An Open Letter to a Writing Icon

An open letter to Marilynne Robinson, Pulitzer prize winner and author extraordinaire

Dear Marilynne,

Your books – especially Gilead – sing to my soul. When I saw an announcement for the New York State Summer Writers Institute (in Poets & Writers) with you on the faculty for a section of the master’s class, I was thrilled…and terrified. Did I dare apply? Would I have a chance of getting in? After checking out the fine teachers in the other class levels, I decided to apply, figuring if I was put in a lower level class, I would still learn so much. To my pleasant surprise, I got in the class with you and Siri Hustvedt as instructors. Naively, I thought our pieces would be commented on by both instructors, though not workshopped by both. (It was not clear in the program announcements how the two teacher format worked.)

On arrival, when I saw the workshop schedule and learned we had one instructor per week, without comments from both, and learned my piece wasn’t slated during your week, but with Siri Hustvedt the following week, I’ll admit to a juvenile “aw, dang,” reaction. I’m well aware that Siri is also a strong writer and teacher, but I have put you on a pedestal in my literary pantheon. I wanted you to read my work, to comment on it, to offer me suggestions for improvement, to help me see what I couldn’t that needed fixing. I wanted your pen to mark my pages. Like a spoiled child, I wanted my expectations fulfilled regardless of anyone else’s plans. But, I am theoretically a grown-up, and I’m getting over my disappointment. Unfortunately, I have not been able to shed my envy for your in-class groupies – those fortunate few who have clearly worked with you before, who have a comfort level in discourse that I had in my imagination before arriving. I saw us sharing breakfast or coffee, chatting briefly about writing and life and Congregational churches, being a believer in a community (writing) of atheists. Yes, I know, even writing it I’m aware that it feels a bit stalkerish. What was I saying about theoretically being a grown-up? I have work to do, I know.

Still, I prefer to live in a no whining zone, so hopefully, I am done. Now, for the gratitude zone, a far better place to occupy. I sat in our workshop wishing I could write faster because what you said was instructive, informative, intelligent and incredibly valuable for a fiction writer who is open and willing to grow and learn. (You’ve made me dream again of seeking an MFA, simply for the marvelous privilege of being immersed with other writers to learn from established authors. I still don’t think I will – time and money have set me on the workshop in lieu of an MFA path. )

In upcoming blog entries, I will be quoting and paraphrasing you (only with your permission), sharing your wisdom with other writers – because I know, as I’m sure you do, many writers who can’t afford an MFA, also can’t afford to attend writer’s conferences.

Thank you for Gilead, Home and Housekeeping. Thank you for stories, scenes and sentences filled with characters who leave me enchanted. But especially, I thank you for the wisdom you offered in class with every comment you made.

Happy #writing,

Pam Parker.