Advice to a Young (okay, middle aged) Artist

Even Maurice Sendak wasn't sure the best was yet to come.

My friend, writer/blogger Tamara Linse just posted this wonderful link to Facebook:


When Maurice Sendak was 33 years old (before "Where the Wild Things Are" was published), he wrote to his editor, Ursula Nordstrom at Harper & Row, about his self doubts as a writer.  The Paris Review Daily: "Advice to a Young Illustrator"  publishes her response.  My favorite part:

"33 is still young for an artist with your potentialities. I mean, you may not do your deepest, fullest, richest work until you are in your forties. You are growing and getting better all the time."


It is so fitting that this came from Tamara, who I met at Bread Loaf Writers Conference where we were matched as roommates last summer.  Although she's a gorgeous blonde novelist from Wyoming and I'm a black haired, city-slicking, non-fiction writer from the Bronx, we had so much in common because we're both so much in the middle.  In the middle of raising children, living up to our responsibilities, finding our voices.  We envied, in a way, both the younger and the older writers in our midst for the time and energy they can give to their art, for being able to sleep through the night and think their own thoughts.    But at the same time, we know that while being in demand by children and bosses can be exhausting, it also brings a range of emotion and experience, that is precious fuel.   It forces us to focus, in the slices of time that we have, on the stories that most want to be told.  


I, for one, didn't start writing in my own voice until I was close to forty.  It took that long to know who I was and what I needed to say.  As for Tamara, I see how deep, full and rich her work is through her blog, Writer, Cogitator, Recovering Ranch Girl.  Her observations, in words and pictures, always make me take a moment to take it in.  Both of us, I think, are developing eyes and ears for the striking, the idiosyncratic, the sublime.  It takes time to do that, to grow, as a person and an artist, and we're luxuriating in it, every spare minute we can.  Maybe our forties will bring our fullest work, how exciting that would be!  I can't wait to see.

Never Too Late - A guest blog you don't want to miss

My friend and editor Ruth Mullen told me my favorite kind of story recently, about a book she fell in love with.  "It is just so beautifully written and touching--more than touching, it is insightful," she wrote to me.  It's a memoir  about a relationship the author had years ago teaching a young deaf boy and all the things he taught her in return, which on its own sounds fascinating.  But even more amazing, the author, Jeri Parker, is 70-something years old, and although her manuscript did not find a home with a mainstream publisher, she didn't give up.  She just self published it, to lovely reviews (link to a glowing Kirkus Review, a rare honor, here).   I asked her to share what inspired her to write her memoir and any encouragement she might have for others who have a story to tell or a dream they'd like to pursue.  Her guest post, "Is it Too Late?" is about as inspiring as it gets.  I hope you'll read it, and her book, "A Thousand Voices."  It's available for free download on Kindle through July 20.

Is it Too Late?
by Jeri Parker

I’m over forty by three decades and I haven’t walked on the moon, kissed a frog and made it work, haven’t even cleaned out the basement. What I have done that I always wanted to do was finish A Thousand Voices, a Memoir and get it published. Why did I write A Thousand Voices now? The first reason is because I could write it. The second is because it was mine to do. No one else could tell this story. The endeavor began when I met an astonishing little deaf boy, Carlos, who taught me to hear--and to learn what I hadn’t known about language, where it leads us in fitting, in belonging, in accepting.

 At first what I wrote was pure adventure, a woman swept away by a beautiful disadvantaged boy who takes the place of the son she’d lost. Then something happened. The telling of the surface tale taught me what lay beneath that surface. I began to see what the story revealed. For example, one day I realized that Carlos wasn’t left with even a memory of his birthright of cedar and gold hidden in the arroyos his fathers had ridden, the land my people had taken from his. I slowly came to understand what this particular child meant to his own time and to ours. He was emblematic of the demands and the flaws of the last four decades. Race, education, language, handicap, culture, economic strata, all were at play. These were the deepest reasons for writing the story. And realizing that we haven’t begun to embrace the gifts of multiplicity.

What I would say to those of you who are over forty and asking yourself  Is it be too late? It’s never too late. Not until you don’t recognize the words on the page. Take the wild horse and go for the long ride through the meadows and timber and yes, the underbrush, and come out of it with the story only you can tell. Take your time getting it right; it takes time. The big thing is get started. What comes back to you will take your breath away. You don’t want to miss any of it. 

The author, at her own book signing.
Never too late to make your dreams come true.

It's My Birthday, I'll Meditate if I Want To

By the time the cake came out, I was overwhelmed.  By the birthday hugs and kisses, messages and texts, the Fourth of July ball game with friends, the barbecue with family.  The video link posted to my Timeline that cracked me up to no end:  Stars and Stripes, Muppets Style

And now, this:

What more could I possibly wish for?  In the instant before blowing out the candle, I thought "May we all feel full, loved, productive, and surprised."  Kind of random, kind of ADD.  If I had had more time, I would have wished for this:

Lovingkindness Meditation
by Thich Nhat Hanh

May I be at peace
May my heart remain open
May I awaken to the light of my own true nature
May I be healed
May I be a source of healing for all

May you be at peace
May your heart remain open
May you awaken to the light of your own true nature
May you be healed
May you be a source of healing for all

May we be at peace
May our hearts remain open
May we awaken to the light of our own true nature
May we be healed
May we be a source of healing for all

***

I'm wishing for it now.  Oh, and this as well:

May all our days be full of smiling marzipan bears.

Much love, Patty