Patchett Power!
Novelist Ann Patchett was on City Arts and Lectures (no archiving on their site for some inexplicable reason) last night and was fantastic. It’s such a relief to hear a writer talk about “the craft”, how she’s never wanted to be anything but a writer, and yet wear it so lightly. I’m beginning to think there is nothing worse than a self-important writer with no sense of humor.
My favorite part? Someone asked her the old standard “I want to be a writer. Do you have any advice?” Most writers will equivocate when asked this for fear of alienating their readers and sounding like a snot. Patchett did not and answered perfectly with this story. I paraphrase…
“Everytime I go to a cocktail party, at least one person says something like this…’I’m a neurosurgeon but I’m thinking about writing a novel. So I’m going to take Tuesdays off and write a novel. To which I answer ‘What a coincidence. I’m going to take Tuesdays off to practise neurosurgery!”
Writing is work and study. Years of it. It doesn’t mean everybody doesn’t have the right to try. It just means that “writing” and “operating a word processor” are two very different things.
I’m sold. Now I have no excuse for not reading Bel Canto which Suzan’s sister Anne Marie recommended to me last fall has been sitting on my shelf for like 6 months now.
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16 Replies to “Patchett Power!”
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I’ve heard that same story (complete w/ cocktail party and neurosurgeon) related by several writers.
I think that it’s a poor analogy and only shows how stuck up writers can be – yes, it may take years of study to write a good novel, but then, it might not, and nobody is going to die because somebody went out and wrote a crappy one. Ann Pratchett (and the other writers who whip out this story) probably *can’t* become neurosurgeons, but I would guess that there are some neurosurgeons out there who could write novels. Maybe not a great novel, but maybe a publishable, entertaining one. Who knows? I can’t think of any bad outcome because somebody started to write more and it’s a shame that writers would presume to discourage people.
Writing is for everybody – yes, the vast majority of writing won’t be published, but that shouldn’t stop people from trying. The world might actually benefit from less novels by people who went to school to learn to do so. The cool response (if this story is actually true) would be to say ‘awesome! good luck. here are some good books to read, classes to take, etc.’
I’ve heard that same story (complete w/ cocktail party and neurosurgeon) related by several writers.
I think that it’s a poor analogy and only shows how stuck up writers can be – yes, it may take years of study to write a good novel, but then, it might not, and nobody is going to die because somebody went out and wrote a crappy one. Ann Pratchett (and the other writers who whip out this story) probably *can’t* become neurosurgeons, but I would guess that there are some neurosurgeons out there who could write novels. Maybe not a great novel, but maybe a publishable, entertaining one. Who knows? I can’t think of any bad outcome because somebody started to write more and it’s a shame that writers would presume to discourage people.
Writing is for everybody – yes, the vast majority of writing won’t be published, but that shouldn’t stop people from trying. The world might actually benefit from less novels by people who went to school to learn to do so. The cool response (if this story is actually true) would be to say ‘awesome! good luck. here are some good books to read, classes to take, etc.’
*Patchett*, apologies.
*Patchett*, apologies.
Matt,
I think I left out a crucial part of the story which will help elucidate both A. Patchett’s point and mine. I don’t think Pachett was saying the surgeon should try to write a novel if he wanted to. But there is a world of difference between telling a story in 250 pages and having a publisher invest in that story and deem it worthy of publication. One is the yearning of the heart to tell a story, the noblest yearning of them all. The other is the desire to be “published” as the validation that you are a professional writer.
The surgeon in this story is, as I see it, ignorantly assuming that because you can put pen to paper, you too can work as a professional writer. His arrogance is in assuming that, while medicine/law/business/architecture take training, schooling, licencing and apprenticeship that anyone who wants to can be a professional author.
Now I’ll be the last to say that all professional writers must go to school for it (I didn’t). But you just don’t get to wake up one morning, decide you are an artist and then next year expect to see your work at the Met. There are steps, levels, refinement of craft and proving yourself in a business where people have been writing for years and years and working at it.
One more note: People who write “crappy” novels are still very very skilled writers. Though I might not care for their work, it takes tremendous ability to do what John Grisham, Danielle Steel and Tom Clancy do. It might not be literary but it is very advanced storytelling, something that takes years of refinement and natural talent.
In sum: Neither I nor Anne Patchett nor any other writer is discouraging anyone else from writing. But appreciate that this is a both a profession and an artistic calling. If anyone wants to write for the pure love of writing, God Bless Them. If you want to be a professional writer, go through the same learning process and labor as the rest of us. I like to paint shoes on my days off. I do not feel entitled to show up at the offices of Nike and demand they make 1 million pairs of my shoe because I had the courage to call myself a shoe designer.
Matt,
I think I left out a crucial part of the story which will help elucidate both A. Patchett’s point and mine. I don’t think Pachett was saying the surgeon should try to write a novel if he wanted to. But there is a world of difference between telling a story in 250 pages and having a publisher invest in that story and deem it worthy of publication. One is the yearning of the heart to tell a story, the noblest yearning of them all. The other is the desire to be “published” as the validation that you are a professional writer.
The surgeon in this story is, as I see it, ignorantly assuming that because you can put pen to paper, you too can work as a professional writer. His arrogance is in assuming that, while medicine/law/business/architecture take training, schooling, licencing and apprenticeship that anyone who wants to can be a professional author.
Now I’ll be the last to say that all professional writers must go to school for it (I didn’t). But you just don’t get to wake up one morning, decide you are an artist and then next year expect to see your work at the Met. There are steps, levels, refinement of craft and proving yourself in a business where people have been writing for years and years and working at it.
One more note: People who write “crappy” novels are still very very skilled writers. Though I might not care for their work, it takes tremendous ability to do what John Grisham, Danielle Steel and Tom Clancy do. It might not be literary but it is very advanced storytelling, something that takes years of refinement and natural talent.
In sum: Neither I nor Anne Patchett nor any other writer is discouraging anyone else from writing. But appreciate that this is a both a profession and an artistic calling. If anyone wants to write for the pure love of writing, God Bless Them. If you want to be a professional writer, go through the same learning process and labor as the rest of us. I like to paint shoes on my days off. I do not feel entitled to show up at the offices of Nike and demand they make 1 million pairs of my shoe because I had the courage to call myself a shoe designer.
It’s still a snotty way to answer the question “I want to be a writer. Do you have any advice?” A better response (and more original – I’ve heard this same neurosurgeon story from at least two writing teachers, and was able to find credit given to a third writer by doing a quick Google search) would have been to say “My advice is to keep writing and reading. Don’t give up.” Or *something* constructive. Anybody who attempts to write a novel will immediately appreciate all the hard work it takes to write, so what better way to get the accolades of the uninformed neurosurgeons of the world who think they ‘have a novel in them’ than to encourage them to go out and write one?
As for “crappy” – I didn’t define “crappy novel”, you just assumed I was talking about Grisham, Steel and Clancy. I was referring to ‘crappy’ in the sense of what Patchett would expect from a neurosurgeon.
It’s still a snotty way to answer the question “I want to be a writer. Do you have any advice?” A better response (and more original – I’ve heard this same neurosurgeon story from at least two writing teachers, and was able to find credit given to a third writer by doing a quick Google search) would have been to say “My advice is to keep writing and reading. Don’t give up.” Or *something* constructive. Anybody who attempts to write a novel will immediately appreciate all the hard work it takes to write, so what better way to get the accolades of the uninformed neurosurgeons of the world who think they ‘have a novel in them’ than to encourage them to go out and write one?
As for “crappy” – I didn’t define “crappy novel”, you just assumed I was talking about Grisham, Steel and Clancy. I was referring to ‘crappy’ in the sense of what Patchett would expect from a neurosurgeon.
To clarify, I do appreciate the point that sometimes people make the assumption that it’s easy to become a writer. What I think is awful is for an established writer to discourage anybody from trying. Patchet (and any role model in any profession) should be constructive and encouraging.
To clarify, I do appreciate the point that sometimes people make the assumption that it’s easy to become a writer. What I think is awful is for an established writer to discourage anybody from trying. Patchet (and any role model in any profession) should be constructive and encouraging.
I’ve heard that story before, except it was Stephen King at a cocktail party replying “Yeah, and I’ve always wanted to be a surgeon.” This is the insecurity that artists necessarily feel. Unlike hands-on vocations, a particular number of classes or years on the job will not certify you as a brilliant writer.
Also keep in mind most professionals have to write sooner or later whether it’s a financial analysis, a legal brief, a memo, or a year in review. I don’t know anyone who hasn’t written an email at some point. And just like everyone feels entitled to their opinion on movies because they attend them, everyone feels qualified to write because they’ve done it.
None of this guarantees their success. But aspiring writers finishing their degrees or taking night classes shouldn’t feel entitled to the bestseller list either. Talent’s important, but you need to stand out. You need to find something that people care about and relate it compellingly. And it helps if you enjoy it too.
That’s why I don’t care to be a writer. I’m not passionate about it and, as you can tell from this post, I’m not all that good at it either. I think Patchett’s right to remind us how hard her profession is but she doesn’t have to be bitchy about it either.
Incidentally I loved Bel Canto but was turned off by the typically Northeastern elitist article she wrote for Alternet criticizing US policy.
I’ve heard that story before, except it was Stephen King at a cocktail party replying “Yeah, and I’ve always wanted to be a surgeon.” This is the insecurity that artists necessarily feel. Unlike hands-on vocations, a particular number of classes or years on the job will not certify you as a brilliant writer.
Also keep in mind most professionals have to write sooner or later whether it’s a financial analysis, a legal brief, a memo, or a year in review. I don’t know anyone who hasn’t written an email at some point. And just like everyone feels entitled to their opinion on movies because they attend them, everyone feels qualified to write because they’ve done it.
None of this guarantees their success. But aspiring writers finishing their degrees or taking night classes shouldn’t feel entitled to the bestseller list either. Talent’s important, but you need to stand out. You need to find something that people care about and relate it compellingly. And it helps if you enjoy it too.
That’s why I don’t care to be a writer. I’m not passionate about it and, as you can tell from this post, I’m not all that good at it either. I think Patchett’s right to remind us how hard her profession is but she doesn’t have to be bitchy about it either.
Incidentally I loved Bel Canto but was turned off by the typically Northeastern elitist article she wrote for Alternet criticizing US policy.
Matt and I just spoke via IM. Everything’s cool.
Matt and I just spoke via IM. Everything’s cool.
Back in November, Pat Holt actually devoted a whole column to her Patchett City Arts experience:
http://www.holtuncensored.com/members/column350.html
While I’m with Patchett on the authoritative writing issue, I can’t abide with the arrogance of not knowing the nuts and bolts of certain subjects she’s writing about. That’s actually the major downfall of “Bel Canto,” which is otherwise a compelling read. I mean, come on, not one of the hostages having second thoughts about making a bolt for it, playing soccer on the lawn instead? Not one bored international dignatary who loathes opera but showing up anyway to cement public relations? (What kind of politicians is Patchett acquainted with?)
While the sociological microcosm of “Bel Canto,” almost functioning as a reverse “Lord of the Flies,” is fascinating, and I’ll be curious to see how Patchett continues to develop as a writer, the sheer unreality of some of the novel’s situations (to say nothing of its foreign stereotypes) works against what Ms. Patchett has accomplished.
It takes a certain kind of ballsiness to utter something like the “neurologist” bon mot in public. But it’s another thing to be so smug as to not penetrate into the topics you’re writing about, however you conduct your research. If Patchett wants to live up to the authoritative writer, then she may want to own up to her own limitations in the same breath.
Of course, if you’ve won an Orange Prize and a PEN/Faulkner Award and your book has sold through the roof, and you’re still riding off of a writer’s ego, then you’re bound to sound a little smug or elitist in the process.
Back in November, Pat Holt actually devoted a whole column to her Patchett City Arts experience:
http://www.holtuncensored.com/members/column350.html
While I’m with Patchett on the authoritative writing issue, I can’t abide with the arrogance of not knowing the nuts and bolts of certain subjects she’s writing about. That’s actually the major downfall of “Bel Canto,” which is otherwise a compelling read. I mean, come on, not one of the hostages having second thoughts about making a bolt for it, playing soccer on the lawn instead? Not one bored international dignatary who loathes opera but showing up anyway to cement public relations? (What kind of politicians is Patchett acquainted with?)
While the sociological microcosm of “Bel Canto,” almost functioning as a reverse “Lord of the Flies,” is fascinating, and I’ll be curious to see how Patchett continues to develop as a writer, the sheer unreality of some of the novel’s situations (to say nothing of its foreign stereotypes) works against what Ms. Patchett has accomplished.
It takes a certain kind of ballsiness to utter something like the “neurologist” bon mot in public. But it’s another thing to be so smug as to not penetrate into the topics you’re writing about, however you conduct your research. If Patchett wants to live up to the authoritative writer, then she may want to own up to her own limitations in the same breath.
Of course, if you’ve won an Orange Prize and a PEN/Faulkner Award and your book has sold through the roof, and you’re still riding off of a writer’s ego, then you’re bound to sound a little smug or elitist in the process.