Thanks Jack for your wonderful speculative fiction contribution as part of the Summer Read, and to Australian fiction in general.

As part of the free Summer Read events across Victoria, Jack Dann and Dreaming Again authors will be appearing at:

Nunawading Library, 379 Whitehorse Road Nunawading on Wednesday 18 February, 2009 7.00 – 8.30 pm
For more information phone Nunawading Library 9873 5638 or book online at http://summerread37.eventbrite.com

Vote for Dreaming Again or SMS DREAMING to 13 46 88

It’s been a fast week for me; and now it’s Tuesday, the last day of my blogging on the Reading Victoria site, and I’ve been musing a bit about the writer’s life…my own life.

I’ve been writing an autobiography for the past thirty years. It’s first incarnation was called “A Few Sparks in the Dark,” and it was published in a magazine called Starship and a volume entitled Literary Masters. Later, at the request of Contemporary Authors, I revised and expanded the earlier work for their autobiographies series.  I found myself collaborating with two vaguely familiar past selves who called themselves Jack Dann. I called the revised autobiography “Sparks in the Dark,” and in 2007 Contemporary Authors asked me to write an update. That update turned into 15,000 words, which Contemporary Authors kindly accepted…and paid me as if it was an entirely new work. (A blessing on their heads!)  I called the last incarnation “Insinuations.”  The autobiography is due to be published as a limited edition hardcover by PS Publishing in England, and it will be called Insinuations.

As the limited edition has not been published yet, I would not put any of that material on the net, but I wrote an autobiographical introduction to my short story collection Jubilee. I thought “Out of the Blue” might be interesting to friends and readers. (I posted my afterword “Slip Me a Fiver” earlier. So now you have the front and back of that collection.)

I’ve enjoyed blogging. Thanks for all your feedback. And now back to that peculiar profession of being a writer, which means, alas, actually having to write!

Here is a small bit of autobiography…”Out of the Blue.” Seems like a nice way to end my blogging here.

Cheers!

The following acknowledgement must accompany the article or appear in the acknowledgment page: “Out of the Blue” by Jack Dann. Copyright © 2002 by Jack Dann. First published as the preface to Jack Dann’s retrospective short story collection Jubilee, 2002. All rights reserved by the author.

I dreamed of being a writer when I was in high school, and I clearly remember thinking that once I became a writer, I’d be…rich, and I’d have a limousine and a driver. Ah, the delusions of youth.

I almost died when I was in my 20’s. I was in hospital and was given a 5% chance of survival. The days and weeks and months were a series of stop-motion slides of agonizing pain and ice-blue Demerol dreams, pain, bliss, pain, bliss, and during the Demerol highs, I would ask my nurse for ice; I would place my hand in the ice and dream of “The Blue Country,” a place of ice mountains and constant blue twilight, my own metaphor for lonely peace and death.

After months of fighting for my life on a terminal ward where my friends died and the patients formed a secret club of those traversing the blue country, I began to recover. On my tray table beside the bed, I kept a copy of Ernest Hemingway’s memoir of his youth in Paris, A Moveable Feast; and it became like a talisman for me. When I was too ill even to consider reading, I would put my hand on its cool covers…as if I could become a writer by osmosis. Later, I would read a passage or a page and enter Hemingway’s life, enter what the French author Jean Dutourd called the life of art. I associated books with life, with the juice and joy of being alive, and I felt…I felt that I had, in a sense, died and come back. I’d been given a second chance. And somehow that gave me the courage to take chances, live on the edge, live my dreams. I wasn’t afraid of failure. For a while, I wasn’t afraid of anything!

Thirty years later and I’m still living the dream, writing, stretching, reaching for that elusive, perfect image, living fast and hard and hot, and sometimes—when I’m sitting in front of the CRT screen and reaching for those images—I’m not afraid of anything.

#

The stories that follow are living bits of my experience and memory…alchemical distillations of my fantasies, dreams, and nightmares. They are the fictional flesh of my musings.

Magicks…

And if I’ve done something right, some of their magic might come alive for you…become part of your experience and sense memory

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Finished a short story (and sent it out!), removed nails from decking on the farm, made a Moroccan-style chickpea stew…ah, the glamor, the romance of being a writer.

As I’ve got ever-more deadlines to meet, and it’s getting late (a thought that often shivers through this writer’s mind), I thought I might share a few quotes from one of my favorite compendiums: The Literary Life & Other Curiosities by Robert Hendrickson. I’ve had it in my library for some twenty-five years, and every once in a while I peruse it for a chuckle.

Here’s my favorite critical revelation:

“I never read a book before I review it; it prejudices a man so.”

–The Reverend Sydney Smith (1771-1845)

And here are some words by great men to give us all who toil in the spiny fields of, er, literature a bit of a backache:

“I hate books; they only teach us to talk about things we know nothing about.”

–Rousseau

“Books are fatal: they are the curse of the human race. Nine-tenths of existing books are nonsense, and the clever books are the refutation of that nonsense. The greatest misfortune that ever befell man was the invention of printing.”

–Benjamin Disraeli

“Literature is the orchestration of platitudes.”

–Thornton Wilder

And here is a standard rejection slip suggested by the author and editor Don Gold. This appeared in the New York Times Magazine:

Dear Writer

Thank you for giving us the opportunity to read your manuscript. It is being returned to you because:

[] This is dreadful, unpublishable and an affront to civilization. Burn it.

[] This is just plain mediocre. Sorry.

[] This carbon is too mess for me to deal with.

[] This Xerox copy is an affront to me.

[] There is too much intelligence inherent in this work for me to comprehend. In self-defense, I am returning it.

[] When I told your agent that I would be happy to read your work, I was not telling the truth. Forgive me.

[] Life is a wearying experience. I am too exhausted to give this manuscript the attention it may deserve.

[] Your information is great; your prose is unreadable.

[] With my problems, I can’t concentrate on your manuscript. Don’t nag me now.

[] I am important and you are not. Call me when you’re famous.

[] I don’t like this, and I don’t know why.

No…I never used the above rejection slip, although there were times…

And one last happy quote:

“It took me fifteen years to discover I had no talent for writing, but I couldn’t give it up because by that time I was famous.”

–Robert Benchley

Happy dreams, all ye readers, writers, anthologists, critics, and reviewers…

Jack Dann, editor of Dreaming Again is next to blog on the Summer Read blog from 20 - 24 February.

Jack Dann has written or edited over seventy books, including Junction, The Man Who Melted, The Memory Cathedral, and Bad Medicine. He is also the editor of the anthology Wandering Stars, and is a recipient of many awards, including the Nebula Award, the Australian Aurealis Award, the World Fantasy Award and the Ditmar Award.

Dreaming Again is one of the books on the Summer Read shortlist.

Following the success of Dreaming Down-Under comes Dreaming Again; a compilation of 35 short-stories celebrating Australian science-fiction and fantasy writing. This captivating collection features both acclaimed international bestsellers and fresh new voices on the speculative fiction scene, covering science-fiction, fantasy, horror, Aboriginal fantastical fiction, and mainstream magical realism.

As part of the free Summer Read events across Victoria Jack Dann will host a conversation panel of sci-fi and fantasy writers Trudy Canavan, Adam Browne and Cecilia Dart-Thornton at:

Nunawading Library, 379 Whitehorse Road Nunawading on Wednesday 18 February, 2009 7.00 – 8.30 pm
For more information phone Nunawading Library 9873 5638 or book online at http://summerread37.eventbrite.com

What Jack says about summer reading

“It really is summer again.
Time to sneak away and…read.
I want to reread E. F. Benson’s coy and cozy Map and Lucia trilogy and P. G. Woodhouse’s exquisitely silly Jeeves novels. I want to take another look at Margo Lanagan’s Tender Morsels and try to figure out how the hell she did it…and I want to finish The Gnostic Gospels, read the Folio editions of Dante’s Inferno and Purgatorio, illustrated by Blake and Dali respectively, and the last two volumes of Robert Burton’s The Anatomy of Melancholy. I’ve also got my eye on Hilary Mantel’s historical novel A Place of Greater Safety and Anathem by Neil Stephenson. I’m going to read a lot more science fiction and fantasy, and I think I’ll reread Henry Roth’s 1934 stream-of-consciousness masterpiece Call It Sleep.”

Thanks Jacinta for your interesting thoughts on the writing process.

As part of the free Summer Read events across Victoria, Jacinta will be appearing at:

Warrnambool Library, 25 Liebig Street Warrnambool on Friday 13 February 2009, 6.30 – 7.30 pm
For more information phone Warrnambool Library 5559 4990 or book online at
http://summerread22.eventbrite.com

Gisborne Library, Hamilton Street Gisborne on Thursday 19 February 2009, 7.00 – 8.30 pm
For more information phone Gisborne Library 5428 3962 or book online at http://summerread27.eventbrite.com

Vote for Dissection or SMS DISSECTION to 13 46 88

Several of my fellow bloggers have mentioned some of the difficulties of writing. Can I preface what I am going to say with the observation that writing is difficult, but I think there are many other jobs that are more difficult and perhaps less rewarding. I’m not talking about financial rewards here, but rather the realisation that, despite all the predictions to the contrary, books still really matter to people.

I would like to be able to tell you that writing Dissection was a breeze, but that wouldn’t be true. I would like to pretend that I knocked it off at night, after a full day in the clinic, and that it was finished in a year. But that’s not true either and, since it seems I’m in the mood to make a full confession, I can also tell you that there were several times when I was close to giving up on it and returning to full-time general practice instead. So what’s my point here? I guess it’s this: that for reasons of bravado or for living up to some ‘creative’ stereotype, I’d like to say that writing a novel was easy and the words and ideas just flowed naturally, but the reality is that it was slow and hard and often demoralising. (I think the subject matter of my novel didn’t help in this regard: those of you who have read it will know it’s fairly heavy stuff). But that’s the end of the bad news. The good news is that, through this sometimes grinding process, I learnt something valuable: you need to trust your instincts but, more importantly, you need to persist. It’s blindingly self-evident really, but as a first-time novelist with no claim to fame, you are the only person on the planet who is really going to care (and I’m talking here about that deep personal level to do with self-identity and life goals) whether your novel ever gets finished, let alone published. Of course you can be blessed, like I was, with a supportive mentor, great colleagues and a wonderful spouse but even they are unlikely to be shattered if you set your unfinished novel aside for a year or two. So, as Carolyn Landon has already pointed out, persistence is key. Rework until you’re satisfied. If you really can’t face it, then put it away for a while but come back to it with renewed energy and determination. Keep going until you know it’s finished. As I said, it seems self-evident, but it’s all a bit like childbirth: people can tell you it’s going to be painful and exhausting and totally worthwhile in the end, but you can’t really understand until you’ve actually done it.

I’ve already alluded to the subject matter of Dissection. I’ve been asked a few times if the novel is autobiographical. It’s not, though I have brought to it my experience of being a GP. I need to quickly add that I’ve filtered out all the positives (and there are many) and only included the negatives – the worries and insecurities and frustrations. So please don’t think all GPs feel as embattled as Anna McBride does!

While writing Dissection, I thought a bit about the connections between medicine and writing. They may not seem immediately apparent but I do think they exist. Arnold Zable has already talked about the need for writers to be attentive listeners. GPs also do a good deal of listening to their patients. You might think that listening to a patient talk about their sore foot is not really the stuff of great literature. But there’s another kind of listening that occurs at the level of the psyche and tells you something more than the words the patients says – that, I think, is something writers do as well.

Listening also ties in with observation, a skill that both writers and doctors value. Doctors closely observe body language, mannerisms and physical characteristics to aid with diagnosis. Writers do it to flesh out characters, to make them real.

There’s also a sense of responsibility that comes with both writing and doctoring, though you’d have to say that, perhaps with the exception of the fatwah against Salman Rushdie, the consequences are usually greater for doctors if something goes wrong or offends in some way. Nevertheless, as a writer, I think there’s a responsibility to readers to make the book as good and as truthful (and I don’t mean factual here) as you can.

Before I wrote my first novel, Addition, I worked for 19 years in normal jobs. You all know what that’s like: there’s a starting time and a (looser) finishing time. There are forms to fill out for leave, collections for going-aways and sometimes cake for morning tea. There are colleagues who become friends. I didn’t always like it, but there was a routine that provided a structure to my day, and more broadly, to my life.

Now there’s…well, it’s just me really. And my laptop. And my next deadline for the new novel is the end of September next year.

If you think this sounds like a recipe for disaster, you might be right. So here are a few things I’ve learnt about working by myself.

1.  Work out when you’re at your best. I’m rubbish in the mornings, always have been. (When I was a teenager, my granny would keep a wet washer in the freezer, to drape over my feet when I slept in so I wouldn’t be late for school.) So I spend mornings answering emails and doing chores. The emails might be from publishers, publicists, librarians, reading groups or writers’ organisations. I do a little writing too: talks and lectures, things like that. I also try to read some new fiction and catch up with the news and blogs. I lot of this can be grouped loosely under the heading of ‘procrastination’, so I get it out of the way before midday. On the domestic front, I’ll often start preparing dinner too, because by 6 or 7 pm, I know I won’t want to stop writing.

2.  Human contact is essential if you don’t want to go loopy. Most of the year I spend one day a week lecturing in novel writing in the Professional Writing and Editing course at RMIT. I love this. I have wonderfully committed students with exciting work, and I’m forced out of my pyjamas at least once a week. I also try to have lunch or coffee with a friend once a week. And, although I’ve never blogged before this, it seems a great way to connect with people who love books.

3.  Get an assistant. Here is my assistant:

Myron the wonderwhippet has a varied job description. He lets me know if someone comes to the door. He walks me to the kitchen and the bathroom. He runs around in circles when the phone rings. And he lets me know IN NO UNCERTAIN TERMS when I’ve been sitting at the computer for too long and it’s time to go for a walk. AND, in perhaps his most important role, when we do go for a walk and I’m caught muttering lines of dialogue under my breath like a crazy person, people in passing cars assume I’m talking to him. Genius.