Business pending….later today, I’ll have a piece on ESPN.com about the Duke lacrosse situation and how it plays with the election. But on the main page, not Page 2. Look out if you can.
Went to see my sister participate in a discussion yesterday. It was a really interesting format–she and her mentor, Pearl Cleage, exchanged ideas about various parts of the literary universe and ended with them each reading pieces. Pearl read an interesting letter she wrote Tayari a few years ago and Tayari read a really good passage from her most recent book.
In her talk, Pearl discussed living a “writerly life.” Graduate school has obliterated my memory, so i can’t share too many particulars (plus, I was stressed that I’d made a mistake in a piece I submitted and was trippin’ about how I had to go home and tune it up a bit). But I remember her saying how her exposure as a youngster–not that she’s not young now, of course–to writers demystified the profession for her. She saw those cats driving beat up cars with their work in the trunk. She saw them trying to lift books from the house because they needed them and, I presume, could not afford them. Long of the short–she saw that writers were people and hustlers just like the rest of us.
That got me to thinking about how I grew up and how academia was never mystical to me. It was always cool, but it seemed normal to me. My parents were professors and I was a the very-youngest child–ten years between Tayari and me–so I spent my time growing up hanging out with professors and killing time after school every day at the barber shop. Exchanging advanced ideas and doing so loudly was just life to me.
(FYI, that’s a big thing with Barry Bonds that bothers people. Baseball was the family business, and he was exposed to a lot of what made the game not so fun for his father. That explains a great deal of his attitude, and there’s an old New York Times Magazine piece to corroborate that.)
But she mentioned the writerly life. Yanno, ways that she conducts herself and people she surrounds herself to do what she does. It was an interesting thought, and it led me to consider what my writerly life is like.
Mine’s interesting because I don’t hang out with a lot of writers. I correspond electronically with a lot of writers and talk on the phone with a few (most of the phone stuff is with Jason Whitlock, which is an experience that’s hard to explain). I do more talking now about issues and the likes, but I’ve spent most of my time talking to colleagues in an attempt to learn the business. I needed to know how to tell when an editor was lowballing me, what it meant when I got certain types of rejection, etc.
But I really don’t know if I live a really “writerly” life. I wake up, I go to the gym, I watch TV for news and I read to see what’s up in the world and in sports in an attempt to find new ideas and new ways of presenting them. It’s a fairly personal process to me.
The thing is that I’d do that stuff anyway. My life has always been a collection of debates and brain teasers. I’ve always been about reading different things and seeing what people had to say. I’ve always been looking for ways to tweak my outlook and thought process to gain a better understanding of this bizarre universe. I’d do that if I was pumping gas somewhere.
Then it dawned on me–I don’t live a writer’s life. I live a student’s life.
Really, I treat most of my colleagues like professors. I love talking to them because most of them know so much more than I do, largely by virtue of being a couple decades older than me. I kill time like college students do–playing video games and listening to music. My house is generally a wreck (but easily cleaned in case of company). I fall asleep on my couch most nights. I’m good to work at insane hours of the night to make deadline, which feels eerily like trying to turn in a paper by the due date. Oh yeah, and I’m broke.
Bigger than anything–I have more fun than any grown person should have.
Somehow, I’ve managed to turn my life into an extended version of college. And I love it nearly as much as I loved college. Only thing is I don’t find myself surrounded by beautiful women like I did in college. That would be that heat rock, baby.
So is this a writerly life? I’m really not sure. I never really thought I needed a life for this. Just a talent and the desire to do it here and there. But even without it, I think I’ve got it. To me, this is about learning. Not just observing, but learning. And that’s the plan every day.