Early & Alone #58: My Own Worst Bad Art Friend
Oh I’m sorry, did you think you could escape the Bad Art Friend discourse for even a second this week? You were mistaken. I thought about taking the high road and refraining from going in-depth on this, but I’ve lost far too many hours over the week and a half since the story dropped to just let it go.
If you read this newsletter, you’re likely aware of the cataclysmic NYT Magazine story by Robert Kolker iconically titled, “Who Is the Bad Art Friend?” but it’s linked here in case you haven’t read it (and if you don’t have a subscription, this one’s on me—it’s a gift link so read away!). The title’s structure is important here, because it divided the audience into two passionate camps: Team Sonya and Team Dawn.
I’m not here to rehash the whole sorry, sordid tale (there are other excellent resources for that) and I’m definitely not here to choose sides. Frankly, both Sonya and Dawn did things that are indefensible. Their actions have caused a lot of unnecessary damage, both emotional and financial, to institutions and people I care about. But they’re also human. No one deserves to be picked apart by strangers on the internet the way they have been this week.
That said, the story raises so many interesting questions that I’ve been thinking about nearly nonstop, the first of which concerns the very nature of friendship, which is something I generally am obsessed with thinking about. If Dawn hadn’t believed Sonya was her friend, would she have reacted so strongly to Sonya’s story? Dawn was hurt and betrayed, not only by the news that Sonya had written a story inspired by her actions, but by Sonya’s initial silence as a response to her kidney donation. Reading the email correspondence between the two of them is painful because it’s impossible to not read between the cordial lines about writing residencies and mutual acquaintances.
I have been in Dawn’s position, desperately trying to be a part of a community and just never quite belonging. In fact, that’s pretty much my core identity. But it’s a question of what friendship means to people. The answer is frustrating because it means different things to different people, which is something I’ve been grappling with quite a bit in my personal life. I have always valued my friendships because I had such a hard time building them early in life. But that’s not necessarily true for everyone, including some of my own friends. Maintaining friendships means a constant shifting of expectations. Friendships are not static—they are constantly evolving due to external and internal circumstances, like friends moving, getting married, having kids, changing jobs, or just growing apart over time. And because friendships hold different meanings for different people, it can be like a game of chess to figure out what to expect from others and what others expect from you. Friendships are HARD and they’re not given the same significance in society as romantic relationships, so there’s not a lot of conversation or norms around which to manage them. Perhaps if there were, the boundaries would have been more clear for Sonya and Dawn.
Sonya and Dawn met at Grub Street, a non-profit Boston writing center and community that I also consider myself a part of (though I have never met Dawn or Sonya). There has been a fair amount of talk about the “writing community” as a result of this story, and it’s a worthy conversation. Sometimes I feel guilty of taking classes and reading books and attending conferences and being part of writing groups but not actually doing enough writing. For me, and perhaps for Dawn and maybe even Sonya, the community aspect of writing and Grub Street are enormously appealing and gratifying. But does that negate me being a “real writer”? I don’t actually know the answer, and it’s a question that taunts me all the time. I will say, though, that I have made good friends at Grub Street and taken worthwhile classes and am now part of a very nurturing writing group that I met in a class there so while it’s not a perfect organization and not above the cliquey hierarchies that plague nearly every organization on this planet, I will defend it. There is a place and a need for community in the act of writing. Maybe not every writer feels they need it, but it’s invaluable to those who do.
Aside from the plagiarism and copyright issues and what’s acceptable to include from real life in fiction, I have been thinking about the act of writing in relationship to this story as well. As many people have sort of cattily pointed out, neither Sonya Larson nor Dawn Dorland are major players in the literary scene. Even Sonya, the more traditionally successful of the two, is considered “small potatoes” outside of Boston. And yet, she’s had her writing included in the Best American Short Stories anthology and Ploughshares and the Kenyon Review. For many writers, including myself, that’s the dream. Is that enough to justify the struggle of writing, the constant guilt for not writing, the rejection, the impostor syndrome, the nightmare of having one of your most successful stories be torn apart by the New Yorker? Sometimes, I really don’t know. Sometimes I think I should just shut it down because it mostly feels like shouting into the void. And all I end up with is a sore throat and a couple of likes on social media, if I’m lucky.
Which leads me to the conclusion that I’m my own worst bad art friend. When I get consumed with these kinds of thoughts, I spiral and get in my own way and put off writing, which makes the whole cycle start over again. Why do I write? Mostly because it’s part of my identity and also because it helps me process my thoughts and memories and feelings. I know I’m never going to be famous. I guess I’d like to be admired. And if I’m not, at least I’ve made something. That’s all we can do. Go out and be a good art friend to others, but don’t forget yourself. Continue to dream but give yourself grace for creating whatever it is you create. It’s enough.
Bright Spots
Thanks for those of you who took the poll from the last newsletter! I hope to launch a “singles in the news”-type feature in the near future.
I’ve never gotten into the Great British Baking Show or whatever it’s called, but I have been finding comfort and inspiration in the similar Great Pottery Throwdown on HBO. It’s British, it’s got emotional judges, and beautiful pottery. What more could you want?
I’ve been enjoying Reservation Dogs, Taika Waititi’s newish show on FX on Hulu, but I also want to recommend his quirky movie from a few years ago, Hunt for the Wilderpeople. It’s a sweet and quirky and slightly surreal story of a misunderstood teen and his gruff foster dad getting caught up in a manhunt in the New Zealand bush. It’s also streaming on Hulu.
I’ve been putting off dating but when I do finally get back on that proverbial horse, I’m going to ask myself this simple question.
I finished reading Chanel Miller’s memoir, Know My Name, and I truly think everyone should read it. It’s so eye-opening and infuriating but also Chanel is funny and kind and vulnerable and a damn good writer. I want to be her friend.
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