Mar 25 2007
How Much Would You Give for Your Art?
Even a casual observer of modern society could conclude that adversity alone is interesting. Most people are not addicted to drugs, do not have abusive spouses, have never teetered on the brink of suicide, and never have been sexually abused. Artists who have been through any of this or a myriad of other tribulations provide the rest of us with a glimpse at the darker side of the human condition, drawing from material to which average consumers should feel fortunate they have no direct access.
This interests me because I’m an artist of sorts. I put words to the page as practice, usually in the form of nonfiction here and fiction on my story blog, with the hope that somebody will read them. My “Regular Life” blog has resulted in the pleasant side effect of helping me become part of an international community I can’t imagine leaving. I still haven’t found my creative writing niche, but I’m working on it, and “A Storied Man” helps me to that end.
I don’t mean to suggest that artists have to live through catastrophe to produce interesting works. Fantasy and science fiction authors spring to mind. I’m sure few of them have traveled in time or ridden a unicorn. I know that there are many successful authors who never had to wonder where their next meal was coming from, how they were going to pay off the bone-shattering loan shark, or snorted a line of cocaine. That kind of suffering, however, brings one in contact with colorful characters.
After spending six years undercover infiltrating the mafia, Joseph D. Pistone wrote Donnie Brasco, one of the most compelling books I’ve ever read, and he went into it as an FBI agent, not a writer. He told readers stories and showed them people they never could have seen on their own.
When amateur authors wish they could write a Nobel Peace Prize-winning novel, or a bestseller (the more worthy prize in some eyes), I wonder, “But do you want to go through what it takes to get there?” In addition to nonfiction, the best fiction is written by an author who has been there, has seen it. We read books so that we don’t have to be there or see it.
Could I string together enough events from my life (or inspired by my life) to write a book? Probably. Would it be interesting to a majority of the book-reading public? Probably not, because I’ve lived a relatively trouble-free life. My wife and I have been through rough monetary patches as a couple, and we lived in 13 different places in six towns in the first 12 years of our marriage. Besides that, I’ve got pretty much nothing.
And, although the writer in me finds that a bit disappointing, I’m personally proud of it and wouldn’t wish hardships upon myself just to attract an audience. In that respect, I should be thankful I may not have a prize-winning or bestselling novel in me.
Not unless I wanted to alienate my family.
Despite my smooth childhood, I have one story “in the can” that has the potential to cause unrest amongst my kin, and others I could tell if I suddenly started believing my gain is worth any and all loss to others. We’ve had a convicted felon, a paranoid schizophrenic, pregnant teens (kicker and goalie), bigots, an alcoholic, and a host of other characters some would call scandalous. In other words, my family’s not much different from anybody else’s.
Somehow, when it happens to our own family, it’s just part of life and we all work to get through it. The person still gives and receives love just like everybody else. Nobody is all good or all evil.
Sometimes I find shameful the things authors reveal about their families just so they can have Warhol’s so-called “15 minutes of fame.” The tell-all comes out, a book tour is completed, and then the author fades into oblivion (as opposed to “Bolivian,” which is where boxer Mike Tyson once predicted he would fade). In some cases it’s merely a blog author spewing private information to increase the hit count. I can’t help imagining that in either case family members, feeling betrayed, will be much less likely to provide an understanding shoulder to cry on once fame’s foundation has crumbled.
Admittedly, many of the beaten and neglected who share their experiences genuinely hope to give others the courage to escape an abusive situation. This I commend. To some degree, however, all writers are narcissistic and enjoy seeing their words on the bookstore shelves. Otherwise, why wouldn’t they all use a straight-forward, just-the-facts, journalistic style of writing?
Instead of using my own life as inspiration, I try my best to build stories and characters from the ground up, and I’m thankful that when I write about a man who visits whores when his family’s out of town, he came from my mind instead of my past. Do some of my family members possess characteristics that serve as a jumping off point for my writing? Sure, but as far as the public knows, my family holds hands and skips around in fields of daisies.
As a consequence, my revealing autobiography sits unwritten in my mind rather than on the shelf at your corner bookstore. For now.
I could write a book on my life….. but nobody’d read it.. *chuckling*
I wonder if I’m one of those “a blog author spewing private information to increase the hit count.”
I think I’d argue about the need to experience adversity as a pre-requisite for telling an interesting story. You make the same point though when you mention fantasy and sci-fi authors. The quality of most story-telling is tempered only by the strength of one’s imagination. Of course, it helps to be talented. You can’t just experience that.
One author I read said once that he tries always to have interesting things happen to interesting people. Many authors get one of those two variables, but if you can nail both - and write about it well - then you’ve got a pretty good formula.
There are those who will do just about anything to sell a story. Look at the fiasco that surrounded James Frey when it came out how much of his tragic drug-use story was fabricated to sell his book. Real Life sells better than fiction because we, the audience, can know (or are supposed to know) that it really happened, so not only are we being entertained, but educated on events that we can trace.
Then there are some people, like Mike Tyson, whose real life events are sometimes so outlandish (but undeniably real) that a part of you just can’t believe it’s NOT fiction. (I never heard that line about Bolivia before.)
Dave - Maybe I should have qualified that — solely to increase the hit count.
Simon - The imagination must be there for good fiction, for sure. Our own Cheeseburger Brown is a good example, as he crosses genres with ease and manages to include interesting characters in his interesting stories.
Tyson’s quote, I must correct. “I guess I’m gonna fade into Bolivian,” is the correct wording. I fixed it in the post, too.
I’ve thought about this as well, Mark. And while I’ll agree with Simon that suffering is not a requirement for art…I think it really helps. Who obcesses about the perfect wording of a phase better than a mad man? Does someone who has no overriding demons to excorsize feel compelled to vent their pain onto paper?
I would contend that artists (by and large and with obvious exceptions) are typically not your average, well-adjusted folks.
For instance. I can come up with story ideas all day. I’ve got about 20 floating around in my head at any given time. However, I don’t write them because I’m busy doing the same day to day living that everyone else is doing. Pushing those things aside or otherwise making room in a hectic life to create art take dedication. This already pushes the artist outside the norm.
Further, when I do write, my written voice is realtively average. It reflects the relatively average life I’ve lived and is thus apporpriately “me.” Sure, I could work on that voice and cultivate a voice that is beyond my experience…but that takes time and drive (see above).
Then there are the people who feel compelled by their experiences to create…and who because of their experiences, speak/write/paint/sing in a voice unlike the average. They ARE so often looking at society/humanity from a distance and with unique eyes. And that’s what makes great art great.
Would I trade places for the sake of the art? No way. If I’m so obviously not willing to pay the price of art on the easy lay-away plan I’m on right now…why would I choose to have the price extracted up front in one painful lump sum? Nah…I’m comfortable saying that I dabble at art. I dip my little toe into the ocean that the greats swim and so often drown in. It might not be as exciting on the shore…but I think the view is a little better.
Those were some very interesting observations Mark. I have a six year journal I kept during my times on nuclear submarines. It is chock full of interesting people, places and stories. I’ve read through it every couple of years simply because I enjoy it so much.
My life outside the Navy as a real life George Costanza only brings more I could add to the development of a character who lived these stories. The problem is that I just don’t have it in me to do it. I’ve tried once or twice to jot down some kind of storyline only to move on to more important things. (Like posting the photo of the check and rebooting the calculus hard drive in my head.)
Some people can make it up, some have trouble telling what they know and then there are those who just “rip ‘em from today’s headlines”.
Markus..I was in the record store right on Beale St. one day and I asked the owner if he had anything from any “unknown” guitarist/singers that resembles Stevie Ray Vaughan. He said that there were a few, but they hadn’t really hit their stride quite yet. At about that time, an older black man said, “That Stevie was something else. He lived it man….he lived it. That new kid Kenny Wayne Sheppard….he’s damn good, but green. But he ain’t had his heart broke real good yet, and he ain’t been flat broke borrowing money from his friends that he can’t pay back. Once he gets that under his belt, then he’ll have a chance at being a real blues man.”
I’m not saying it’s always the case, far from it, but there seems to be some emotional connection with loss and musical lyrics. I’m not sure of the correlation with writing or other forms of art, but in music, it seems to be a common thread.
Moksha - Writing definitely seems to be a catharsis for folks going through pain. It helps me, although I feel my pain is insignificant compared to the likes of, say, Edgar Allan Poe.
Blitz Krieg - That is so cool that you kept a journal while you were in the Navy. The fact that you keep reading it and enjoying proves it was a gift to yourself, if nobody else.
I still laugh every time you compare yourself to Costanza. “Can’t stand ya!”
Charles - Very good point. Suffering helps all artists, it seems. It must get them in touch with an emotional side that others never reach. Plus, talent and lots of practice never hurt.