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Dear Dr O'D,
Once I started publishing my books, I started getting invitations to join various writers' groups, some large and official, others small and social. At first I thought I should just accept all invitations, that it was the obviously right thing to do, a privilege I had earned. But after a while I began to feel all kinds of conflict and doubt. There seems to be an expectation that any writer who can be defined in certain ways (whether those ways are geographical or sexual orientation, or concern the subject and nature of the books) should admire and support every other writer who matches that description.
Southern lesbian writers, gather over here for mutual praise and admiration! Very literate black men, unite and share your intellectual strength! Cancer survivors, over here, rape survivors, over there, divorced Jewish women with well-developed irony, right this way for your respective mutual support strategy meetings!
So here's my problem. I am kind of a loner by nature. That's why I write, and that's how I write. I don't necessarily like or admire, or even want to know, lots of writers who fall into my cohort. Yet I want to be successful, and I want to do whatever I can to promote my books. But this back scratching and networking seems to require a kind of phony "rah-rah for the team" kind of pose that makes me uncomfortable, even though everyone else seems to do it effortlessly. Sometimes it feels okay to write a blurb for another writer, but often I don't like the work, and I feel that there is this expectation that I will offer support because we are both (fill in the blank). I don't want fake support for my books from my fellow (blanks) either, though it would apparently be easy enough to garner some.
How can I even figure out what I really feel about this when there is so much pressure on me (from my friends, my family, my agent, my publisher) to be "out there" for the book? There may be economic issues at stake here (my future success), not just my own comfort over any given dinner, or reading, or blurbfest. How do I find dignity on this compass as it spins around?
Not Really a Team Player
Dear Not:
People who write books are usually “not team players.” As you suggest, many authors are drawn to writing books, rather than reporting for a newspaper or being part of a television scriptwriting team, in part because of the solitary nature of the work. In addition, most serious writers resist the push to ghettoize their work according to such obvious, superficial categories as the ones you name.
T. Myers, Leora Skolkin-Smith and Tess Gerritsen have written eloquently on this blog about the perils of having their work classified according to the racial or ethnic group they happened to be born into. Given their experiences, one would be forgiven for wondering why writers would elect to segregate themselves in this way.
In today’s competitive publishing environment, though, authors are called upon with increasing frequency to act as their own publicists. This can entail stepping outside of your comfort zone for the sake of your career. Many writers find such tasks onerous, but few can escape them entirely.
There is nothing undignified about using an organization whose ideals you support, and whose members you are comfortable being grouped with, to promote your own work. The experience of “selling out” comes when you betray your ideals and standards in order to sell your books. This betrayal can take many forms, but as I understand it, two of the most common are shoehorning yourself into a category you don’t really fit into in order to be taken up by a powerful or prestigious organization, and offering false support to writers whose work you can’t admire, in the hope that they will reciprocate.
We all have our own attitudes toward self-promotion, and actions and affiliations that constitute healthy assertiveness for one writer can translate as inexcusable pandering for another. The boundaries are different for each of us, but we all know when we have transgressed them. No amount of positive publicity is worth this battering of your artistic soul.
If you can find an organization that fits without too much pinching and shoving, though, there can be tremendous advantages to joining. A group for women playwrights of color became a lifeline for one of my clients. She had felt alone in the issues she faced in getting her work produced and seen. The group provided invaluable support, both emotional and material—they shared news about venues and helped one another with publicity, and they held gripe sessions that revealed common struggles and forged lasting friendships.
From your letter, it doesn’t sound as though you have any desire to use these groups to connect socially with other writers, but consider whether one or two of these organizations might be useful to you professionally.
When you are invited to join one of these groups, look over the membership list. Are there members whose work you admire and identify with? If not, you are probably better off declining, even if the descriptive prose fits you perfectly and you are sympathetic to the group’s ideals.
Keep in mind that the purpose of joining and participating in such a group is to derive some benefit from it, not to serve as a booster for a particular segment of the population. If members of your particular ethnic, gender orientation, or other group are being marginalized or discriminated against, of course you want to support and defend them. But there are other ways to do so that don’t involve compromising your professional standards.
If you do find a group whose membership appears to be artistically congenial, I would suggest that you explore membership. What are the requirements? Can you simply pay your dues and regulate your own level of participation? Or will you be expected to attend gatherings, provide blurbs, and otherwise involve yourself socially and professionally with people you may not like and whose work you may not approve of?
Whatever the requirements, tread cautiously. Attend a meeting or two. Gauge the actual climate, as opposed to the one presented in the literature. Are the gatherings easy and collegial, or brisk, hierarchical, and businesslike? Which style are you more comfortable with? Are the illustrious members you are eager to associate with present in person, or just on the letterhead? Are members truly appreciative and supportive of one another’s work, or is it all, in your words, “back scratching” and "rah-rah for the team"? Consider what the group can do for your career, and how comfortable you would be promoting the work of other members. Even more important, pay attention to your intuitive reaction. If you find yourself fighting down the urge to bolt, the group is not for you, regardless of its theoretical benefits. You may wish to keep exploring until you find the right “fit.” Or you may decide that the costs of group participation outweigh the benefits, and that you would be better off promoting your work through individual readings, interviews, and the like. In either case, try not to judge yourself, or others whose choices may be different from yours. The world of book publishing is changing rapidly, and everyone involved is struggling to define their place in it.
Susan O’Doherty, Ph.D., is a clinical psychologist with a New York City-based practice. A fiction writer herself, she specializes in issues affecting writers. Send your questions to her at Dr.Sue at mindspring dot com.
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