Francisco's Journal an author discusses the art of writing

June 8, 2019

Growing Old

Filed under: Aging,Old Age,Solitude,Soul — Francisco Stork @ 9:32 am

When I retired from practicing law three years ago, one of the things I proposed to do was write in this journal on a more regular basis. Now, looking at the small number of entries, I wonder what happened to my early resolve. I have continued my life-long practice of writing every morning in my private journal (the one no one else sees) and so it is not for lack of words or ideas that there are no entries here. Why then?  This morning I came up with a possible reason — one that will do as good as any other. I am growing old. Now, in case you didn’t know, growing old does not happen all at once. It happens slowly and it takes some getting used to. I think that these past three years have been a transition into old age. And part of that process of transition involves a need for privacy and maybe a little bit of a dislike for the desire for attention and admiration that marked earlier periods of my life. Writing here in this public journal is, I would like to think, a form of sharing, but it is also part of that persona that I choose to project to the world. One of the most beautiful things about growing old is that the false aspects of this persona are gradually shed like a snake’s old skin in favor of a more sincere reflection of this mysterious being that I am. But it seems to me that this effort toward authenticity that I am encouraging in myself as part of growing cold, this effort needs a cool, moist, shady, private place – at least until the new skin is in place.

Growing old has not been easy. I’m just getting started in what I hope will be a long process. There is an incredible amount of learning and adjusting and accepting to be done. That process of “letting go” of illusions, images, things that we cherished, but are finding out are not all that essential, seems to be the first phase of the process. Inherent in this “dis-enchantment” is the sense that my voice and what interests me many times does not “jibe” with the strident, ranting, spirit of the age where rage is evidence of principled conviction. The second phase, the one that I am now hopefully entering into now, is the “old men ought to be explorers” phase that T.S. Eliot speaks of in his Four Quartets. Explorers of external geographies, sure, but most of all explorers of the soul, ours and others. Old age is a gift in many ways — the final opportunity for soul-making and character building. All through my life, I intuited that I was growing toward something. There was a restlessness in me that I channeled into different kinds of externally recognizable achievement. That restlessness continues into old age but the goal changes or, if I am fortunate, will disappear altogether. No longer to do but to be becomes the direction and the joy. And this is not to say I cannot yet still be useful to others with my work. But, increasingly, it is the work itself and not what I receive after it is complete, where I find fulfillment. Who knows, I may have a book or two left in me. But the books, if they come will be a natural blossoming of the soul work — a fruit of love. It is the growth of love that is the true work of old age.

January 10, 2019

My Self as a Brand

Filed under: marketing,self-promotion — Francisco Stork @ 8:01 am

These are some very personal reflections on the conflict between writing and the promotion and marketing of my work. I say “very personal” because the guidelines that I try to follow to balance the conflict may not be applicable to other writers. I have written seven novels for young adults, all published by mainstream publishers. If I were self-publishing, the considerations expressed here would probably different. Also, six of the novels were published while I earned a living as an attorney and the last one after my retirement and in receipt of a pension. Again, if my living depended on the sale of my work, some of what I say here would change. Maybe not all that much, but a little.

I use the word “conflict” to describe the discomfort that I sometimes feel with my promotion efforts, with the marketing of my books, which inevitably, in the case of an author, involves marketing not just the book, but the person who wrote it.

The bulk of the marketing work is done by my publisher, for which I am most grateful. Still, like all writers of young adult books, there is an expectation for me to do my part. My publisher has never asked me to do anything that I am uncomfortable doing so any discomfort that I feel in promoting is all subjective and it could be that I’m making too much of it or not seeing the process in the right light. It could be that this discomfort is a generational thing that is no longer felt in the young. Evolution is doing away with it along with other human oddities — humility, for example. Still, at 65, one learns to respect what is felt and to listen for what the feelings may be trying to say.

I take marketing to include all kinds of things that happen after the manuscript is complete and accepted for publication. Everything from the font used to the title, the cover, the reviews, the pitches to booksellers. My tweets and posts in social media (even this one) – all marketing. Sometimes, marketing’s whispery voice makes itself heard before publication, during the writing process. I may come to a crossroads in the story where the plot can go this way or that. Marketing: “Maybe this way would get you a few more readers. God knows you could use them.” How can that voice not speak or be heard? Marketing is in the air we breathe. There’s a “like” button inside my brain and it hungers constantly for a few more taps. A little more attention, a little more admiration. This is how marketing affects and “conflicts” with the creative process.

Like it or not, writing involves the creation of a “brand.” I take it a “brand” consists of the values the consumer associates with a company or product. For example, when I see a Subaru I now think of LOVE. (So far, knock on wood, when I think of love I don’t think of a Subaru, but it could happen.) When a reader sees a new book by, say, Gabriel García Marquez, a certain style of writing, certain concerns of the author, come immediately to mind. The associations may be so positive that we may buy the book not even bothering to read the description of the plot in the back of the book. A trust has been created between us and the author and we rely on it, act on it.

I would like to believe that over time those readers who read my work have come to associate good things with my name. That is my brand. I am involved in a commercial enterprise that requires some marketing on my part, some letting the customer know about the product. Because the product comes in some form or another from my essence, from who I am, my past, my experiences, my dreams and fantasies, my ultimate concerns, my purpose on earth, as I perceive it, it follows that the selling of the product includes the selling of me, my brand, who I am. Me. This flesh and blood human with flaws, hopes and despairs. Unless I write with a pen name, I don’t see a way around this. The branding of the self is unavoidable. The best I can do, if I’m so inclined, is to try to get the brand to approximate the true self, as much as that is possible. The best I can do is to try to align the perception by the consumer of who I am with who I am, truly. The conundrum happens this way: Who I am, who I truly am, includes the reason why I write, my deepest and truest motive. Suppose that the “why”, the ultimate purpose and concern of my creative act is not a desire to sell but the expression of an urge to create some kind of beauty and truth and maybe even do a little good, if at all possible. Given this, how does one promote and market and still remain true to these deep non-commercial values, the true essence of the brand, my self?

I don’t have a full answer. I struggle with the conundrum and maybe the struggle is at least the beginnings of an answer. The best I can come up in terms of practical guidelines is a kind of constant awareness for truth, a deep listening for the presence of excessive egocentricity, restraint at times. Sometimes, a careful choosing of when and what and how to talk about the book and the self. An honest search for aligning the brand with the true self. A daily reminding of the sharing inherent in the creative act, my ultimate purpose. Now this urge to create is not a solitary act but carries with it the energy to share with others and the two components, self-expression and communication are one whole, one movement of the soul, one energy. From the first crayon drawing we do in pre-school, we create for us and for others. So this is the struggle: to transform marketing from a taking to a giving. Always towards a giving. As much as this is possible.

November 11, 2018

Permission to Teach Freely

Filed under: Literature,Teaching,Teaching Literature — Francisco Stork @ 10:59 am

[Excerpt from keynote address: Utah Council of Teachers of English, November 9, 2018]

It strikes me that the question, why do we need to teach literature goes to the question of what it means to teach freely and the answer to that question is a kind of spiritual answer. For me, the simple answer to the question, why do we need to teach literature goes something like this: Because one does not live by bread alone.

Of course, that answer is not complete, is it? If one does not live by bread alone, then what does one live by? What do you live by? Here it is that you get to freely fill in the blank. I call whatever it is you fill in here something spiritual not because it is necessarily associated with any particular religion, although it can be, but because the response is a reality that lives in us, in our minds, in that complexity of being that is you and me. A spiritual reality, an invisible center, from which words and acts spring forth. To teach freely is to operate out of that invisible reality in the classroom and at the same time to recognize that literature gives young people the opportunity to discover that reality – to answer in their own unique way, what does one live by if not bread alone?

I think that to teach freely you need to accept that in your heart, deep in your heart, you know that there is more to teaching than just teaching a student what he needs in order to get the bread he needs to live. The problem that I see is that you are besieged by external constraints, you are forced to work under restraints imposed upon you by those who see the making of bread as the ultimate and only goal. To teach freely, you must operate under those constraints while those constraints are there, but you need not accept those constraints internally.

But the truth is that when the question: Why do we need to teach literature? was asked a few years ago, I did not speak freely. I was inhibited because in our modern world we are afraid to speak about truths that may be interpreted as religious, or as spiritual. We are more afraid of being cheesy and corny than we are of being vulgar. But what is worse: I did not see the place, the real place where that question was coming from. It wasn’t coming from someone looking for arguments he could use to respond to the job-secured colleague down the hall who was teaching kids how to enter code. I think the person who asked me that question wanted to know if he had chosen the right path. Maybe he was barely making his monthly mortgage payments and maybe he was hoping the old Honda would hold up another year and maybe his class had gotten below par scores as dictated by those who dictate such things, and maybe all he wanted was someone to say “Yes, you are needed,” and to thank him, to thank him, for the path he decided to take.

I think now that what the questioner wanted was permission to teach freely. Not my permission, because it is not mine to give. But I think he was looking for a way to give himself permission to teach freely. So that’s what I want to urge you to do today. Give yourself permission to teach freely.

Teaching English literature is what comes naturally to you and what you love and why you are here. Not just here today, but here on this here earth. When doubts or anxiety come, all you have to do is remind yourself why you do it or at least remember why you started doing it. Find a way to inject into your class what really matters to you, what burns you with curiosity and interest, your ultimate concerns.  If you have a choice, teach a book that has touched you deeply in some way. Be personal. Be creative and surprising within the constraints placed around you. Become a student along with your students asking questions and pointing the way rather than providing answers. Become an educator in the old Latin meaning of the word: e-ducare. To draw out. Rejoice in the ambiguity that good books create and draw out from your student responses that are uniquely his or her own. Create a space of trust in your classroom where students can speak freely about what they have read and how it intersects with their lives and aspirations, their fears. Give them permission to think, speak and write freely.

And don’t be afraid to see that the answer to the question as to why you do what you do, the only answer that will give you the energy and peace you need, is a spiritual answer. It is whatever you believe one needs to live on besides bread. Once you have that answer firmly in place, then you don’t have to talk about it. You can just carry it locked up in your heart. It will be a light shining within you. The beautiful thing about teaching literature is that your students will see and recognize and be affected by that light without you saying a single word about. If you have it, they will see it. Don’t worry about all the external restraints, all the ulterior motives. Play your game within the bounds imposed upon you. The writing and teaching of literature will go on in one form or another. I guarantee it. We do not live by bread alone. And literature will always be the manifestation of that truth. All you have to do is teach with joy and purpose and offer your work as a free gift to your students. The rest will take care of itself.

 

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