New theory about my productivity in Iowa and, now, Nebraska, where I have managed another 2-W day (and even done an interview) before 11 a.m.: It’s all those meth labs. Crystal meth has seeped into the water table. I’m shaking with energy. I’ll come at you like a spider-monkey, old man!
This is, of course, a gross stereotype about certain midwestern states, one gently mocked in THE QUALITY OF LIFE REPORT, a book I quite liked, although I was wildly envious of the writer at the time. I can’t even remember the “why” of it, just the sense of wild envy, linked to the fact that the writer was certified Officialy Hip and had even written for the New Yorker. Still, I don’t let envy get in my way of admiring a book. Then again, I don’t let envy guilt me into reading books for which I can generate zero enthusiasm despite great reviews. As I told a lovely audience here in Omaha — where the shopping really is good, just to undermine another stereotype people might have about certain places — I still swear by the first-line test when trying to decide if to read certain books.
Other than Anne Lamott’s BIRD BY BIRD, it’s hard to find writers who speak openly of envy or jealousy, although it’s often a fertile topic for fiction. Cristina Schwartz’s ALL IS VANITY comes to mind. (Disclaimer, I’m sure of the title, but not the spelling of the writer’s name. Terrific book.) THE INFORMATION, of course. Other suggestions? I’ll think on the same topic as I drive to Lincoln. But first, some strawberry-kiwi protein powder, dissolved in bottled water.
Didn’t AMSTERDAM have an envy thing going on?
Not only did I blog about envy on Poe’s Deadly Daughters, I got at least a couple of writers to admit to feeling it on occasion. I don’t see how any creative person can avoid it, since we are the world’s greatest strivers, never satisfied with what we’ve produced. Laura, I envy YOU. Tremendously. You write fabulous books AND you’ve been to Africa. Please don’t ever go to China to visit the panda reserves, because then I might be forced to kill you. I can only take so much.
It’s Schwarz (I checked it against the book on my shelf). I loved that book so much that I also listened to it on CD after reading it. I remember Quality of Life Report, too. Another writer who owns up to herself is Natalie Goldberg of the famous Writing Down the Bones and other great books.
The movie and/or play Amadeus definitely had the envy thing going.
I used to envy Laura. As I think I’ve said before, she’s got the 3 things that I thought I would want if I got to pick my life and talents: she can write fiction really well, she can make a living doing it, and she can do it living in Baltimore! But now I know that I’d be dead by about day 3 of her average book tour. Goodbye envy!
ALL IS VANITY is a terrific book. And a gutsy one. IIRC (TMP motto), the writer’s previous book had been an Oprah pick, and this was very, very different. Funny, with a not exactly likeable character.
Plus, it was about money. Why, oh why, don’t more writers write about money? I happen to be reading THE 10-YEAR NAP and, while I’m still in the early pages, there’s a wonderful passage about the financial consequnces of choosing to be a one paycheck family in New York. I love that kind of detail.
At any rate, it seems to me there are very Flaubertian overtones in ALL IS VANITY.
Meanwhile, about the rigors of book tour: Nope, sorry, I just can’t hold a pity party for myself. The penultimate day is always the hardest one for me, but let’s recap this one to date:
Woke up in nice hotel, walked to Starbucks, returned to work for a bit.
Spoke to the lovely Lisa Belkin for her radio show.
Worked out.
Showered, drove 45 miles or so to Lincoln. Found a nice place to eat lunch. Paid with publisher’s credit card.
Checked into hotel with good cable and a kitchenette. Again, paid with publisher’s credit card.
Took a walk around the neighborhood. Found a salon that stocks my moisturizer of choice (Dermalogica Rich Repair.) Scheduled a spa pedicure for later this afternoon. Will pay with MY credit card.
Still ahead — book signing where I get to blab about me, me, me, possibly dinner with Local Writer and Lovely Bride.
Oh yeah, it’s a TORMENT.
Still, I’m impressed you can maintain a diet on a book tour.
I’m not sure I’ve maintained it that well, but I would be surprised if I’ve gained back any of the lost weight. The entree salad is my friend.
The entree salad is no one’s friend.
Ben and Jerry–now those are friends.
I write about jealousy and envy all the time. But I’m kind of a miserable bastard.
You do, Bryon. I think you are admirably forthright, especially in your recent entry on the Derringer.
I’ve been to Nebraska once and you’ve hit two of my three spots- Omaha, Lincoln but you seem to have missed Winnebago.
Great Minds Think Alike Dept.: Yesterday, Sandy Parshall, on Poe’s Deadly Daughters, blogged about envy.
An old girlfriend–or rather, a girlfriend from long in the past–told me her test was the first line and the last line. If you can read those two sentences together and they connect as a coherent thought, the book won’t be very good. If the two sentences don’t make any sense together, the book will be good. I’ve tried that ever since, and it’s frighteningly accurate in my experience.
It seems to me, I have found exceptions to that rule, but I can’t remember any offhand. (Hello, Memory Project!)
As for envy, <b><a href=”http://theater2.nytimes.com/2008/03/26/theater/reviews/26four.html”>The Four of Us</a></b>, by Itamar Moses, is a new play about two friends, a novelist who’s wildly successful and a playwright who’s not, and it traces their friendship back and forth in time. Very interesting, a little precious at times, overwritten at others, but a show we’re actually looking at producing ourselves. (Two men, simple set, life is good.)