Rothko's Rolodex

Is a novel ever truly finished?


Finally

Finally, I told myself not to give up.

Keep on going, keep on doing it.

I’m 58 and I have been writing seriously for half a century. I keep going, I stop sometimes, it can be a few years. Back it goes. I am at the keyboard, doing, hoping.

I am too caught up in success, the prospect and the lack thereof. It is no wonder, where I grew up, where I am from. It is cultural, from the generations of Jews striving, in affluence or not there yet. At this point, it is quite possibly genetic. Worth in life = achievement and accolades and the attainment of commercial gain. That’s just it.

It should be for the joy, the fun – yes, I often find it fun – the practice. Craft. Do it for the craft! I try. I try.

I have known profoundly snobby and unhelpful jerks and also wonderfully generous people in the arts. I am grateful to all, for different reasons.

I am back at the foundation of AH HERE WE GO, a novel nascent 15 years ago, and then renewed with great vigor before the pandemic. I am so thankful for how that return to the manuscript came into being.

Things fell through. They fell through 28 years ago with my first book. The deal fell off the conference table at Grove. I’ve repeated the word “fell” three times; no accident there. I was devastated. In the future, other disappointments. It is par for the course, in the arts. Expect the crestfallen.

I am sweeping negativity out of the door, into the gutter and down the sewer with a garden hose.

I’m 58, I’ve not yet published. So fucking what. I’m good at what I do. I know it. Professionals in the arts (different industries) have told me so, sometimes unreservedly. So I have some exterior bolstering of my personal knowledge.

I was thick in the manuscript this afternoon. My printer snagged, and so I went here, to the cork board.

Writing is the best feeling ever. What happens after, in the course of bringing work forward, to the marketplace, does not feel good.

Update 12/17/2024:

I love what I do. I am not a failure.



5 responses to “Finally”

  1. Of the various praises and encouragements (along with the critiques) that I got when I was doing my MFA, the one that still sticks with me was a fellow student saying, after hearing a piece of mine, “I would read a book of that.” Not “interesting stuff” or “I like such and such a line” or “cool shit!” (or even laughter—though laughter is precious, let me tell you!), but “I would read that—if there were more of it.” Which continues to make me want to do just that: write more of it. He let me know (and I have never forgotten) that there was an audience of at least one out there besides myself—and if there’s one, there must be more.

    So I find myself wishing to say to you—not because you necessarily need the encouragement, but because it’s true: I would read a book of this. I hope it becomes available so I can do that someday.

    1. Wow. Thank you so very much for this wonderful comment. It is especially sweet and needed, given the place I’m in right now with it. You’ve inspired me to post on where I find myself in this process.

      1. This may have been clear, but just in case it wasn’t: by I would read a book of this, I meant your fiction. The missing of missing typewriter shops, the Jane who made everything, everything better and was eating then, the skin in jars.

        Though more writing about writing, or not writing, is always good too.

      2. Thank you, more than I can say. That italicized phrase means more than you probably know.

        Where I’m at right now, is this: There are a few versions of said book. I need to re-arrange the bolts of fabric. I may even change something very elemental. Bring a character back to life, use a plot device I normally would never consider. An agent suggested it, and now I think it would be fun. But would it be too much? Too many layers and flavors in the cake?
        Rhetorical questions. And to paraphrase another agent, I can’t plot for shit.

      3. Some thoughts on plot, in case you’re interested:

        Plot, schmot.

        In other words:  if your writing is rich, compelling, and alive on the level of the word, sentence, paragraph, then you don’t need a plot. And if it isn’t, a plot ain’t gonna fix it.

        Or, to give you my version of something I’ve heard G. Saunders say more than once:  You don’t need to get the reader to want to read the whole book.  You just need to get them to want to read the next sentence.

        I find myself wanting to read your next sentences.

        There are people who read mostly for plot, and people who read mostly for other things. I am one of the latter, and I tend to be suspicious of stuff that is too plotty—suspicious of the book, suspicious of the author, suspicious of myself.  When you said you couldn’t plot for shit, that made me more interested in your writing, not less.

        Keep in mind the caveat that I am someone who is writing a largely plotless (but not structureless) novel, and that my MFA was in poetry.  Oh, that explains a lot, I can hear someone saying.  Maybe, but it doesn’t make me wrong. 

        For me it’s structure that matters, on all scales of the work.  But of course there are so many things that can shape a book: time, space/place, the evolution and development of ideas, tone, repetition and variation, relation to the page, sometimes completely arbitrary things that the book makes meaning out of. (These are the things that I’m working with on my project, anyhow.)  And yeah, plot can structure things too, but it’s far from the only way. 

        All of that said, your playing around with plot and form and characters sounds like a lot of fun.   

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About THIS BLOG

My purpose here is simple. I wanted a cork board for new work. I finished writing a novel a few years ago, and tabled it for reasons irrelevant here. My characters have more to say, so I’m back at it. One of the best parts of writing is when a character speaks through you. I am editing the whole schmear, titled AH HERE WE GO, on a private platform.

L’Chaim, To Life.

Anne Isacowitz Scarvie

“Grace to be born / And live as variously as possible.”
Frank O’Hara

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