In his review of a new book about writing in yesterday's New York Times Book Review, Jim Holt wrote: "Look, writing is hard. It's like some vile, incurable disease: There are bad days, and there are worse days. And writing well is a two-stage process: 1) write not so well; 2) fix it."
Also this weekend, the Onion ran a story with the headline: "Unemployed, miserable man still remembers teacher who gave him a love of writing."
When I read years ago that James Baldwin referred to the room in which he wrote as "the torture chamber" I knew exactly what he meant. But it occurred to me, while working out this morning, that he probably never went to the gym before entering it.
Last week I sent my Los Angeles Review of Books essay to a site that showcases pieces culled from various media outlets, and got an email back that said “Thanks for sending our way!”
That seemed like an encouraging response, but my essay never went up on the site. The exclamation point was simply the editorial equivalent of the trophy now given to the middle school kid who loses the game.
I have an essay in the Los Angeles Review of Books that uses the story of my career to look at travel writing over the last 40 years (in books, magazines, and newspapers). Along the way it touches on the rise of American self-absorption, the shame of National Geographic, and the mystery of Louis C.K.'s initials.
https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/wish-i-were-there-the-life-and-times-of-a-travel-writer/
Walking around Kenyon I also noticed, with some concern, posters bearing my picture. A friend had gotten me invited to speak as part of the Kenyon Review’s “Writers on Writing” series. I had never been published in the esteemed quarterly (thankfully, I had not submitted anything in years), and now I was scheduled to address students and faculty in its dollhouse offices. In the Cheever Room. On the campus where David Foster Wallace gave his now famous commencement address (copies of which were for sale in the college bookstore). I strolled the gravel paths nervously going over my lines.
About 25 people sat expectantly in the bright Cheever Room at the back of the Review’s offices. I began by reading the opening of an essay of mine from The Wilson Quarterly (as a sign that I was quarterly-worthy). Then I spoke for about 30 minutes on the three steps in writing a travel story: preparation before the trip, legwork while on site, and writing. I talked about the important elements: movement, personal voice, point of view, imagination, humor. And I mentioned how most of my time in front of the computer screen is not spent writing but rewriting. I quoted Paddy Chayevsky – “I’m not a great writer, but I’m a great rewriter” – but forgot Andre Gide: “I rewrite in order to be reread.”
The talk was well-received, which made me feel good (I hadn’t embarrassed my friend). But later it occurred to me that a travel writer speaking in an academic setting benefits from a remarkably low bar. If you don’t talk about frequent flyer strategies and the top 10 European hotels, you can almost come off sounding intellectual.