Category: The Wandering Writer

How to Win Friends and Influence Readers

I’ve had the pleasure of meeting many writers through readings, residencies, conferences, and my affiliation with WriterHouse.   And what I’ve learned from those meetings is this: writers can win new readers by their behavior, or they can completely turn readers off.

When I met Susan Gregg Gilmore, I was an aspiring writer with very few publications to my credit.  I’d had an essay published in a little known newspaper in the Midwest, and a story in a literary journal that, while a wonderful journal, is not widely distributed on the east coast.  Because I’d just won a short story competition in our local weekly, the HooK, I’d finally come out as a writer to my friends, but I still had a hard time claiming to be a writer. “Real writers” intimidated me.  When I heard Susan was going to be in Charlottesville, though, I knew I had to go, and ask her questions, writerly questions. I loved her book Looking for Salvation at the Dairy Queen, was in awe of the way she handled the narrator’s voice.  I wanted to talk to her about the challenge of staying in character in a first person narrative, among other things.  As luck would have it, I got there early that day, and so did she. So I plopped myself down, asking her question after question, and she patiently answered, even giving me her email address so we could stay in touch.

She and I have since become good friends, but her willingness to help a new writer still amazes me.  She is always the epitome of grace at appearances.  I’ve seen her win over audience after audience.  She has a loyal base of readers, and I can’t help but believe that some of those readers first read her books after meeting her.  Once they read Susan’s books they’re hooked by her wonderful writing, but at least a few of those initial sales were because she’s just so damned charming and nice.  (Check out Dairy Queen and her second novel, The Improper Life of Bezellia Grove.)

There are writers I’ve first read because when I met them they were funny and genuine, some I might never have read if I hadn’t seen them in person and liked them.  And then there are the few writers out there who, because of their demeanor, I will never read again.  I won’t mention names, or go into too much detail about the bad behavior, but I will say that listening to a writer’s catty comments about another writer does not make me want to support him or her.  I saw one well-known writer whose smug arrogance turned me off forever to his work.  Heard another complain about the town car someone sent to pick her up.  (Telling this to a bunch of writers who would give anything to be on a book tour, even if it meant taking a bus, is just rude.)

I know book tours are tough, and I know it’s not easy always being on, but I also know this:  a writer is better off not going on tour if he or she is going to alienate readers.  And I know not everyone can be a charming as Susan, or as funny as Colson Whitehead, but if nothing else, writers need to be appreciative and respectful of their readers.  It’s the right thing to do, and it just might win new readers.

Crushing on Kevin Wilson

Kevin Wilson's short stories rock
Kevin Wilson's short stories rock

Word nerds will totally get this.  I have a big old crush on Kevin Wilson.  A literary crush.  If you read one of my posts from a few months ago, you know that I mentioned Kevin’s book The Family Fang as a book I wish I’d written.  Well, I just finished his short story collection from a few years ago, Tunneling to the Center of the Earth, and I can tell you I don’t just wish I’d written the book. I wish I could write just like him.  I have a serious case of love for his work.   His stories are quirky, and funny, and dark and surreal, and touching and strange.  Everything I like in stories (and people, for that matter).

When I was in the early stages of my bookish life, I would get literary crushes on characters.  Little Women’s Laurie was one of the first, as was Gilbert (from the Anne books).  But then, I started writing, and instead of the characters, I started falling in love with the writers.  I wanted to meet them, to talk to them, to write them silly school girl letters about how much I adored them.   How their words made the earth move for me.

The wonderful thing about literary crushes is that they can be anyone, male or female, straight or gay.  Literary crushes are gender blind and color blind. They are equal opportunity loves.  I have crushed on Lee Smith for years, and Steve Almond, and Toni Morrison, and Dorothy Allison.  I’ve been lucky enough to hear all of them read, and to speak to them afterwards.  Each time I blushed and stammered and desperately wanted to ask them to hang out with me.

The Family Fang
The Family Fang

Back to Kevin.  I met his wife Leigh Anne Couch last November at Hambidge Center, where her cottage was across the road and through the woods from mine.  Leigh Anne is an amazing poet, and a really funny and nice person.  At dinner the night I discovered who her husband was – I didn’t know for several days – I gushed on and on about The Family Fang.  It must have been rather annoying to her, since she was there, after all, to focus on her own work.  But she was great about it, and I managed not to beg her for an introduction.  Though that was before I read Tunneling, back when I was just “in like” with him.  Not in full-blown crush mode.

Anyway, Leigh Anne, I’m sorry, but I gotta say this: Kevin Wilson, I heart you.  Wanna hang out?

Spring in the Lowcountry

I’d forgotten how enthusiastic spring is down here.  In the lowcountry there is no easing into spring – everything throws itself at you all at once.  The azaleas are everywhere, in pinks and salmons and lavenders and reds.  The piney woods are full of them. There is so much flora to see and smell that you get a little drunk from it all.

My favorite is the wisteria.  Wisteria reminds me to breathe.  Deeply.  Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, I have to pause and just let the scent wash over me.  I’m not kidding.  I’ll stop in the middle of the street if I get a whiff.  It drugs me, makes me forget everything else.  Some people don’t like it because it’s a parasite – it can totally take over a host tree until the only thing left living is the wisteria, until it looks like just a big wisteria tree and there’s no evidence of the tree underneath.  But I don’t care.  It’s my absolute favorite.

I’m remembering how to slow down here, how to notice the world around me more.  The smell of wisteria, the fog hanging over the river in the mornings, the broken-glass-glint of the sun as it hits the ocean.  The dragonflies and herons and pelicans.  I sat last night on the screened porch for an hour watching a gecko wait patiently for his supper to happen by.

My attentiveness seeps into my writing.  I sit outside on the porch writing when I can these days, and though at times the beauty is distracting, it’s also nourishing, and I think my work is better for it.  At least, I hope so.  But either way, I’m enjoying the writing much more when I’m not trapped inside.  If you’re a writer, try it.  Go sit outside to write for a while, in a park or at the beach or in a tree house.  Anywhere there is fresh air and the smell of flowers and the sound of birds.  Then, if you’re sitting outside communing with nature, even if you’re having a bad writing day, it’s still a good day, right?