(Posted May 21, 2010)
Year after year, I submit my work to various writing contests: Writer’s Digest Self-Published Book Awards, Minnesota Book Awards, Northeast Minnesota Book Awards to name a few. Year after year I think, with each particular book I’ve completed: “This is the year. The story is moving. The plot, quick paced. The characters, engaging. I should gain some recognition for this book.”
In the case of my latest completed project, Mr. Environment: The Willard Munger Story, I was certain that the folks at the Northeast Book Awards at UMD would recognize the work, effort, and solid writing behind a detailed biography of one of Minnesota’s quintessential politicians. They didn’t. Yet again, my work, for whatever reason, was found to be lacking. Couple this disappointment with slow book sales and a bloated negative balance sheet for Cloquet River Press, and this day seems intractable.
It also seems virtually impossible for a regional writer like myself to sustain his or her muse, to keep writing words that seem, at least to the author, to matter. Could I write a formula mystery and win awards and recognition? Doubtful. Mundane, easy to write, and even easier to read, genre fiction doesn’t interest me. I write to learn, to teach, and yes, to entertain. If I have a failing, it’s that I want to learn as much, working on each book, as I hope the reader does when he or she sits down to enjoy my work.
I know, I know. History is filled with examples of artists and writers whose works were ignored by the critics, whose legacy was posthumous glory. But, damn it, what the hell good does that do your ego, being recognized when you’re dead? I want to be read widely, to have the world beyond my little corner of Minnesota read what I’ve written, while I’m still around. So far, that hasn’t happened. Maybe it never will. Maybe I’m destined to be a self-published, regional author. Maybe that’s a fact I need to accept. But what then of forging ahead, of writing another novel that only a few thousand folks may read?
This morning, as my spirit curdled in sour disappointment, I came across the following quote from writing teacher William Zinsser. Look for a review of Zinsser’s book, Writing About Your Life, at the “Mark’s Reviews” tab on this website’s dashboard sometime soon (whenever I finish the book!). Zinsser’s wisdom bucked me up:
Separate yourself from cynics and peddlers of despair. Don’t let anyone tell you it won’t work.
William Zinsser
And that’s just what I intend to do.
Peace.
Mark
