Denis Johnson and writing in blood
I’ve been listening to the panel discussions from the LA Times Festival of Books- the first one was a panel discussion on writing the exile and outsider. One of the panelists mentioned Denis Johnson’s motto about writing- Write yourself naked, from exile, in blood.
I really love his fiction, and I would have to say he does this exactly- he writes in blood, and not just naked- sometimes I think he rips open his chest and shows up his beating heart. How exactly does he wake up the next morning and get on the treadmill and then go to work? That’s what I’d like to know.
I’ve tried writing like this, and the thing is, when you write in blood? You have to open a vein to do it. Sometimes an artery. And I’m a woman, so I’m already fucking anemic!
What do you guys think? Do you have to give it in blood, to write anything with this kind of power? If we try to protect ourselves, go easy so there is something left at the end of the day, do we end up with fiction that you can skate across, and never feel? I fear this is so.
I really love his fiction, and I would have to say he does this exactly- he writes in blood, and not just naked- sometimes I think he rips open his chest and shows up his beating heart. How exactly does he wake up the next morning and get on the treadmill and then go to work? That’s what I’d like to know.
I’ve tried writing like this, and the thing is, when you write in blood? You have to open a vein to do it. Sometimes an artery. And I’m a woman, so I’m already fucking anemic!
What do you guys think? Do you have to give it in blood, to write anything with this kind of power? If we try to protect ourselves, go easy so there is something left at the end of the day, do we end up with fiction that you can skate across, and never feel? I fear this is so.
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When I read his stories, I’m not reading to see how much blood he’s spilled in the writing, though. His fiction opens doors in my mind that were closed. That’s what I read for, and that’s what I’m hoping will happen when I write, and someone reads one of my stories. Just let me open a door in your mind.
What is the purpose of fiction? This was a question asked but not answered in this panel discussion I listened to this morning. Is it self-expression? Instruction? Social awareness? To give a voice to those without voices? To simple feed our human hunger for narrative? To learn about each other? To produce a product for sale? Sometimes I fear I just want someone to listen to me when I talk. But I think the purpose of fiction is one thing—to open doors between your mind and mine. And that means the book isn’t done until someone reads it. How cool is that?