100,000 Views: A Retrospective

I began this blog in October of 2010, at a time when I was beginning to envision myself as a writer. Sure, I had always written—had finished a few novels, even—but this is when I decided to see if I could make a go of it. Get actual people to read my writing, maybe get published. I dug around online for resources. I joined Facebook. I started this blog. And soon, I will have had 100,000 views here, which is certainly not in the range of many viral things you hear about but for me, it feels like a nice milestone.

 

During these 8 ½ years, I’ve written 303 posts. My most prolific year was 2014, during which I posted 51 times, followed closely by 2011 with its 50 entries. In 2016, I only blogged nine times. It’s easy, in retrospect, to recognize the reason for this scarcity: a very tough personal year. 2018 was the same: only 13 posts.

 

I wrote about dance and art, about current things happening in the news and routine, day-to-day events and observations. I worked out conclusions about the writing process, penned memorials for both people I knew and knew of; I wrote about television, movies, songs and poems I liked. I started a series about forgotten novelists with the intention of making it a regular feature, but it petered out after two posts. I began a long-running tradition: Poem for the Weekend, in which I’d share a new poem and info about the author. This feature ran for almost a year beginning in August of 2014, and was reprised briefly in 2017. I wrote about writers and books, of course, sometimes book reviews, sometimes analysis of theory or craft; infrequently, I shared fiction of my own. I wrote about my kids, and published their book reviews of my first novel. I wrote about the writing process, about things that inspired me and about the gifts and pressures of the creative life. And in December of each year, I shared my favorite films and books, until a few years ago when I quit doing the film list. The books are easier to track and so I still do an annual roundup. My most recent post (and only one so far in 2019) talks about my method and inspirations for my new novel, Bellflower.

 

So. At this milestone—100,000 views—I think it would be a good time to look back and remember what I’ve done here, at this outlet, and to maybe set a course forward. I’ve chosen fifteen posts that stood out to me, for a variety of reasons, and I present them to you here. It would seem that these writings of which I’m most proud or which touched something in me fall into five categories: Inspiration, Creativity, Writing Life, Personal, and Memorial.

Inspiration

Vaccination – 5/10/12

A brief contemplation about one of my favorite prose passages of all time.

Focus and Layers – 1/27/15

Notes on a piece of art I saw at MOMA one time, and how it stayed and stayed with me.

 

The Thing about Carson McCullers – 10/26/15

A discussion and appreciation of the mastery of McCullers’s characterizations. She is a huge influence on my work.

 

Creativity

Hotel Thoughts – 7/24/11

A prose poem sort of thing, about feeling isolated and small, and at the same time, connected and complete. Reading this now brings back the exact moment and feeling in stark relief.

Flannery O’Connor on "The Nature and Aim of Fiction" – 1/15/15

My most-read post of all time (3406 reads), this is where I shared my thoughts on O’Connor’s essay collection, a must-read for writers.

Birth of a Story – 11/15/16

A brief post about the genesis of a short story, eventually titled “Driftwood,” which will be published, finally, this April.

In Praise of Stories and the Graying of Genre – 3/21/17

For the past few years, considerations of form and genre have been at the forefront of my creative endeavors, and this post speaks to that.

The Point: A Conversation – 10/27/17

An imagined conversation between “I” and “them,” this post could easily be filed under the Personal category as well. Another entry which brings me back to a specific feeling and time.

Writing Life

Collaboration: A Cautionary Tale – 4/8/11

What happens when you get, perhaps, too much feedback on your writing.

Where Writers Live – 11/2/18

Some thoughts on why a tendency toward melancholy is a gift and a curse for writers.

Personal

My Sister Had a Baby We Didn’t Keep – 1/25/16

I know I said that O’Connor post was the most-read, but this one I also posted on Medium, where it picked up over 11K views. Combined with the views here, it has over 13K to date. It’s the story of the time my sister acted as surrogate for a couple in China.

Things About Grief – 9/7/16

I’ve had many losses in the past few years and unfortunately, learned a lot about grief.

Memorial

Better, Stronger, Faster – 8/29/12

When Neil Armstrong passed away, I wrote about my grandfather, who knew him, and about the Six Million Dollar Man.

My Grandmother’s European Tour – 1/30/18

Going through my grandmother’s belongings, we found some papers pertaining to a trip she took with her nurses’ association. I wrote about it here.

In Remembrance of my Mother – 5/10/18

The post I most wish I hadn’t written, the eulogy for my mother, who passed away last year.

Dear readers: I appreciate all of your comments and feedback over these years. I was hoping to come to some conclusions through this process of looking back, and I think I have. In the next couple of years, I have plans to finish two novels, and I think what I miss doing most at this blog is writing about books. Other writer’s books, and the ways they inspire, disappoint and confound me. So look for more book reviews here, maybe. I’d also like to expand the types of things I’m reading. I’d like to get back to reading more biography and history, maybe even an occasional memoir, YA or spiritual book. Lastly, I’d like to read thematically—several books on a topic or theme. And I think I already have an idea for a summer reading project along those lines, so watch for that as well.

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Changing Currents

The Greek city of Chalcis (also known as Chalkida) is built on the two coasts of the straight of Evripos. As such, it’s a city of water and bridges. Perhaps the most famous is the sliding Negroponte Bridge, where tourists gather to watch the tidal phenomenon that has made Chalcis famous since ancient times. Here, the currents reverse direction every six hours. The water flows from the north Evian Gulf to the south for six hours, then becomes still for approximately eight minutes, then reverses direction. Because the currents can reach up to nine miles per hour, the churning visible from the bridge earned the nickname “mad waters” or “crazy waters.” The flow of the currents is entirely dependent on the moon and is directly connected to the duration of each lunar month.

 

There’s much to contemplate about this natural occurrence—scientifically, nautically, philosophically. Maybe you can relate to a time when you were between acts and seemed to be spinning endlessly, or stuck in a dormant lull. From all sides, the competing pulls of inspiration and obligation, as you churn in place, deciding. Or, an ominous surface as smooth as glass, too lacking in impressions to fully enjoy.

 

I’m between writing projects. Taking a break. Changing course. Attempting to appreciate the waves, the periods of calm. I read about Chalcis while doing research for a short story. Online, much information can be found. There are tourism sites touting the incredible sight of the “crazy waters.” Former visitors have posted videos and photos of the phenomenon. One website breaks down the entire lunar schedule for the changing of currents, minute by minute, hour by hour. But my favorite site about the amazing waters of Chalcis waxes philosophic about the whole thing:

 

“The continuous function of the phenomenon in accordance with the laws of nature, for thousands of years, shows us that each and every day is a carrier of eternity."

 

And...

 

"Some have believed they have explained it—and remained with this illusion. Some others have comprehended its infinity and insolubility. Explanations are for mortals. The Universe never requires explanation in order to carry on its course in the infinite space."

 

And…

 

“Observing the tidal phenomenon one discovers, each and every time, that he has never been there before, even though he may have witnessed it so many times.”

 

Yep. Pretty much sums up the routine and surprise of creativity, its endless cycle of changing course, dormancy, and maelstrom. For now, I’m trying to enjoy the churning.

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On creativity and the circuitous mess of my mind...

          So I’m working on my new novel the other day and as that process often goes, I found myself meandering through my “notebook.” I say “notebook” because what this actually includes, in addition to the spiral notebook where I have scribbled pages of notes and outlines, is several loose papers of more notes and abandoned outlines but also sundry items I have printed out from the Internet. For example, an obituary of Alain Robbe-Grillet, a brief history of Berwyn, Illinois, and a description of the Hindu ideal of conscious death. Stuff like that, all of which distracts me momentarily from the task at hand, which was looking for a timeline so I can continue the passage about when Gina moved out of the house for the first time (although maybe it’s all too confusing, her moving out then back in, out then back in), and as I flip through the pages I see the following note:
          Image: Woman wakes up with a key around her neck; unlocks satchel accompanying 9-year-old girl.
          What the???
          Let me explain. Usually, each and every note, however random, ignites something within the jumbled neurons in my mind. Like a telephone switchboard from an old movie, each scribble makes the well-groomed female operator take that long black cord and plug it into one of those holes, and instantly there is a connection; I remember why I wrote that note and what it means (or no longer means) to the novel. Dodging some of these connections (for now) and indulging in others is all part of flipping through the notebook, of plotting a novel, of writing.
          This quote about the woman has nothing to do with anything; furthermore, I’m quite sure I’ve never seen it before in my life, although the handwriting is unmistakably mine. And so I am utterly distracted by it.
          First things first. What’s with the abhorrent use of that semicolon? Maybe an “it” is implied before “unlocks.” Which would mean that the woman is probably unaware that the key in her sudden possession matches the lock in the possession of a 9-year-old girl. What 9-year-old girl? Does she know that girl but hasn’t seen her for some time? Is the girl unknown but connected to the woman in an unforeseen way? Or, does the woman wake then later unlock a satchel while accompanying a 9-year-old girl, in whose company she unwittingly finds herself? It could be like The Road or Blindness, sort of an apocalyptic novel where nobody is who they seem and everybody is connected in some random, doomed way.
          Wait. The woman’s mother has snuck in during the night like the creepy old lady in that children’s book I Love You Forever, and put the key around her daughter’s neck. The girl is the woman’s daughter that the conniving mother stole from the childbirth bed rather than face the disgrace of an illegitimate granddaughter.
          And…what’s in the satchel???
          Obviously, this was a morning where not much was done in terms of forwarding the novel. But I wouldn’t call it a waste. I’ve written this little piece. I spent some time reminiscing about the nice guy who emailed me back from the parks department in Berwyn to tell me when Proksa Park was opened (ah, humanity). And I have this new idea for a story. A novel? Alright, maybe just a blog entry.
          This is how I want to spend my time, and I’m lucky to do it. Exploring connections, learning about new things and connecting those things, thinking about situations and relationships, pondering ideas. Even if to others it may seem unsubstantial, not concrete, a strange way to spend the day. Obviously, they have no imagination.

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