Tayari's Blog: Beyond the McMillian Moment

Comment #1, by Lafreya

Thank you so much for this information. At least I know what I'm up against.

Comment #2, by Jackie

My first reaction when I started reading this was "What about Stephen L. Carter?" then realized he was a mystery writer. Yet, his proven track record was with non-fiction law books. When he ventured out into fiction, his first book The Emperor of Ocean Park was a tremendous success. BTW, he has a new mystsery out and, well, check it out. It's 553 pages worth of juicy stuff about upperclass blacks. Now I am going back to finish reading the post and all the links.

Comment #3, by Jackie

OK, I'm back. Packer makes a good point about parental and community expectations, that once educated, young people are encouraged to work in something "substantial" like medicine or the law. I would never have considered being a writer when I graduated from college many decades ago, yet when my son, now 24, wanted to be an artist, I was his biggest supporter. I don't know how he will make out, but I have always told him to pay attention to how he feels and what he wants and to make that work for him. Dreams have to be nourished early on. If we keep telling our young people to have something to fall back on, I think we scare them out of their dreams. They don't have to be one thing OR another. They can be many things and that includes artist, writer, musician, doctor, laywer, pilot, teacher, puppeteer (think Kevin Clash), and on and on and on. Hey, Stephen Carter teaches law AND writes mysteries! Let's help our youth believe they can be what they want and maybe some will break into the literary market sooner rather than later.

I also recently finished Free Food for Millionaires. In fact in about an hour I am going to see/hear Min Jin Lee speak at Politics and Prose. I didn't choose her book based on any review. I was pulled in by the title, by the situation of the main character (recent college graduate) and then merely curious that she was Korean. Then there was that New York angle.

The only books I have closed the door on are urban fiction, but it wasn't until I had given it a chance to woo me. I find it's just the same story over and over again (girl abused, girl becomes stripper, girl gets a gun, bullets fly, maybe a pimp gets hit, somebody goes to jail). Too, too much for me.

I remember that Terry McMillan's first three books were good tries that failed to generate heat. It took a few books for her to get everybody's attention and for her to find her pace. Alice Walker was published back in the 70's but there weren't that many of us taking the time to read her. I sure am glad she kept at it.

I have digressed. So many of us are proud that you are at MacDowell, doing what you want, living your dream, just like all the writers who came before you (notice that I didn't limit it to AA writers). Live that dream. Show us all how it's done.

Comment #4, by Martha Southgate

First off, I want to thank you, Tayari, for inviting me to comment a little further and sharing my piece with your audience. I really appreciate that.

Your post is very thoughtful and right-on. I think if you spend too much time thinking "How am I gonna change everything?" that you'd never be able to write a word. So I think, as you say, one of the most important things we can do is to do our work. I'm glad you're doing yours--and like Bridgett, I admire your tenacity and focus.

To Jackie: I'm going to be reviewing Carter's book for the magazine "The Nation" sometime in July. I have some pretty mixed feelings about his work as a fiction writer. He's a very intelligent, accomplished man. But I have some questions about his new novel. I'll post on my website (and in a comment here if you'd like) so you can check it out.

Comment #5, by Paula Chase

Both your post and Martha Southgate's article really got me thinking how the discussion of where do African Americans fit in the grand scheme i.e. mainstream?

Some might say, why isn't it good enough that we only appeal to Af-Am readers. But those who say that are missing the point of why writer's write.

We write so an audience (any and all willing to be included in that audience) will be touched by our stories.

While I'm not a literary author, I find a similiar struggle as one of the few Af-Am Young Adult writers. We too are often left hollering and waving to make sure people know we are here.

And in truth, we have the opposite problem. When it comes to YA, it's the more literary Af-Am authors who garner the attention (if not the dividends). The rest of us are simply trying to ensure there are a diverse base of stories featuring children and teens of color, in hopes that if we broaden their reading horizons now, they'll go on to read more broadly later.

In the end, we're all in the struggle together and as Tayari said, I'm simply glad to be a part of the link in the chain with the rest of the hard headed scribes.

Comment #6, by Jackie

Thanks Martha, I will be on the lookout.

When Carter spoke at Politics and Prose last week, I had trouble finding a parking space. It was a standing room only crowd. There were maybe 10 AAs in the audience (and a few of them could have been characters in his book, catch my drift). Back in 2002 he was on a panel of mystery writers sponsored by the New York Times. Ironically, the book signing line was longest for him, longer even than the one for Lawrence Block. His book touched something (a raw nerve maybe?) The man is popular. I loved his book when I read it. Then last year I listened to it on audio tape and was perplexed. I checked the tape to see if it was abridged, but no, it was unabridged. It just wasnt that good on the second run. Yet..... I think his hook is that he allows us to peek inside the rooms of the people who are inacessible to most of us, the rich black folk, the educated elite. This newest book does the same thing through thinly veiled references to Jack and Jill and the Links, and was that the Boule he was trying to tell us about? Anyway, I would love to read your take on this writer.

Min Jin Lee was fabulous tonight. She told a story about the difficulty of being minority that rang true of the outsider experience. She related that as a senior at Yale, even after winning two major writing prizes, a professor in her own department told her she couldn't write and should take a remedial writing class. How many of us have had similar experiences where someone from outside our culture allowed their misperceptions to cloud their judgement and turn us away from our dream or at least cause us to stumble? Good thing she didn't listen to him.

Comment #7, by persistence

Southgates' article helped me to feel sane again. As a 44-year old, non-traditional student returning to college to facilitate my literary foundation after having left "a good job" to pursue my own writing ambitions, I sometimes pray, "Lord, tell me I didn't make the wrong decision." I feel less alone in my aspirations and this essay helped me feel less crazy on this ordinary day.

Comment #8, by KaV.

As a young black woman,I'm so sick of reading one sided articles blaming white this and that. Where are the black publishers? Granted not as many as our white counterparts, but they're out there. We need to share half the blame because we're not reading our own black writers, yet will break our necks to watch some stupid demeaning movie , or buy another rap album that's disrespectful to black women. We need to stop making excuses for our own non reading black community.Its like my grandfather says "Excuses won't make up for stupidity". And it doesn't matter how long it takes a person to become a writer. Live your dream. The focus should be on getting black people to take responsibility for themselves and stop depending on others.

Comment #9, by minaj

This has been one of the best discussions I've read on a very challenging problem - how an African-American author of literary fiction can reach a substantial audience. The flip side of the coin is how an African-American reader can find those excellent books of literary fiction that will excite the mind and touch the heart. As a 57-year-old African-American woman who started reading at 3 (I was known as the little girl who always walked down the street reading a book) and has been a passionate reader all my life, I find it difficult to extract the kind of books I love from the sea of "Urban Fiction". Don't get me wrong - I think that reading ANYTHING is good and can lead to reading more challenging books. Speaking for myself, however, that genre is not aimed at my demographic. I was so discouraged a few weeks ago to read the Borders list of African-American summer books and not finding, in a two-page list, even one book to add to my personal list. Your blog, Tayari, and the links you provide, has been one of my best sources. I think that we are going to have to develop and spread new techniques for disseminating information about Black literary fiction. I don't believe that there are not large numbers of potential readers - just look at the number of African-American book clubs or, better yet, ride public transportation and see who's reading. It's us! The thought of not seeing a fourth book from Bridgett Davis, Maxine Claire, Anthony Grooms, Patricia Elam, ZZ Packer, and, of course, Martha and YOU, Tayari, is a terrible thought. If we make more of a concerted effort to spread the word when we find a wonderful book - to our white friends and colleagues as well as our Black friends - I believe that we can help develop an increased demand for African-American literary fiction. Meanwhile, writers, PLEASE don't give up! For those of us who love fiction but have no hope of ever writing it, you add uncountable dimensions to our lives.

Comment #10, by howard

Peace and thanks to you Tayari for pushing this conversation on your site.
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I was pleased to see Martha Southgate's article in the NYTIMES; I assume the piece will get more folks talking.

I was thinking that one issue that would need to be further considered relates to communities & generations of readers. You mentioned Jacobs as a kind of elder-kin writer. True. But I wonder about lineages/traditions of readerships. Without them, writers are left hanging.

In a different vein, it seems like more has to be said about the role of lit. agents. Two of Nicole Aragi's clients (E. Danticat & C. Whitehead) appear in the most recent issue of the Norton anthology of Af.-Am. lit. It's hard to quantify what agents achieve for their writers, but it seems to matter.

Anyway, thanks as always for raising good points, giving us something good to read.

Comment #11, by Martha Southgate

I'm checking back in to enthusiastically second Minaj's comments about educating reading friends and acquaintances--of all races--when you find a book by a black author that you love. What I didn't have room to get into in the piece was how tough the literary marketplace for everyone is right now and how if we don't have educated readers--of whatever color--we don't stand a chance. So if you have teens or know teens--shove good books into their hands. If you read a book by one of us that you love, post a quick rave on Amazon and B and N. Tell everyone you know. As Tayari pointed out, part of the problem is that literature by people of color is considered not "universal" (read: extraneous) to some members of the majority culture. That's nonsense and we can't let it stand.

I had depressing evidence of this on another site I visited. A (white) poster complained that her daughter read mostly Zane and her ilk and added that her daughter was thinking it was starting to sound all alike--and therefore she was coming to the conclusion that that was what African-American fiction is. Horrifying. I quickly suggested some books for her to press upon her daughter. But a story like this tells what we're up against. It's a pain that we have to push so hard to educate people (of whatever race). But we do.

One more thing: I don't write solely for other black people. I love and respect my African-American readers--but like I said in the piece: our stories are American stories. That means for everybody. I want everybody to read my books and I know my serious writer friends and acquaintances would say the same. So make sure you share your enthusiasm for a book with everyone you know.

Thanks for all the thoughtful comments. It's been very heartening.

Comment #12, by HenryBemis

Perhaps Martha and her ilk should learn the fine art of self-promotion and publicity. Creativity doesn't stop once the manuscript is mailed to the agent/publisher/publishing house; your creative talents must be garnered for promotions sake. Learn to market yourself. Do not leave anything up to the publisher. Deem yourself fortunate to have published a book then promote the heck out of it. If we must be twice as good we must also be twice as clever.

If you want people to read your book, they must know that it/you exist. Yes, annoying yet true. This makes me think about Dave Eggers. Perhaps the only reason he is as popular as he is, couldn't be his books, but it's his promotional savvy. Learn the lesson.

Comment #13, by Martha Southgate

HenryBemis's comment above really gets my goat, partly because his "advice" has been given to me in other comment areas on other blogs where my piece has been posted. I have been startled and dismayed by the number of people who seem to think that I submitted my book to an agent, was fortunate enough to get it published by a major publisher and since then have sat back like a delicate flower, waiting for the publisher to sell it.

My piece was not intended to be a whine,a lament or special pleading but to raise some difficult questions about where African-American writers are in terms of the culture at this point in time. As far as marketing my own work, I have happily attended events such as the Go On Girl book club convention; the NBCC and the like and will continue to do so. I have spoken at numerous book clubs, done as many readings and events as I can manage, and take credit for keeping my novel The Fall of Rome in print through my own marketing efforts to private schools. Let me explain: the novel is set in a prep school and examines issues of race and class therein. So when it came out, I sent my resume and a copy of the book to the diversity director of the National Association of Independent Schools, offering my services as a speaker. I was invited to speak at two different conferences, thereby introducing the book to several hundred teachers and administrators in an environment that would be eager to read and teach the book. It has worked--while not a best seller, The Fall of Rome is taught fairly often and is, I think, still in print due largely to the support it receives from schools and book clubs. I am deeply grateful to both constituencies.

My publisher did none of that, nor did I expect them to. I have also done as much as I can for Third Girl From The Left without sacrificing time to work on my novel-in-progress or neglect my family, though the marketing niche is not as precise for that novel (but then, I don't think about marketing niches when I'm writing--only after the book is done).

No, I'm not up on 125th Street with a table and no, I'm not devoting every waking hour to promoting my existing work. But I am doing it to the best of my ability. Learn the lesson, you suggest? I have. The lesson I'd suggest for Mr. Bemis is not to make assumptions.

Comment #14, by Woody Lewis

Hi Martha,

I left a comment on the other July 2 post, "Martha's Director's Cut," where I talk about graduating from the Bennington MFA program this past January and coming back a couple of weeks ago to see the June class graduate. I was so happy to hear that you'll be teaching there in January, and only wish I could be there. Your piece in the Times Book Review was reassuring and quite accurate. I try not to rant about the state of African American literary fiction, but the situation is obvious. Comments like those from the myopic Mr. Bemis underscore the need for constant edification. In a world dominated by media images of inarticulate, sometimes incoherent, purveyors of sex, drugs and violence, black writers need to create and cherish intelligent characters with compelling inner lives. For those fortunate enough to be published, the job is clearly far from over. I admire your self-marketing and hope to match your energy when the time comes. Yes, it is hard with a family, and in my case a full-time job, but having grown up in Brooklyn, I feel I'm up to the challenge. Life here in the Bay Area can be truly idyllic, but the realization of my cultural identity makes me write even harder.

Comment #15, by HenryBemis

Martha,

If the miles between us don't allow for a sit down conversation and the only response I can create is based on your NYTimes essay, then assume I must. My retort is not an attack on a "whine" because I read no such thing in your essay. What I did read was a deeply exasperated sigh.

Where are AA writers at this cultural/historical moment? Hmm, let's see. The New York literary cabal screws us all. Unless or course you are white, male, ivy degreed (funny, the most achingly dumb people I've known passed through the ivies), young (young for men seems to tip at 45, women, poor things get scratched off the literary dance card at around 29), have contacts up the whazoo, and are "lit hip."

How can we be taken seriously within this literary environment? Well, we can start a new cabal; create new institutions, keep writing as if this cultural moment was just that - a cultural moment - mentor AA writers (not just 20somethings who may very well turn out to write shallow navel gazing fluff), and write more magazine articles/screenplays/plays/poetry and get more produced.

And finally, and this I think is the most important, realize that life, outside the literary cabal, and inside black, and inside all skinz is brutish, difficult, crazy, unfair, unkind, temperamental, judgmental, beautiful amd opportunistic. We can complain about the cabal but in the end we have to let the Medusa alone. Keep writing. Keep writing. Our stories will get read, only if we have the gumption and the courage to persevere.

Comment #16, by Woody Lewis

Nice touch with the name, Henry. I had to google to get the Twilight Zone reference. I take it your comment "The New York literary cabal screws us all" means that you're part of the AA community; wasn't sure from your earlier post. I think the first thing anyone can do is, despite the dominance of the NY literary scene, not be fatalistic. As an AA male in my late fifties, encumbered as I am with two Ivy degrees but not "achingly dumb," and living in the Bay Area, it'd be easy for me to rant at the NY establishment, but after finishing a Bennington MFA in January, a program which arguably constitutes one of the strongest Gotham centers of gravity outside the actual city limits, I feel empowered. Few people sidled up to me in awe of my color, but I felt a renewed sense of kinship, possibly because of my Brooklyn origins. There are just as many people in San Francisco who, despite the prevailing political correctness, subscribe to the demographic constraints you portray. Of course, the answer is to keep writing, but most of us who do just that, without the added visibility of self-marketing and thought-provoking essays like Martha's, will toil in obscurity, gumption or no gumption. Trust me, "lit hip" is a national phenomenon; it's just more visible in New York.

Comment #17, by denise

I would like to say that Martha Southgate in her New York Times article, touched a relevant nerve linking us all, not unlike Stephen Carter in his first and recent book, New England White.

As a new author of a publisher who chose to open their literary imprint with my book, I feel honored. I also know that I have a large row to hoe. The row being publicity. "Minaj," in her above comment makes a case for the dissemination of knowledge concerning the release of literary works written by African American authors. Case in point--myself. I have sold my work "Keeper of Secrets...Translations of an Incident," to so many people, nearly 100 copies, just on the street or through word-of-mouth. So I know that African American readers are out there and ready to buy my work. But with the present state of flux, which may be too soft a word that publishing is in, it is difficult to find your target audience. It's like the American slave master taking the drums from the African slaves. We live in a social apartheid, where we are not always sure, perhaps doubt, what we feel because we don't have anyone with whom to conduct a reality check, no one with whom to say, “Is it live or Memorex? Is it me, or is what I’m feeling/seeing really happening?”
This phenomenon is compounded by a savvy and sinister tele- and print media that is constantly telling us what it wants us to believe, AND that anything we sense or witness which falls outside of the defined limits of their goals, is just our fantasy or the result of an overactive imagination, worse yet, a mental illness.

I happen to believe that imagination is the key to freedom. And that the artist’s job is to unleash imagination in others. We do that by committing ourselves to our work, writing, painting, sculpting, etc. and remembering the link we have with those who came before us such as Harriett Jacobs. Perhaps this is where Stephen L. Carter gains so much enthusiasm and strength. The man knows his history.

But there’s another piece to this--that of looking back at one’s own self--taking stock of our own psyche--how far we are willing to dig deep inside us and not be led by the conventions of Eurocentric thinking that do not serve us well, and that has not been kind to members of its own ethnicity. I can say this as an author who was first and still is a psychotherapist, one who not only saw clients, but also spent 30 years in psychotherapy as a client myself. We African Americans have undergone a travesty in this country. And much of what sustained the fervor to abuse us remains alive. It is a part and parcel of why the settlers came to these shores and ravaged the Native American population in their attempt to create a better life. Yet and still we have survived. And that was not by their design.
We are a resilient people. We spend upwards to $46 billion dollars each year alone on purchasing Cadillac Navigators—just Navigators. USA reported this along with many other figures last year. We are an immensely powerful people, both in heart, spirit and in finance.
What we lack, and again this comes part and parcel from being in this country, is an ability to step outside of our, the American culture, and view them critically. And what I mean by critically is not from the perspective of the wrongs committed upon us by the leaders and people of this country, but by what they have done to other ethnic groups in this country and around the world. The Iraq War is, as Isabelle Allende’ wrote at its outset, just one more example of colonialism, one that is being committed in the twenty-first century. The more things change, the more they remain the same. You don't go to the desert looking for water. And should you, you must be prepared to encounter many mirages. America and its government have not committed atrocities on just African Americans, but on all peoples of color in some way, shape or form. And it continues in this vein as we speak. This is a country that despite all protestations is not about equalilty. The spokesmen for their culture never fail to remind the best of any people, Asian, African, Hispanic, Middle Eastern, South Asian, etc. that we are not white.

In this way we are linked to all peoples of color who take up pen and chose to write. Arundhati Roy is as much my sister as Harriet Jacobs in this cause. And in this way we as African American writers need to reach out, as was mentioned in an earlier response concerning Korean-American author, Min Jin Lee, and connect with other writers of color who struggle like we do.
We must also remember that much of what we struggle against in the publishing establishment is not unlike with the rest of society, that of a psychological battle. And this battle is manifested through a war of words, subtle, but destructive misuses of the language to perpetuate a false world, an illusive world that has never and does not exist.

For instance, the world “universal” when used by white writers/reviews concerning the works of non-white writers is a horrible misnomer. The writers of authors of color are and have always been universal. The writings of white authors, particularly white American lack an understanding and leave few ways in which for non-white American readers in which to connect. In this way, their writings to not necessarily serve to stimulate imagination, although some have and do, but I insist, not by purpose or choice. Rather the works of their artists serve to maintain the illusion that we live in a world where most of the inhabitants are white.

I could go on forever on this topic. As a writer and licensed psychotherapist who lives in California, where it has been acknowledged the population is majorically peoples of color, or as the SF Chronicle reported, “whites in the minority,” I find the issue of unleashing the chains of psychological bondage quite interesting and very relevant.

In short, African Americans as do other immigrants struggle with, must find ways to disengage in a rhetoric and dialogue that is rooted in the act of buying into the American dream, a long held carrot that has paid off little for not just African Americans, white and immigrants alike. The American dream is always someone else’s nightmare. Now that nightmare often belongs, and more times that not, is experienced by the one who for so long held the dream, which in and of itself makes the entire experience one large dream gone back—a super nightmare, if you will.

I don’t know if our goals as writers of color need to be simply an acceptance of our works, literary or not, but white culture, I say white and not larger, because in my eyes white Americans are not the larger culture. They do have power or least the look of power. And for those of us looking to make money from this our mission of creating and crafting stories, money is important. We need it to take care of practical matters like eating, having a place to sleep, cars to take us from one place to another.

But let me give you this. White writers, American and European, and artists have suffered through time. Their agents and dealers have always exploited their skills. Very few musicians and artists and writers lived to reap the benefits of their work. That’s what made Johann Sebastian Bach so great, despite the genius of his younger colleague, Mozart, who died penniless and was buried at the age of 33 in a common grave.

Bach was patient. Writing requires patience. It also requires the ability to look the beast in the eye and admit that what we’re fighting is older than our lifetimes and is oftentimes beyond our comprehension. Yet and still our writing lives. It is a gift from the divine that allows our lives, through our words to touch those living in centuries beyond us. And they will be the judges. With the Internet and new ways of publishing no one need be silenced. We all need to get our words out there, ever how we can. Those of us who are published in traditional ways need to help those who self-publish, and vice versus. We must rein in our egos and become true vessels of the word, not vassals of the state of publishing as it is. For its walls are crumbling like so many of other institutions. The question is, "Are we willing to stand when all as we know it has been transformed? Are we willing to try new ways of doing things? Can we separate the leaders who speak propaganda from well-meaning people of all creeds, races and thinking who offer us assistance in getting our message out there, our stories in print--those who think outside the box but may ask a little more of us because they lack the funds like we do, but together we form a formidable force?” By this I mean, small publishers, niche presses, and any that are not in New York.
Remember, America is an egocentric country. As artists we must draw from the shadow, the shadows of our individual lives, but those of the collective—all that lies beyond the limits of the ego ideal—what is openly valued and held high in the larger Eurocentric American culture, from which we have so many times been barred, but in being cut out have been blessed with second eyes, dual spirits, divided minds that know the worth of a united soul, one linked with the Grand Soul of the universe and any and everyone who has ever lived.

I know I can and will survived this change because AND in spite of my writing.

I invite each of you to visit my website and if so inclined, purchase my book, a literary work of art, written by a 46 year-old African American.

Thank you Martha Southgate, a Goddard MFA alumnus like myself, for starting this inspiring and thoughtful conversation.