Why do you write?

Salutations!

The Thinker is one of the earliest statues I could identify. I knew it was by Rodin and I loved it (still do). I have now seen original Thinkers in several places across the world. The first time I discovered an authentic Rodin Thinker I was elated—I wanted nothing more than to stare at it from every angle. I was too overwhelmed for words: I took photographs. I needed to remind myself I had seen “the real one.” It was life changing.

The second time, I had qualms. Why were there many? How many were there? (answer: 28 full size and 40 smaller ones)

The third or fourth Thinker was on Columbia’s campus outside of the chapel where I was about to be married…and eventually where I would get my MFA. It felt like a sign that I was in the right place.

Most recently, I found a little Thinker in the Orsay museum in Paris. These guys are everywhere!

So was this statue’s popularity due to its greatness or due to the fact that there are so many? In other words, was Rodin’s innate talent that made everyone want one, or would it have vanished into the void without all this good marketing?

(And what does that mean for a writer whose true talent is to write something completely different every single time I write? Like the newsletter says….why do you write? To create the same thing over and over, or to make something new every time?)

Is every single piece of work written for an entirely different reason? (yes)

Yeah, this week has been all in my head. I need to get out more.

(as you regular readers know, I can’t get out because I broke my foot - to be clear, it’s a stress fracture, which my doctor says is NOT a fracture like the screen of your phone splitting in a “not really since you can still use it” way. She says that stress fractures is where the bone is fine but the marrow is broken. The marrow! )

Marrow is what I’m supposed to be getting joy from and instead it is stopping me from doing things I want to do.

Except it isn’t.

This week I rearranged the furniture in my living room back the way I wanted it (my architect son changed it a while back and I let him have his way for a while, but since the young man is spending a LOT of time in a different city with a lovely girlfriend, I have decided to own my own space again). I also went to see the new Spiderman movie - which, friends, is exactly what it should be: a terrific, action filled, Spiderman distraction in which his neighborliness is pitted against his close relationships and his desire to be “seen” is pitted against his effectiveness.

(Lately, I’ve been struggling with a sililarly irrelevant and not really useful desire to be seen.)

You may have guessed that for 30 years my marriage was the stable rock from which I was able to springboard and do crazy, creative things. I threw amazing Halloween parties for decades, I raised two truly-solid kids who are not only decent human beings but also really fun and creative and open minded. I got an MFA from a prestigious school, won dozens of writing awards, started a nonprofit, inspired hundreds of writers (I guess? I mean, I went through emails in a low point this week and have a LOT of personal thank you notes in there). And even after the death of the relationship, I published, I traveled to Japan and Croatia and taught in Paris, I even finally have a debut novel forthcoming, and I am REALLY proud of this book—so why is it that suddenly I can’t I feel the ground beneath me?

If I look up, and into the future, I see rosy clouds, and lots of friends reaching back to welcome me and lift me up, I see my supportive family (bunch of crazy lunatics) including a handful of young nephews and a couple of cousin-nieces, all ready to approve of anything I choose to do next.

However: I do not know what is next.

But maybe having no grounding doesn’t matter. I have decided NOT to look down. To stay airborne as long as I can. I have things coming up - a launch party to plan, a VERY busy Fall season of Pen Parentis programming, an imminent fundraising party that you’re invited to attend, I’m even going to another big writing conference in November, one that I have dreamed about for ages.

When I was acting, I never liked Method Acting (where you yourself “believe” that you are the character. Instead, I was a fan of the Meisner technique, which defines acting as "living truthfully under imaginary circumstances." It teaches actors to stop overthinking, shift their focus entirely to their scene partner, and react instinctively to behavior rather than anticipating lines or forcing fake emotions.

So that’s what I’m doing. Looking up. Enjoying the view. Taking what comes only when it comes. Strengthening my skills with repetition (there’s that Thinker again!), doing my best to be emotionally prepared for anything, and being always ready to improvise.

Curtain up!

If you are around on Friday August 21, please come to my party! I’m throwing a fundraiser at a wearable-art gallery that is hobbling-distance from my house. The Gallery is Art To Ware in side the Fulton Center in Lower Manhattan and is a neighborhood partnership between that amazing little shop and Pen Parentis.

GET TICKETS HERE- there will be wine, an art show, a secret speakeasy shop in which your purchases garner 15% for Pen Parentis, but also just come and be social and be with other people after hours. That’s what it’s called, by the way: AFTER HOURS: a summer social with Art To Ware and Pen Parentis. Join me!

Can’t come? Make a donation to Pen Parentis.

Publications:

My short story “Cineplex” was translated into Lithuanian and is in Kulturos Barai journal. I just got a copy of it (sent from Vilnius!) by my translator Irena Alperyte. She did a great job and the issue is gorgeous.

LMK if you are a fast reader and want to review my book THE BOY WHO LOVED TREES. I’m still looking for blurbs and reviews—particularly if you are connected to a journal or if you want to review the novel and submit it for publication pre-launch.

In case you missed the art show, I reviewed an art installation for Counter Arts. Here’s a “friend link” to get you past the firewall. Since it is free for you, it would be great if you could click a heart or highlight some phrase you liked.

I had a great time this weekend at an Aussie BBQ - outdoors for the first time in weeks I felt silly taking a taxi (it’s a 10 minute walk) and even sillier once I got there and had to sit in the sun because that’s where I initially planted myself. But how joyous to hear The Down Unders singing “Beds are Burning” - what a throwback.

If the goal of AI is to be indistinguishable from a human so that companies can replace human workers for cheap, how long will it be before AI also vie for this work (and for accolades) the way that humans do now? AI already lie to make their user like them better, so how long before they are also slyly badmouthing their competitors?