For the last month or so, NPR's All Things Considered and Morning Edition have been featuring reading recommendations brought to the listener by librarians, critics, writing professors and sundry other literary experts. They glow about the works of talented authors, many of them new, breathing with fawning adoration in terms learned in high school English lit classes. These are authors who are producing Great Works, Literature with a Capital L, and the spotlight shining upon them, frankly, depresses me. I am a jealous creature, and I would be lying if I said that I wouldn't like to have some fawning adoration for myself. Everybody wants to be adored. It's a warm blanket in the middle of a cold and lonely life.
I will never be one of the writers featured in one of these segments. I do not write great Literature with a Capital L. My works do not lift the human spirit, and I do not reveal Great Truths about the Human Condition. I was deeply saddened by this during the month of November, but I've learned an important lesson between then and now.
This lesson was learned from The Light at the End of the World and to a lesser extent from Knight of Sorrows. What I write is not profound. It is not complicated, with beautiful words and elevated ideas. Perhaps that means that I have inferior talent, or an inferior mind. Perhaps it means that what I produce has less value than all of the Great Works highlighted in these reading recommendations. But does it? What is wrong with pure entertainment? Maybe what I write isn't moving, but it's fun. It's fun to write, and I'm told that it's fun to read. Isn't that valuable in itself?
Maybe I'm trying to convince myself, here. One thing of which I do not need to be convinced is that there's room for all of us: the Great Writers, the scribblers, and the hacks. We can't all write the Great American Novel, but I'll bet that not everybody wants to read the Great American Novel, either. Nobody ever accused Steven King or Anne Rice or, God forbid, Stephenie Meyers or J.K. Rowling of producing high art, but you can't tell me that they're not successful. They have thousands of loyal readers and they're laughing all the way to the bank.
There are different ways to measure success in writing. One is critical acclaim, and another is financial gain. I'm not likely to experience either one. Another way to measure writing, though, and the way that I can achieve and have achieved, is enjoyment. I like writing what I'm writing. I enjoy myself, and the Crickets who have communicated with me have told me that they enjoy reading it, too. That's worth as much as a glowing review and a fat paycheck.
It may even be worth more.
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Very few people I know read Literature with a capital L, and most find the whole scene insufferably pretentious. Just to bolster your hypothesis there.
ReplyDeleteBig Cat had a very big post to put in here. Unfortunately internet explorer locked up while I was trying to post and it's lost. :: wah ::
ReplyDeleteThe gist of what I was trying to say was that I'm glad you're writing and writing for the masses. As you've said, you never had your eye on creating the NEXT GREAT AMERICAN NOVEL and you shouldn't because those can be boring and you're writing is anything but. I'm glad you're writing and doing what you do best: Telling stories that are incredibly interesting and accessible to the masses. I told you about a decade ago that you don't need to cure cancer or be in some brain trust; you need to do what makes you happy and writing is your vehicle. With it, you make the people who read it happy as well and in my book, that counts for a lot. Never underestimate the power of entertainment because it's with that that we can escape the sometimes drugery of the every day. Keep going forward and keep bringing joy into your world and for those who read your worlds.