There are moments in your life where you really have to decide what you want to do with your years on the earth. It sounds scary, but at the age of 23, having a million ambitions really wasn't sensible. It's all very well saying 'I want to write, I want to be a literary agent, and I want to be a lecturer' but lets be realistic, who has the time for all that after you take eating, breathing and browsing Waterstones into account. I certainly don't.
Unfortunately, this stark, scary moment of realisation meant a cutting of one of my three dreams. Needless to say, writing always has and always will be here to stay. I can't bear giving up the simple thing of putting black marks on a piece of paper and imagining a million others reading it.
Lecturers inspire me, I think they always have and they always will too. I'm going to hit you with a bit of theory. Last week, in a lecture on my MA course, we discussed an idea known as the Credulous Reader. I have varying opinions on the subject. The idea behind the title is that authors (supposedly) sometimes write a type of fiction where they dictate and shape the reader they want, a reader who can only immerse himself in the world of the book. Critics take a very poncy view on this kind of reader, naturally thinking readers should only think critically, and always have an echo of neo-modernism or similar, reverberating through their skulls whenever they open a book. This side of criticism annoys me, I wholly disagree with Roland Barthes' 'the author is dead' baloney. I would say that there are more ways to read books than ever before, and more can be gleaned from the reading of anything than ever before, but never would I say the author as a concept is dead. The authorial meaning is always important, even if it's not concentrated on. Personally I think ignoring author intention can lead you to dangerous over-reading of texts but that's a whole other blog/essay. Basically Mr Barthes, respectfully shhh.
The point of my foray into scholarly bits is that I consider myself both credulous and critical in my readings of books/poems/songs/most of everything. I read Jane Eyre from every possible critical perspective in my second year, and though I can tell you what the text means, I could never really say what it's about. I think the high extent of critical reading I performed (though necessary for the exercise of the module) means I was left with something missing at the end. I now plan on re-reading Ms Bronte's novel in a credulous manner, and Mr Barthes can suck it.
In this way, I think I can easily combine writing novels with lecturing. These are the two things that I cannot possibly leave behind, and despite what some people may think, there is not a yawning gap between scholars and pleasure-readers, there are ways where the two can be brought together. Sometimes there is beauty in a line which means something to you and you alone, rather than meaing something to Marxism, Modernism or anything else.
As a one day author, I naturally hope that my work is picked to pieces for whatever meaning scholars can squeeze from it. On the whole I'll feel clever and this, ultimately leads to happiness. However, if I write and someone writes to me and tells me that they absorbed what I'd written in a day and I'd helped them in someway due to their credulous reading and immersion in my world, then in many ways that's better.
This, however means that I will have to say goodbye to my dreams of literary-agentdom. A recent failed interview told me that I just don't have the passion for the career, and it's true, I have a passion for writing, be it for pleasure, for publication, for blog, for article, for scholar or for all of the above, and that is a life I can lead happily and with all the passion I've carried around with me since my single digits.
