Writer's Talk: I Am Good, and They Are Also Good

I had dinner this week with two friends who are also writers. M writes novels; B is a journalist; I stick to short fiction and proposals. It was wonderful to be able to share craft and have that feeling of being understood and yet have no feeling of competition between us since we focus in such different areas.

Even if we had all been journalists or novelists or poets (like the astonishing Red Bird), we still could have been supportive and welcoming of each other's work. We are the kind of people who are willing to make space.

But maybe sometimes that would be difficult, particularly if a friend was having success that you felt you weren't. I've been meaning for a while to post Natalie Goldberg's wonderful thoughts on the subject of comparison, "Writing Is a Communal Act" from Writing Down the Bones:

"So writing is not just writing. It is also having a relationship with other writers. And don't be jealous, especially secretly. That's the worst kind. If someone writes something great, it's just more clarity in the world for all of us. Don't make writers "other," different from you: "They are good, and I am bad." Don't create that dichotomy. It makes it hard to become good if you create that duality. The opposite, of course, is also true: if you say, "I am great, and they aren't," then you become too proud, unable to grow as a writer or hear criticism of your work. Just: "They are good and I am good." That statement gives a lot of space. "They have been at it longer, and I can walk their path for a while and learn from them."

Original Fiction

What follows is a scene I wrote for my latest writing class. The assignment was to write a love scene up to a kiss, set in an interesting, not typical location and with a bit of conflict to the relationship.

Christmas Cheer

Holiday melodies suffused the air. Numerous white bulbs twinkled over the perfume counters, a bit too cheerily for Lacey’s taste, especially when their reflections gleamed off the huge red cellophane bows bursting from every surface. Usually Lacey enjoyed the mall at Christmas time, but this year, tired from dealing with Frank, it all seemed a bit forced. So what if she wasn’t feeling jolly? Wasn’t it enough that she was here to do her shopping and leave some of her hard-earned money behind?

“Why don’t we meet at the mall?” Sam had suggested. “I’m sure there are things you need.”

Remembering that teasing tone, Lacey found herself suddenly grinning. Okay, so she wasn’t here only for the shopping. Lunch with Sam was the big draw, absolutely.

***

Well into their meal, Lacey realized that she was having a fantastic time. With the late afternoon sun glinting in her auburn hair and warming her pale skin, she felt stronger and more relaxed than she had in months. Sam kept pointing out funny little quirks about the other shoppers and Lacey felt like a teenager again, holding back the giggles.

She had never even realized that Nordstrom had an actual café. Entering the quietly elegant room with its dark wood paneling and impressive dessert display was like stepping back into a department store of a more civilized era. And when Sam led her out to a balcony table, Lacey had been enchanted. The city vista, the sunlit palm trees and the distant hills made her feel that she had been whisked away to upper class urbanity.

But she had to admit that Sam was the highlight of the setting. Lacey felt so complete today, relaxed but fully alive. She had not felt this good since before she and Frank were married. Maybe now that the divorce was inevitable, she could get some of her old vivacious self back. Lacey looked over at Sam’s laughing blue eyes and knew that she wanted to try. It was time to put the past in the past and let herself be reborn.

She gave a slight snort at that and shook her head slightly, smiling to find herself struck by such sappy sentiment at this sentimental time. Sam caught the motion and leaned forward invitingly. “Penny for your thoughts.”

And Lacey felt her hands reaching forward, moving of their own accord. Her fingers reached for Sam’s thick brown hair, tangling themselves luxuriously in its depths. The meeting of their lips was electric, soft and warm as the afternoon sun, sparkling as their imported water, and quickly ended out of shock at their boldness.

They glanced around guiltily, but they were alone on the balcony and no one else had noticed. “It’s about time,” said Sam, her mouth still slightly parted. She kept firm hold of Lacey’s hand, their fingers intertwined in the most comfortable fit. “I wanted to check out some suede boots downstairs, but now I’m thinking let’s get out of here.”

“Yes,” Lacey nodded in full agreement. “We’ll do our Christmas shopping later.” She gathered up her purse and followed her new love into the suddenly hopeful season.