Salon Columnists

Does love have to be
a five-alarm fire?

Wistfully Smoldering

My dear Wistful:

I speak as one whose house has burned a few times, and while it is a glorious experience and while I pity anyone whose house doesn't at least have serious smoke damage, there is no connection between this and a sustained relationship. And if you burst into an intense operatic love affair, it'd be good if the object of your giddiness turned out, once your knees stopped shaking, to be an honest, compassionate person with a sense of humor who could clean a bathroom, make a meatloaf and repair a faucet and also be exciting on occasion. I do think, my dear Smolderer, that if this lovely guy (I would wince if a woman referred to me as "clever," by the way) is making you wistful for a real romance, you should pull back a little so it won't break his heart if you find one.

Dear Mr. Blue,

Usually I find you a font of wisdom -- but where did you put your brain when you wrote that the Bible didn't have a sequel. The Torah and the New Testament? Different casts of characters and God's personality changes.

A Jew In Colorado

Mr. Blue stands corrected.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I was recently accepted into the 1998 Poetry Festival, a grueling, week-long master class at the Robert Frost Place in Laconia, N.H. In defiance of the realities of my apparent limitations, I submitted my poems to a blind acceptance process, a splendid equalizer that allows a working-class, middle-aged grandmother with a ninth-grade education to contend. But it is wicked difficult for me to be away from my cottage and loving kin. And as a financial choice it's not the sensible one. Most of all, I feel like a hopelessly gooney oddball outsider in a classroom setting. Yet I want to learn. Any tips?

Torn in Maine

Dear Torn:

A writer may have to tear herself away from loving kin now and then, and of course poetry is never a sensible choice on financial grounds. Burglary beats poetry, when it comes to making money. As for being an oddball outsider, that's a position of advantage for a writer, without a doubt. The real question is: Can these jokers teach you anything? Do you respect their work? Do you hanker to be in the midst of other poets and talk the talk and smell the mouthwash? If you do, go, and if you don't, then accept the invitation as a compliment, and enjoy your summer in Maine. I don't know who is running the master class, but I'm willing to bet that he or she would be charmed half to death to have a working-class, middle-aged grandmother with a ninth-grade education in the midst of all the hairy-legged M.F.A.s.

Dear Mr. Blue,

Where can a gentle idealist look to find kind and intelligent companions?

Jo

Dear Jo:

In books, particularly in 19th century fiction.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I've just received an attractive job offer in my old hometown. I have friends, family and a cheap house waiting for me there, but I feel like going back would be a kind of failure. I love the people, but I hate the town. I moved to Dallas two years ago to be in a bigger pond, but now my little pond is pulling me back. Should I go?

Jaffo

Dear Jaffo:

Why go live in a town you hate? It would only make you less lovable to the friends and family you love. This is one of those situations in which, if you have to ask for advice, the answer probably is no.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I am a writer with a question about love (sort of). I'm in love with a wonderful woman, the best person I've ever met in my life. Even better, she loves me, too. We've lived together for a few years and things are working out better than I could have ever hoped.

We don't have many more years to decide if we're going to start a family. She's 38 and I'm a few years younger. We would like to buy a house and stop throwing money away on rent. The problem is that I've been pursuing those "struggling artist" jobs that cover little more than living expenses. My only job skills are strong proofreading skills and usually showing up for work on time. I have spent my life dreading the kind of jobs people take for money only, but the woman I love wants a garden of her own, plus a little security, and I want to give it to her.

She works too, of course, and earns at the top of her profession, which is not much. What do I do? She's not a materialistic woman (we don't even own a car), but to give her the few things she wants I'll need more $$ than I make now. Do I set aside my writing and pick up another job? Should I sell cars or something? Or do I watch her wait even longer for her dreams to come true?

Willing

Dear Willing:

It's sweet of you to want to make your love's dreams come true, but how could she enjoy a garden that was purchased by your working at a job you dread? What you don't mention here is your own writing -- how you feel about it as you look at 40, if it sustains you, if you imagine that it might earn money so you can have a family. Your love for this woman is, in the end, the severest test of your own writing and your commitment to it. Is it good enough that you're willing to go on struggling and ask her to struggle with you?

Dear Mr. Blue,

Is it more important to know where you're going when you start book-length fiction, or more important that you keep at it every day? I seem to start and stop frequently, beset by small children and little sleep, and usually I have no idea where I'm going. The result is often, well, you can imagine. Zero. I wonder if I should put more time into concocting a plot?

Chris H.

Dear Chris:

There's no harm in making an outline if it serves to stimulate your thinking and free you up from the gloom of the indefinite. It is more cheerful to write the history of your toaster than to try to write a book about Something. An outline is only a sketch. It may turn out to be utterly wrong and need to be re-drawn. Often in the course of writing, you will find yourself pulled in a direction you could not have predicted, that strikes you as more truthful than what you had intended to write. But if it helps to make a map, do. It's good to keep at your work, every day if possible, but don't forget to enjoy those small children too. And remember that sleep is a form of meditation and a good night's sleep can solve difficult problems. It really can.
SALON | July 14, 1998

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Feeling blue about your prose?
In the doldrums over your last date?
Ask Mr. Blue.

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