Working in the thralls of daily newspaper journalism in the heartland was not my dream. Literary fame was. Of the critically acclaimed sort, as if bestseller status would follow.
Whoa, expressing that so boldly feels harsh, yet true. Even so, I did plod away on both fronts.
And now? I’m a survivor wondering what would have resulted if I had narrowed my focus.
I had no idea how crassly market-driven the shrinking book-publishing world was. So much for idealism.
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Still, I pursued, working on my own into the wee hours.
These days, I have the luxury of revisiting my earlier work and wondering just who wrote it. The pages are so unlike what I’d venture today – wilder, for sure, and more profuse, often leading to an Oh-Wow! of admiration. The dross, fortunately, has been stripped away.
That’s been my reaction in presentations at our monthly open mic night here in town even when I’ve veered toward the edge of embarrassment yet still being warmly applauded.
Passages in both my prose and poetry make references I no longer understand but trust to leave untouched, perhaps for others to reconnect.
Writing? It’s like talking to yourself, ‘cept sometimes you have to get up to allow the rest of you to reply.
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Another recent experience has come in assisting a friend to create a remarkable novel, one he finally presented to a literary agent whose thoughtful response seemed quaint, actually – the perspectives of three people in the agency, even though no. Somebody actually has time these days for such reflection?
It really did feel like an earlier era. I was rather envious.
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I’m also recalling another experience after I had returned “back east” and was reading an essay about Snyder, Whalen, and Kerouac in the North Cascades, I felt sharp pain, knowing the lookout stations and High Cascades were so far behind me and the rest of my generation.
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Add to that the fear of being discovered once your early book approaches publication. How strong are you in its potential storm?
Except, that you instead encounter indifference.
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It can lead to bitterness, considering all the years and lost potential.
As for inscriptions at book signings?
Keep the faith!
Share your Light, too!
Jnana's Red Barn 