The stories we tell ourselves

This week I read two very different books and caught a thread. The books are the novel Indiana by George Sand (published in 1832) and the craft book Body Work by Melissa Febos (published last year).

(Note: I've wanted to read Body Work since it came out and am finally getting to it in preparation for Hurley Winkler's book club on Jan. 29, which I found through Chelsea Hodson's Morning Writing Club.)

Febos writes about realizing she was still serving old purposes in her writing, and encourages everyone to interrogate who/what our writing serves. A related quote from page 38: "What I am interested in ferreting out are those other instincts, the ones we have inherited or practiced for reasons other than our good writing, the communications of our imaginative intellect. Which brings me back to sex: so much of writing that describes it is still performing unconsciously, still comprises a series of decisions that were not so much made by the writer but by the matrix of inherited values that inform the reader's own beliefs around the acts."

In Indiana, Raymon is an arrogant, intellectual man trying to seduce a married woman. "He had a rare ability to argue skillfully even against proven facts; this had made him an invaluable man to the ministry…" Which made me think of how lies and disinformation ('fake news') hurts people, and serves oppression.

And then on page 40 of Body Work: "I had been telling the story I had been telling myself as those events happened, not the story of what happened."

Our story and the story we tell ourselves can be different. And writing can be used to 'argue skillfully even against proven facts' which can uphold systems of oppression (and suppression), whether within ourself, our family, our country.

George Sand wrote about the process in a later introduction to the book, "It was my first novel; I wrote it without any fixed plan, having no theory of art or philosophy in my mind. I was at the age when one writes with one's instincts, and when reflection serves only to confirm our natural tendencies."

And on page 42 of Body Work: "However deeply suppressed, the true story of our experience always plays out simultaneously, and is recorded in the private archives of memory."

Sometimes our natural tendency is to suppress a story (or a version?) because it's too complicated (compromising, heartbreaking?), even without realizing we're doing it. Maybe I'll write more about these connections someday, but for now that's all I have.

Know that I deeply appreciate you being here, reading, amidst all the chaos.

Inbox is always open for replies <3

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Reading: Body Work by Melissa Febos. Indiana by George Sand. "I ate at the Italian restaurant where Santos is often, for some reason, spending exactly $199.99" by Alexander Sammon for Slate. Exit interviews with six former Phoenix creatives in Phoenix Mag. In Lean Times, Creative Bakers Turn To Desperation Pies by Jessica Stoller-Conrad in NPR from 2012.

Writing: Not much this week. Reading and writing notes. Preparing to interview Chef Tamara Stanger about many things including her pies. Thinking about a short story I want to finish to submit when applying to The Sustainable Arts Foundation Award (for artists/writers with children and due 2/24.)

Cooking: Soup from my freezer. Granny Smith Apples softened in a pan with butter and Zab's Hot Honey over cottage cheese. Reminding me of a favorite childhood snack: Cottage cheese with apple butter.