Living the book out

Mid-March, 2013


Heard a fantastic interview with Jamaica Kincaid last night. She has a new novel out, See Now Then, which she staunchly defends as fiction, despite the assertions of some who read it as non-fiction. What she has to say about this is certainly inspiring to those of us who write simply because we have something to write. When the writing is true, the reader feels it because the writer also feels it's truth. This is the essence of real fiction. It transports us to who we are--the authentic person inside of ourselves--and from that renewed vantage, looks out upon the world to see it anew once again. Kincaid scoffs at those who demand that she reclaim the book as non-fiction: "it is what I say it is," she states. "If I say it is fiction, it is fiction."

I find this delightfully affirming of what I have arrived at in my own hesitations around Drum. If I say it's fiction, then damn it, it is fiction. Of course there are certain aspects that are factual, but I take these now more as circumstantial than critical to the heart of the story. By living the book out through the eyes of another, I am giving myself permission to tell the story that I feel is most true. Drum is not a story of a family "wringing their hands" over the uncontrollable events of the past. Drum is the story of dealing with the past in a way that forges the future; it is essentially a clean break, just what Michael and Cordelia were doing, and just as I am trying to do through protagonist Jade. Yes, the story still burns.

I've applied for a full-time, tenured position at Clark, and though I have no way of knowing what my chances are for an interview, I'm guessing none-to-slim. I think what's going on with me psychically is some process by which I need some huge distraction to keep me from what really needs to be accomplished. Not that it wouldn't be a fantastic thing to be called to do this job, I simply think I'm using the likely rejection as a final sign that my future really does hang on completing this novel. It needs to get out there; and I need to get on with the rest of my life.

Nothing I have written this week feels more true.