I recently finished reading The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides author of Middlesex. I have to admit that the throughout the book I was depressed– probably because one of the main characters is clinically depressed. I don’t want to give away the ending, but I will say that I saw it coming. It felt like the author had known the ending before he even knew the entire story–which is fine. It does wrap-up nicely. Though I personally don’t like clean endings.
In any event, after reading it and talking to my friend who had suggested it to me, I mentioned how one of the main characters, Mitchell, seemed like he was probably based on the author himself and we talked about how the other character seemed very David Foster Wallace-like. Interestingly enough an article was written on that very idea about DFW, Eugenides, Franzen, and Mary Karr.
How their personal relationships played out is irrelevant to me (yeah, it’s kind of interesting, but not what’s important).
What I found vital from reading this is the concept of community.
Just like how Patti Smith and the like had community.
Just like how Andy Warhol and the like had community.
And so on and so on.
Community is what I’m missing.
I know that it’s here. Or it could be here. We just don’t utilize it. We need to push each other, to compete with each other, to critique each other. Instead of just going out and drinking every Friday night we should get together as a group and share our work. I need people. Smart people. Writer people. Artsy Fartsy people. I’m not getting any younger. I need to WRITE. And not just this blog, like actual stories.
It’s a major dilemma for me. It’s what I want to do, but it’s what I always put off the most. There’s a huge fear of failure, which is ridiciulous. I know I’m going to fail. I’m probably going to fail over and over again, but I’ll never fail at all if I don’t ever write anything. I just need to accept the fact that I will have a collection of really shitty stories. Amongst those, or after those, or at some point, there will be one that is good. At least one.
I need to immerse myself in it, the writing life. I need to do it all the time. Hours and hours of practice. I don’t know how the days go by so quickly or how I end up not spending as much time reading and writing as I’d like to, but all that needs to change. Even if it means less sleep. Less netflix. Less drinking. Less fucking around on facebook. Tis time to get my shit together and start doing what I actually want to do instead of fear-blocking myself.
Now, who wants to join me? We can be the next Breakfast Club of Artists. With, of course, a much better name.