Your book is actually published, you're holding it in your hands. A few friends and acquaintances buy copies. You give some away to others. Now you wait, hungry for response. Soon you get a few calls, they love your book. Some want you to come to their homes to discuss it. Some send you Emails praising your work. You receive letters and handwritten notes. Still others comment face to face, letting you know what they felt to be the more powerful aspects of your story, telling you the things that moved them, or how your story has captured the same feelings and perspectives that they have. You're contacted by the local book clubs. You're buoyed, the anxieties that you have been experiencing are somewhat alleviated. Your confidence is elevated. After all, you tell yourself, you lay yourself on the line when you write a book.
Then comes the second gradation of response: "I read your book, it was nice." Or "it was interesting," or, "I really liked this part." "I liked this character." "I liked the way you use short sentences," "Have you always enjoyed writing?" The comments are guarded, courteous, meant to spare your feelings. So now the anxieties once again begin to assert themselves. Confidence wanes.
The final gradation of response is silence, no response, other than maybe, "I read your book." This is probably the most psychologically disconcerting. You try to piece together what you think you know about the unresponsive person, their background, their expertise, their judgment, their biases. Were there parts of the story that offended them? Did they not like the story overall, or maybe the writing style, or both? Did something in the story conflict with their values or beliefs, or some subject upon which they feel they are experts? You search and search. Wonder why they won't at least say something, even if it is negative, surmising that they know you well enough to know that you can deal with it. So you ponder what is it that prevents them from giving you a response. Why no response? Why no response, you ask yourself? When...all the while, you know in your heart that no response is a response.
In sum, I believe all of us have a story or two to tell. We should not fear taking pen in hand and telling them, but with an understanding that the responses we receive will not always be even or measured.
Lou Jones
Great post, Lou. As a visual artist I can relate to your explanation of the emotional response to putting yourself "out there." Thick skin is certainly a great attribute for all the artistic types!
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed your post, Lou. I'm within 15 pages of finishing your novel and I can tell you now: you've done an incredibly good job with very complex and controversial subjects and characters. My hat is off to you for a beautiful piece of writing.... It took guts to deal with one of the most difficult subjects for any of us humans...death, especially death slow and inevitable. I was touched deeply.
ReplyDeleteLou Jones said...
ReplyDeleteDon, thank you for your good comments. Coming from you they are especially satisfying. For my Bill Mason life was always a mystery, an enigma, an ongoing search for meaning. I leave it up to the reader to decide what he may have concluded, if anything, at the end. I also leave it up to the reader to decide if Edgar ultimately comes to terms with his life. I.e. Was he leading the right life for him? Was he where he needed to be?
Lou,
ReplyDeleteI know from your novel and your poems that you have an intense interest in the subject of consciousness: what it is and what it means to our species. If you haven't already read it, Sam Harris' book, The End of Faith, has a chapter (Chapter 7) devoted to "Experiments in Consciousness," which you might find interesting.