Archive for the 'New York Times' Category

Writing Is Cheaper Than Therapy

Published on March 26, 2012 in 1960s, Anais Nin, Author Blog, cathartic writing, Creativity, Depression, Health and Wellness, New York Times, writer blog, writing and Writing for healing.

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My colleagues and I would not be the first writers who write to dissipate pain. For example, D.H. Lawrence sat at his mother’s bedside and while she was dying, he wrote poems about her, and an early draft of Sons and Lovers, his novel which explored their complicated, loving, painful and close relationship. Marcel Proust wrote Remembrance of Things Past while sick in bed with asthma. Flannery O’Connor wrote some of her best stories while dying from lupus.

May Sarton and Anaïs Nin wrote in their diaries to pull them through difficult times. In her book, Recovering, May Sarton chronicles her battles with depression and cancer. Anaïs Nin used her journals to address her deranged father who left the family when she was young. Nin’s journal entries became a four-volume collection of published books.

James Pennebaker, the author of Writing to Heal says “Writing dissolves some of the barriers between you and others. If you write, it’s easier to communicate with others.” Pennebaker believes that there’s a certain type of writing which erupts when we’re faced with loss, death, abuse, depression and trauma. He does have one rule that he calls, “the flip out rule,” which proclaims that if you get too upset when writing, then it’s probably best to stop.
Whether affected by change, loss or pain, finding the time and courage to write can support the healing process. Some people prefer to write nonfiction, while others may choose fiction or poetic modalities to help them express their thoughts and feelings. Each writer must choose the genre most compatible with their stories, sensibilities and personalities, choosing what liberates and empowers them. In the end, this is what healing is all about.

A writer friend (thanks KB!) who is an avid reader of this blog, just forwarded me an article from the magazine section of the New York Times (March 23, 2012), called, “Why Talk Therapy is on the Wane and Writing Workshops Are on the Rise,” by Steve Almond. Coincidentally, I met Steve at AWP a number of years ago, where he was on a panel and I remember him not only because his talk was compelling, but because he stood at the side of the podium giving away copies of his newly-release book, an unusual gesture for writers. As the son of two therapists, he truly knows what he is talking about. In this article, he defends writing as a cure, particularly in this boom of memoir and biography and the idea, as he states, that “artists should be forged by the fires of ‘real life.’” Almond is teaching a workshop for those in their 50s and 60s (yes, my age group) and admits that it does not really matter whether they become published writers or not. The important thing is that the students “have found a way to face the toughest truths within themselves, to begin to make sense of them, and maybe even beauty. In a world that feels increasingly impersonal and atomized, I can’t think of a more thrilling mission,” he concludes.

Typos and Misspellings

Published on August 8, 2011 in Author Blog, inspiration, Musings, New York Times and writer blog.

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A typo is a mistake in typesetting or in the typing process. It’s typically due to human error and does not necessarily include spelling errors. In this article, however, I am lumping typos and spelling errors together because, as writers, if we are not good spellers, chances are we will miss typos when rereading our work.

Typos drive me crazy. They really bother me. I do not care to dive into the psychology behind my frustration, and I’m sure I make my fair share, but I also make a point of reading my work a few times before sending it out. Even emails. I was delighted to read a discussion on this subject in a recent Op-ed piece in the New York Times, called, “The Price of Typos,” by Virginia Hefferson, particularly as it relates to the digital era.

As the compiler and editor of two anthologies, Writers and Their Notebooks, and Writers on the Edge: 22 Writers Speak on Addiction and Dependency (due out in 2012) I am intrigued by various writers’ spelling skills—or lack thereof. According to Hefferson, there is no pattern; Nabakov was a great speller and Fitzgerald was not. Instead of just saying some people are only talented one way or another, Hefferson analyzes the personality of the good and bad speller. She purports that bad spellers tend to see through the words he or she encounters, straight to the things, characters, ideas, images an emotions they conjure, thus they tend to be good at reportage. While good spellers tend to see language as a system and are more often than not, drawn to wordplay and genres like poetry. Since I am a poet who loves Scrabble and crossword puzzles and who is obsessed with the correct spelling of words, I was drawn to this concept.

For poor spellers, there are numerous web sites, which offer suggestions on how to improve one’s spelling. Most of the recommendations include doing more reading and writing, two things writers tend to do on a regular basis. First, if you are a journal keeper it is suggested that you find new ways to use old and new words; second, whenever you finish your writing whether in a journal, on a pad or on the computer, make sure to check for mistakes. It is hoped that as time passes, you should find fewer words to correct.

With the new flood of digital media, the increased amount of typos and spelling errors has become a large issue. “The reason for this seems two-fold: work is published more quickly with less attentiveness is paid towards editing and, when cutbacks in the publishing houses began happening, those who first lost their jobs were the copyeditors and proofreaders—those typically responsible for catching misspelled words and typos. It just seems as if publishers, small, medium and large have become less vigilant about editing and spelling. Rushing to publish and overlooking glaring typos may have become part of the new economics of traditional publishing,” concludes Hefferson.

Research on Demand

Published on August 1, 2011 in 1960s, Author Blog, Creative Nonfiction, Creativity, Memory, Musings, New York Times and writing.

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Because of technology, the world seems to be moving faster. In a recent New York Times article by James Gleick entitled, “Books and Other Fetishes,” (July 16, 2011), he discusses the role of digital media in the search for historical information. The raw material of history appears to be heading for the clouds. What was once hard is now easy. What was slow seems to now be fast, he summarizes.

It appears as if Europe has jumped on the bandwagon of using digitial media to capture historical information, quicker than us. Last month, the British Library announced a project in collaboration with Google which would digitize 40 million pages of books, pamphlets and periodicals dating back to the French Revolution. Of course there’s speculation that Europeans simply have more history to work with than we do, a good excuse for the need for digitalization.

There is a school of thought that this sort of thing called, “techno-enthusiasm” can potentially cheapen scholarship. An English historian Tristain Hung said, “When everything is downloadable, the mystery of history can be lost.”

In fact, my favorite part of school back in the sixties and seventies was going to the library and cracking open volumes of books and journals looking through the table of contents and indexes for answers to my research projects. I was always a research buff and continue to be one. Furthermore, it had additional entertainment value because of the opportunity to meander over to the photocopy machine to copy relevant pages to bring home. Forgive me if I am getting too nostalgic, but I do think we were previously more mindful back then, creating memories one moment at a time.

Doing research back then was simply more alluring, exciting and mysterious, whereas now it might simply involve one or two clicks on the computer. The magic and sense of discovery is minimized. Maybe I am just old-fashioned and love the old way better in the same way that I miss visiting bookstores vs. browsing online.

This reminds me of a time a few weeks ago when I visited the nearest chain bookstore, now a thirty-minute drive from my house. I phoned a writer friend from the reference section and said, “Guess where I am? I am at the Barnes and Noble in Ventura and am so excited to be here. I miss this.”

“I know what you mean,” he said. “I could easily live on the floor of a bookstore.” Now that might just be every writer’s fantasy.

Back to the subject of research. Maybe I am a believer in hard work producing results, thus spending long hours researching in the library or bookstore seems gratifying. The sense of serendipity and chance also seems to be lost during this new digital age.

I guess I better just buckle down and face the changes around me. Who am I fooling? I am aging; times are changing and the world moves on….

National Poetry Month – Anne Sexton : A Glimpse

Published on April 11, 2011 in Author Blog, National Poetry Month, New York Times, Poetry and writer blog.

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Happy Second Week of National Poetry Month –

AND

Congratulations to PAUL WILLIS the new Poet Laureate of Santa Barbara, CA !!

“Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.”
~ Anne Sexton

(1928-1974)

Anne Sexton was born in Anne Gray Harvey, Massachusetts. She had a privileged childhood in a house staffed by servants, but admitted that she spent a lonely childhood. She was most known for her confessional verse, although she resented being called a confessional poet. She claimed that her poems told stories and admitted to telling lies in her verse. At the age of twenty-eight she had a nervous breakdown, signs of anxiety, and attempted to take her life. Her doctor at the time encouraged her to write poetry as a way of healing. “Don’t kill yourself,” he told her, “Your poems might mean something to someone else someday.” She supported the idea and said that writing poetry kept her alive and helped her understand herself and the world around her. Writing poetry grounded her and gave her a sense of stability. Like Sylvia Plath, she studied with Robert Lowell.

Her book, Transformations, won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry, which the New York Times described as a “funny, mad, witty, frightening, charming and haunting book.” Kurt Vonnegut wrote the book’s foreword. Sexton was a popular poet in the 1960s and 1970s when readers of poetry wanted relevance and immediacy and liked to hear poets read live. Her writing is straight-forward and reminds me of the poetry of Billy Collins in that it is quite accessible. Much of the appeal is her use of forceful imagery. Typically she wrote about serious subjects such as family life, sex, isolation, despair, abortion, addiction, depression, mental breakdowns and suicide. Unfortunately, she was hospitalized on numerous occasions for these breakdowns and suicidal thoughts.

Some biographers claim that Sexton was sexually abused as a child and that her parents were hostile to her which lead to many of her psychological issues later in life. Sexton was friends with Maxine Kumin and the two critiqued one another’s poetry until Sexton’s death. They also wrote four children’s books together.

Here is one of my favorite poems by Anne Sexton:

Courage

by Anne Sexton

It is in the small things we see it.
The child’s first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,
wallowing up the sidewalk.
The first spanking when your heart
went on a journey all alone.
When they called you crybaby
or poor or fatty or crazy
and made you into an alien,
you drank their acid
and concealed it.

Later,
if you faced the death of bombs and bullets
you did not do it with a banner,
you did it with only a hat to
comver your heart.
You did not fondle the weakness inside you
though it was there.
Your courage was a small coal
that you kept swallowing.
If your buddy saved you
and died himself in so doing,
then his courage was not courage,
it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.

Later,
if you have endured a great despair,
then you did it alone,
getting a transfusion from the fire,
picking the scabs off your heart,
then wringing it out like a sock.
Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow,
you gave it a back rub
and then you covered it with a blanket
and after it had slept a while
it woke to the wings of the roses
and was transformed.

Later,
when you face old age and its natural conclusion
your courage will still be shown in the little ways,
each spring will be a sword you’ll sharpen,
those you love will live in a fever of love,
and you’ll bargain with the calendar
and at the last moment
when death opens the back door
you’ll put on your carpet slippers
and stride out.

Finding Your Voice – The Oscar’s Merge With Writing

Published on March 7, 2011 in Author Blog, Creative Nonfiction, Dani Shapiro, Finding Voice, Musings, New York Times, Oscar's, The King's Speech, writer blog and writing.

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One of the greatest challenges of being a writer is finding one’s voice. I was reminded of this phenomenon while watching the Oscar’s last week. I was delighted that “The King’s Speech,” won best picture as I thought the movie was phenomenal. It conveyed numerous poignant messages, but for me, the most important one was that discovering our voice is difficult and takes a great deal of courage, whether it means finding it verbally or on the page.

For those who are unfamiliar with the movie’s storyline—the future king of England had a speech impediment which he had to overcome to assume his position. He was ridiculed and mocked and it seemed as if he would never succeed, until he finally sought the assistance of a guide to help him with his stuttering problem.

It’s a writer’s voice, style, pattern or beat that draws us to certain writers who we read over and over again. Many of my students ask, “So how do you know when you find your voice?” I tell them that you know you have found your voice, when you speak authentically, sincerely and from the heart with both elegance and grace. It also feels natural and the writing simply pours onto the page. This, however, is not always an easy task.

The most effective way to discover your voice, is to write, write, and write some more. It’s a good idea to write about subjects which you are passionate about. This is when your true writing style emerges. A recent article in the New York Times by Dani Shapiro entitled, “How to Find Your Voice,” (January 7, 2011) interviewed a few authors who offered suggestions on this endeavor.

Christopher R. Beha, for example, suggested that writing is all about discovery and therefore you should write about what puzzles you. “If you begin with what you know, where do you go next? If you begin with uncertainty, possibilities will present themselves. You might even find that you know more than you thought you did,” he says.

Many books have been written on discovering your voice and they offer all sorts of suggestions. Here are some of my favorites:

1) Write a letter to a friend or loved one. Your true voice will emerge in letters. You will soon see how natural it feels to do this type of writing. Many writers actually begin their writing day by writing a letter, as a way to get their creative juices flowing.
2) Write like you speak. For example, imagine that you are sitting across the table from a friend and telling a story.
3) Think about different possible moods. Make a list of 50 words associated with different moods, from happy to sad to lethargic. You will know which mood best reflects you and your voice because the words will flow.
4) Think about your personality and make a list of 50 words which describe your personality. Write a few pages about an activity and infuse your prose with those words.
5) Finally, read your work out loud and see how natural (or unnatural) it feels.

The more persistent and regular you are with your writing, the more quickly your true voice will emerge. In “The King’s Speech,” the king’s courage enabled him to persist and grow into someone who could speak to a troubled nation and inspire others despite great challenges.

I wish you joy in finding and holding onto your voice. I hope you can sing out and share your voice with others—loved ones, friends and colleagues!

Genre Confusion (Book, that is…)

Published on April 19, 2010 in Author Blog, autobiographies, Creative Nonfiction, Memoir, Musings, New York Times and writing.

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In my local bookstore I just picked up a copy of Jeannette Walls latest book, Half Broke Horses: A true life novel and as an instructor of memoir, I wonder about this new genre. Walls last book, a memoir, The Glass Castle (2006), was on the New York Times Bestseller list for quite a while. I read it and loved it. I find her writing quite compelling and she openly called that book a memoir, but I must say I am curious why she decided to call this new book a ‘true life novel.’

I do know that many prose writers who want to tell the story of their lives are frequently in a quandary as to whether they should tell their story as fiction or nonfiction. Typically, I tell my students that there is no correct answer. It’s whatever feels right or organic to your story. Some writers might find themselves experimenting by writing the story in both genres to see which one flows better.

No doubt, whatever genre the author chooses, he or she will encounter reviewer flak, once the book is published. A recent article in The Daily Beast (January 19, 2010), claimed that memoirs raise a perennial problem—sometimes fiction is more powerful than memoir and the main reason is that often memoirists are not as adept at using fiction technique as novelists. More specifically, in this particular article, writer Taylor Antrim proclaims that he views memoir writing as “cheating.”  The article mentions that he felt this even before the James Frey circus of events. He further explains that what he means by “cheating” is not necessarily an exaggeration of the truth, but that the stories sometimes contain blatant lies. He goes on to say that it’s not easy telling a good story without fibbing a bit, and it might be the author’s fabrications that bring a dramatic effect to an otherwise boring life.

As a memoirist first, and a fiction writer second, it is my natural instinct to defend my genre. Memoir is what it is and frankly I’m tired of people comparing it to fiction. It is a completely different genre with its own voice and rhythm. Did you ever hear of people comparing poetry to fiction?

The seasoned memoirist typically incorporates fiction techniques and if in fact, this makes the story appear fragmentary, then so be it. It seems that the writer is ‘damned if they do and damned if they don’t.’ If they use too much fiction technique and bend the truth, like Frey, they are considered ‘liars,’ if they leave out parts of the story because they don’t remember them, they are called ‘fragmentary writers.’

 So let’s just accept memoir for what it is and respect the writer who chooses memoir over fiction as someone who has courage and guts to write a memoir without hiding behind the veil of fiction. If you don’t like reading the form, then don’t read it and stop complaining. Of course, there’s good writing and poor writing; there are good memoirs and bad memoirs; there are good novel and bad novels. I believe that if someone is a good writer, it doesn’t matter what genre he or she writes in.

In comparing the genres, Antrim shares examples of autobiographic fiction, such as Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar, Maple Stories by John Updike and The View from Castle Rock by Alice Munro. Then there’s another genre which has been frequently used, called, the autobiographical novel, examples of which include, On the Road by John Kerouac, Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway, Night by Elie Weisel, Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence and Childhood by Leo Tolstoy. I see two primary reasons for writing an autobiographical novel instead of a memoir —if you’ve forgotten certain events and/or if you want to protect the privacy of loved ones (or enemies).

Another part of me asks “Who cares what the genre is and why are people so intent on labeling?” Perhaps the most important reason for genre-labeling is that bookstore sellers will know where to shelve the book in their stores. In fact, the first question an agent or publisher will ask the writer is, “Where do you see this book in the book store?” Glancing ahead into the future and the inevitable demise of bookstores, I wonder if the genre line will become even more blurred. In many ways, I think it will  be a good thing if it does.

Note to fiction writers: You should know that most of  my writing colleagues are fiction writers and you should not take this blog wrong– it’s just how I feel today, but you know that I love you all and still want to hear what you have to say about this very controversial subject.