Sunday 9 September 2012

Literary Giants

Lately I've been in good company. Inspiring company. Daunting company. For the first time in the nine kid-muddled years that I've been in Italy I managed to drive to Mantova's September Literary Festival, a mere 100kms from this house, where a hive of local and international literary luminaries speak to enthralled audiences. I booked tickets. Toni Morrison. Aimee Bender. Nathan Englander. I warned teenagers there would be no taxi-service, few meals and zero rave parties at the house. They were warned. (That didn't stop me receiving random phone calls - Are you picking me up from singing? Do you have the email of that woman I'm working for next week?)

I escaped. Drove into the fields. Past Verona. Over Mantova's seedy lake along the spit towards the tapestry of Gonzaga castles, turrets and cupolas.

I parked. I rushed. I hobbled over cobbles the size of oranges. First, in front of Alberti's famous Renaissance cathedral, I saw the Kenyan writer Ngugi wa Thiong'o sitting in a bar. My heart began to thump. Three of my insolent teenagers studied this man's 'Devil on the Cross' for their IB exams, bringing scribbled-on copies to the table, talking about how the imprisoned author wrote his novel on scraps of paper - toilet paper! - while persecuted for his words.

I wanted to rush up. Sit down and talk. I've had a story accepted by a British review that has Ngugi on the Editorial Board, a story that took two years to go through their channels. I thought of the six degrees of separation theory from that film. Now there were none - between me and a world-famous writer!

** (Read my post Abuse, over on my short story blog)


Many years ago I went to Rome to visit a friend. She was huge with her first child. I was running circles around my toddler. It was so hot in Rome. She wore pigtails and we drank coffee.

She said to me some time later, when our boys were pre-teens and not too fond of each other. But how can you write? How can you write when you read the brilliant things that real authors write? The big ones? Doesn't that put you off?

It paralyses me,
she said. She said she severed her writing dream because she knew she would never write like the writers she admired. Gave up. After that, I felt phoney and third-rate.

This week I remembered my friend's words. Her paralysis. Perhaps this is the risk you run when you are made tiny in a crowd swooning to Toni Morrison's words. You cannot help but think, Me? Call myself a writer? What on earth could I possibly have to say when there is this? These books? Already written and to be savoured?

I listened to Toni Morrison who is luminous and wise and I wanted to rush up and give her a hug. I listened to Aimee Bender with her views on craft swimming alongside the flux of magic on the page. I listened to Italian writer Ermanno Cavazzoni who said that a short story is 'qualcosa che meriti' - something that you deserve because you have put yourself in a position where you will be delivered a voice, a miracle. I listened to Nathan Englander and his stringent views on revisions.

Ah! It was almost too much. My paltry efforts, compared to their weighty words. I watched the Italians push up to have their translated copies signed, I watched beaming Ms. Morrison look out from beneath her hat rim at all the faces, all the hands, all the feathery open books.

How do you write? she had been asked earlier.

To write you must find out what you need. Do you need a sandwich? Do you need music? I find I need solitude. I don't like beautiful views, I don't want to be distracted.

All I need is a pencil and a yellow legal pad.


18 comments:

  1. ah. This post so affected me that I first sought distraction. Clean the pots, empty the washing machine, scrub the toilet - anything but think about what you were saying. And then the tears began to flow. I have asked myself that question so often. And always felt crushed by it. Defeated.
    I need to change the question. Maybe it is 'why not? Why don't you write?' Thanks...

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    1. Oh please don't cry! I mean, do cry, we have to, but let the crying end and something come of it. I am all for turning questions around, making the slipper fit. And then - like in the mountains - 'piccoli passi'. Small steps.

      Translate that to small stories with a punch? Great blog posts (which yours are)? Gritty non-fiction to make the daily horrors make sense?

      There always has to be delivery, I think this.

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    2. I'm smiling now. You make poetry out of something as simple as 'reply'. Bliss!
      I do admire your writing style. You don't need me to say 'It's good' - I am just compelled to. There is a familiarity in it too - your's is the type of style I've been feeling my way to. Thank you for the compliment. I enjoy the blog-writing. The posts are my only outlet at the moment - the new day job is a little less demanding than the old and I'm finding myself desperate to write.

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    3. So glad a smile came out of this. Thanks so much for the compliments. There are many times when I feel like the most useless, under-accomplished person I know. And I love your blog and your gritty style of writing. Very raw and heartfelt, just how I like it!

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  2. Oh, dear, yes, a question I too want to avoid thinking about too often. But I have to write, no matter how bad it is - I know that with my conscious mind. My unconscious mind, however, constantly casts distractions and must-do lists my way. I too need solitude and the feeling of unrushed time to write... but who has the luxury of that?

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    1. Oh yes, when unrushed time unfurls like an open road I am willing and able... But also terrified !

      Thank goodness school starts here this week so I can figure out the silence. That is where the luxury starts and my to-do list falls away.

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  3. Thank you for this wonderful post Cat.

    Piccoli passi - Indeed.

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    1. Glad you enjoyed and hope the summer went well for you. Hoping to pop over soon.

      Yeah, small steps. I had some mountain men here. The second part of it was, And watch where you place your feet. Sage advice for the slippery terrain we're all on!

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    2. Early November, will let you know well in advance so we can order some rain-free weather this time!

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  4. Piccoli Passi - my new mantra - I love it - thank you. I use the Greek saying "σιγά-σιγά" - Siga-siga - slowly slowly. Now I might just combine the two! Ciao F x

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    1. Yes! Siga-siga - I like this one too! Sometimes the steps do feel too small but so long as they are going forward not backwards! Ciao ciao xcat

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  5. Do you have the email of that woman I'M working for next week! Priceless, Catherine. What a wonderful experience. Was it a big packed festival?

    But, Toni Morrison ... How wonderful is that?

    As for being paralyzed, I reckon that can happen to people in many walks of life. Why make quilts when I could never do one as beautiful as those award winning ones? Why swim if I'll never be Michael Phelps? Why be a doctor if I'll never be Christian Barnard. And so on. The art is finding what you love and keep doing it to the best of your ability. If you fon't do that, then I guess you don't really love it?

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    1. Yairs. Amazing what my offspring come out with. There is an English writer whose book is called Weird Things Customers Say in Bookshops. I think I could compile one of Insane Text Messages my Teens Have Sent to Me.

      It was a big festival. I only saw one Italian writer because I am very lazy and enjoy reading in English too much - so I haven't really developed any favourite Italian writers. But that better change quickly - I am joining a panel including two Italian writers this month in Matera and haven't read their books yet!!

      As for excelling in what we love. Mmm. Why do we do things? In my family we are pretty driven and it has been great to take several sports and passions to a certain level. I understand paralysis before something great, but I also think that we are not here for long enough to let this detract from - yes - what we love to do. Make sense? Gosh I'm still on Voss with his very big thoughts.

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  6. Oh my, Cat, this is some list! I do believe I'd be speechless. I know Toni Morrison puts her pants on one leg at a time, just like me, but lordhavemercy I would just stand there in awe of her.

    How often do all of us ask ourselves, "why are we bothering?" and "there are so many great books, what do I really have to say?" But the reality is, none of us know what we have to say until we sit down and try to say it.

    I have to remind myself that I believe in the Joan Didion line, "I write to find out what I think." Never once has an essay or story ended up the way I thought it would. If I didn't write, I'd have no idea who I am.

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    1. What great thoughts Teri! You are so right - Toni Morrison probably does put on her trousers one leg at a time, but the way simple thoughts were expressed, even to a broad audience, you could hear there was a great mind at work.

      I love Joan Didion's line. So true indeed.

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  7. Catherine how perfectly timed it was to open this post. Thank you! I have just started writing my very first book, of course all those thoughts go through my mind yet I keep writing. I do love the thought of those six degrees of separation!
    ciao for now
    love lisa x

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    1. Dear Lisa, So glad this post popped up at the right time for you. It was so inspiring - if frightening - for me. Best of luck with your book! Such a daunting enterprise, almost like a new love affair, always simmering away. From the looks of your blog I'm sure it will be full of passion and beauty! Love cat x

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