May 25, 2006
Yes, twice in one day. I was just over on MJ Rose's Buzz, Balls & Hype blog reading Elizabeth Benedict's post about THE BIG LIE, and it hit a nerve. (Also, the earlier post took on a life of its own that I wish it hadn't, so I'm jumping up and down waving my arms over here, here, here...) She said, in part:

"To get back to that Big Fantasy that makes our pulses quicken: When I find myself slipping into the clutches of it, I remember the wise, cautionary words of Andrea Eagan, a dear friend -- to me and many writers -- who died at 51, in 1993. She was a wonderful journalist and a founder of the National Writers Union in the 1980s. I remember saying dreamily to her and her actor husband Richard, "When my ship comes in..." They interrupted me fast: "Forget about the ship. It will be a series of small dinghies that'll come your way."

Twenty years later, I can report that we were all correct. In publishing seven books, I've watched a dinghy or two or three come ashore. In other years, about other books, agents and publishers have told me that the ship would be here soon. Now I see it's not nearly so simple.

My fourth novel, ALMOST, got great early reviews and was the lead review in the NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW -- my ship, at long last! -- on Sunday, September 9, 2001. By 10am the morning of September 11th -- well, you know the rest... But here's the part you may not know: Because of its subject, ALMOST had an amazing afterlife. It became a book that people turned to after the horrors of 9/11, because it was about a single sudden death. It was the first novel NPR's Maureen Corrigan read after 9/11, and she raved about it on "Fresh Air" a week later. In paperback a year later, it was a national bestseller. Was it a ship or a series of small boats? I'm still not sure.

The questions I often ask myself -- the questions I now have the years and authority to answer for you -- are these: With all this uncertainty, all these high stakes horse races, how do we keep going? How do we pick ourselves up from crummy reviews, no reviews, no boats of any kind bobbing in the water, an agent or an editor who behaves as though she's trying to break up with us?

The answers are not easy or comforting, but maybe there's something in them. If you're meant to write, you'll keep writing. It's your job, not your vacation. It's your marriage, not your honeymoon. Stop gazing out the window at the water. Ask for help. Rage at the universe. Rewrite till your fingers nearly fall off. Remember what Henry James said long before laptops, Spell Check, and the movie deals he didn't lived to see: "We work in the dark. We do what we can – we give what we have. Our doubt is our passion and our passion is our task. The rest is the madness of art.""

Damn. She's right, right? I often am very happy with the little dinghies, as long as there's enough of them. But I do, from time to time, realize, Hey, I either need a vacation or a BIG HIT. My BIG HITS probably aren't all that BIG, but to an ant, your tennis shoe is the Matterhorn, so all things being relative...

Best,
Mark Terry