Today, I sang "Happy Birthday" to Tim O'Brien, Vietnam Veteran, "older father" (as he put it), and world-renowned writer of
The Things They Carried, among other poignant novels. Obviously, I wasn't the only one singing--the rest of the audience crowded in the Carolina First Arena joined in to sing to him after he spent over an hour speaking to us about stories, truth, life, and war.
More than anything, I wanted to be one of the loud freshman and cautiously excited faculty members that popped from their chairs in a rush to line up in front of him for an unscheduled autograph. I can imagine how the conversation might go...
"Hi, Mr. O'Brien."
"Hey, there. What's your name?"
"H-Hillary." I would stutter here, certainly. Even being 15 feet away, I was starstruck.
"Tell me about yourself, Hillary." I think he'd be interested, or at least, would pretend to be so his signature could have a note before it. But listening to him speak and seeing how personable and humble and sincere he was, I think he would genuinely want to know a little about every person whose book he signed. And I know what I would want to say and how embarrassed I would be say it, especially to Tim O'Brien.
"Well, I want to be a writer. I'm working on a project now about a soldier's return from Afghanistan and how he and his family react to his return." Except I'm sure I would stutter much more here and fail to explain my project with any semblance of clarity.
I don't know how he would react to my admission; I'm sure he and writers of his caliber hear similar rushed confessions every time they speak. Maybe he would nod and say, "That's great, keep working at it." Maybe he'd say, "Good luck, kid." Maybe he would smile empathetically and think on his life, when he was first starting out and sign "You'll make it," above his name. I'm not sure.
But I'm willing to bet that if I sat down with Tim O'Brien and let him read my manuscript, he might tell me the same thing that my advisor, Anthony Varallo, tells me, the same thing that Bret Lott and Carol Ann Davis told me when they reviewed the first half:
"Don't be afraid."
Of what? Well, here's what I've got so far.
Don't be afraid to lie. Tim O'Brien said this tonight, and as a young writer who hasn't had the experiences that he has, I can see the necessity of this. I've always been told, ever since writing workshops as a nerdy fifth grader, to "write what you know." Because of this, I've been afraid to venture much beyond my own experiences in my writing. But as a not-quite twenty-two year old who grew up in the suburbs and tried to make as little trouble as possible, I haven't had too many experiences that readers might find striking. I shouldn't be afraid to use the imagination my parents often laughed at when I was young.
Don't be afraid to tell the truth. Just because it's fiction doesn't mean real life is off-limits. In fact, things that are close to my heart are going to be the most believable on the page. When I had my bachelor's essay committee meeting at the half-way point, I thought I was in a group therapy session instead of a formal review. The three accomplished writers reading my very rough draft could read my prose and see details of my life that I had never revealed. So this story is born out of your fear, one of them said. Reveal that; your narrator isn't you, but she is very similar to you. Just as you're afraid of what will happen if your kid brother goes to war, so she is going to be afraid of failing her brother who has returned from it.
Don't be afraid of conflict. The characters are pulled from your own life and experience, and even though they're different from those people who inspired them, you don't want to hurt them or put conflict in their lives because they are so similar to people you love. But if your characters don't fight or get in trouble or worry or make waves, no one will want to read about them.
Don't be afraid of happy endings. Just because the trend in modern fiction is to be pessimistic about everything doesn't mean your story can't end on a positive note or your characters can't get what it is they are wanting. But if they get it too easily, the end won't ring true.
It'd be great if I took a moment to revel Tim O'Brien's lessons and then, clutching my laptop to my chest, ran into my bedroom, shut the door, and churned out the rest of my book in shining, clear prose that brought my incredibly talented panel of advisors to tears. Instead, I think I'm going to sit on my couch tonight, watch a movie with my roommate, talk, laugh, and live until I go to sleep. Why?
Living is not about writing; writing is about living.
