The author I went to see was Nashville resident Ann Patchett, who wrote Bel Canto. I haven't read it yet, but most assuredly I will, after her wonderful remarks.
Her lecture started at 1930, but not knowing anything about the location (David Lipscomb University), I got there about a half-hour early. And there was absolutely no one there. This happens to me a lot in Nashville, because I'm so worried about getting a bad seat, or getting lost, or not finding a parking place, and I never know how long it's going to take to me to get anywhere. I pretty much overplan every outing.
So I was standing there, kind of wondering if I was in the right place, double-checking the sign on the door that advised that the study of the Book of Corinthians had moved to another room for this particular night.
A woman came up and said, "Are we the first ones here?" She was very stylish and cool, had a copy of the Scene with her. I LOVE that about this town. People bring reading material practically everywhere -- restaurants, movies, lectures. We sit alone together and read.
But this woman and I sat a row apart and got to talking. Turns out she and her husband live about an hour outside of town and want to retire in a downtown condo. (They aren't just talking about it -- they've researched it and are making plans, even now.) So we discussed about why that's so great and why more people don't share our opinion about it. We discussed the downtown library (she's a librarian in her town!) and the master plan for Nashville's downtown. She's going to be at the downtown library for a meeting in early October and invited herself to see my loft! (You wouldn't believe how many people do -- "I really want to see it some day!" -- like it's some distant country or something.)
"I admire you -- you're an urban adventurer!" she told me after the lecture as we exchanged business cards. That made me feel great.
But, you say, what about Ann Patchett? Well, she was funny and down-to-earth and very smart. She lectured a little, read a little, then answered questions from the audience. Some of the questions were very technical -- obviously some of my fellow attendees are more sophisticated listeners than I. Typical audience question: "That scene had some interesting changes in perspective == can you tell us how you used the characters to ..." It was GREAT -- that's one of the reasons I can't wait to read the novel, because she gave some great insights into its development and execution.
However, by her own admission, Patchett's novels sound horrible. Bel Canto is about terrorism and opera in an unnamed South American country. Doesn't THAT just make you want to run to the Barnes & Noble? She structured the book like an opera ("a tenor, a soprano, the 'maid-ring' and the chorus"), which I never would have picked up on if she hadn't spelled it out for us.
She didn't know anything about opera when she started, and now she's completely addicted. (Patchett: "I try to convert people at parties. I feel like I should join a support group, where I stand up and say, 'Hi, I'm Ann, and I'm an opera junkie.' "Hi, Ann.") That's where we part company -- I don't like opera at all, but I do listen to the Texaco Metropolitan Opera Quiz, because I love to listen to the opera zealots. You have to hear it sometime -- these people quote opera like I quote "The Simpsons."
But I love the fact that she learned something totally new and really threw herself into it. That was the point of her lecture: research and discovery are part of writing. Don't write what you know, "unless what you know is unbelievably interesting. And most likely, it isn't." She said writing is sanctioned lying, so why wouldn't you make things up?
And I really love that she doesn't lapse into author-speak about characters writing the story. She said, "It's writing, not a psychological break. I create the characters." She just seemed eminently reasonable about writing -- really balanced about creativity and determination, in equal parts.
Audience question: "So do you write a set number of pages everyday? Or do you just wait for the muse to visit?"
Patchett: "The muse is dead. It's a job. Get to it."
She hinted what I have long feared: writing and running are similar pursuits. You have to do it when you don't feel like it. It's hard and painful. It feels so good when you've done it for a while. The thing is, I really suck at running. And I'm not sweaty, blotchy and disgusting after I've written for a half-hour. These are issues I have to work out on my own.
If you really want to write a book, here's what Ann Patchett advises:
- Read, read, read.
- Get rid of your TV. That means totally out of the house, not just unplugged or hidden in a closet.
- Then stop reading.
- Then sit in front of your computer for 15 minutes a day ... then 30 ... then an hour ... then two hours. "You'll be so desperate to hear a story, you'll write one."
Interesting philosophy. I wish step one were all it took.
So, a great night all around. But, I have to tell you, I came away from it a little cynical about the whole PR machine. Patchett admitted it herself: without her publicist, she wouldn't have sold as many books, and she probably wouldn't have won Britain's Orange Prize. More and more I realize that there's a very complex machine that determines which books, albums, concerts, etc. become successful. If you're really great, but don't have the machine working for you, the odds are definitely against you. I fully participate in the machine, I have learned. One of the publicity coups that Patchett mentioned: a panel discussion at Carnegie Hall with soprano Renee Fleming -- and featured on National Public Radio.
I'm just a pawn of public broadcasting.
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