Writing and Reading

Literary agent Nathan Bransford brought up a good question here. I found it rather personal, for me, considering the life I have currently. He posed a question to us writers (as he always does, YOU TELL ME this, YOU TELL ME that–you are indeed a curious person, Nathan!).

I haven’t commented on his blog about it, yet, but I just might. But I felt compelled to write about it, because over the years, I wrestled with the concept of living life and the relationship life has with writing. As you know, my opinions, I feel strongly regarding that subject–the idea of life mirroring writing and vice versa.

Nathan asked very simply: “You Tell Me: Literary Acclaim or Big Money?”

Needless to say, it’s an overwhelming question. But I know what my answer would be.

First off, let me just say that for years and years, my life was in dark ambition–it was about the prestige, the ‘honor’, if you will, and praise of knowing that I wrote a novel and that it was an absolute assurance of publication, completely inevitable.

I wanted to be spectacular. I wanted the glamour and glory. Naturally, that revolved around those awesome words, “representation, publication, 3-book deal, movie deal, hot new car, awesome mansion, private jet etc etc.”, you get the picture. It was easy to dream of those things, because ultimately it would ‘benefit’ my family.

I was fooling myself.

I lost sight of my true dream, friends. It was there all along. The more time that had past sank me deeper into this frustration and solidarity that ended up pushing friends and family away, church away, everything away. I almost became obsessed with the idea of chasing a ‘dream’, chasing the big publishing house and that giant advance, freedom of living. All because I lost the real dream.

I don’t mean to be a sap, but when my wife at the time read THE CAIN LETTERS (in three days), it was the greatest high I had ever felt. To see her laying on the couch with wide eyes, reading it on her palm pilot (of all things to read a novel, a palm pilot–do you know how small those screens are??). And she would tell me to ’shut up’ because she needed to finish the book.

I was giddy watching her. And it wasn’t necessarily because she ‘liked’ it. But only simply that she wanted to read it. That gave me a high more euphoric than any super publishing deal or that beautiful fantasy of fans carrying signs with the names of your characters from your book written on them and the constant barrage of books to sign, knowing you’ve touched many people with your stories, your writing.

One person. One person only. That’s all it took for me. The feeling alone kept me writing. That feeling alone kept me loving what I do.

That was the dream I almost lost. The simple fact that I actually finished writing a book. The writing. To release that power of your imagination and make it live for you, no one else: that, my friends, was the real dream. For anyone, I hope, it is the real dream.

It’s not the advance, the book deal, the trip to New York to meet the editor, the book tours. It’s the last page of your book, you’re writing the last few lines, you feel your heart well up with joy. You finished a book. And you ache to write another one.

That’s the true beautiful dream right there. And we should never forget it.

So, without a doubt, Nathan, I’d have to say that I choose ‘Literary Acclaim’. And not in the sense of celebrity-ism. When I say ‘acclaim’, I simply say the wonder and joy at the sight of friends, colleagues and family who look at you in awe over the fact that you dedicated yourself, your time, your passion, to something not many people can do: write a book. That, by itself, IS the literary acclaim. The passion for it is the acclaim that is worth more than a $100,000 advance.

I can always have a day job, you know? But to know that I’ve at the very least touched ONE person with my writing–there’s no greater gift. It doesn’t have to be a huge number of people. Just one. Just one is enough to make the dream real.

Thankfully, no matter where I am in my life–I’ve made my dream that reality. And I intend to keep it that way.