B will be SUPER excited about the idea and talk about it for days. I start thinking about how I can help, offering perspective and praise. And then it fizzles out and we’re both sad.
B struggles with a job to pay the bills, pursues hobbies and friendships—and takes care of our household wonderfully.
I wish I could find a way to get all that enthusiasm to act instead of watching my partner hesitate at the idea stage. I know B would be deeply proud to complete a new project. I hate to see them feeling so bad about not being able to progress.
How can I help? And if that doesn’t work, how do I avoid getting sucked into “B’s” enthusiasm and disappointment?
Happy: Nothing drains a writer like the pressure of success, especially when that success is followed by a lull (and they all are).
The pressure to be both creative, critical and commercially successful can be exhausting. Because of this, some successful writers give up everything and become garlic growers.
I shared your question with my friend, the writer Anne Lamott, author of many books, including an important book on writing that brought home many stuck writers, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life (ed to 25. 2019, anchor books).
Anne replies, “B is lucky to have so many great ideas, but that doesn’t mean they would make good books. I would create a file of plot ideas and see if I was excited about them a month later. If a plot doesn’t leave me alone and the characters are compelling enough to spend a year on, maybe I’m on the hunt for something!
“An agent won’t look at it until there’s a solid second draft, so you – the ‘lucky’ partner – can practice releasing B to do the work yourself.
“The ‘help’ isn’t helpful – the hyper excitement and support turns the project at frappé speed instead of the daily elbow grease that all writers need to get a few pages written every day.
“The rage and the desperation take the place of the writing. Shout your “help” far back: Express silent support for new ideas, but no more than that. Maybe B will pull through, maybe not.”
Here’s the distilled advice Lamott gives himself (I have it on a post-it on my desk): “I tell myself to write ‘bird by bird’; a really shy first draft; to keep my butt in the chair; then go through and take out the lies, adverbs, and boring bits.”
Dear Amy: I just found out that a family member is writing a memoir. Yesterday she said to me, “You’re in a couple of times.”
Now that a day has passed I wonder what she wrote about me.
Don’t I have any rights here?
Concerned: I wrote two memoirs. In both cases, I shared excerpts with family members who named them and invited them to comment. I did this because I cared more about relationships than digging up family history.
There have also been cases where I named people but didn’t invite them to comment because I didn’t care about the impact my writing would have on the relationship.
You have the right to ask your family member to see sections that concern you. If she refuses or later you don’t like what you read, you have the right to tell her and keep your distance. If the material is defamatory, you have the right to see them in court.
Dear Amy: I support your answer to “Continue.”
My husband reluctantly visited his absent father on his father’s deathbed.
He was given some information and history that helped him understand everything that had happened around the time of his conception.
He’s still not a fan, but he’s got some peace of mind.
Went on: Your husband’s experience underscores something I learned long ago: When it comes to complex and painful family histories, a full resolution is seldom in sight, but it’s worth going some way there.
©2022 by Amy Dickinson, distributed by Tribune Content Agency