Again, the story by Alice Munro, "Gravel," which tells the story of the death of a child from the point of view of her sibling, affected me the most profoundly in this issue. I find Munro to be an extraordinarily moving writer. It almost makes me want to pack up writing before I even begin, as I can't imagine ever being as good a storyteller as she is. However, I have come to appreciate that writing is not about being better or not as good as someone else, but rather, just having something to say and a will to express it. Not knowing how it will affect a reader, if it has one, is part of the thrill and the scariness of putting it out there. It is so much easier to doubt and to dismiss one's abilities than it is to actually try. So, I'm trying.
Also, I finished this story on my way back from New York where I had the fun experience of trying out for Jeopardy!. Who knows if they will ever call, but just being asked to try out was exciting. It felt amazing to be in a room where you truly sensed that everyone else in the room was at least as smart, as curious about the world, as engaged as you are, if not far more so. Of the 19 of us auditioning during that session, there were perhaps only two who, while not lacking in knowledge or intelligence, might not have had the personalities that would make them a great fit for the show. The rest of them were amazing. I truly have no idea how I stacked up in comparison to them. All I know for sure is: I was the only Canadian.
No comments:
Post a Comment