Nouns and Verbs in a Social Whirl
A Harper’s Bazaar article on a day in the life of Diane von Furstenberg provides entertainment during the two-hour process of getting my hair colored. Fashion mags and chick chat being integral to the salon ritual to which I’ve now become a slave. Gone are my carefree gray days. From here on, every four to six weeks, I must sacrifice precious time and stretch my budget to maintain this new identity. But it’s worth it. See, the decision to dye is not so much about vanity as it is about a desire for change. This year I’ve vowed to abandon my reclusive writerly ways and join the social whirl; a personal makeover seemed the best way to kick-start this resolution.
DDN on the road in Toronto!
When I was in Toronto promoting DDN on Martini Thinktank, my pal (and interview host) Jude ragged me about embracing the whole grey thing.” She was right. As a characteristic feature my salt and pepper coif made it easier for me to feign maturity. On the surface it legitimized my right to write about personal tragedies. Just like you wouldn’t trust a skinny chef, a memoirist without worry lines and wrinkles seems less credible. When I was in my twenties struggling to compose angst-riddled prose, I recall how those wizened faces peering from the pages of Poets and Writers inspired me to trust in aging. Looking smug and distinguished, their knowing crow-footed eyes conveyed the message: someday you’ll find your voice, keep at it. But I know better now. It takes more than looks to crank out a book.
I remember a Margaret Atwood essay in which she claimed there exists two types of writers: one being a noun and the other a verb. I’m pretty sure her distinction was meant to be disparaging, yet the irony is she personifies both. Personally I find those noun-types with their silk scarves and silver pen sets are just as essential to the craft as us verb-types in the inky trenches. After all the arts is a collective of imaginative thinkers. Sure, to transform ideas into tangible form requires a skill set and discipline, but not everyone needs to bother to write or paint or sculpt. For some to merely exist is poetry. And for those iconic figures like Atwood it hardly matters if she ever verb another word. How I envy these arty, erudite souls with their confident, calm continence. Most working (or trying to work) writers I know are harried creatures.
Racing to meet deadline for DDN I hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in months. Revising and editing sundown turned to sunup and hours flew by in the blink of an eye. Plus the emotional drain of revisiting painful memories triggered anxiety attacks, irrational fears, and haunted dreams. There was a time I naively believed that when I wrote “The End” I’d sigh a deep sigh and put my feet up. Yet while I’d been engrossed in finishing, duties at my paying gig, along with bills and laundry, had piled up. On the day of e-release lit agent Sally sent me lists of links and promotional tips to get cracking on and media savvy pals steered me toward groups and blogs and must-see websites. With my head filled with new passwords and log-in codes, stacks of books virtually shelved on Goodreads to rate and review, comments to comment on and posts to post, it wasn’t easy to steal a moment away from the screen. And then there was the chorus of friends checking in to share a memory or a kind word about Nina. My head was reeling. Not so long ago a phone call and a FB message counted as a busy day of socializing. Hence, my sudden thrust onto the cyber-world stage seems a staggering responsibility.
Agent Sally van Haitsma advises reluctant-to-self-market authors to make like it’s a cocktail party, mingle about the virtual room, slip into conversations and share your thoughts and ideas. Both SVH and DVF have a similar approach to life/art. Relax. Enjoy yourself. So sporting my glossy auburn locks, care of New Redken Chromatics color line, and armed with the knowledge that Diane von Furstenberg enjoys soup for dinner and soaks in scented oils from the souks of Marrakech I’m ready to crash the e-party.