Dear (possibly fed-up) Readers

I'm resetting my Attention

Imagination is more important than intelligence - Einstein

Peace Lily in my living room. Photo by Monika Ullmann

I am bowing out of journalism for personal as well as professional reasons.

Journalism used to be the way I earned my increasingly meagre keep. But it has always been second to my primary literary and artistic interests. I discovered my writing gift via poetry, after all. I had excellent teachers, who encouraged me and taught me the necessary skills. Rona Murray, a now forgotten Victoria playwright and poet, was my mentor. She used to tell me that if I wanted to grow as a writer, I needed to go deeper. Fifty years on, I’m finally following her advice by venturing deeper into the recesses of my mind. And I’m attempting this via a relatively new genre known as Autofiction or Autobiographical Fiction.

The reason is that I no longer find the journalistic genre, even the somewhat bowderlised version I write, an interesting or even doable challenge. My attention is wandering as well as wondering. Could I, at this advanced age, reinvent myself by writing in a different genre?

My posts could be called Essays, if you like. Essay is French for ‘attempt’, and frankly, my attempts do not excite or please me as they once did. I am painfully aware that the quicksand of online discourse puts me at a severe disadvantage. I simply lack the connections and resources to do the excellent job of digging up the Truth that you deserve to know.

I have had to accept that real Journalism is a game for the young-ish and well-connected. Those who have the interest and talent in separating the chaff of rumour, paid bots and ‘influencers’ from the wheat of actual facts and the elusive Truth. Look no further than Matt Taibbi’s Racket News for inside info on anything American, Mike Solana’s Pirate Wires for wit, wide ranging and intelligent comments on American culture and Entrepreneurism, Elizabeth Nickson at Welcome to Absurdistan for globalist revelations and focus on Canadian stupidity, and above all, Sam Cooper of The Bureau for up to date news on Cartels, money laundering and the CCP Triad connections in North America. This select group has the chops, the passion and the background I lack. If you want informed, real journalism of the kind the Legacy Media has abandoned, they’ve stepped into the vacuum and reinvigorated journalism as it should be.

Instead of wrestling with the reality based, reasonable Essay form, Autofiction is personal, based on the life, insights and imagination of the writer, in this case, that of an 85 year old west coaster in serious need of a reset. In doing so I am hoping to join the ranks of much younger writers who excel at this genre.

Autofiction or Biographical Fiction entered the world when a young, unknown writer called Sheila Heti wrote How Should a Person Be in 2010. Set in Toronto among a group of aspiring artists and writers, it is a coming of age story with a difference, and a definitive female bias. A reviewer characterized the novel thus:

Ultimately, this unusual book is a Rorschach test, in that each reader will see something different and what they see defines them and not the author. It is a highly personal work on Heti’s part, a mix of fiction and philosophy, but done in a way so subtle, the reader is not led but leads themselves to a meaning.

It is interesting to note that it was House of Anansi, a small Canadian publisher, that took this on though I can’t help wondering if a similar test of publishing chutzpah today would even get started. Heti followed up with ten other books, the latest one being Pure Color. In which she opens with a hilarious description of how God has taken a step back from his flawed Creation, and how our Creator could improve his skills the next time after the current attempt has expired. It’s not quite philosophy nor religion though it uses them as the basis for letting her imagination take over. What delicious liberty! Far from being constrained by facts, she allows them to bolster her flights of Imagination. She’s very good at this, I note. A beguiling voice that manages to keep my attention though I disagree with her basic Climate Anxiety altogether. Indeed, I suspect there are few things we would agree on. That she can keep my attention anyway is the mark of a writer at the top of her game.

She is also still quite young, as are others who excel in this genre. Young from my perspective, that is. Like the celebrated New York Poet Ben Lerner, currently in his late forties. It is the path to follow if you want to be taken seriously in the literary world today, while also writing bestsellers.

The question is, could I at my advanced age, write in this form and beguile you, my loyal readers? Could I—dare I—take myself into the writing world of the young generation and still keep your attention?

In order to find the answer to that question, I’m about to leap into the recesses of my mind and grow a new wing to soar on. This has become my new obsession, working just below the level of my consciousness. Whether I can take flight without melting the wax in my fragile wings only the writing itself will reveal.

Soon, I hope to publish something that is rooted in the oddly revealing conversations I’m having in the Sauna. More than pores open up in there, with unexpected results. Laughter, even. Yes, I’m hoping that my new, more personal version of WordWatch will be every bit as funny as Ben Lerner’s bestseller, 10:04. It’s written in the voice of his thirty year old self, when he used to give meals and showers to tired Occupy protestors. Here he describes a bizarre conversation between a six-foot-four protestor and himself, eating a meal the author has inexpertly thrown together.

The topic they bond over is peculiar to males: how they tend to engage in weird and unconscious ritual displays when taking a piss at a public bathroom. Here we go:

I did it basically without knowing it, had done it all my life, the protester said, …. we were in the McDonalds bathroom by the park where the manager lets us go and my friend Chris was just like, When are you going to quit acting like it weighs so much, man? Do you need help with that or something? And that was the first time I realized I was doing it, realized that all these men were always doing it, and I just stopped. I mean I know it’s not the point of Occupy…but I don’t act as if my cock weighs a ton and it does make me see the world a little differently, you know?

The two of them end by laughing hysterically about this male affliction described in some detail, which I shall spare you. The entire scene is both strange, hilarious and clearly based on something that happened to his younger self. Could I pull off something like that? I certainly had my share of ‘weird’ experiences. We shall see. Staggering under the weight of his literary honours, Lerner can write whatever he wants, and it will be read, discussed, evaluated and loved. That’s a high bar to aim for and I won’t pretend to catch it. But it’s something to aim for, right?

I look forward to the day when you will let me know if I am making a deplorable mistake or making an auspicious start in the imaginative world of Autofiction. I intend to still be intelligent on the topics of the day but with the additional mix of my own experience, my own insights as well as unfettered flights of imagination. Written in the style becoming to a former poet, of course.

Thank you dear Readers, for giving me your continued Attention. It is precious and I don’t take it for granted. While my posts will look sort of the same, they will also be just a little bit different because of a slight shift in my Attention towards the personal and the imaginative. I hope I don’t lose yours in the attempt. Where we direct Attention, yours or mine, defines our days. It informs how we see the world and ourselves. It matters.

It is, in a word, Everything.