Fake Pandemic Introvert vs. Real Introvert

Dahlia Gallin Ramirez's "Fake Pandemic Introvert vs. Real Introvert" New Yorker piece (July 21, 2021) shed light on the rise of fake (pandemic) introverts. 

In one of Ramirez's examples, a fake introvert shared: "Going to read all the works of Tolstoy."

The post was a "dead giveaway", because real introverts typically don't overshare on social media. 

In the case of the introvert, the potential social media post would have been considered bragging as Tolstoy's oeuvre would have already been read - in Russian. And instead of posting, the real introvert, a polyglot, would have been busy translating Tolstoy's The Cossacks into Aramaic.

Last, we'll re-share a Martin Amis quote: "The first thing that distinguishes a writer is that he is most alive when he is alone." (The Paris Review "The Art of Fiction No. 151)

Writers Are Most Alive While Alone (i.e., Introverts)?

@introvertdoodles

James Baldwin wrote in the essay “The Creative Process” (1962):

The primary distinction of the artist is that he must actively cultivate that state which most men, necessarily, must avoid: the state of being alone.

Per The Paris Review's "The Art of Fiction No. 151, Martin Amis said, 

"The first thing that distinguishes a writer is that he is most alive when he is alone."

And we related previously that Jenn Granneman shared on the blog Introvert, Dear that John Green, The Fault in Our Stars author, opined: 

“Writing is something you do alone. It’s a profession for introverts who want to tell you a story but don’t want to make eye contact while doing it.” 

Of course, there are a number of writers who are not introverts (e.g., Hemingway); thus, like Baldwin advised, they must actively cultivate the state of being alone to attain the state of feeling alive.

THE PARIS REVIEW'S "Eat Your Words" | Food in Literature

 

The Paris Review's website has an Eat Your Words category that's described as: "Cooking up recipes drawn from the works of various writers", which reminded me that I'm not the only writer who enjoys reading about food in novels. How about an example from Nabokov's Ada:

The classical beauty of clover honey, smooth, pale, translucent, freely flowing from the spoon and soaking my love's bread and butter in liquid brass. The crumb steeped in nectar. 

Does Danielle Steel Really Write for 20 to 22 Hours Per Day?!

Lena Dunham is writing Verified Strangers, a serial romance novel, that's being posted week-daily on Vogue’s website. Consequently, Dunham posted on Twitter that, for inspiration, she revisited a Danielle Steel Glamour profile (MAY 9, 2019). (In case you're wondering, Verified Strangers is more Cecily von Ziegesar than Vladimir Nabokov.)

Here are some relevant excerpts from Steel's Glamour profile:

The author has written 179 books [...] To pull it off, she works 20 to 22 hours a day. (A couple times a month, when she feels the crunch, she spends a full 24 hours at her desk.)

Steel is a creature of habit. She gets to her office—by 8:30 A.M., where she can often be found in her cashmere nightgown. In the morning she'll have one piece of toast and an iced decaf coffee (she gave up full-throated caffeine 25 years ago). After lunch and as the day wears on, she'll nibble on miniature bittersweet chocolate bars. "Dead or alive, rain or shine, I get to my desk and I do my work. Sometimes I'll finish a book in the morning, and by the end of the day, I've started another project," Steel says.

"I don't get to bed until I'm so tired I could sleep on the floor. If I have four hours, it's really a good night for me," Steel says.

For all her exhortations, Steels does sometimes fear that she's overemphasized work, wishing she'd "had a little more fun." Now every summer she takes a full week off in the South of France to be with her family. They’ll hang out on the beach; she catches up on her reading. (Steel can't read other books while working on her own, which means she can basically never read other books.) On the rare nights that she finishes work earlier than expected, she'll fit in about an hour or so of television, often Netflix [...]

I'm not saying that I don't believe that Steel writes for 20 to 22 hours per day, but I find that to be extremely hard to believe. 

The Paris Review related that Nabokov worked on his translation of Pushkin's Onegin for approximately 17 hours per day - for two months, but Nabokov shared that he was on the verge of a [nervous] breakdown: “I was … on the verge of a breakdown and not fit for company. For two months in Cambridge I did nothing (from 9 A.M. to 2 A.M.) but work on my commentaries to EO.” 

During the summer of 2010, after teaching a summer school course in Manhattan, I worked on my first novel for about ten hours per day. I did not almost have a nervous breakdown but, despite sleeping between 4 to 5 hours per night, I just couldn't squeeze any more writing time out of the day. 

I will say that Steel's eating habits (e.g., "one piece of toast and an iced decaf coffee") are consistent with her alleged work ethic but, per Stephen King and most writers, the fact that Steel doesn't read much is inconsistent with being a writer. 

I wouldn't be surprised if Steel works in a similar fashion to James Patterson who per a Vanity Fair profile (DECEMBER 10, 2014), which refers to Patterson as the "The Henry Ford of Books", Patterson has "an army of co-writers". 

Patterson writes outlines that he sends to co-authors. Upon receiving the manuscript, Patterson revises the MS before sending it to an editor. Consequently, Patterson is: "The planet’s best-selling author since 2001, James Patterson has more than 300 million copies of his books in print, [helped by] an army of co-writers [...]"

THE PARIS REVIEW Rejection

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I recently submitted five poems via snail mail to The Paris Review . (Surprisingly, the editors don't accept online submissions.) And I received a rejection "letter" today. The "letter" is a bit disingenuous, because I doubt that the editors at the prestigious literary journal "regret" not being able to publish my verse. 

Kathryn A. Higgins, who interned at the journal, shared, "The Paris Review gets many unsolicited manuscripts every day and publishes I believe about one each year.

Depressing and yet encouraging — the work is definitely read, although not published."

However, I'm proud to join the likes of other poets such as Charles Bukowski whom were never published in the The Paris Review. Here's one of the poems that I submitted:

The Allure of Nymphets 

by Mo Ibrahim

Chaplin had a crush on 
12-year-old Maybelle Fournier before 
he met Mildred Harris at 14 
and at 16 his child she bore.

And he was smitten with Hetty Kelly 
and fertilized Lillita when they were 15,
after Casanova took the virginity 
of Nanetta and Marta; a true libertine. 

Seidel wrote in Ooga-Booga 
about maidens and Ducatis; only the best.
“But this woman is young. 
We kiss. It’s almost incest.”  

The Pretty Little Liars were dressed 
in minis and panties that they flashed
at the “fortysomething guy” 
before he hastily left the mall abashed.

Capote's Breakfast at Tiffany’s 
13-year-old Holiday Golightly 
married [a much] older man 
and no one opined she was crazy.

At 15 she lived with a college jock 
whose eyes could have been blue.
 At 18 she said, “I can’t get excited by a man 
until he’s at least forty-two.”

Californication’s Frank Moody had sex 
with his step-daughter who was 16.
 Bored to Death’s Ray was sad as the writer 
didn't sodomize the coed who was 16.

While On the Road Neal Cassady 
of the 15-year-old Marylou said, 
“...so sweet, so young, hmm, ahh.” 
But it was Dean who took her to bed.

In The Dark Side of Camelot  
Kennedy Sr. had sex with his 17-year-old caddie, 
while his wife, LBJ and Lady Bird 
listened to the action [over tea].

Frank Sinatra had the confidence 
to beseech an affair with 14-year-old Tuesday Weld 
who turned down the role of Kubrick’s Lolita 
before her meltdown that was uncompelled.

And what did the 16-year-old write on her FB wall?
It was her New Year’s resolution.
 “I’m going to fuck my history teacher!” 
At least she wasn't a damn freshman.

Gossip Girl’s Dan asked, 
“Who doesn’t like school girls?” 
Case in point, take the homeless man,
who whistled at the Catholic school girls.

That was on the Grand Central platform.
All the while,
the Pope approves of the length of their skirts 
that are enticing to an ephebophile

THE PARIS REVIEW's Beneficial Twitter for Writers

In addition to Brian Koppelman's Vine and Jon Winokur's Twitter, writers may find The Paris Review's Twitter very beneficial. Here are some examples:

“The first thing that distinguishes a writer is that he is most alive when alone.” —Martin Amis http://t.co/tpb46HsNQk

— The Paris Review (@parisreview) September 30, 2015

“Writing at least is a silent meditation even though you’re going a hundred miles an hour.” —Jack Kerouac http://t.co/srxwiorprf

— The Paris Review (@parisreview) October 3, 2015

“Suicide is, after all, the opposite of a poem.” —Anne Sexton http://t.co/X28o4tesap

— The Paris Review (@parisreview) October 2, 2015

“Your antenna must be out all the time picking up vibrations and details.” —Jan Morris http://t.co/dkFxED0Aol

— The Paris Review (@parisreview) September 30, 2015

“So it was a very small beginning, but it caught fire.” —Chinua Achebe http://t.co/6DxSwtH040

— The Paris Review (@parisreview) September 29, 2015

Ray Bradbury: What It Takes To Be A Writer

Sadie Stein embedded the short documentary, Ray Bradbury Story of a Writer (1963), on The Paris Review's blog. Bradbury shared some excellent advice on what it takes to be a sustained writer. We highly recommend that writers, from novel to seasoned, take a look.