by Mylan Parker and Aiden Heberle
Today's Chautauqua blog is the first in a series in memory of Philip Gerard, beloved writer, professor, and co-editor of Chautauqua, who was taken from us all too soon. Philip's generous and whole-hearted ethic of listening and encouraging everyone to be their best selves enriched the lives of everyone in his orbit. It is what made him such an excellent teacher, mentor, and friend. To honor Philip's indelible spirit, we have asked our editorial team to recall moments of mentorship that inspired them, shifted their worldview, or put them on the path to follow their dreams. We hope this blog series allows you, dear reader, to sit and reflect with us.
—James King
Managing Editor
Once I was told by a Creative Writing college professor that I need to write for myself first before I write for anyone else. This conversation, born from writer’s block or rather, self-inflicted pressure to write on a “best-seller” level, taught me to approach my writing in a completely different way. We’re so conditioned to write for others, to embody voices that don’t always reflect our own. Or we feel pressured to sound like some of the greatest writers that have ever lived.
However, we each have our own unique voice and our own lived experiences that influence our writing. We get so stuck in this idea of producing some “profound” or “valuable” but who is to say what is profound? Who is to say what is valuable?
Writing is subjective. We see this best in the classroom. Each student raises their hand to comment on a different aspect of the piece, indicating what stood out to them. Other students mention the parts that aren’t said. Then there are the aspects that are not said at all in this classroom, but could be mentioned in another classroom.
The point is that everyone is going to identify with your work differently, so we should create work that holds meaning for us. We should write about the things that we would want to read ourselves. We should write to satisfy our own needs, to release what we need to.
There is an “I” in writer for a reason, our writing is an extension of us and reminds us that it is okay to put ourselves first sometimes. So, write even if it isn’t “good.” You don’t need to write that “best-seller” today or any day for that matter. You just need to write something that sustains you, that fills your soul.
—Mylan Parker
Editorial Assistant
Once, when taking a class with Michael Ramos—Assistant Director of the Publishing Laboratory and Lecturer—at UNCW, I was given an insight into the publishing industry that I hadn’t considered before. For those who don’t know him, Michael is a passionate person and great writer; he is a veteran, and much of what he writes about stems from that time of his life.
Going in, I expected that a veteran would have little trouble getting writing published. After all, you regularly see war stories and books entirely about the experiences of veterans being published. The reality was not what I expected. Publishers did not want Michael’s story. It wasn’t the right type of war story. It seemed that they wanted heroes to puff up the readers’ chest with pride for our armed forces, or else they wanted the deeply traumatized to tell of the “true horrors of war.” Michael’s experience didn’t fully match either of those descriptions, and he told us how he had then struggled to get his writing published.
It changed my perspective on the industry to know that someone who seemed to have all of the right stories (from a business standpoint, anyways) could not find a place because the stories didn’t fit into the expectation for his genre.
Michael did eventually get published, but the story is a telling one, and it’s something that I’ve been on the lookout for since, particularly as it relates to how I judge a story. Do I dislike how the piece is written, or is there some unmet expectation I didn’t realize I was judging it by? It’s an important question for me, and for anyone who plans on entering the publishing industry in the coming years.
—Aiden Heberle
Editorial Assistant
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