The Doctor Is In

Every Friday I turn this blog into a couch and let Dr. Sue offer up some writer’s therapy. Don’t forget to send her your questions – Dr.Sue at mindspring.com This week’s column is especially interesting I think – with an intro from Dr. O’Doherty.

A LONG AND WHINING ROAD?

A few weeks ago, an author (“Sensitive Novelist”) wrote to express dismay that some of her friends do not read her books and, in fact, seem uninterested in her career. She asked for help in understanding her reaction of hurt and in overcoming her sensitivity to these perceived rejections.

That letter, and my response, generated an unusual number of comments, as well as private emails. One email correspondent included a related question of her own, which I will address below. But first I think some clarification is in order.

The discussion in the comments section focused on what we are entitled to expect from our friends. One writer thought “Sensitive” was “whining” and should feel grateful for being published at all. Others shared their thoughts and feelings about being unread—some experience it as personal rejection, others as unremarkable, and one expressed a desire to protect her friends from the unnecessary expense of buying her books. Readers mentioned the impossibility of keeping up with everyone’s work when one has several writer friends, and the problem of disliking a friend’s book and not knowing what to say.

What was clear from all of the comments was that this is an important issue, and worthy of further discussion.

What level of participation in our vocation are we entitled to expect from our friends? When you have a reading, do you expect your friends to attend? What about radio or TV interviews: Are you hurt when your friends don’t watch or listen? Do your expectations differ based on the level of friendship, the friend’s perceived taste, or some other factor?

Do you (whether author or reader) read all of your friends’ books? Is it out of interest or obligation? How do you handle it when you don’t like what you’ve read? How does the experience affect your feelings for your friend?

I would love to hear more about this.

But this was not “Sensitive Novelist’s” question. She asked why she reacted so strongly, and how to deal with her feelings.

Some authors (let’s call them Thinkers) consider writing a job—one they may find deeply satisfying and a source of great pride, but, ultimately, a means to an end. Their work allows them to earn either a living (don’t laugh, some writers actually accomplish this) or the credentials that will enable them to work in a related field, such as teaching. For others (Feelers), writing represents the deepest expression of their souls. They may garner lucrative contracts and prestigious awards, but the primary relationship and commitment are to the work itself.

One group does not write “better” than the other; in fact, judging from the output of my friends and clients, one would be hard-pressed to identify which group a given author belongs to based on the evidence of the finished book. And, of course, no one falls neatly into either camp. But, loosely speaking, to a Thinker, the book is a well-made product. To a Feeler, it is a beloved child.

If friends or loved ones ignore the widgets we are paid to manufacture, we may be mildly put out, or we may not care. If they ignore our child, we bleed.

These are not “right” or “wrong” feelings. And Sensitive Novelist was not, I think, implying that her friends owed it to her to read and praise her books.

Additionally, for many Feelers, the process of writing entails what psychologists call “regression in the service of the ego”: the deliberate and temporary shedding of adult defenses in order to experience the creative act fully, without barriers. This activity is childish by definition, and to do it well it is necessary to cultivate the irrational, babyish side of ourselves, the side that reacts emotionally rather than logically, and is often able to pinpoint the truth of a situation, from the gut, long before the thinking mind can reason to it. Expressing the ensuing feelings can be misread as “whining” by those who don’t operate this way. It’s not. Naming one’s feelings is not the same as expecting others to take responsibility for them.

So, if you are a Thinker, who is unperturbed by your friends’ indifference to your output, great. I want to hear about it, and about how you maintain your cheerful attitude. If you are a Feeler, who leads with your emotions, don’t censor yourself for fear of sounding whiny. Expressing the full range of your emotions, whatever they may be, is vital to self-understanding and forging a deeper relationship with you work. That’s what I’m here for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Dr. O’Doherty:
My husband does not read the type of novels that I write. When I have a new
book out, he'll loyally begin to read it, but then eventually it will
languish by the bedside with the bookmark permanently lodged somewhere in
the middle. It's hard enough to try to sleep next to him when he's reading
my book, but it's even harder when he's not! I've told him that I prefer
that he not read my books at all, but he insists ... and then there it sits:
my novel, unfinished. I don't see any way around this painful situation.
Bookmarked

Dear Bookmarked:
This does sound like a very painful situation. If you are a Feeler (see above), it is hard not to experience your husband’s inability to finish your books as personal rejection. Without knowing you and your husband, it is impossible to assess the situation completely, but it doesn’t sound like this is the case.

Imagine that your husband lacks the gene for chocolate appreciation. You bake superb chocolate cakes. Despite your assurance that you would never want him to eat food that doesn’t appeal to him, he tries to eat your cakes, simply because you baked them and he loves you. However, he has a hard time swallowing and digesting them, not because they’re bad cakes, but because they’re not his sort of food. Yet he can’t bring himself to give up on them, because, again, you made them and he loves you. So the cakes sit around, in limbo. (Fortunately, books don’t go stale, at least not in the same way, so I can only stretch this metaphor so far.)

Try telling him that you appreciate the effort, but that it’s painful for you to witness his attempts to get through your books. Explain that it’s hard not to wonder which part he is reading and what he thinks about it, and that makes it difficult to concentrate on anything else. Ask him to help you by reading the books out of your sight, and not to let you know he’s reading them until he has finished. With luck, this will ease some of your understandable angst, while letting him off the hook, since he doesn’t have to read them if you’re not looking. And, who knows, maybe without the pressure of your attention, he’ll start enjoying them.

Susan O’Doherty, Ph.D., is a clinical psychologist with a New York City-based practice. A well-published author herself, she specializes in issues affecting writers. Send your questions to her at Dr.Sue at mindspring dot com.

Comments

[Susanne Dunlap]

What a great column again, Dr. Sue! I think the spouse-of-a-writer thing is fraught with pitfalls. I'd be interested in knowing if it's worse if the spouse is a writer him/herself. I had my own issues with my wonderful significant other, who, having heard me read aloud an early version of the novel, was distressed that I would change anything about it (he's not very critical). I really didn't expect him to read the finished product, but I came home one day and he was sitting in the big white reading chair with it, and had just snapped it shut after the last page. I was surprised at how pleased and touched I was that he actually took the time to read it and overcome his resistance to change. It surprised me a little, too, that I was probably more hurt by the idea that he wouldn't read it than I thought.

[Kate Maloy]

I find the distinction between thinkers and feelers very useful. I know I'm both, as most people must be, but I think it would help me to identify which I am at a given moment and consider whether I should try on the other hat for a while.

[Dr.Sue]

Susanne, I find your SO's attachment to your early draft very sweet! What a nice story. Thanks.

Kate, I love the idea of moving back and forth purposefully between thinking and feeling.

[Janni]

I'll echo others who feel that we're not so much all-thinker or all-feeler as a bit of both, though I'd guess the balance would differ from person to person. For me--I'm honored when friends read my work, but no longer expect or require or need them to. There was a time when this did bother me, but my perspective has (mostly) shifted.

I'd be interested in knowing if it's worse if the spouse is a writer him/herself.

I'm the spouse of another writer, and we do read each others' work--but then, we're also one another's first readers. I actually find living with another writer makes more things easier than it does harder in general, though I suppose this is a your-mileage-may-vary sort of thing.

[katharine weber]

Moving back and forth between thinking and feeling is one way of describing the process of writing, for me. Both are necessary, the organizing and motivating part driving the intuitive deeply creative part.
Completion depends on coordinating the two.

It is also a way of describing the very different process of being published, though there it is wise to stay on the thinking side if you can, because the feeling side is going to get trampled.

[patry Francis]

So much insight here as usual, Dr. Sue! My novel isn't out yet, but I honestly think I won't mind if my friends or family members don't read it. (Unfortunately)not everyone reads fiction, or the kind of stuff I write, or even reads at all, and I understand that.

What I DO mind and DON'T understand is that since my novel was accepted, some friends don't even mention my work at all. Recently, for example, my husband and I were out with some old friends who knew about the recent sale of my novel and had congratulated me at the time. But on this occasion, months later, their lack of interest--or even acknowlegement that I had a career-- was conspicuous.

I asked the usual questions about their work and listened with interest as they described various projects, but no one mentioned mine. Really, this experience, which has been repeated with several other friends mystifies me. I don't expect to be treated as someone special because I'm a writer, just that my work be
recognized as an important part of my life--like everyone else's is.

Is this envy? Are these people really my friends?

[Barbara W. Klaser]

My spouse sees my work before I show it to anyone else. He's the kind of guy who doesn't pull punches, and helped me train myself to take editing and criticism. But he's not as accepting of others' criticism of my work as I am, and sometimes I think the rejections of my work are more painful for him than for me. That's when he switches from thinker to feeler, I suppose.

I'm finding this idea useful. I know I started out as a feeler when sending my work out there, but I've learned over the years to put myself in thinker mode (though I get tossed out of it sometimes).

One secret I use is to keep old versions of my work---before any writer's group, editor or even spouse has had their hand in it. To me that's the baby, and I keep it safely tucked away, while others have at it with the edited version.

Tough review? You think that character's overwrought? You should see the version of her I keep in a drawer at home.

[Leora Skolkin-Smith]

Patry, I really relate to what you said. I think you really said it best (for me). That is, that when there is that almost a passive-aggressive silence among people you expected to be there for you--it's truly disturbing. But, here's the thing: so many friends and family surprised me with their incredible support once I was published--and this was so different than what I expected. And I cherished it. They might not have understood my work but they embraced it and that was all the support I needed, I think. You'll be amazed, I'm sure. Though when you're out with whoever and you have listened endlessly to their projects or writing and then it's your turn and there is that horrible "silence" about your work, that's what's difficult for me, too. But, then...these surprises come--from others you thought would never care or read it--a long time friend who I thought never cared actually showed up at my "opening" reading with a bouquet of roses--so look forward, also, to these moments. As for those who aggress through silence, I think I'm learning to shake them off and move on. And if people you expected to read your work completely ignore it, well...Life's too short, I'm learning, just keep moving, the world is filled with as many wonders as disappointments...

Happy publishing day, Patry! That is when the "Thinker" really comes out and evaluates everything and survives and even laughs, and the "feeler" stays inside, safely protected by her other "Self".

[Dr.Sue]

Wow, I may just hang up my hat and let you guys take over--such insightful, brilliant comments!

Patry, your friends' behavior is crazymaking--and of course, if you bring attention to it you run the risk of being labeled childish. But it's never really possible to know what's going on in someone else's head unless they tell you (and often not even then). Your friends could be envious, or intimidated, or awkward--I knew a writer whose father expected that once her book was accepted, it would be out on the shelves immediately, and took the long production process as a sign that something had gone wrong. As Leora says, wisely, maybe some of them will surprise you when the book comes out. I hope so.

Barbara, I love the idea of keeping the "real" baby home in a drawer and letting everyone have at the edited one!

And, Katharine, that is so interesting about "thinking" and "feeling" coming into play similarly in the publishing process.

Thanks, all!

[Dr.Sue]

Related to Katharine's comment, I received an email from author Alison Brennan, who gave me permission to post it here and use her name. I think it's a fascinating question and would love to read authors' responses:

"When I read your article, I had a related question, more of a wondering: how so "thinkers" and "feelers" feel about editor revisions? I, personally, love editor feedback and dive into revisions with enthusiasm. I'd be curious if other "thinkers" were the same way, and if "feelers" dreaded them. I have a good friend who is more a "feeler" and I know she cringes every time her editor wants her to change something."

[Kathie]

I'm somewhere in between the thinker and feeler. I write from a feeler perspective and there are packs of people whom if they didn't read my book I would be crushed. Most people, though, I view as reading my book as equivilent to watching them work. And most people don't want and never ask others to watch them work or care about their products.

However some jobs are in essence all about being watched: sports (both coaching and playing)acting, art, and writing among others. People involved in these fields, do it for the love of it. At least at some point in the journey and when it's expected that others will give a damn about your work, but your loved ones don't it feels crappy. Right? I'm in love with writing and of course dream of writing the book my friends and family couldn't bear to pass up, but my thinker side knows better.

Knowing this about myself doesn't make it easy to have people I love give my writing short shrift....luckily most people expect me to call them on it, we have a good laugh and they ignore the writing forever.

[patry Francis]

Leora:
"The world is full of as many wonders as disappointments." Can I copy this down and frame it, along with your implicit advice: why not focus on the wonders? Truly wise and thoughtful words as I've come to expect from you.

Dr. Sue: You are so right when you say that you can't know another's thoughts or feelings, and it is misplaced energy to try. You also made me realize: some of this MAY just be awkwardness, or old friends getting used to this new aspect of my life.

[katharine weber]

I am probably more of a feeler than a thinker in my deepest connection to my writing, but I do think I use both levels of connection when I write, and it is the interplay and connectivity between the two that make it work. To answer the question: I love a great edit. I really do. I feel all attuned and connected even more powerfully with my work when I am workng with a wonderful editor. At the same time, I am deeply frustrated and upset, probably too upset, by unintelligent and insensitive editing or copy editing.

[Dr.Sue]

Kathie, that's a really helpful distinction, between jobs that aren't meant to be seen and those that are. Thanks.

Katharine, yes, insensitive editing intensifies that feeling of being unseen/unheard that we all dread, doesn't it? It's horrible to have your voice mangled.

Patry, please keep us posted on your friends' responses. I'm rooting for flowers at the reading. BTW, have you picked a photo? (Click on Patry's name to see what I'm referring to.)