

B) Notice how one of the photogs hands Brit and her sis their coffees. What kind of relationship does that imply?

C) Notice how the photogs defend Brit and her sis against the "intruder." How symbiotic is that?

D) Notice what happens when her sister defends them against the "intruder." How odd is that?

E) Notice how Brit asks the photographers to keep the "intruder" away. What does that imply about the relationship?

F) Can you imagine 15 photographers taking pictures of your every move? What kind of life would you have if you were in her position? (Not as far as anything else. Just having those photogs around you all the time.)

Step away from the fact that its Britney. Just look at the group dynamics. Try to compare it to a situation in your own life. Can you come up with one?

Remedies

The University sent me an email to let me know that things will be rectified. It appears to be an honest mistake and I'm satisfied with the results. I have yet to hear from the other folks.

I know I sound like a big ogre about of this. There's a sentiment out there that nothing should be protected by copyright. Since it's creative work, it belongs to everyone.

While I'm as idealistic as the next person, I'm also practical. A brick layer works hard for his money. No one looks at him and say, "You know, your brick wall serves society. Therefore, you should donate your time and money and receive no compensation other than our gratitude."

Part of the reason I left theater was because of what I perceived to be a lack of respect for writers. No money, no union and lots of people claiming ownership for your work. It's an odd way to treat your visionaries. Yes, I'm calling playwrights - visionaries. They are the idea people. Without their ideas and dialogue, you have improv.

As a writer, I'm in the idea profession. It is my job to come up with ideas/stories/ and write them down. That's what I do.

Of course, that's not all I do. For the past 17 years, I've worked a slew of day jobs in tandem with spending many hours writing. It's been a difficult balance. I've delayed dating, starting a family and a whole host of other stuff just so I could continue writing.

You guys who are also writers know all of this. But perhaps it needs to be restated. And my fellow writers, let me leave you with one final thought about all of this: When you allow someone to infringe on your copyright, you are setting a dangerous legal precedent. A lawyer warned me about this a month or two ago. When someone infringes about your copyright and you choose not to defend it each and every time, you are basically allowing people to steal your work each and every time. Copyright is not selective. You either own it or you don't. You demonstrate you own it, or you don't. You can't defend it in one instance and allow it in another.

That was my understanding with the lawyer. Should I say that it doesn't constitute legal advice and to consult your own attorney? Consider it said.

History in present time

Whenever I undertake a history project, I end up living in two time frames – the past and the present.

Since beginning this project 10 days ago, I’ve lost the present. Tuesday is Thursday; Wednesday slipped by and Friday was a surprise.

So now it’s Monday again. A whole week has faded into something other than a memory. I haven’t thought anything about the present. I’ve read books – other than the ones I review - but have nothing to share about them.

Instead, I’m thinking about the time period I’m writing about, and I’m spending time with people who don’t exist, in situations that have already happened.

Maybe this week, I’ll work out the dichotomy between the past and the present. Between what’s in my head and what actually exists in the current time frame.

Therein lies the answer.

What's Nice about Silence

“Silence is a great source of strength."
---Lao Tzu

There’s nothing wrong with talking to yourself. Dialogue isn’t always necessary. The fact is, it’s a distraction. With so much chatter, with so much noise, it’s hard to hear anything important.

What’s nice about silence is what you can hear. Having finally taken the leap, I’ve begun thinking of projects that I’ve put on hold for several years. Books, short stories, essays. For three years, I’ve been distracted by dialogue.

Though it’s been fun… sometimes.

In the ebb and flow of creativity, there’s silence. There’s no need to justify yourself when you’re the only one in the room. Maybe that’s why I always liked being alone.

What’s nice about silence is not having to defend myself.

Creativity is the stillness before the scream.

I Am Not Your Muse

The entry stands on its own. I won't acknowledge who I'm talking about, so don't ask. I'm not going to reference it either - not that I can since it's in published form. Most likely, this will be my first and last comment on it. Obviously it's about someone profiting from my work. I wondered if I was being professional enough, posting this entry. But then I decided that I wouldn't be a professional if I wasn't angry about it. And I'm beyond angry about it.

It happened again and whenever it happens, it appalls me.

My writing and my ideas have been used as "inspiration" for someone else's work.

That's how we frame these things, right?

Because the assumption, when we put our work out there, is that someone else will take what we've written and "borrow it." They'll take what we've written and expand it, or change a few words and steal an emotional truth or two. Or maybe they'll use our quirky phrasing. Because after all, you can't copyright ideas, or emotional truths or quirky phrasing. Supposedly.

Quite a few people have suggested I speak to a lawyer.

As I've said, this has happened before, in various forms. Instead of pointing the finger outward, I'm wondering why I'm not benefiting from my own work, my own ideas, my own emotional truths. What is preventing that from happening?

I've obviously got something to say. Clearly, my stuff is valuable enough to be stolen. I see ideas that I've originated replicated elsewhere without attribution. My writing pops up in the oddest places.

Now I'm watching someone profit off something that was mine. My writing. My life.

This entry will sound egotistical. It will make it sound like I think I'm brilliant. Maybe I am, since someone is profiting off my stuff.

I'm surprised when writers do this each other. Really, it shocks me. But then, I shouldn't be shocked because only one of us is a true writer. Real writers, you see, come up with their own stories, their own truths. Real writers don't have to steal ideas because they have enough of their own. If they expand on someone else's stuff, they acknowledge it.

Which, of course, is not what happened here.

A few years ago, I wrote a series of playwriting essays for an international writing website. This site had far more visitors than I ever knew. Some of my essays found their way into European universities. Of course, I didn't find out about it until I Googled my name. Of course, I wondered why I had a shithole job as a receptionist, when my writing was being used as the basis of lessons in Europe. Of course, I didn't highlight this fact as much as I should have. Because it's only in telling people time and time and time again that you're brilliant. Only then will they actually believe that you are brilliant. Only then, does it seem, that you're recognized for your ideas.

This goes against what I believe. I thought that if you were brilliant, you should just be brilliant. You shouldn't have to tell people time and time and time again that you are brilliant. That your ideas deserve merit. They would figure it out on their own. Your ideas and creations would shine on their own. It would be apparent.

I didn't count on other people walking around saying how brilliant they were and using my ideas. I didn't count on that. Just like I didn't count on people taking my essays without dropping me a note and telling me. I felt like a crappy writer back in 2003, while my stuff was being used in colleges and high schools. It would've helped me to know that my writing had that kind of value. Especially since I was struggling so much with my finances and general direction in life. I was deeply depressed and ill and it would've helped my spirits to know that I was reaching people at that level. That, to me, would've been a nice profit at that juncture in life.

I work hard on this blog. The ideas I present here, the emotional truths I write - these are things I'm proud of. I'm intensely pleased with Gasp lately. Over the past few months, two Fox affiliates in different cities have chosen to link to me. I haven't talked about it here because if you're reading this right now, I'm writing this to communicate to you and not to impress you. In reality, you really shouldn't give a rat's ass who else reads this blog.

As well, I'm proud of my work. I don't spin myself as an intellectual, but I live an intellectual life. I read constantly. I think about ideas and sometimes I even float a few here on Gasp. I don't announce myself as being an intellectual because it should be apparent. I write in a way that most people will understand. I want to be understood. Part of being an intellectual is having your own ideas. Part of being a writer is being understood.

But I do get tired of the bluster. I get tired of those who announce their brilliance to others. I don't know why those in power, those who can make a writer's life easier don't see these people for what they are. It seems that in order to get taken seriously, you have to present yourself as the "authority." Even when others around you know the truth.

I don't want to be part of a scene where people are so phony. I don't want my writing, my ideas, my life or my emotional truths appropriated. For those who want to talk about my stuff, at least have the decency to acknowledge where you got it from.

And for those who choose to use my writing in college classrooms or for lectures, acknowledge me. Send me an email to tell me that you are doing it.

And if you profit off my stuff, I will sue your ass.

And to the latest hack son-of-a-bitch writer who appropriated my stuff, I know who you are. And you know who you are. You know that you're less of a writer for doing it. So no matter where you go or whatever success comes your way, you'll know that you're a fraud. You see, as a real writer, I have countless things to say, countless truths to uncover. And you, apparently, have nothing original except for what you steal.

Have a nice life, you fucking piece of shit. Karma's a bitch.

Chewing Erasers

I can't be the only one in the world who approaches each new writing assignment with a complete lack of confidence. Every week, as deadline looms, I sit at my desk nervously wondering if this is the week that I'll come up with absolutely nothing. Phrases that don't fit, ideas awkwardly stated, a full deck of failure.

When I write plays, I don't have these issues. I approach an assignment nervous, but excited. Sure, I have my neurotic head weirdness, but I also feel exhilarated. I don't think about rejection. I don't worry about failure. Even the times that I wrote on deadline for a public reading, like at Raw Impressions for instance, I didn't concern myself with these kinds of fears. I just listened for the characters.

Playwriting comes easily for me. It feels natural. When I decided to go in this other direction, I knew that it would be like learning a new language. That's why I started blogging years ago. I wanted to learn another form of writing.

It will get easier. I know I'm not the only one who goes through confidence issues. Discomfort means growth, so the best thing to do is keep being uncomfortable.

Organizing Information

Last week, Intermission compared organizational software packages. She’s writing an historical drama involving plenty of research. Since I’ve had some experience with that kind of thing, we had an off-blog discussion on how to organize jpgs and notes.

For my project on 1968, I have between 10,000 and 15,000 pages of documents, not including secondary sources and hand-written notes. In short order, I expect to have more pages to sift through.

How am I organizing it all?

Since most of my docs were from the National Archives, I borrowed their system. When I photographed docs from an LBJ folder, I named it the same in my computer file. All master folders were named after their LBJ counterparts.

After each visit, I spent weeks logging information – old fashioned note-taking. It was disturbing material, so at least I wasn’t bored.

For the organizations that had no set system, I named folders for the key information contained within them.

The secondary material – which is probably something more like 25 books or so (I’m guessing) – is sitting on my bookshelf. If I couldn’t own the book, I made sure I took good notes and footnotes.

I did transfer my written notes to a Word program. That helped, because I could do a find on certain words. Very convenient when you’re working late at night.

Given the choice, I don’t know if I’d use a software to organize all of these documents. My organizational issues have forced me to focus on the information closely.

Career Advice and Your Magic Time Machine

If you could go back in time and give yourself career advice, what would it be?

I'd go back to my college days, when I first started writing for theater. I'd tell myself not to be so trusting of everyone. The people who I thought were my friends, weren't.

I'd also tell myself that success doesn't give you respect from other people. It won't make you a better person; in fact, sometimes it can make people worse!

I'd tell myself that people who are successful today aren't necessarily successful tomorrow. There are highs and lows. I was often awed by people back then who had high-powered agents and egos to match. I was intimidated easily. I'm often amazed at how many "successful" people back then have disappeared career-wise. I wonder why that happens?

I'd tell myself to follow my creativity and my intuition. I thought that I could only do one thing - theater - and dismissed all other creative aspects to myself.

I'd tell myself to find a way around taking out so many student loans.

I'd tell myself to concentrate on being a good writer, instead of outward trappings of success.

I'd tell myself to write about topics I love, instead of what I think would be interesting to other people.

I'd tell myself that there is no room for suffering in the life of a writer - I'll get enough suffering just being one. Heh...

I'd tell myself that "paying dues" simply means getting good. Don't purposely look for rejection.

I'd tell myself to have self-respect. Anyone with power who asks you to do something that is inappropriate won't help you career-wise anyway, so it's useless to do it. Even if it's tempting...

I'd tell myself not to be so rigid, dump that man, pay the bills, figure out a day job you like, and for goodness sake, quit being so intimidated by people!

Your turn...

More on Debt and Writing

Pat Gabridge elaborates on finances and writing. As Chris has suggested, I plan on blogging my experiences paying off my debt. I haven't officially enrolled in Financial Peace University yet, though I paid for a lifetime membership during my Dave Ramsey experience. Jethro and I will do it. We both have those little financial organizers that designed for the program. I unwrapped mine this weekend, and gave the other one to him. We chatted for a while about it. Figuring out a budget will be key.

I have a feeling that starting it is the hardest part, though Baby Step #1 shouldn't be a problem for me. I'm almost there anyway.

Throughout my life as a writer, I've had periods of money and periods of poverty. Neither has taught me how to deal with money. Poverty is no way to live.

I also don't buy the idea that I have to settle for poverty to do what I want in life. Yes, that includes theater.

More progress as we figure out what the heck we're doing, and how the heck we're doing it.

Writing and Spirituality

A few weeks ago, I began thinking about the role spirituality had in my own writing. I've had a long attraction to writers who integrate their brand of spirituality into their work. Writers like T.S. Eliot, Natalie Goldberg, Hildegard Von Bingen, and Alice Walker have earned my admiration because they search for the meaning of life on their terms.

To me, one of the most important qualities of being a writer/artist is to remain teachable and keep an open mind. I think that's probably why I'm disappointed at the quality of the discussion going on right now about theater and religion.

So here's what I'd prefer to talk about: How do your spiritual beliefs figure into your work? If you believe in God or Gods, does it play a role in your work? Are you inspired by that? How exactly does it work for you?

If you don't believe in a higher being or spirit, how does that figure into your writing?

For me, I'm a bit more of a hippy than I'd care to admit. I spent most of my 20s in San Francisco, so I've been exposed to most alternate forms of spirituality. I've called myself a number of different things through the years. Yes, I attended - and graduated - from a seminary, but it was an unconventional one. The most important quality about my years there was allowing others to have their own beliefs.

I've already mentioned how my spirituality plays into my writing. I do believe there is a God, but I also respect that others don't.

So comments are open. I think we can talk about this in an adult and calm fashion. I don't want anyone attacking anyone else over their beliefs. And if you'd like to be anonymous, feel free.

Testing Yourself

Despite all of the outside validation, ten years ago I didn’t feel like a writer. I felt like I lacked certain experience, but I couldn’t figure out what I needed. More rejection? Maybe I needed more doubt.

Silly, but I’ve always been skeptical about writers who experience early success. Would they still write if they didn’t have encouragement? If critics hated their work, would they continue to write?

I didn’t know if I would be able to withstand rejection. Sometimes, over the past ten years, I’ve purposely looked for rejection. I’ve set myself up for failure as a test.

Do you have doubts about your work?
Have you ever tested yourself?

Replenishing

Ten years ago, I made a decision to heal my creativity. It felt like the flow just wasn't there. The river was in past time, my perspective had changed and it needed to be brought into the present.

I remember that my creative rehab became the sole focus for a while It began with meditation and visualization healing work. I dug deep and addressed some wounds that I had sustained. I read (and did) Julia Cameron's The Artist Way. I painted, wove poetry and collaged my fears and blocks.

After that, I made a decision to look at my scrutinize my life. I wrote my life story, looked at past interactions, and discovered patterns that were making me unhappy.

When I finished with all of that, I surfed an unforgettable wave of creativity. I also experienced a profound sense of peace.

Ten years is a long time, and much has happened between then and now. I finished a major project exactly a year ago. It felt like an ending; a form of expression was finished.

Now, it's time again. Time for a creative rehabilitation. Time to look at what my relationship is with writing, to re-own my creativity. Its time to assess the past decade as well, to assign meaning to what's taken place.

As my spine undergoes its daily realignment at the chiropractor, so must everything else I guess. That's probably what Louise Hay would say. The physical is merely a symptom of the emotional, mental and spiritual.

So that's my writing project, for the time being. I do have the urge to start new projects, but I'm afraid that I'll simply be going to the same old well again.

What do you do to replenish your creativity?

On writing violence

Whenever a theater person gets into serious trouble, Jethro is always quick to tell me about it. Usually his email will give me the straight up news, followed by something like, "What's going on with theater people????"

He did it with the Alabama church fires, and it did it again today.

Still, I didn't want to be the first to this bring this up. Isaac did. Dan Trujillo wrote about it as well. So now I feel like I can mention it.

As a writer, I regularly explore areas in my psyche that I would never actually want to manifest. I may write about a killer, for instance. That doesn't mean I want to murder. For those who believe art is cathartic, writing about such things could be a sign of health.

On the other hand, there is a relationship between the writer and what's being written. I wrote some heavy-handed suicidal poems when I was younger; it was far more realistic than I'd care to admit. Undoubtedly, if I did something ugly back then, people would've pointed a finger at my work.

But there's a difference between exploring the shadow and planning out violent fantasies via theater.

I've had long periods of writing about rage, pain and hurt and I'd like to think I'm a healthier person for doing it.

However, as a playwright I'm mapping out an experience for the actors to share with an audience. Therefore, I have to think about other people. Will they want to take the ride with me? What are they going to get out of it? Is it going to leave them feeling disgusted with themselves? With humanity? With life in general?

I'm not saying there are right answers to these questions. I'm only saying that they're worthy of consideration, especially when dealing with shadow material.

Regarding the killer's work, I'll say this: I have no plans on reading it. Writing is not only about words; it has everything to do with energy. Even as I write this entry, I'm conveying meaning on a variety of different levels. The best writers are conscious of these levels and can work within them. The rest still work with it, but they usually end up exposing or sabotaging themselves. Sort of like a subliminal message of sorts.

A well-known serial killer could write a happy song, and I'd still be creeped out. I suspect that you'd be weirded out as well. You may not know why, but you'd feel it anyway.

So while his work might've been disturbing, I'm willing to bet that people picked up on the subliminal stuff. A happy kid could've written a violent story, and no one would've thought a whole lot about it, other than "Gee, I wonder where that came from."

It's not the topic, it's about energy and intention. Unfortunately, we don't work within a subtle culture. Everything is literal. It makes me wonder how many other writers will now be castigated for choosing unpleasant topics. Quite a few, I bet.

Looking back at a younger self

"... Actually, I believe that we were all put here for a purpose. I think, sometimes, when I am depressed, that I was put here to write, act and think and to help others.

But now I look at it like the whole world being composed of salt and pepper. With this in mind, I can safely admit that I am here because I am part of the human race. My higher power can use me any way he'd like but my general purpose to be here is because I am here. I used to toy with the idea that because people only use 10% of their total capacity of thinking that they must only think, see, feel, smell, taste 10% of the earth."

--- a writing journal from February 24, 1987

I wrote that passage when I was 16 years old. My high school teacher made us keep writing journals. The first 5-10 minutes of class was spent writing whatever we wanted to write. Then, we'd move on to our normal assignments.

For years, I kept the writing journals in a plastic envelope, stuffed with old high school poetry and stories. As an attempt to get my papers into some kind of order, I leafed through the envelope. I was surprised what I saw.

These poems were the ones that got me into college. It certainly wasn't my C average or my SAT scores. Yet, I've kept everything hidden in a closet. It wasn't meant to be taken seriously since I was young and silly.

Last night, I developed an appreciation for the poems. It changed the way I viewed my history.

There was a fearlessness back then, along with an authenticity. And yes, innocence. I've long associated innocence with stupidity. Experience was the only anecdote.

But along with experience came cynicism and pretention, which can only hinder good writing. And good living.

While an online dictionary defines innocence as a lack of knowledge or understanding, it also means simplicity. It could also be an openness of sorts.

Innocence is required of all creative endeavors, yet it's not exactly a celebrated quality. Is it?

To write, act and think and to help others... The most influential people in my life have taught me to help others. My first writing mentor told me that, in the end, that's all life is really about. He was right.

The way you live your life can help or hinder your creativity. Remind me about it every now and then.

For All the Writers Out There

I feel *clean* after finishing a writing project. That's the best word for it. Clean.

Though I wouldn't call the writing a purge. I don't know what I'd call it.

So I ask you: What's the feeling you get after finishing a writing project? Is it a clean feeling? Peaceful? Anxious?

Withholding Conclusions - The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit I & II

In contrasting the two Sloan Wilson books, you can see difference between writing in the present about in the present and writing about history.

Writing in the present about the present is best done through description. For example, in The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit, Wilson describes Tom Rath’s current condition of being a war vet trying to succeed as a civilian. Rath feels gloomy and desperate without knowing why. He has an illegitimate son in Italy, and a wife who is constantly comparing their lifestyle to others.

Wilson provides evidence without reaching a conclusion. He doesn’t tell the reader what to think or even how to react. He also doesn’t tell the reader how society in the 50s emphasized conformity. Perhaps he was simply writing what he observed. Maybe he didn’t even know what the conclusion was, exactly.

Or maybe he did and was simply showing without telling. Either way, describing the so-called symptoms of the story without reaching a diagnosis is a powerful writing tool.

On the other hand, writing history in hindsight has all sorts of problems attached with it. The extra layer of “diagnosis” is problematic if you’re attempting to experience the story. Whenever I read a “writing history in hindsight” book, I get the feeling I’m being manipulated. I’m asked to consider only those details that the narrator tells me. Most likely, these details will support the narrator’s judgment/diagnosis/agenda*. Not only do I have to deal with the story at hand, I also have to deal with the current perspective/life of the narrator.

Wilson makes an attempt to rectify this “current perspective” issue in The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit II by concluding the book with a look at Tom Rath’s current life, circa 1983. This “happily ever after” conclusion was annoying, though it also explained why he told certain events and not others.

Ultimately, historical writing is trickier because history is constantly being reframed to fit present circumstances. Perhaps the best way to write history is to write the details of it, without drawing a conclusion. Tough to do, especially when dealing with political history. Writers have to include show/write details in such a way that the reader doesn't feel manipulated into drawing a particular conclusion.

I felt a tremendous pressure to come up with the “proper political conclusion” while writing about the 1968 Democratic Convention, for example. The thing that got me through (and gets me through as I continue to work on it) is that no one in the story knows what the future holds.

Which is why drawing a conclusion about the present when writing about the present is also a bad thing.

But maybe, its conclusions that are the bad thing.

*Yes, wisdom gained through experience could also be called an agenda. Any belief or conclusion about an experience could be defined as an agenda if I am asking someone else to believe the same conclusion. Through this definition, an agenda could be my opinion about a book, the way I view paintings or the way I write plays. Sharing a thought is one thing, trying to gain support for that opinion or thought is another.

Got fragments?

It's an odd process. I didn't realize that this is how I write.

It's like this: I spend years writing fragments. Then one day, for no particular reason, I'll start piecing the fragments together.

When I wrote the fragments, I didn't think of placing them in a larger work. There was no intent, other than writing in the moment.

These fragments are a jigsaw puzzle. I usually have to edit the passages a bit, but it's as if I had it in my mind all along. This is how it's going to turn out. Except I didn't know it until I strung the fragments together.

I suppose that's the way it is with life as well. Each experience is part of a larger body of work, even if I didn't know it at the time.

An Open Letter to Steve

An Open Letter to Steve by Laura Axelrod

This entry originally appeared on Gasp!, Laura's blog, on June 17, 2004. Do not reuse without express permission of the author.

Glad you don’t mind my response in this format. Thanks. I’ve been asked similar questions by a number of people recently, so I thought I’d address it here. Not that I mind you wrote.... People were nice enough to share information with me along the way, and the least I can do is return the favor. Plus, I admire your work.

I’m not a poet, although I called myself one on my website. It’s not a lie, I used to write poetry. Not sure why I stopped, and there are days I miss the simplicity of it. Guess I just got turned off by poetry readings that banned obscenity or anything controversial. There were too many people receiving too much applause for witticisms involving handsome insects. The type of poetry I write involves visceral imagery that makes “library folk” cringe. So I stopped going, fell out of the scene and left my Rexroth book on the shelf where it continues to collect dust.

That’s my disclaimer before I begin.

I’m no expert and I can’t tell you what’s good and what isn’t. When I started reading my poems in public, I was surprised at which ones provoked a reaction. By and large, it depended on the person’s background. Was it a 70 year old “library folk” or was it a “hip slammer”? People persuaded me to keep the terrible ones and rework the ones I thought were finished. I learned that the poems I was most ashamed of were artistically my best. It was the feelings that first caused the poems to be written that clouded my judgment. So I would say that the first thing to do, or should I say *not do* is throw out any of your work. Put it in a shoebox, hide it in a closet, but don’t trash your work.

Another reason not to discard anything is that it might end up in a later piece. I started a poem back in 1991 and didn’t officially complete it until 1998. Fragments of work are sometimes puzzle pieces that fit together to create something wonderful and if you discard it, you might miss an opportunity. I had no idea in 1991 that I was writing something that would take 7 years to finish. It was composed of lines and minor thoughts, sometimes written on napkins in restaurants. I kept collecting these bits and compiling them. At one point, the poem ballooned out to 22 pages. When I intuitively felt that the piece was finished, I edited it down to approximately 8 pages. The fragments which didn’t turn up in that poem might still be used in somewhere else, so once again, keep everything!

Now, to get to your next question… Who is qualified to look at your stuff? That’s a tough one. Someone just told me today how frustrating it is to have so many different perspectives and opinions about one story. I usually seek people out who understand my work. They know the form and can grasp the style. Discovering these people is hit or miss and you might have to bite a few bullets to get to them. The key to honest criticism is finding someone who isn’t afraid of mentoring or threatened by your particular style. Keep in mind that these people may or may not be poets.

When I do receive feedback, I always remind myself that the person critiquing my work is only sharing his or her reality. Is that person trying to rewrite my poem? Is he or she sharing an experience or a judgment? Remember the subjectivity of art. While the person reviewing your work might think that his perspective is absolute reality, it isn’t. Turn the corner and you will find someone who feels the exact opposite.

Once you determine which poems you are planning to include in your collection, you’ll want to look at publishing. Because the market is so small, most poets self-publish. There’s no shame in doing it. The purpose of your work is to be read, right? Maria Psanis told me flat out that it was the way to go. She also advised me to submit my poetry and disregard the rejection letters. Submissions are like slot machines. The more you do it, the better chance you have.

Finally, you might want to look at poetry readings and workshops. I seem to think that your proximity to colleges make it ideal to test the waters and make friends. Poetry workshops will force you to experience a wider array of styles and might influence you. Even if I didn’t like the particular scene I was in, it still gave me some great ideas on where to go next in my evolution.

If you have any other questions, don’t hesitate to email me. I could point you in a direction with regards to others who might be able to help you. I also researched self-publishing for my former job… If you’re interested in any of that, let me know.

(And PS, Maria is an amazing poet. Go visit her website.)

Draft Theory

Draft Theory by Laura Axelrod

This entry originally appeared on Gasp!, Laura's blog, on April 19, 2004. Do not reuse without express permission of the author.

First off, I gathered myself together enough this weekend to conduct my first playwright interview. Look for it at the end of the month on Quietpoly. No, I’m not going to tell you who I interviewed. No advance previews, but I will say that he’s a wonderful writer with many productions under his belt. And he was quite generous with his knowledge as well.

As I’ve already mentioned, I’ve been obsessed with my novel lately and that has taken me outside of the theater realm. But around 2am last night I got to thinking about drafts – the process of creating and composing a play.

There are a few reasons for this. One is that the novel is in its third draft stage and I’ve come to look at that draft as “make or break”. If the third draft is a mess, then chances are I’ll have to go back and rethink the whole thing. I know this from personal experience. I wrote a play once that just didn’t work. I was trying to tell two concurrent stories and for some reason, I just couldn’t interlace them quite right. After going through four drafts of it, I finally put it down. Right now it sits in my filing cabinet, with that book of poetry I still have to publish and the first draft of another play I have yet to go back to.

This is what I know. The first draft is where I place my personal reason for writing the play. This draft won’t look anything like the finished project and I rarely show it to anyone because, well, I’m a secretmeister. It’s personal, no one's business, it’s my reason and when it’s all said and done, that’s the bottom line.

The second draft is when I go back and unpeel myself from the first draft. It’s a build-up for the all important third draft. I go back and look at what doesn’t work, and how each of the characters is not me.

The third draft is when I fill in the emotional parts. If I don’t have the emotional life of the characters at this point, then I haven’t done my work. I can start to see the arc of the characters. My general thought is that the third draft has to be readable to others. (I’ve sometimes called the third draft the first one if I’m giving it to someone else. Why? Because I’m a secretmeister – see above.)

Every draft after the third is about writerly stuff – structure, character or holes in the story. I know other writers laugh at me, but I think on average I go for about eight drafts or so. I say I think because, as the playwright I interviewed this past weekend said, it depends on what you call a draft.

I’ve been thinking about all this because the third draft of the novel is going well. It’s more of a novel now than ever and with this new form, I have to think positively. Blogging helped me to get into the habit of writing prose. I feel like it fits me well, though I still scurry back to playwriting as a security blanket. The hardest part of the novel is that I’m telling it as one long monologue. I know there’s going to be some confusion about where the main character ends and I begin… But in this draft, the character has separated from me and is different - even if she has had similar experiences.

So I put this out there to my theater friends… Any of you have writing/directing routines like that? Do you notice certain patterns when you are writing drafts?