MaineCourse

Whoami?

When I talk to Jim at the lumber yard, I don’t say, “ I need ten 2x12’s with joist hangers and by the way, my wife thinks I should use eight penny galvanized nails instead of joist hanger nails."
When the concrete truck arrives, I don’t say, “My wife wants a thinner mix, can you add more water.”

Robert Atwan, the instructor for my Epiphanies writing class, didn’t ask,
“Why did you take my course?”
He simply said, “ I’d like to know who you are, so tell me a little bit about yourselves.”
There were twelve students and we moved clockwise around the wood paneled, conference room. I was second, after Ann, a pastoral counselor on a sixth month sabbatical who plunged into both writing and painting workshops. Ann was brief and I hadn’t time to fully prepare.

“I am blah, blah, and I live in blah,blah, and I work as a blah, and I’m here because my wife urged me to take this course. I wanted to take a writing class but it was she who found the Blue Hills Writing Institute’s ad. When it came time to choose between Memoirs, Finding Your Voice, or Epiphanies, she said,
‘You have a voice, take Epiphanies.’ ”

Our class format was simple. We all had an opportunity to read our stories, hopefully Epiphanies, which were then critiqued by students and teacher. Everyone followed that format but me. Wednesday morning, when it was my turn, I said, “I’ve read my story so many times that it would help me if someone else read it. That would allow me to hear it. It helps at home when my wife reads my work. “

After Robert Atwan finished reading my story, Martha, an Emory law professor, read hers. Titled Starting Over, it is a polished stone about her father and his suicide. For the first time, Mr. Atwan didn’t need to troll for opinions. Everybody had one and like a boy at a fishing tournament, I waited impatiently to throw mine on the scales.

“You handed out your story yesterday, therefore I was able to read it several times. The second time I listened as my wife read it aloud. When she finished, I wanted to applaud - she was silent.
After a few moments I said, somberly,” I hope I get to read my story first.”
My wife paused a moment, and then replied, “ I hope so too.”

I listed my opinions, quickly: strong paragraph- ending sentences, subtle but powerful content, and a perfect conclusion. “But,” I said, “If there is one thing to change, my wife thinks you should remove the word narcissistic.”

Worst of all, I was aware of what I was doing but I couldn’t stop.
Do I see writing as a female pursuit, something a real man wouldn’t follow?
Was this my way of displaying my female side to the class of mostly women?
Did I think that Diane, not me, should be taking this class?

On Friday, during our final lunch and before the certificate presentation, I shuffled along the buffet line in front of Becky, who teaches English at Lawrence Academy in Groton. As I spooned salad next to my steak tips she asked,
“Would you be interested in forming a writer’s group with me? There is Tim and ..."

Before she could finish I interrupted, “Yes, I’d love to.”

Or that is what I would have said before I became my wife.

Instead I said. ”When I left home this morning one of my assignments from my wife was to return with a writer’s group. I’d be flattered to be part of yours."

While your responding to direct questions in Diane's voice IS indicative of dubious mental stability, there's a not-so-fine line between openly and confidently acknowledging her impact on your choices, and attributing your very stance as a human and author to being but an aspect of her existence. That you blur that line goes beyond self-effacing, though into what murky territory I cannot say. More interesting reading.

And to acknowledge commentary out of synch, Jan's praise for your writing abilities is singularly resounding. Inaccessible to you, I'm sure, but worth some heed.

Posted by identifiable.

"my wife thinks you should remove the word "narcissistic". Yikes. Perhaps you prefaced your comment that way because as a fellow writer you didn't want to edit (read: criticize) Martha's story (the poor woman's father killed himself for goodness sake) so you pawned it off on Diane. If the writer's group gets tired of hearing you acknowledge your spouse every 5 minutes, there's always your poker group to fall back on.

Posted by chris.

You're right, Chris, it was so convenient to use Diane as the bad cop. Reminds me of a story I read in the Globe describing an administrator as "kissing up and kicking down. "

Posted by Michael.

Posted by Michael at August 24, 2003 08:24 AM