I've been writing new stuff, some of it workable, some of it bad, some of it scrapped completely. I'm writing consistently, though, and overjoyed about it. I've also been revising older pieces in preparation for the submission process. I haven't tallied up near enough rejections for my liking, and will start adding to my collection again soon.
I'm most excited, though, by how much I've been reading. In previous summers, I pushed reading aside to focus more on writing (and working and sleeping), but I seem to have found a balance, and have been devouring books weekly, delving into as many as three at a time. I've been exploring genres I've regrettably ignored as of late - Young Adult, Sci-Fi, and Non-Fiction, to name a few. Here's a rundown of some of what I've finished, and a Twitter-esque (though I don't actually have a Twitter; the whole thing still sort of baffles me) reaction to each:
The Orphan Master's Son by Adam Johnson - Stunning storytelling, elegant prose, fascinating subject matter. Up there with The Tiger's Wife as one of my favorite pieces of new fiction. Has a sense of grandeur about it that one of my classmates compared to a superhero story. A reminder to myself that, in my own writing, I cannot be afraid to be bold.
The Fault in Our Stars by John Green - Fun and funny and I bawled like a baby. Had real truths packed within witty dialogue and whirlwind adventures in Amsterdam. Not quite as enthralling as others described it, yet I'm not the target audience. Made me excited to delve further into the YA genre if it's this much fun; suggestions?
To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf - Deeply interior, strikingly insightful, languid in its prose, and my lord was it tedious. Universal and profound in its truths, but not engaging storytelling. Glad I read it, and glad I earmarked the good bits so I don't have to read it again.Surprisingly, though, the book I most enjoyed was a work of non-fiction: Susan Cain's Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking. I've been in the midst of what one of my fiction professors likes to call the "quarter-life crisis" - that time in your early twenties when you start seriously angsting about who you are and what you're doing with your life. I won't go on about it at length, because it's boring to those not currently experiencing it (a fact I must remember when trying to write stories about it), but I do want to discuss my struggle with introversion, and how this book helped me.
Before reading Cain's book, I didn't realize I was an introvert. I was a self-described "awkward writer type," though I've quickly come to realize not all writers are awkward, and not all awkward writers are awkward in the same way. I knew I struggled in some social situations, but not all. I relished alone time, found the idea of going out to a bar after a long day exhausting, but craved companionship. I was quiet at times, but not afraid to speak out at others. I made excuses for my perceived faults. "I'm sick," I would say to get out of certain social functions. I would cite writing or work as the reason for my early departure from parties and other gatherings. But I pushed myself to attend and mingle, to stay out late and drink and laugh just as much as, if not more than, the others (if you think writers don't have social lives, you're horribly mistaken).
All this started to take a toll on me. I got quieter. I was irritable, anxious, and constantly tired. I struggled to come to terms with, what I thought was, my "outsider" personality. Then I read Cain's book, and my self-confidence rose astronomically. I came to understand my personality, put a name to it - introvert - and realized it was not a damning title, a box to be shut into; rather, introversion describes a wide range of personality traits, many of which I have.
I strongly related to Cain's idea of the "high-reactive" child. The book speaks at length about psychological studies claiming babies and children who reacted dramatically to stimuli - crying at popped balloons, for instance - often grew into introverted adults. As a child, I was the kid shoving my fingers in my ears, not only during fireworks and buzzers, but in anticipation of such events (much to my family's embarrassment). I was afraid of both noise and surprise. Quiet's cited studies in high-reactivity reassured me that my introversion was not a mistake made somewhere in adolescence, but, perhaps, a born characteristic.
I also appreciated Cain's notion that introverts desperately need recharging. This seems like a fairly simple idea, but Cain recognizes that, when so many things demand your attention - work, school, friends, family, your own brain - it's hard to say "no." Quiet taught me it's both necessary and okay to say no sometimes, for my own mental well-being. I don't have to be the life of the party; I can be if I want, but I don't have to. This somewhat basic revelation has done wonders for me. I've learned to balance my social time with recharge time - curling up in the solitude of my room with a good book, for example - and not feel guilty about it. For anyone who struggles with their own introversion, or for any extrovert who struggles to understand their introverted friends, I can't recommend this book enough.
I plan to do more of these Twitter-style and in-depth book reviews in the future, so stay tuned. Here's my (tentative) reading schedule:
Currently Reading - Behind the Beautiful Forevers by Katherine Boo, A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin (seriously, check out his webpage; it's a showcase of 90's web design horror), and Blankets by Craig Thompson.
On Deck - The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides, The Age of Miracles by Karen Thompson Walker, and Me and Earl and the Dying Girl by Jesse Andrews.
Until next time!
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