nothing compares to you
I saw a sign on a train that said, Want to write a book? AI can help. I spent the ride trying to ignore it like I do whenever AI comes up— as if I don’t acknowledge it, it doesn’t exist. (Very mature, I know.) Some writers say we don’t have to worry (Rebecca Makkai makes a compelling argument in this delightful post), but as a champion worrier, that’s just what I do.
I don’t want to write a post about AI. Instead, consider this an ode to that beautiful fallible thing we all bring to our work…
I like my writing like I like my people: a little messy. I’m not interested in perfection. I want flaws! Give me something complicated! Rough edges add to the beauty!
I’m not talking about typos or half-baked characters, writing littered with clichés. But I don’t think I’m the only one who likes work that’s somewhat messy. Gloria Naylor’s Mama Day comes to mind because it plays by its own rules. It’s not perfect, but it’s exciting— the voice, the magic. It was the first novel I read that made me want to write one.
I love writing that’s so ambitious or wild it can’t totally be reined in. Work that takes risks, that doesn’t hold back. Namrata Poddar’s Border Less comes to mind because it’s so fearless. Or how Vanessa Cuti’s The Tip Line transcends genre. Actually, I could list every author we’ve interviewed because they all bring something special to their work, but I don’t want this to get too long and I still need to mention voice, which I love love love. And voice is very individual and very human.
When I was learning how to write I worried I wouldn’t be able to hack it. Voice seemed to come effortlessly to others, but I spent years trying to figure it out. I considered giving up writing because I didn’t think I’d ever sound like myself. But I eventually found it, I found my voice.
That came with time. It came when I stopped trying to write like other writers. (Much as I imagine AI bots are aspiring to do.)
Someone recently described my work as “funny and sad but hopeful.” If I got to pick a combo of adjectives for my signature vibe, maybe I would’ve picked something different, but that’s what’s inherent to me. The thing that makes my work mine.
We all bring something unique to the page. Our personalities, mistakes, and experiences shape how we see the world. The things that make us who we are are exactly what makes our work ours. And that makes our work irreplaceable. No one can write that story or poem or essay like you can. No one.
Gloria Naylor once said, “Not only is your story worth telling, but it can be told in words so painstakingly eloquent that it becomes a song.” I love the analogy, the idea of our words as music. And maybe your words aren’t painstakingly eloquent, maybe they’re raw and sharp. But they make your work yours.
Reading Recommendations:
Online: This essay came out last year, but I want to share a favorite essay on voice: On Embracing the Halting, Neurotic, Defiant Ways We Talk by the singular Sara Lippmann.
Davon Loeb has a deeply moving essay on how sculpted action figures impacted his body image growing up in Slate.
Recently read: I just finished Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah’s Chain-Gang All-Stars, which is so intense I put it down for a while, but so good I had to pick it back up. It’s a biting and important dystopian story that looks at our country’s mass incarceration. (But the kind of dystopian that’s not far off, which makes it so intense and biting.)
Currently reading (listening to): How to Resist Am*zon and Why: The Fight for Local Economies, Data Privacy, Fair Labor, Independent Bookstores, and a People-Powered Future by Danny Caine. Anyone who doesn’t understand how truly harmful this soulless corporation needs to check this one out.
Up next: I’m very excited to dig into Etaf Rum’s forthcoming Evil Eye, and just as excited to interview her again. (Our first conversation can be found in the paperback edition of A Woman Is No Man!)
Preorder alert: I’ve been doing a lot of author interviews lately, and I can’t wait to share my conversation with Margo Steines, whose memoir Brutalities: A Love Story is stunning in every sense of the word.
Event alert: For those in Chicago— I’ll be reading something funny and sad but hopeful at The Book Cellar on August 23 at 7pm with some cool people and would love to see you!
Signing off with two versions of this song:
Seriously, nothing compares to you. <3