A Million Typical Reasons

It's so me to only want to read a book after it has been scoured by the public and written up with giant waves of criticism in the press. Yes, I read James Frey's controversial novel, A Million Little Pieces a few weeks ago.

The thing is, it's a really good book. I couldn't put it down. And, if I ever had any inclination to become a drug addict or alcoholic, I certainly won't consider it now. Random House was right when they called it a "visceral" account. It is. I felt nauseuous, sad, angry, pained, happy, giddy and tense while reading this novel.

At a party a few nights after I finished reading what The Smoking Gun has referred to as "a million little lies", I couldn't help but talk about it. A Brit editor I know commented, "See, that's so American. All a Brit would care about is whether or not it's well written and a good story." He may have a point.

Yes, maybe I too wish Frey had labeled his tome "fiction" when clearly huge sections are fabricated. But, it is well written. Frey looks at language differently. He thrusts words into a new realm in order to facilitate the terrible roller coaster his main character finds himself a slave to.

Is that so wrong? I wonder.

The Right Now World

A friend recently wrote to me saying, "Sometimes I think that I'm too many years too early or too many years too late." He was speaking in terms of his work and his insecurities about today's readers understanding it or wanting to buy it. He's a writer too. We talk often about our personal demons, triumphs and "what if's".

His latest letter struck an emotional chord. I think whether we're writers or not, many of us just feel like we don't click with this world. The politics don't match up with our ideals. The art and literature of the day isn't what we imagined. We continue to get older and the future we envisioned for ourselves at a younger age appears farther away.

What can we do about this? Why not change the "right now" world? Instead of brooding, why not write what we care about, paint something that could change minds, talk about our beliefs or share passion with the world at hand? Even if you don't have a microphone or a huge publishing house at your fingertips, you can still say something to an important audience.

We live in a world of information. Let's create the information that we crave.

Finally Showing Up

I wrote my first post for this blog more than five months ago. I did not show up for this blog, but I'm showing up now!

Reasons why I haven't posted in awhile: I've been living in London, enjoying the ability to travel and I've been working on my own writing. I've also been helping the London affiliate of a terrific organization called Dress for Success.

This past weekend I traveled to Amsterdam and visited the Van Gogh Museum. The museum boasts a collection of over 200 paintings and more than 700 letters by Van Gogh (most of them written to his brother Theo and to the painter Paul Gauguin). What struck me more than ever was Van Gogh's very real and deeply felt self doubt over his talent as an artist. He really believed he was producing crap most of the time. And just as he began pushing himself as a painter, using brighter colors and choosing subjects that he cared about--he killed himself.

He truly was The Tortured Artist. Walking past canvases vivid with sunflowers and city landscapes, I couldn't help but think about how often the plight of the artist coincides with a writer's own journey. Often, we think we are total excrement and we abandon our pure, honest talent for things we feel might sell or be more marketable.

While Van Gogh was living in Paris, he began to paint cherry trees because he thought they would sell better than his other work. Alongside a vibrant, well observed depiction of his bedroom and those glorious sunflowers, the trees pale. They don't say anything other than to tell us Van Gogh was looking for immediate gratification--and that he felt the way many of us feel no matter what our profession. We're unsure of ourselves. We don't think we matter. We're not sure we'll make it.

I'm sure I'm not the first person to have these feelings while wandering the Van Gogh Museum, but I was genuinely moved and I think the experience will be with me for quite some time.