Who's your dead mentor?
I have a great writing mentor 鈥� she encourages, she inspires, she challenges. Her name is Virginia Woolf, and she鈥檚 been dead for 70 years.
Here are a few reasons why all you writers out there should invoke the literary spirits of your own dead mentors鈥�. or maybe, this Halloween, your dead mentor will find you.
1. Dead mentors help you see beyond the buzz
We鈥檝e seen it time and again 鈥� one book鈥檚 success inspires a thousand emulations. Helen Fielding's "Bridget Jones's Diary" was a runaway bestseller; the popular new genre chick lit was born. Stephenie Meyers鈥檚 "Twilight" hooked readers of every age, promptly spawning the teen vampire lit multiplying on young adult bookshelves.
It鈥檚 easy to be dazzled by current success stories because they are, clinically speaking, hot. More often than not, though, hot trends cool. The fame of fewer and fewer books withstand the passing of time. After all, how many of us can name more than five authors 鈥� other than Shakespeare 鈥� from the Elizabethan era?
Focusing on an author from the past, even if her style is different, allows the writer to look at essential qualities of writing. A romance writer could improve dialogue by reading Jane Austen鈥檚 banter between Elizabeth and Darcy; a sci-fi writer could improve setting by reading George Orwell鈥檚 descriptions of Room 101. It鈥檚 not about who just scored the biggest deal from Random House. It鈥檚 about the truth and talent that transcend time.
2. Dead mentors are recession-proof
That eight week novel-writing class taught by a hip author might seem like the answer to all of your writerly prayers, but times are tough. Classes and conferences can be great, but they鈥檙e also expensive, and after a while, they add up.
Not only are dead mentors are free, but they are forever at your beck and call. No need to spend a month鈥檚 mortgage payment on a pricey class. Just jump in your sweats after dinner to find inspiration from "The Outsiders" and remind yourself that if S.E. Hinton can write a great book at 16 years old, so can you at 37.
3. Dead mentors help you help yourself
Though it鈥檚 tempting to throw a freshly written story at a mentor and plead, 鈥淲hat do you think? What should I change? What should I keep?鈥�, it鈥檚 also a little self-serving. This places the burden of reflection on the mentor instead of the writer taking responsibility for her own work. Dead mentors can鈥檛 answer specific questions; rather, we can use their thoughts and words to answer our questions for ourselves.
Erica Wagner, literary editor of "The Times," does just that with her own dead mentor, Washington Augustus Roebling. 鈥淗e once said that 鈥榌y]ou can鈥檛 get out of the work life lays on you,鈥� and that鈥檚 something I think of often,鈥� says Wagner, who has most recently authored the novel "Seizure." 鈥淚f I am struggling, if I feel like giving up on something 鈥� whether it is my writing or something in my life 鈥� I think of Washington and what advice he would give me. 鈥楰eep trying,鈥� he鈥檇 probably say. 鈥榊ou will find a way. Look clearly at your situation and work towards a solution.鈥欌��
In the same manner, Virginia Woolf鈥檚 diary is a lifeboat for those writers drowning in despair. 鈥淚 foresee,鈥� Woolf wrote regarding "Mrs. Dalloway" on June 13, 1923, 鈥溾�� that this is going to be a devil of a struggle. The design is so queer and so masterful. I鈥檓 always having to wrench my substance to fit it. The design is certainly original and interests me hugely. I should like to write away and away at it, very quick and fierce. Needless to say, I can鈥檛. In three weeks from today, I shall be dried up.鈥� Any writer can find solidarity in Woolf鈥檚 excitement and confidence mixed with insecurity. The benefit is twofold. We can read "Mrs. Dalloway," admire its strength, and strive to write as effectively as Woolf. Yet we also can connect to her as writers in reading her diary entry by sharing in the often confusing, uncertain process of writing. In this way, she becomes the best mentor, the best teacher: someone who sets standards of production high as well as someone from whom we learn the importance of process.
The job of the writer is to think, What would my mentor do in this situation? What would he say? and take ownership of her problems and solutions, as Wagner does with Roebling and as Woolf offers with her diaries and literature 鈥� as opposed to calling a living mentor with a frantic 鈥淪olve my plot problem now, today!鈥�
4. Dead mentors help you to become a better reader
In her book, "The Faith of a Writer: Life, Craft, Art," Joyce Carol Oates writes, 鈥淸I]f you read, you need not become a writer, but if you hope to become a writer, you must read.鈥� Translation: in addition to daily writing, working a day job, cooking dinner, and sustaining real-life relationships, writers are expected to read voraciously if they hope to succeed.
Living mentorship often takes place in the form of phone calls, emails, coffee dates, and time-consuming writing classes. Save your time and kill two birds with one stone. Looking to your dead mentor for advice means that, nine times out of ten, you鈥檒l be reading. Whether it鈥檚 your dead mentor鈥檚 novels, poems, letters, diaries, or biographies, 鈥渋nteracting鈥� with literary ghosts accomplishes two goals: you get your advice while honing your close reading skills 鈥� which, according to Oates, will make you a better writer.
5. Because the 鈥減rose鈥� say so
Accomplished writers agree that leaning on the words of authors past is essential. 鈥淚 have a zillion dead mentors,鈥� says Helen Schulman, American novelist and recipient of numerous awards, including a Pushcart Prize. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 what a lifetime of reading does.鈥� Francine Prose also makes the case for dead mentors in the first few pages of her book, "Reading Like a Writer: A Guide for People Who Like Books and for Those Who Want to Write Them." 鈥淟ong before the idea of a writer鈥檚 conference was a glimmer in anyone鈥檚 eyes, writers learned by reading the work of their predecessors,鈥� she writes. 鈥淭hey studied meter with Ovid, plot construction with Homer, comedy with Aristophanes; they honed their prose style by absorbing the lucid sentences of Montaigne and Samuel Johnson. And who could have asked for better teachers: generous, uncritical, blessed with wisdom and genius, as endlessly forgiving as only the dead can be?鈥�
鈥� Jessica Rosevear blogs at where she focuses on the intersection of teaching and writing.
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