Friday + Dr. S O'D = Writers Therapy
I occasionally give workshops and seminars in my Brooklyn Heights office on topics of interest to writers. If you would like to be notified about upcoming events, email me at Dr.Sue at mindspring dot com.
Dear Doctor O'D,
I am a writer of what gets called "literary fiction." I have a relative who has written numerous works of fiction, with far more titles in print than I have—but her novels have all appeared in paperback and fall under the heading of "popular fiction." Many of them were written under another name for a formatted romance series.
Here is my dilemma. While I manage to maintain a facade of respect and enthusiasm for her work, the truth is, I really have no respect at all for what she does. It galls me, secretly, when people put us together as the two writers in the family, making no distinction between the seriously crafted work I produce and the superficial, poorly-written pages she produces. I can admire her energy and enthusiasm, and I recognize that she is as dedicated to her work, in a sense, as I am to mine, but deep down, I disdain her work as shallow and unimportant and just not very good, even for what it is. Were I to be honest about it, there would be terrible and painful consequences.
Is there another way to think about this?
Signed,
The other novelist in the family
Dear Novelist,
There are a number of ways to think about this issue.
One has to do with the rivalry between writers of “literary” and “commercial” books.
Better women than I have perished in these treacherous waters, and I am not about to plunge in. I do, though, want to mention two psychological principles that may be useful for writers to consider:
∑ Similarity between warring groups. Erik Erikson observed that the intensity of enmity between groups of people is often in direct proportion to their resemblance to an outsider. Erikson was referring specifically to ethnic identity, but the explanation he proposed—that we find the surface likeness so unbearable that we emphasize and exaggerate minor differences to distance ourselves definitively from the despised group—is applicable to a broad spectrum of relationships. This tendency to turn on those who would seem to be our natural allies can be exploited by third parties who benefit from keeping our attention and aggression focused on one another (e.g., the Mommy Wars; European manipulation of colonized peoples in Rwanda and Burundi; or the situation of the working poor in the US).
∑ Cognitive dissonance. This term has entered the popular lexicon as a synonym for “noticing that things don’t make sense,” but it is actually a precise psychological description, introduced by Leon Festinger, of the discomfort we feel when we hold two conflicting thoughts or attitudes, and the gyrations we perform to reconcile them. One subset of cognitive dissonance theory is known as the “effort-justification paradigm,” and holds that the more difficult, arduous, or even degrading the process of attaining a goal is, the more valuable and important the goal is held to be, independent of its intrinsic worth or external rewards.
Enough said about that.
Another facet of your situation is, of course, is the mortification of being lumped with others whose work you believe is inferior to yours, regardless of genre. Ann Radcliffe and Emily Bronte both wrote Gothic novels; Edward Bulwer-Lytton and Edgar Allan Poe wrote crime stories with an occult tinge; and Jane Austen and Georgette Heyer both penned Regency romances. We know who we think the “real” writers are, but in a field that necessarily lacks definitive criteria for excellence, and in a culture that equates fame and monetary success with merit, the argument that the superiority of your work places it in a separate category from that of your relative is likely to be met with incomprehension.
Finally, there is the question of family dynamics. Families are notoriously incurious about what their members actually do for a living. They are more focused on discovering the ancestral source of the unusual shape of your nephew’s nose; on recounting for a new audience the story of the time you wet your pants during the second-grade play; and on ferreting out the details of your cousin’s acrimonious divorce. If you are neither part of the family business nor broke and homeless, most family members are glad to assign your job to an easily recognizable category, such as “doctor,” “writer,” or “custodian,” and move on to the really important stuff.
So, yes, it is galling to dedicate yourself to perfecting your craft and expressing your most deeply held beliefs and feelings, only to be pigeonholed with a relative whose work you think is shoddy and whose methods you can’t respect. But you’re right; there is no way to address it without causing even worse problems. (In fact, I would bet that your relative has already intuited your feelings and is sitting on some feelings of her own. Do you really want to unleash those?) Try to think of the fiction that your books are equivalent to hers as a part of the fabric of social lies that keeps family get-togethers manageable, akin to “This pie is delicious!” and “I just love your new couch,” and look elsewhere— to your readers, discriminating friends, and your own critical judgment—for validation of your work.
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.
Novelist:
I just wonder why you let this matter to you. If you do great work that you enjoy, then that's great. Who cares if people view all fiction as similar? I wonder if this has less to do with your relative and more to do with how you feel about your work.
Feel joy and pride in what you do and don't let what others say have so much meaning. What if you embraced your relative's writing? While the words may not be so finely crafted, I bet there are aspects of what she does that are difficult and require great skill.
Posted by: Lisa Haneberg | September 08, 2006 at 01:41 PM
"Families are notoriously incurious about what their members actually do for a living. They are more focused on discovering the ancestral source of the unusual shape of your nephew’s nose; on recounting for a new audience the story of the time you wet your pants during the second-grade play; and on ferreting out the details of your cousin’s acrimonious divorce."
That made me laugh out loud! So true! Annoying but true!
Posted by: The Happy Feminist | September 08, 2006 at 05:27 PM
"Jane Austena nd Georgette heyer both penned regency romances. We know who we think the "real" writers are..."
Oh, do we? Is this an either/or situation? What if we think they are both real writers?
I wonder if the writer in this question has considered what his cousin feels about the matter. Maybe she spends all her time at family get-togethers biting her lip from saying her relative's work is nothing she would ever willingly read and she has no respect or enthusiasm for uncommercial, unpopular fiction. maybe there is another family with a NASCAR star and a chauffeur where they feel uncomfortable at both being lumped into the category of "drivers."
I suspect that the lit writer's real chagrin is not that they are both called writers, but that perhaps members of his family have told him that he ought to seek his relative's advice for info on how to get "far more titles into print." Obviously, they are following two completely differnt publishing paradigms. My guess is that along the line, Uncle Ned said "You know, you should talk to your cousin, Sue. She's making bucketloads. Why don't you write more books like hers?"
Posted by: Diana Peterfreund | September 09, 2006 at 09:55 AM
I think that the last comment by Diana P. comes close to the key issue but let me hit the nail on the head: If Literary Author wasn't feeling ENVY of some kind toward the accomplishments of her relative who writes romance "crap" then she wouldn't be worrying about how to handle her true feelings of contempt and disrespect.
While she is conscious of her contempt, she is not conscious of why she can barely contain it. And I would suggest it is because there is something her relative has/ is getting from her writing that she doesn't/isn't--either materially, socially from the family, or psychologically.
Once she can own up to her disguised envy, she can either do what she needs to fulfill what she wants that her relative has, or decide to stop coveting it and let it go.
Posted by: Dr. Sanctimonious | September 09, 2006 at 02:46 PM
The part of Literary Author's letter that makes me dubious is the part where he/she says "I disdain her work as shallow and unimportant and just not very good, even for what it is. " Because by the tone of the letter, I think I'm right in assuming LitAuthor isn't a fan of romance, or even that familiar with the genre. I can buy that paragraph for paragraph, LitAuthor's work may be heavier with meaning and theme and deathless prose, but I'm not sure I buy that LitAuthor's qualified to say whether or not PopAuthor's books are good or bad within their given genre.
Also, what's wrong with shallow entertainment? You can't live by perfectly balanced, nutritious organic fare alone (or I guess you could, but it would get a bit boring). Sometimes, a person needs a little candy, or macaroni and cheese. Sometimes you want Godiva, and sometimes, you're in the mood for store brand Cocoa Puffs.
I think if LitAuthor tried to look at what PopAuthor does as serving a related, but different need, they might find themselves a little more understanding. PopAuthor might not be able to or interested in writing Literary fiction, but that doesn't mean LitAuthor could write a successful catagory romance, even if they wanted to. LitAuthor might be a "better writer" in a purely objective sense, but that doesn't necessarily mean that PopAuthor's work doesn't have its own merit or meaning or worth. That's kind of like putting down the Farrelly brothers because they're not the Coen brothers. They've got very different target audiences and goals, and the Farrelly aren't going to be winning Oscars any time soon, but that doesn't make them "not real film makers" any more than PopAuthor's not a real author.
There's a good chance PopAuthor looks at LitAuthor's work and thinks, "Boring, pretentious artsy writing about a topic I have no interest in." But both have done something the rest of the family (and most aspiring authors) never manage to do, and that's finish and sell their novels, and something both have every right to be proud of.
I bet Lit and Popauthor have a lot more in common than either thinks, and could learn from each other/commiserate/spend thanksgiving bitching about agents and sell-through and other writerly stuff that goes over the heads of every other family member, if only they could get over the knee jerk "Elitist Snob" and "Populist Hack" labels.
Posted by: romblogreader | September 09, 2006 at 06:38 PM
"I can admire her energy and enthusiasm, and I recognize that she is as dedicated to her work, in a sense, as I am to mine, but deep down, I disdain her work as shallow and unimportant and just not very good, even for what it is."
I think you should work on losing that qualifier, "in a sense." OF COURSE she's every bit as dedicated to her work as you are. That's why she keeps doing it.
You may loathe category romance (I'm assuming that's what she writes) and her books may be "shallow and unimportant" to you, but they obviously fill a need because people are reading and buying them. To you, they may be poor quality, but they're good enough to be published, and keep being published.
You should admire your relative's energy and enthusiasm. We all should; they're vital qualities. She believes in her work (which her fans can tell; they can spot phonies in an instant), and isn't turning out "shallow" commercial books because it's easier than being literary like you. She's doing it because this is the best and only way she can write. If she was called to write deep intellectual stuff she would. And then think how you'd feel at family gatherings!
You: "Hi Relative, how's the writing going?
Relative: "Oh, pretty well. Binky just got me a three-book deal with Knopf and I was asked to be a speaker at the PEN Center awards. How about you?"
You: Congratulations! That's fantastic. I just got done teaching at Rinky Dink Writers Retreat and the Bosnian rights were sold to my novel.
Relative: Oh, what good news. I'm glad you're doing well.
Uncle Ned: (to Relative) Saw your piece in The New Yorker. That was so incisive; it really got me thinking. (to you) How come you don't write for The New Yorker?
You: (falsely airy) Oh, just haven't gotten around to it. Sure has been wet lately, huh? (To self: Why is that condescending bitch always trumpeting her accomplishments? And why is everyone always comparing us, and rubbing my nose in my failure to measure up to her?)
Still annoyed?
Posted by: Bella Stander | September 11, 2006 at 10:40 AM
One more thing:
In 1855, Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote to his publisher, "America is now wholly given over to a d--d mob of scribbling women, and I should have no chance of success while the public taste is occupied with their trash-- and should be ashamed of myself if I did."
Posted by: Bella Stander | September 11, 2006 at 11:01 AM
One more thing:
In 1855, Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote to his publisher, "America is now wholly given over to a d--d mob of scribbling women, and I should have no chance of success while the public taste is occupied with their trash-- and should be ashamed of myself if I did."
Posted by: Bella Stander | September 11, 2006 at 11:04 AM
Bella, that's all so wonderful, I have nothing to add. :)
I read somewhere recently that intellectual snobbery is the outward manifestation of deep insecurity.
Posted by: Lauren Baratz-Logsted | September 11, 2006 at 02:27 PM
The Grumpy Old Bookman - http://grumpyoldbookman.blogspot.com/ - in a blog written on June 30 about Laurell K. Hamilton had these spectacular words to say: "...Second, may I remind you of a point made elsewhere on this blog, namely that it is a fundamental error, with moral implications, to think of fiction as a hierarchy, a sort of tower block, if you will, with literary fiction at the top and the 'lower' types of fiction tucked away in the basement. That is a concept which has no intellectual validity.
"The correct way to think of the various genres of fiction is as a street of many bookshops; and in this street there are no prime sites. Each shop pays the same business taxes as any other: all shops are equal. And the smart customer places her business in different shops at different times; to the advantage of everyone, most importantly herself."
Posted by: Lauren Baratz-Logsted | September 12, 2006 at 04:21 PM
Thank you all for your very smart and literate responses. One of the joys of writing an advice column for writers is that the people who respond tend to be writers, making the comments section fascinating reading. (Another joy is, of course, the occasional distinguished visitor from another field, like The Happy Feminist, one of my blog idols!)
Lauren, thanks for the wise quote from Grumpy Old Bookman. That's another one for the bulletin board!
I have to observe, though, that we don't actually know any more about the letter writer than the information contained in the letter. Speculation about the writer's insecurity or rivalry is fun (and natural for writers; filling in the story is part of our job), but the animosity could be based on other factors, including truly shoddy writing by the relative (and publication is no guarantee against that); resentment of being unseen by close family members (most of us have experienced this, I think); the writer having been educated to believe that certain types of writing are inherently declasse, or a host of other explanations. We don't know.
Please continue to speculate away--and, Bella, your script is hilarious, thank you!--but the social scientist in me is obliged to remind you that absent other data, speculation is all it is.
Posted by: Dr.Sue | September 13, 2006 at 08:37 AM
http://www.hugechoiceof.com/
Posted by: UYGU | May 08, 2007 at 10:32 AM