I just returned from the Hartland dump/transfer station on a glorious September Sunday. Most residents are in and out in five minutes; I take up to half an hour. When I finally retire as a librarian, I want to volunteer one day a week at this amazing place. Today I came back with almost as much, weight-wise, as I took, and it was all books. On the one-mile return trip, I pondered my place in literature, and this essay is the result. 

I remember my last three rejection letters as clearly as if they came in yesterday’s mail. The first annoyed, the second reduced me to tears, and the third caused me to shrug and back away from my major literary effort for nearly a year. Despite the rejections and my episodic avoidance, I consider myself to be a pretty good writer. This morning, I read the proof pages of my short story “All Set,” which will be published in the 2009 Level Best anthology Quarry. It really helps my confidence to leave something for a while and then reread it. However, my career as a writer/librarian has caused me to look at writing and literature as a multilevel phenomenon and realize that some people can occupy niches in multiple levels quite comfortably. There is considerable reassurance in this insight that is worth sharing. 

Ask most writers what their early influences were, and two are mentioned most prominently: books they read and librarians who encouraged their early literary adventures. My sister Kate Flora is a perfect example. When we were growing up in Union, the Vose Library was open four hours per week on Friday afternoons. By the time Kate was in sixth grade, she had read everything for her age group. The librarian, recognizing a kindred soul, let Kate volunteer after school and put her atop the reserve list for many new young adult and adult books. I have heard similar stories at writing workshops and events. Sadly, I have also heard a number of horror stories from library patrons who were terrorized by the stereotypical hair-in-bun-sshhing harpy who ruled the library of their youth. Both types still exist, but the literary/library landscape has changed completely. While this is a very good thing, it creates a whole new set of challenges for writers and librarians. As one who has a foot firmly planted in each profession, I feel the changes quite strongly. 

No one on the planet has or ever will have read everything, yet I face that mindset at work on a regular basis. Heck, even if I were retired, had a hundred servants, and could read 1,000 words per minute, the writers of the world would still be miles ahead of me when I awoke each morning. Instead, I spend time on other levels of the literary realm. 

Writing is a good place to start. I talk to people every week who would kill to be a writer, but have it in their heads that there’s only one kind of writer—the James Patterson/Danielle Steel sort who churns out books that are picked up by millions of adoring fans. Baloney! If that were the prevailing reality, then there would be twenty writers in the world, and literature would be pretty darn boring. Writing is a process that can assume as many different realities as there are people who take up the process. Most who write have output that sucks, some that shines, and plenty in between. Unlike a stone sculpture, you can edit writing over and over until you are satisfied with your efforts. Try that when you’ve cut Hermes’ left eye 3 centimeters below the right one. 

There are endless types of writing. Some days, an accurate grocery list can be a thing of beauty, but there are so many different sorts I couldn’t list them all. Consider one of our primary sources for local history—letters written a hundred or two hundred years ago. I guarantee you few authors of these documents ever considered their literary or historical value, but we would know far less about family life and early American society without them. 

Writing means many things we don’t consider it to be until we put our minds to it. Think about how many times you purchased something that required assembly or tweaking. I bet many of the instructions or manuals struck you as having been written by a drunken monkey with an intense dislike for the common man. Writing decent instructions is perhaps one of the most valuable aspects of literary output around, but one that gets little respect. Think about how helpful writing out favorite recipes or how to plant something you grow well can be to a friend or family member from a younger generation. I encourage anyone reading this to take a few moments over your breakfast beverage of choice and ponder your unique writing skills. You have them, I bet. 

Some evenings I get lost in cyberspace. I’ll sit down with the best of intentions, but three hours later, I come back to the present, having been lost in reviews posted by other book lovers or fellow librarians. Each seems to lead to another review, an author’s website, or a new website devoted to a particular genre. I have learned not to regret spending time in these different realms. I discover new books, new authors, or new worlds every time I do so. More often than not, my writer self starts the journey, only to be kicked out of the cockpit by my library self halfway through an online review because that persona can visualize a patron who would scoop up the new book with glee. Time spent reading a well-written review is golden. My only regret is how often I know I want to read the book, but recognize I don’t have time. 

The Marvel! database NoveList (http://libraries.maine.edu/mainedatabases/) is a more formal resource used by many of my fellow librarians and is available for free to any Maine resident. I point library patrons to it when they are looking for something out of my areas of expertise. However, the countless reviews I do read are the source of many suggestions I make when asked, “What should I read next?” Many of these same reviews end up as items on my BookMooch or PaperBackSwap wish lists. Take the new genres paranormal romance and urban fantasy for example. A year ago, I knew a few authors in these genres and had a minimal understanding of their styles and series. Thanks to reading online reviews as well as subscribing to an email newsletter, Bitten By Books, I have close to a dozen authors represented in the library collection as well as a bunch of books on my wish lists. 

Writers don’t succeed without well-informed readers. This is often the function of the reviewer. For every professional who makes a living as a book reviewer, there are a hundred who do so because they love books and have definite opinions. As a reviewer over the past three years, I’ve discovered the two-way flow of benefits accompanying the review process. Not only do I get new books for our library collection, but also I get to sharpen my own writing skills by looking carefully at how others craft fiction. Reviewing goes a long way toward helping sift out strengths from rough writing. This allows me to write a review, which praises the writer while pointing out the things that could have been done better. In return, I can take that same critical eye and apply it when rereading my own work. Being a reviewer also allows me to make new literary friends, often resulting in opportunities to review subsequent books by an author I really like. Timothy Hallinan is a good example. I have had a chance to review all three of his Poke Rafferty novels set in Bangkok. Some authors have asked me to provide early reviews, which they incorporate into the final book. The review process allows me to share books with patrons who would never know about new writers if I hadn’t reviewed the book. Not all great reads are published by mainstream presses. Laurel Dewey’s Redemption, published by The Story Plant, is an excellent example. It is a second book about a Denver policewoman who has quit the force after solving a traumatic and very grisly homicide. The experience triggered flashbacks from her own abusive childhood, which led to her crawling into the bottle. Newly sober and trying to make it as a private investigator, Jane Perry is struggling. The story opens with a kick-butt sting gone wrong scene in a bar. By the time it’s over, Jane has her head split open, has lost $10,000 in counterfeit bills, and is on the hook for $3,000 in damages to a pool table. This is an excellent opening to a mystery story, which is as much about the developing friendship between Jane and the sixty-something ex-hippie grandmother who hires her to help find a kidnapped child as it is about the crime. If it weren’t for my reviewing career, I doubt I’d have ever encountered the book, and I know half a dozen patrons who will enjoy it as much as I did. 

Each level of this realm I inhabit has challenges as well as benefits. I am happy to say that the benefits outweigh the challenges. One smile from a fifteen year old when I hand her a new book on a day when nothing has gone right and say, “You’re really going to like this one,” is reward enough for all the challenges. I get to do that quite often now that I’ve begun to master the levels in this amazing realm known as writing. 

John Clark is a librarian who dabbles in magic, believes in alternate worlds and liberal doses of humor. He writes fantasy and lives in Hartland, Maine. Here is the link to his blog: http://sennebec.livejournal.com/