“. . . he understood that the makers of sublime art were not necessarily sublime themselves. And it was not necessary that they be, he told himself.”

I’m on vacation at the Jersey Shore–and on dial-up, so excuse the lack of pictures–and read a book by an author whose online persona is unpleasant, but her books are good. I can, in the words of Henry Rollins and Black Flag, Rise Above. Which got me to thinking–how far is it to go for an unlikeable person to write a pleasant personality?

I mean, stories abound of how rotten George Bernard Shaw, Mark Twain, Evelyn Waugh, A.A. Milne (poor Christopher Robin!) all were; we know Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Dorothy Parker weren’t exactly the nicest folks.

I, of course, am extremely nice–to a fault, if I do say so myself (although I have a biting wit if your clothing is inappropriate, Ms. Mutton)–and I am not certain I could write a very mean person. I do know I am writing an Alpha Hero whose first instincts are to do everything exactly the opposite of the way I would do them, which is how I am figuring out what he is to do.

When questioned, every author will say ‘it’s fiction!,’ which of course is especially important when you’re James Ellroy or Tess Gerritsen. But if you know the author is not a nice person, does that affect your reading of his or her work? How about if they’re too nice?

Me, I prefer keeping a Kantian distance from my authors; I don’t want to know if they had a drinking problem, or hated their mother, or were mean to their siblings. I want to feel their art regardless of their personal lives, react and respond to the work purely as it stands. How about you? Are there authors you cannot read because you know they were horrendous people?

Megan

PS: I have to say I still love watching Charlton Heston and his Chest in Omega Man, despite what I know about his politics, which are the polar opposite of mine. Does that make me shallow, or open-minded?

It’s been an exciting week here at the Riskies: Both Amanda and Janet have new books out, and the other 2/3rds of us are very proud.

It’s always gratifying when a friend achieves an important accomplishment: sometimes I think half the purpose of belonging to writers’ groups is to be able to receive the accolades (and ‘cyber chocolate,’ although Literal Me took the longest time to figure out what that was. I never said I was smart. Oh, wait; yes, I did.) when something cool happens. I love being able to share someone else’s special moment.

I think camaraderie, even–and perhaps even more so–in the cyber age, is crucial for anyone engaged in a somewhat solitary pursuit, whether it’s writing, telecommuting, knitting (hi, KJ!), or being a stay-at-home parent (hi, Me!)

Do you belong to any groups where communal support is an essential element? How do you guys celebrate? If you don’t, where do you find your own private cheerleaders?

So I raise my faux-cyber glass of champagne to my fellow Riskies in tribute: Congratulations, ladies! And may you be able to return the toast to the rest of us very soon!

To receive any and all exciting news, sign up for the Riskies Newsletter at riskies@yahoo.com, subject “Newsletter.”

Today, my Son and I are taking a nearly four-hour bus ride, from Providence, RI, back to New York City. In this case, I thank goodness for Nintendo, and its all-powerful DS, which will entertain my son for most of the time we are on the bus. What did mothers do in past years without electronics?!? Besides curse their childrens’ names, of course.

We’ve spent this week at my father’s house on Cape Cod, MA. Dad lives a very Regency gentleman kind of life: He gets up, has his hot beverage, potters about in his yard, reads (a lot!), visits the local gossip spot (in his case, the Swap Shop, where he volunteers his time), sends and receives mail, and opines on the news of the day.

I’ve been able to write in the evenings, because both the Son and the Father go to bed around nine o’clock. It’s so still and peaceful here, and you can actually see the stars, a non-occurence in Brooklyn, where I live.

Vacation means many different things to many people; for me, although I don’t have a full-time job, it is a rare opportunity to relax. My favorite vacation is one where I actually forget what time it is, and almost feel as if I’ve gotten enough sleep (and mid-afternoon naps are the norm, not an anomaly).

It’s getting to be that time for a lot of us; what is your ideal vacation? Where are you going this year? And most importantly, what books are you bringing?

Megan
PS: No pix, ’cause I’m on dial-up. Perhaps later, when I am back in the land of the internet cable.