“The Writer is Lost”
First of all, the serious novelist can seldom punch straight through, write from beginning to end, knock off a quick revision, and sell his book. The idea he's developing is too large for that, contains too many unmanageable elements--too many characters... too many scenes... too many moments... He may work for weeks, even months, without losing his focus and falling into confusion, but sooner or later--at least in my experience--the writer comes to the realization that he's lost.
John Gardner, On Becoming a Novelist
"The Writer's Nature, Part IV," Page 64
I have been writing a novel for the past eight weeks or so--maybe more like six--and three weeks ago, after my novel-fragment appeared in KU's MFA workshop, I became hopelessly lost. This loss of focus occurred around the same time my students' papers were due and around the time I was conferencing with those students. I was putting in an extra 13.6 hours a week on teaching. The novel, as it stands, is something like 14,397 words long. 51 pages, give or take, and I anticipate the final product being upwards of 60,000 words (between 200 and 250 pages long).
By the time I figured out where the narrative needed to go and what needed to be done with the writing--Thursday last week--I was kind of a mess. I needed a friend to tell me it was going to be all right. Luckily, my wife is supportive of my projects. She always helps me keep things in perspective.
I'd also been thinking a lot about the ghosts of writers, the "refined and distilled spirit" of a writer that Wallace Stegner talks about in On Teaching and Writing Fiction, and I wanted to talk to another writer by reading his or her books and hearing, from the mouth of a professional, that these things I was going through are normal. At the same time, I was wondering, with a sort of detached bemusement, why the hell I even came to an MFA program at all if what I really wanted was time to write. I chose KU's MFA because I was promised the chance to write, write, and write more; I have no interest in being a professional teacher, which, up to this point, is mostly what I've been studying.
And I thought, Wait a minute--where have I heard those things before? And then it hit me--I needed to commune with the refined and distilled spirit of John Gardner.
I picked up On Becoming a Novelist that day. Rather than tear apart and fix my novel, I needed to get my head on straight.
During my last years in college, my adviser--he was just an acquaintance at the time, a novelist from the Iowa Writers' Workshop--recommended Gardner's books to me. Talking with Gardner, the older, experienced critic and author, gave me insight into fiction. His books helped me make the first leap from bumbling amateur to a professional--if somewhat inexperienced--freelance writer. Somewhere in his books, I remembered, I had decided I wanted to become a novelist.
Probably it was in the "Preface," which detailed a strange issue "young novelists" face, one I hadn't thought of (but one I was dealing with at the time; am still dealing with, if you want to know the truth).
The young man or woman who announces an intention of becoming an M.D. or an electrical engineer or a forest ranger is not immediately bombarded with well-meant explanations of why the ambition is impractical, out of reach, a waste of time and intelligence. ... And the discouragement offered by other human beings is the least of it. Writing a novel takes an immense amount of time... The writer asks himself day after day, year after year, if he's fooling himself, asks why people write novels anyhow... Almost no one mentions that for a certain kind of person nothing is more joyful or satisfying than the life of a novelist... More people fail at becoming successful businessmen than fail at becoming artists.
John Gardner, On Becoming a Novelist,
"Preface," Page xxiii - xxv
So, if you're wondering what's normal for a novelist, or for a writer, and you need some words of encouragement, you can't do better than the reassuring tone of Gardner, whose literary-firebrand-and-trouble-magnet reputation doesn't detract from his fierce, protective tone when he talks about the young novelists he taught in life--and that he continues to teach today.
The question one asks of the young writer who wants to know if he's got what it takes is this: "Is writing novels what you want to do? Really want to do?"
If the young writer answers, "Yes," then all one can say is: Do it. In fact, he will anyway.
John Gardner, On Becoming a Novelist,
"The Writer's Nature, Part V," Page 72


May 26th, 2010 - 19:44
Hello Ben:
Thank you for leaving a comment on my blog post and your kind words. I figured that I’d leave a comment here on your Gardner post.
Please, by all means, feel free to link to any content on my blog.
Looking over your writings, projects and postings, I must admit, it would be an honor. You are quite a writer.
I’ve had trouble writing and reading lately due to pleasant distractions in my personal life (my wife and I are expecting). But a recent letter should get me back on track.
I wrote to Shannon Ravenel concerning the 1982 BASS and her “dealings” with Gardner. She was kind enough to write back (from Singapore where she is now living – Algonquin books forwarded my letter) and fill me in on a couple little details. She mentioned that Gardner did not like any of the 100 stories she provided for the volume, and he requested that she send him all the lit. mags so that he could choose stories himself (he mentions requesting the magazines in his intro). She said that he was the first and only guest editor to do this while she was the series editor for BASS. I suppose that behavior shouldn’t be a surprise coming from Gardner! She also mentioned that all of her correspondence with guest editors is now housed at Hollins University here in VA. I have a request in with the special collections librarian and it looks promising that I will be able to have copies made of the letters between Gardner and Ravenel.
Again, thanks for writing, and all the best!
-Jakon