The other morning, I received an email from one of my readers. It began, “I just read your novel Into The Wilderness and I absolutely loved it as I really connected with it.” This reader explained how she grew up in New York City and was now married to a man from New Zealand, where they’d just spent the last year. They were back in the states with their four children, but she was in a quandary: the New Zealand lifestyle was better, she thought, but her children had better educational opportunities here. She signed off asking me what she should do: “Would love your advice if you have a chance to give it!”
Wow.
There’s no question that fan mail is fantastic. I’ve been touched and humbled by letters and emails from readers, amazed at their generous response to my novel, and moved by the details they’ve shared about their lives. These letters remind me how intimate the act of reading is. I’m not just talking about those readers who’ve taken my book into bed with them, or read it in the bath (two of my favorite places); the intimacy I’m referring to is closer than that. The act of reading allows the writer’s imagination to infiltrate her reader’s mind, where the story is reconstituted and absorbed according to that reader’s experience and understanding. A good story gets under the reader’s skin.
Sometimes, what readers write gives me new insight into my story. More often, their letters reveal intimacies about themselves. One of my favorite letters was from a reader who compared herself to Rose, the main character in the book, who’s a feisty 64-year old. “I’m just like Rose,” she wrote. “What I say is what I mean and what you see is what you get.” Then she asked, “So where is my Percy?” referring to the leading man in the novel. When I read this, I laughed out loud. But I also felt the pain and frustration of a woman who wants to be loved just as she is.
Other letters have been filled with reader’s reminiscences of Vermont in the 1960’s, when the story takes place, or of their own stories about negotiating a new and strange location filled with unknown local customs, as Rose does when she moves from New York City. Others have written to me about the music in the book, or the politics, often offering me their memories of 1964, when the story is set.
Fan mail has taught me what an enormous responsibility it is to send a novel into the world, and never more so than this recent letter – which is the first to make a direct appeal for my advice. Of course I wrote back; I even gave her advice – but I didn’t tell her where to live. Instead, I suggested that she involve all members of her family in making this decision, and even engage an outside counselor to help facilitate the process.
My correspondent wrote back, telling me stories about life in New Zealand where, evidently, it’s customary for children to attend school barefoot. And she thanked me, signing off with, “Please, please write more!”
I didn’t earn much money from my first published novel, but I learned a lot about the huge responsibility it is to be a published author. And while I still hope to earn a living writing fiction, letters like this are worth the world.
Deborah Lee Luskin is novelist, essayist and educator. She is a regular commentator for Vermont Public Radio, a Visiting Scholar for the Vermont Humanities Council and the author of the award winning novel, Into The Wilderness. For more information, visit her website at www.deborahleeluskin.com
Deborah,
I so enjoyed this post. I’m not yet published, but my agent has submitted to authors, so I’m getting close (I hope!)…this is a good lesson…two things in particular touched me: how a story is absorbed by a reader filtered by their own experiences & the responsibility of a published author…and I just loved this thought: “And while I still hope to earn a living writing fiction, letters like this are worth the world.”
Thank you!
Jenna Blue
Thank you Jenna – and good luck!
Deborah.
Thanks for sharing! I am a true believer that everyone matters and one person does make a difference. Your blog post rings true to my theory. So nice to have people take time out of their lives to share something with you. We all can use another friend to help us manage and fulfill us on our journeys. Books are a big part of formulating our lives, creating a new thoughts, dreams and goals.
Thank you for writing. Even in this digital age, we are a reading species.
All best,
Deborah.
Nice work, and thanks for sharing.I like that.
Thank you for letting me know!
DLL
How wonderful for you and for us that you shared this…really great 🙂
And how wonderful that you’ve let me know this reached you.
Best,
Deborah.
Thank you for sharing your story. It is wonderful to hear from someone who likes what you do – and genuinely so, to the point of corresponding.
A few years back I had a fan of my books come out from the UK to visit me, here in New Zealand – my wife and I took him around to have a look at some of the Lord of the Rings filming sites. Nice guy.
Just a point apropos your fan’s suggestion that “…it is customary to attend school barefoot…” in New Zealand. First I’ve heard of that one. Kids don’t go to school barefoot here any more than they do in any developed country. Most schools have uniforms which not only specify shoes, they specify the colour and style – and if kids fail to wear them, they’re sent home. We’re no different to any other western country in this regard.
It’s possible this is a conflation with history; in the 1930s, some children were sent barefoot to school on wet days because their parents could not afford to buy new shoes, and it was easier to dry their bare feet than let them slop about in wet shoes which had holes in the soles. Again, not too different from (say) the US depression experience. But, of course, not current practice. Interesting.
Matthew,
Thanks for your comments – and for your information about kids, shoes and schools. My correspondent did say that she was living in rural New Zealand, so maybe there are a few pockets of barefoot pedagogy; maybe she made it up. How am I to know? Since I want to believe all my correspondents, I’m now in somewhat of an uncomfortable quandary – unless I willingly suspend disbelief. Hmm.
Deborah.
How serendipitous that you should talk about intimate fan mail and that I should finally be getting to this post, Deborah, just a few hours after I received an email from a follower who has been very deeply involved in my “critterly journey” over at my own blog. Authors really do bear a lot of responsibility once any part of their work is sent out to the world at large. I wish you all success with your books and your writing projects. Having grown up in the country eight miles from the nearest town (yet within 25 mintues of a city with 4 universities and several research facilities!) and subsequently living and working in cities and now sort of on a “mission field” in this smal, ultra-conservative NW Alabama town 1.5 hours from the nearest university or city, I can definitely relate to your correspondent’s dilemma in deciding on “wilderness” or city.