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I've always loved Blanche
DuBois' final line in “A Streetcar Named Desire,” when she takes
the arm of the doctor who has come to escort her to a mental
hospital: “I've always depended on the kindness of strangers.”
Tell me, Blanche!
I have always depended on
the kindness of friends, family, and my readers—among whom I of
course include you—to assist me when I need it. Far too often, I
suspect I take advantage of this kindness when it comes to doing
things which I'm sure I could eventually figure out how to do myself
if I could avoid an attack of apoplexy in the process. I truly do not
know where I would be without my best friend Gary, who is constantly
lowering a ladder into some gigantic hole I've managed to dig myself
into.
I'm pretty sure my
assumption that I can depend on others stems, yet again, from
the fact that my emotional growth ground to a halt somewhere in early
childhood. Of course I can depend on others; don't all
children depend upon adults for just about everything? That's what
they're there for. Am I not the center of the universe? Is there
really anything in other people's lives they cannot immediately put
aside when I want something from them?
But there are some things I
really cannot do myself, and with which I truly need the assistance
of others. This is no more true than in the area of my writing. I
have no trouble writing the books, and despite all the drum-beating
and flag-waving and jumping-up-and-down I do to call attention to
them, there is no possible way I can reach 1/10,000th of
the people I would so badly like to reach. Therefore, I depend upon
those who have read and hopefully enjoyed my books to spread the word
to others. Again, the assumption that I can depend
on people is, for me, simply axiomatic.
I've
never been sure if this assumption is based more on egoism or
egotism...and there is a difference. An egoist is given to
introspection, but can be modest about it. An egotist has an
exaggerated sense of the importance of his self-analysis and has to
tell everyone about it. (I'd like to think of myself as an egoist but
considering my apparent need to tell everyone every time I find out
something about myself, I can't be sure.)
While I
am very fond of royalty checks, I'm more concerned about people
reading and liking my books than I am about money. Very few writers
ever get rich. But now that I'm having audiobooks made of all my
books, this sense of need for assistance in letting more people know
about them is compounded, since all my audiobook royalties are
split50/50 with the narrators—I could not afford to pay them
otherwise. The narrators work very hard, and if I can't get word out
to prospective listeners, it's the narrators who suffer far more than
I, so I do feel a strong sense of responsibility to them. So I
automatically—and however irrationally—depend upon my readers and
potential readers for indirect financial aid for my narrators.
Reviewing
this entire topic, I realize once again that I am one huge ball of
contradictions. Yes, I depend on the kindness of others for probably
far more things than I should, and fully take it as my due when it is
offered...with things I feel I need assistance, that is. Yet I
bristle and feel humiliated when a kind stranger on a bus offers me a
seat, or opens a door for me, or tries to help me in some way for
which I do not want or need help. I can't expect to have it both
ways, but of course I do.
Yesterday
as I was leaving the physical therapy office, I tried to open the
door the wrong way and, as is my wont, when it didn't work the first
or second or third time, I grew angry. Finally, a young woman got up
and came over saying “let me get that for you.” It was very kind
of her, but I was absolutely humiliated and a boiling cauldron of
self loathing. I can't even open a f**king door,
for chrissake? What the hell is wrong
with me?
I
suspect I may not be totally alone in trying to find a balance
between needing and appreciating help—and help must always be
appreciated—and expecting it as our due. I'm still trying to find
that balance.
Dorien's
blogs are posted by 10 a.m. Central time every Monday and Thursday.
Please take a moment to visit his website (http://www.doriengrey.com)
and, if you enjoy these blogs, you might want to check out Short
Circuits: a Life in Blogs (http://bit.ly/m8CSO1),
which is also available as an audiobook
(http://www.audible.com/pd/ref=sr_1_1?asin=B00DJAJYCS&qid=1372629062&sr=1-1).
2 comments:
We are certainly in agreement that being read for a writer is more important than royalty cheques (English spelling, I'm afraid); the blog also made me think of last lines and how they are just as important as those that open the novel.
Excellent...and accurate...point, Chloe. I always try to work hard on them.
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