Boring. Whiny. Graphomaniac.

"Boring. Whiny. Graphomaniac."
posted by Daniel Charms 01 October

'xactly! And with 52 reader letters to that effect, too, apparently the guy can't write e-zine articles, either.

Some trainwrecks are all the more interesting, for being public spectacle.

My favourite line was: "On the other hand, my novel seems to me, objectively, good."

But then again, he might be right. I mean, what do I know about writing novels? After all, I'm just another anonymous blogger/message board poster who loves jumping to conclusions, condemning and discussing stuff he knows nothing about.

I don't think I could ever read reviews of my book should I ever publish one. It's hard enough getting dismissive emails, but to think that some condemnation's out there in print for all to see? Blecch.

When I was getting back into songwriting this past year and working on a CD, I was plagued with the 'is it good?' question. Whenever anyone heard the stuff, I would earnestly ask them 'so, do you think it's okay? Is it good?'

Finally, a good musician friend pointed out that trying to seek some outside, objective valuation of 'good' was going to forever be a losing game for any artist. What it comes down to, he said, is this: you have a good time writing and playing your music. People have a good time listening to it. It's something you need to do because you find it satisfying. Beyond that, who gives a rat's ass?

This was such a liberating insight. It's applicable to any creative endeavor. Remember why you are doing this -- presumably, because there is something inside you that you need to bring forth into reality. It will touch some people and leave others cold. The varying reactions have nothing to do with why you need to create it.

This guy might feel better if he considers some of these ideas. He seems to be pitting the opinion of publisher vs. publisher, reviewer vs. reviewer, as though one of them were wrong. It's a waste of time. Is he happy with the book? Did it meet his goals? Does he still have something to say? What did he learn from the process that will change his approach next time? How much praise would feel like enough to him? Who is he writing for?

Well put, Miko.

Miko, that's well put but some people create stuff and hate doing it. I hate hate hate writing. I dread it. I'll do anything to avoid it. But, I can't not do it for very long. I always return to it, but I never enjoy it when I do. I think this is true of many writers/musicians/whatever.

Someone once said, "I write because I can do no other." I used to think he meant (I think it was Harlan Ellison but he may have been quoting someone else) that he writes because he never learned another skill and was now too old to switch careers, but as I got older I started to think he meant he writes because nothing else he does seems as right when it's done.

I don't know why I don't like writing and I don't know why nothing else I do seems to be as worthwhile to me. I just know that I can't not do it (for good). I've tried to stop and eventually I have to return to it. It's really quite ridiculous.

Is he happy with the book?

Again, this isn't something I can use as a gauge. I'm never happy with what I write. I'm never truly unhappy either. I just know when I'm "done" with the particular piece because I look at it and no more words will fit and none are crying to be removed. That's my only meter.

But do you trouble yourself with the reactions of others, dobbs? I think you've achieved the outlook I was talking about above. You write because you simply have a need to do so. You seem to know that you would do it regardless of the reception you receive.

I can relate somewhat; when I'm in the midst of writing, it feels miserable. It's terribly annoying, tedious work. But the time flies when I'm doing it - I'm fully immersed.

I'm pretty much in the same boat as dobbs, except that I cannot really say that I hate writing. I don't hate it; it just doesn't come easy to me. At the same time, I have to write. There's some very strange things lurking in the darker areas of my mind and the only way I can get them out is by writing. I don't like most of the stuff that I write (mainly because most of the things I write are very short*), yet I still put some of it on my blog: after I've finished writing, it's no longer mine, so I don't really care what other people might think about it.

* Hope me, pretty please? How can I write pieces longer than, say, eight pages? What's the trick?

But do you trouble yourself with the reactions of others, dobbs?

I've been writing for as long as I can remember but I only sent stories out for publication for the first time a few months ago. It seems odd to say, but truly, the reason is "It never occured to me." However, I have been sharing stuff with readers via the web/email for 5 or so years now. I can't say that I don't care what others think. I guess I'm more curious what they think. IE, I don't think it has any effect on what I write in the future but I'm often delighted when someone takes the time to tell me such and such piece thrilled them and I'm always annoyed when someone tells me such and such piece sucked. (This rarely happens, but I assume that's not because I'm such a great writer but that people think it would be rude to do so. However, legit critics (those who do it for a living) have no such reservations, which is why I think some writers dread the process.)

I was once interviewed by a local reporter for a large Canadian daily newspaper. She interviewed me for 3 hours and recorded the whole thing. It was a laborious process which I didn't really enjoy. Though I initially declined the interview, I eventually agreed to it because she seemed geniunely interested in the writing and my process and I thought I was doing something new and original that was worth spreading the word about.

It took her months to write the article and when it eventually came out I thought it was dreadful. I was truly hurt by what she said. However, what angered me most about what she did was that she didn't write about the writing or the project, though of course it was mentioned. She wrote about me as a person and, essentially, cast her judgement there. She took words from my writing and put them in quotes as if I'd said them during the interview. It felt like a hatchet job. Many readers wrote the newspaper angry letters and CC'd me on them which was nice--to be able to see that I was not alone in my interpretation of the piece. (To be fair, a few people wrote me and told me they didn't think it was so negative.)

Now, I should have just dismissed the reporter as an ignorant asshole, which is what she was, but for some reason I couldn't. To be honest, had she written just as negatively about the writing, I don't think I would have minded. Certainly there are people who don't like what I do--that's life. But to me, this woman wrote what she wrote based--or rooted--in the project. She'd never have heard of me without the project. And yeah, I was troubled with her reaction, though as I type that I feel like I'm contradicting myself. I dunno, can't really explain it; I guess I was more troubled that there were people out there that did what she did, wheras in the context of the project, I'd previously managed to avoid them. I felt like my anger at the piece would have been equal even if it were written about someone else--that is, that the reporter missed the point entirely but tried to write with authority about the topic (in this case, me) and that, to anyone with a passing knowledge of what she pretended to be writing about (the project) her ignorance was glaring.

I've twice been asked since for an interview and both times I've declined and I can't see myself subjecting myself to such a thing again. But... if you publish a book to any acclaim, those requests are only going to increase (presumably) and they'll be harder to avoid, I would think.

I guess you could say I don't look forward to having anything I publish being reviewed as it's like an interview I didn't participate in and, given the choice, I'd rather not go thru it or even put the words through it. Childish perhaps and undeniably naive, but hey, that would be my ideal.

As someone once said: no child ever uttered, "When I grow up, I want to be a critic."

On preview, Daniel Charms, I bet I've got you beat in the short department. I sent three stories off to McSweeneys and the combined total word count was in the 500s.

no child ever uttered, "When I grow up, I want to be a critic."

I don't know about that -- I love writing reviews (I review music and books), and when I Was a Teenage Writer I found more enjoyment in reading the NYT Book Review than in many magazines. I admired the intellect and knowledge of the reviewers (who were often also authors). I think it's quite a calling.

Being a good reviewer involves being very widely read, and also in having strong analytical and comparitive skills. Some minds are well suited to it.

I don't ever feel the need to write a total pan - I view my job as providing clear descriptive information, flavor, which will give readers some basis on which to decide whether they'd like to read the book or see the band. But I don't write for any publications likely to make or break a reputation. Reviewers that work in high-stakes environments like PW are necessarily more stringent, and are expected by editors to assign value. Their reviews are used by booksellers to determine how much to feature a given book, and by media watchers to determine what authors are breaking ground and deserve additional coverage. The power of such reviews as a filter is huge.

But a writer whose sole goal is to get positive mentions in PW is probably just not a great writer. That's not why great writers write. This is why I still think that it will always make a writer(/artist) unhappy to be greatly concerned with negative reviews. It's far better to concentrate on the remarks made by people who were somehow moved by your work, and try to figure out what it was that you did that elicited that reaction. The points of connection are the important bit.

It sounds as though you had a bad experience with a bad reporter/reviewer - especially if she didn't make clear whether she was quoting your work or your interview content. That happens, though. People who write for a living spend untold hours in interviews like those. They talk to college papers and local dailies as often as (or more often than) to the LA Times or to Vanity Fair or whomever. It is a tedious process, but it's simply a part of the business of writing, if you end up getting anywhere with it. It's not easy to control the quality of the press about you.

DC: Some people just write best in short form. Ian Frazier comes to mind. Even his book-length works are strings of essays. No problem, really.

Miko, yeah, I'm being overly harsh to the profession but I think the people who are genuinely good at reviews/interviews are few and far between. I like to read James Wood and Lawrence Grobel and Pauline Kael collections but part of the probem, I think, is that many people consider an interviewers job to simply sit around and talk and then tell the reader what you thought of the person. I don't think that's the point and I'm guessing you don't either. To me, the purpose of the interview is to convey the pov or personality of the interviewee through their words.

Grobel's a good example. His book on interviewing is boring as hell but his interviews are terrific. No one reads them to find out what he thought of X. However, after reading them we have a better understanding of X. Grobel understands that and it's one of the reasons why he's so good at what he does.

Absolutely. Strangely, that's also the reason I despise Q & A-style interviews. They are so weak! There is no application of the reportorial intelligence there, no attempt to create a comprehensive profile of the subject that reveals something the subject hasn's said about themeselves.

Profiles are probably the hardest type of non-fiction to write. It is rare to see one done well.

Have you read any Lawrence Grobel Q&As? He's got two excellent book collections, one of interviews with writers and one with film people. They're definitely worth checking out.

Sure, and his prefaces are good. It's just that I think the Q & A format is a total copout on the writer's part. Asking good questions is a fine activity, and the basis for a good interview. But it isn't the same as crafting a profile. It leaves out environment, observation, texture, atmosphere, setting, tone, and things the interviewee won't volunteer.

You've probably heard that Gay Talese's profile of Frank Sinatra, Frank Sinatra has a Cold, is widely considered to be the best profile yet written for a magazine format. I think that reading that illustrates the difference between a simple, quick and dirty Q & A and the effort made by a real writer to create a portrait of an individual, in words including but not exclusively the subject's own. David Remick's piece on Bill Clinton in the recent New Yorker was another phenomenal example - a 360-degree view of his subject. Of course, profiles like this take months of work. But I'd rather read one of these than 10 Q & As.

I like this journal, Creative Nonfiction .

Thanks for the links. I'll check them out.

I'm curious if you know the answer to this: there's an interviewer (female, I think) who interviews people and then writes the piece as prose as if the interviewer had written it. For the life of me, I don't know the interviewer's name but an interview with the actor James Woods appeared in a short-lived magazine in the very early 90s called Smart ("One smart reader is worth a thousand boneheads." - HL Mencken). Any idea who this person is?

No, Dobbs - doesn't ring a bell (but sounds interesting). Was Smart a US magazine? So far I haven't found mention of the magazine itself, even.

Yeah, it was a USA'n magazine. I think I had 2 or 3 issues and then I never saw it again. I quite liked it, though. I used to date a girl who was the Magazine Manager of a large Toronto chain of stores so saw many mags that didn't make it. It was very slickly put together. I've googled for it before but with a name like that it's near impossible.