
The other day I read Malcolm Gladwell's The Outliers in my book club (I belong to one, too) & it made me think about how we owe our success to so many people. How much we have to be thankful for.
When I was in my 20s (yes, ancient history), I was visiting The Divine Life ashram in Rishikesh, and Swami Krishnananda, a great monk, asked me, "What do you want in life?" At that time, independence was a big deal for me, so I said, "I want to never be dependent on anyone." He laughed and laughed, and when he stopped, he said, "My dear, you couldn't exist on this earth for one single moment if countless beings weren't supporting you."
As I grow older I understand the truth of what he said a little better. It certainly applies to whatever writing success I've achieved.
So many people have formed my "village."
My superb agent Sandra Dijkstra, the original power-lady, who performs her magic from out west in San Diego, ( I'm going to see her this weekend when I'm there on tour) and who's believed in me from the time I only had 3 stories.
My many perceptive editors, especially Barbara Jones, who's so patient and intelligent--she's working with me on One Amazing Thing. And Barbara, you've made the process at once fun and soul-searching.
Murthy, my most supportive husband, who takes over mommy duties when I go on tour. (Sorry, sweetheart, for saying "Do I tell you how to be an engineer?" when you offer suggestions about improving my writing.)
My sons, whom I call on for help of many kinds: ("Boys, what's a better word for..?" "Boys, my computer screen just went BLANK!" "Boys, the dog has to be taken out--this instant!")
All my spiritual teachers, whom I mention in the acknowledgments in my books. I can't put into words what they've meant in my life.
My 85 year old mother who insists on living on her own in our ancestral village in Bengal and who taught me the meaning of self reliance.
My 84 year old mother in law, who has never said one mean thing to me, not once in the 29 years I've known her.
The great writers from whose books I've learned so much.
The list goes on.
And on that list is you, dear reader. Without you, how could I be an author at all?
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A Writer's Village
Too often we writers don't acknowledge the people who have made our writing possible. The solitary poet, for example, isolated and alone. It's a myth. The writer is never alone. We are guided (well, sometimes "mis-guided)along our way by so many others, both living and dead. I think it was W.H. Auden who said "Writing is a way of breaking bread with the dead." Or something like that, probably said much better. But I like the image of bread, the sharing, the nourishment. Thank you for this post, Chitra. Kathryn
A Writer's Village
Somehow this got posted twice, so I'm deleting. Sorry.KB