Writing Advice
Struggling? All the advice you really need is contained in a poem. Wendell Berry was filled with such wisdom, and he was uncanny at disarming readers with how approachable his work is. Like all the best writing advice, the poem below contains some pretty savvy life advice too.
How to Be a Poet
by Wendell Berry
(to remind myself)
i
Make a place to sit down.
Sit down. Be quiet.
You must depend upon
affection, reading, knowledge,
skill—more of each
than you have—inspiration,
work, growing older, patience,
for patience joins time
to eternity. Any readers
who like your poems,
doubt their judgment.
ii
Breathe with unconditional breath
the unconditioned air.
Shun electric wire.
Communicate slowly. Live
a three-dimensioned life;
stay away from screens.
Stay away from anything
that obscures the place it is in.
There are no unsacred places;
there are only sacred places
and desecrated places.
iii
Accept what comes from silence.
Make the best you can of it.
Of the little words that come
out of the silence, like prayers
prayed back to the one who prays,
make a poem that does not disturb
the silence from which it came.
There is a lifetime of lessons just in the line: “Breathe with unconditional breath/ the unconditioned air. As someone who attempts mindfulness in meditation, tai chi, and through the acceptance of what appears while writing, I think that line can become an entire mindful practice; the first portion alone can be a mantra.
A Matter of Perspective
Berry starts his poem with (to remind myself). That’s much of what this post is for me as well, to remind myself. A kind of extension/application of Berry’s advice: we can choose to see, to remember, to breathe in what we wish. We can let go the rest. We cannot always control experience but we can choose what we want to take from it.
Consider this. About two weeks ago we were in Paris (and an explanation for why this newsletter has been on hiatus for a time). I could stop there. We were in Paris. How many have the privilege and the capacity to travel? To visit the great places of the world? To experience other cultures? Travel can be inherently stressful and challenging, but time spent in a place outside your normal experience makes it all worth it. I try to make it a practice not to forget the privileged life I lead. We had flown in from Lisbon on a Saturday. I traveled with my wife, my daughter and her husband, and their two children, ages four and two. It was a smooth flight with sweet, bubbly flight attendants who fawned over children and puppies. Then things took a turn. My wife had been battling a swollen and extremely painful knee throughout the trip and the long walks down airport corridors had it throbbing. Her pain had been severe for more than a week and enduring it with every step had transformed the experience of celebrating an anniversary and being among our cherished children and grandchildren. The children’s checked bag did not come off baggage claim with the rest. With assurances that it remained somewhere in the bowels of Charles de Gaulle airport, my-son-in-law spent more than an hour working with an agent wandering from one proposed baggage claim location to another; it was starting to have the makings of a snipe hunt. Meanwhile, I was frantically trying to contact the Airbnb we had booked, for despite attempts to reach the host over the past two days with no response, we were past our scheduled check-in time and still had received no communication, including no information about how to access the property. We were all hungry. The children were happy enough to be off the plane and in the freedom of play at the airport but how long that might last was anyone’s question. At last the Air France agent located the missing bag and we set off on the Metro, me “confidently” trusting my usage of the Metro app I had downloaded on my phone. Something felt off when we exited the Metro station, but Google Maps directed us on through a few minutes of walking to the address where we were met with a locked door. The saga continued, and eventually we discovered that we were at the address I’d entered in the app but in an entirely different part of Paris. Piling six adults and their luggage into an Uber SUV, we navigated to the proper address. New location, same result. Another locked door. No communication from the host. Four hours after scheduled check-in. A sketchy building that appeared under renovation. A new plan. “Nimble” is the current en vogue term popular among CEOs. My son-in-law quickly identified a hotel a half block away. Remarkably, they had two rooms available for the night. Hours later, I finally received a text from the host with an unapologetic statement that “my phone was broken” followed at long last, two hours after the children were in bed, with a door code and the location of a hidden key to the apartment. I’ll spare the details of the long and involved exchange of messages that ensued or the details of how and why we secured other lodging for the remainder of our Paris stay. It had been a stressful day, on the street with little ones in a foreign city where we didn’t speak the native language. The frustration of a negligent host. Enough to taint the day and perhaps the experience of the city.
But that would not be the whole story. For such a summary neglects so much else. Like the Air France baggage agent who made it his mission in life to locate the missing bag, never once complaining, never once indicating anything but the positive belief that the bag would arrive, that it was merely misplaced. My son-in-law can be like a dog on a scent in his tenacity when he sets his mind to something, and this French partner in crime was every bit his equal. Or like the stranger who, seeing my wife’s walking stick and her limped descent on the Metro stairs, offered to carry her bag. Or the one who relieved me of one of the two suitcases on the same stairwell, saying in beautifully accented English, “Allow me to help.” Or the stranger we stopped on the sidewalk in front of the first address, asking if she spoke English and could look at the address for the accommodation I had on my phone, then going the next step and listening to the voice answering system of the only number I had for the property and confirming that the message stated that they were not open and would not be until Monday. When we thanked her for her help, she seemed reluctant to leave until she knew we would be okay, even offering to give us her phone number in case we might need further help. Or the driver who told us the names and ages of his own kids and played us children’s songs over the radio.
I’m still trying to complete the compensation resolution for the property we never stayed at, and while the lack of communication has continued to be frustrating, rather than dwell on that, I think instead of the kindness of strangers we received. The French get a bad rap. They are portrayed as aloof and haughty. This was my second time in Paris and on both occasions the stereotype has been the opposite of my experience. How I choose to see the day, the experience, the place, the people…is up to me. Isn’t that always the case. I choose to focus on kindness, on strangers who demonstrate the best of what it means to be human. They have colored their city for me, providing me another interpretation of “the city of light.”
(this image is from Mikhail Larionov, from 1912, titled “Glass”)
The Usual Shameless Self-promotion
Man, Underground, itself a book about the kindness of strangers, has been out in the world for nearly nine months now. I’m so appreciative of the readers who have shared what they have found in the book and who believe it is a novel that offers enjoyment and some good laughs while also proffering something more lasting. While travelling, I received the great news of the novel’s success with another kind of readership, those who evaluate books for awards. I’m thrilled to announce that Man, Underground won the silver medal in the Nautilus Book Awards, an international prize that focuses on books that offer messages of social change and environmental and social justice. MU has also been shortlisted as one of three finalists for two different High Plains Book Awards, one for fiction and the other for the Big Sky Award for books from Montana writers. The High Plains Book Award honors books set in or written by authors from… well…the high plains: CO, KS, NB, WY, SD, ND, MT and the Canadian provinces Manitoba, Alberta, and Saskatchewan.
Perhaps most meaningful of all about this recognition is the company I get to share, which includes the novel by Mona Susan Power A Council of Dolls, which won the Nautilus contest and which is one of the other High Plains fiction finalists. It was longlisted for the National Book Award and won the Minnesota Book Award. The other finalist for High Plains is Go as a River by Shelley Read, which has won a number of accolades and has been both a domestic and international bestseller. Both books are on subjects that are right up my reading alley and I’ve ordered them through bookshop.org. Perhaps they are up your alley as well; if so, you should order them too.
Here’s a bit more about each (with links for more info from the author’s websites):
A Council of Dolls: From the mid-century metropolis of Chicago to the windswept ancestral lands of the Dakota people, to the bleak and brutal Indian boarding schools, A Council of Dolls is the story of three women, told in part through the stories of the dolls they carried….
Go as a River: Set amid Colorado’s wild beauty, a heartbreaking coming-of-age story of a resilient young woman whose life is changed forever by one chance encounter. A tragic, uplifting novel of love and loss, place and displacement, prejudice and family, wilderness and survival—and hope.
A request: If you enjoyed Man, Underground, please share with other readers you know and ask that your favorite independent bookstore stock it. Please consider writing a quick review on Amazon or Goodreads. Every bit helps. Connecting readers with books, particularly those outside the narrow bestseller’s lists, is a bit of a marathon and we all need a good support crew. Lastly, if you enjoy this newsletter, share it with friends. Many thanks, Mark