"Because the world is so unencouraging"*

Hi Kara!

I've been meaning to write for a while now with these three examples I found of writers writing about how uncomfortable/difficult it can be for an artist to call him or herself an artist. 

Ready? OK.

Example One:

From Alice Munro's "The Office":

No. But here comes the disclosure which is not easy for me: I am a writer. That does not sound right. Too presumptuous; phony, or at least unconvincing. Try again. I write. Is that better? I try to write. That makes it worse. Hypocritical humility. Well then?

It doesn't matter. However I put it, the words create their space of silence, the delicate moment of exposure. But people are kind, the silence is quickly absorbed by the solicitude of friendly voices, crying variously, how wonderful, and good for you, and well, that is intriguing. And what do you write, they inquire with spirit. Fiction, I reply, bearing my humiliation by this time with ease, even a suggestion of flippancy, which was not always mine, and again, again, the perceptible circles of dismay are smoothed out by such ready and tactful voices--which have however exhausted their stock of consolatory phrases, and can say only, "Ah!"

Example Two:

From Peter Cameron's The Weekend:

     "So you're a painter, John tells me?" Marian asked Robert, when the platters of pasta and chicken salad had been passed around.
     "Well, that's what I'm doing now," Robert said. "Or trying to do."
     "So you don't really think of yourself as a painter?"
     "No," said Robert. "Not really"
     "That's interesting," said Marian. "I always thought it was important for artists to have that strong sense of self-definition, because the world is so unencouraging. But perhaps artists today are more practical."
     "I guess I think it's presumptuous. I just started painting a little while ago. I suppose I see myself as more of a student of painting than a painter." 
     "You were at Skowhegan?"
     "Yes," said Robert.
     "Then you must be a very good student."
     "I don't know. It was kind of a fluke, my being there."

Example Three:
I don't know! I lost my third example somewhere between the idea to share this idea with you and the posting of this idea. I know it existed at some point. Maybe I'll remember it soon... Or maybe I can just share this video of one of the most inspiring performances I've seen since Robyn called her girlfriend.

*After watching this, I don't think anyone could be unencouraged.

Much much much love,
Amelia

Dear Amelia

Time and again, Alice Munro takes my breath away, and gives the earth's floor back to me sturdier, loamy, life's chill felt like porcelain through her work.  How awkward and true is that chipper response to one's articulation that they are an artist.  Kind of like the moment my mom once told someone that my husband worked with homeless families, and the woman, not quite knowing where to land with the information, responded, "Oh, how precious." 

These (beautiful) instances of this (fascinating, timeless) topic remind me of a scene from the movie Take This Waltz.  Have you seen it?  An artist in it, when asked why he doesn't show his work, says laughingly, "'Cause I'm a coward."  I loved the ease of his statement, the acceptance in his emotional stance: aware but loving, knowing what needs to be done, but not quite ready to do it. 

I find myself in this emotional place a lot.  You?

Next, to cement my fanaticism for a certain website, I wanted to re-iterate that today is, apparently, Simone de Beauvoir's birthday.  It is also my beautiful, shocking, hilarious husband's birthday, but we're talking about Simone here. Simone de Beauvoir, who said, The writer of originality, unless dead, is always shocking, scandalous; novelty disturbs and repels.  I kind of agree with this one, which makes life outside of writing a little awkward sometimes. 

Should there be a life outside of writing, though?  Maybe it is better to barrel through, awkward and gruff and true. 

And, do you think we should all have a jacket like the trumpet player's in that wondrous Tiny Desk concert?

Play on, big wild hearts  XOXO
Kara