January 25, 2006
this is absolutely a true story (for the most part, anyway)
This post has an update, at the end.
This morning, as I was struggling to awake from the Sleep of the Dead (I went to sleep at 8:00 pm! and woke at 7:00 am!), Henry said, ‘I know! Let’s play a game! We will each say something we’re afraid of! Daddy, you go first.’
‘Snakes,’ Wade said.
‘Okay!’ Henry said. ‘I’m afraid of spiders! And the dark!’ (He’s not afraid of either of these things, but Clifford and his friends are.)
‘Me, too,’ said Charlie. ‘Mommy, what are YOU afraid of?’
‘I am afraid that Henry will get sick next and we will never leave this house again.’
‘Mommy!’ Henry said, laughing. ‘What are you REALLY afraid of?’
Wade looked at me. ‘Buddy, I think that IS what Mommy’s really afraid of.’
I do not have strep throat, thank god–and thanks to all of you for your sympathy and good suggestions. I do have a raging head cold, but I took some Sudafed and drank some coffee so now I’m too hepped up to sleep even though I’m exhausted and I still feel like crap. Mostly I feel like my head has been packed full of saltwater taffy, but not a good flavor like peppermint or raspberry but the icky white ones that no one wants to eat because they might be coconut, which is gross. My brains feel heavy and sticky and a little crunchy around the edges.
Then again, it feels like that a lot lately.
I have been thinking quite a bit recently about how I don’t believe in non-fiction narrative, about how every story, regardless of its essential truth, has some element of fiction to it, about how in a post-modern world ‘truth’ is a terribly slipery concept (much like the notion of the self, which is fractured and fragmented and almost entirely socially constructed). I want to say, yes, James Frey really shouldn’t have claimed so extravagantly to be someone he wasn’t (a hardened thug as opposed to a nice kid who went down a bad road) but his book–call it a memoir, call it a novel, whatever–still has value in the lessons it can teach a reader about addiction and recovery. And I want to say that perhaps the lesson is even more powerful when you cast it against this idea that the only way to tell that story is to exaggerate the details, that addiction is only really interesting, only Oprah-worthy, when it encompasesses some kind of seamy underbelly of American society, rather than the nice Preppy world Frey was actually living in. I want to think that narrative–both fiction and non-fiction–is returning to some earlier sense of didacticism, where the lesson learned is potentially of greater value than the actual truth of the story. But I’m not sure any of that is true, either.
In the interest of full disclosure, I will admit that I haven’t read A Million Little Pieces and that it is entirely unlikely, unless I am complelled by exterior forces (like my book group), that I ever will. I don’t have much interest in Frey’s story in general, and ironically, this whole debate about his veracity has given me even less interest. What does interest me, though, is the idea that a fabricated truth is the most compelling truth, that James Frey couldn’t tell the story of his addiction and recovery without embellishing. That the plain truth, quite honestly, just isn’t all that interesting.
I’ve been struggling, lately, for things to write about here, in part because what I am telling is the ‘true’ story of my own life and recently, with my candied brain and all, there hasn’t been much going on that makes for good copy. The plain truth is that on a lot of days, my children are difficult and I am cranky. That I spend most of my time trying to coax one child or another to get dressed! go potty! wash your hands! say please! stop hitting! come play with us! sit quietly! go to bed! That I have moments where I quite seriously doubt that I can do this any more. The plain truth is that this Mommy thing is hard, and that rather than getting easier as the boys get older, it just gets harder and harder with each passing day. My strategy is to be as funny as possible when I write about it, not in order to mislead any of you into thinking that my life is all fun all the time (I know that you are smarter than that) but in order to make the reality a little lighter and less crushing.
Every story we tell has some element of fictionalization to it–we embellish or overlook certain details, to make ourselves look better or, sometimes, worse. We may change the story slightly depending on the audience. We edit out things that are not relevant to the point of the story. We are always fictionalizing our own lives. Mommy bloggers often get beat about the head and shoulders specifically for this, for turning our lives into stories that have no larger relevance. What we write is mundane and insignificant. It isn’t important, in the way that Oprah’s selection of A Million Little Pieces confirmed the importance of James Frey’s story.
But in all these stories of sick children and potty training and preschool carpools and soccer games and birthday parties, we are telling what amounts to an important truth. I really AM afraid that we will spend the rest of this winter sick, unable to play with friends or go to school or stay awake past 8:00. I am also afraid of other things, like flying bugs and drive-thru car washes. And I am afraid that I’m not a good mother. That is my truth. There is a part of me that wants to defend James Frey, to say that he’s still telling a truth of sorts and that the larger lesson of his book is more important than how long he really spent in jail, except that I have really come to believe that his ‘truth’ was less about sharing his story than it was about making the New York Times bestseller list.
And that’s not my kind of truth.
I posted this on Wednesday afternoon; it’s Thursday morning now, and my friend Molly just called to say, ‘Have you heard about Oprah’s change of heart? She’s not backing James Frey any more.’ You can see it live, today! In the interview, Oprah asks Frey if he ‘made up the material because it helped him cope or because he though it would help sell books. Mr. Frey responded, “Probably both.”‘
Posted by Susan @ 2:16 pm • Uncategorized
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January 25th, 2006 at 2:47 pm, Chag Says:
My kids haven’t been very entertaining lately either.
We wouldn’t be hearing much about Frey had Oprah not selected him.
BTW, nothing you write is mundane or insignificant.
January 25th, 2006 at 2:57 pm, MamaChristy Says:
What we write is mundane and insignificant. It isn’t important, in the way that Oprah’s selection of A Million Little Pieces confirmed the importance of James Frey’s story.
If it’s mundane, I wouldn’t read it. If it was insignificant, I wouldn’t care. I read. I care. We all do. While I love Oprah, please don’t think that just because she picks some dumb book, that the story is more important than yours. It might be more widely read, but it isn’t more important. In fact, it might be LESS important considering that he had to fictionalize the story and pass it off as truth for it to get published. You never pass any of your posts off as completely true: entirely true, but exaggerated for comic effect.
Feel better and I will be hoping for you that your kidless Monday will resurface sooner rather than later.
January 25th, 2006 at 3:21 pm, Susan Says:
That’s the thing about ‘truth’, though–it is mundane and insignificant, by and large, but that doesn’t mean that it lacks relevance or has to be dressed up with a fabricated police record (for example) to mean something. Or that writing about potty training and birthday parties and tantrums isn’t one way to change the world.
I just won’t be getting invited to be on Oprah any time soon. Which is good, as I have nothing to wear.
January 25th, 2006 at 4:11 pm, adria Says:
The writing done here is anything but insignificant! I love reading your’s and many other mom blogs because it is reassuring to know we are all going through different versions of the same thing. It is great to know I am not the only one in the universe with a 5 year old who will still scream and cry in public places for no pratical reason. (well, I do not actually love it - I find comfort in it.)
I am so happy to hear that you do not have strep throat, even though head colds suck too. It is never a fun day when mommy is sick and kids are well. Make it a movie day for the kids, so you can rest.
January 25th, 2006 at 5:38 pm, Candace Says:
I think the people who say that “mommy bloggers’” writing is mundane and insignificant haven’t ever been mommies. Or daddies. Or if they have, they haven’t been very *attentive* ones.
This thing that we do, mothering, is fucking hard (and believe me, I’m so not discounting fathering, if it’s done correctly). It’s the hardest thing I’ll *ever* do. Even if I was a brain surgeon, being a mother would be the hardest thing I’d ever do.
If someone says that being a parent isn’t the hardest thing they’ve ever done, or will ever do, they’re not doing a very good job of raising their children. Those of us who worry what kind of little people we’re sending out into the world, who worry about table manners and social niceties, who worry about whether or not our kids will find their niche; *we* are the good parents.
That’s why mommy and daddy blogging *is* significant and not mundane. When we share those bad or good days, when someone learns from our mistakes, or when we offer each other understanding, we’re helping our children. All of them.
It *does* take a village; it’s just that our village is expanding to include the Internets.
All of this typing comes down to this: keep writing. We’ll keep reading.
January 25th, 2006 at 7:38 pm, Kristen Says:
Just before I popped in here to check in, I was thinking I should post something. But what?! I’m gearing up for a new job next week? Big whoop, I’ve already talked about that. My braces hurt? Yawn. The kids were screaming and hitting each other tonight as soon as I walked in the door, and my husband looked like his head was going to explode? I’m pretty sure I wrote that post last week. Because it’s always the same thing. But like you said, it’s our truth, and writing about it without embellishment does have significance on multiple levels (and it also has benefits for both the writer and her audience). I’m glad you wrote that. I feel it too. (But I still have nothing to post…ho hum.)
January 25th, 2006 at 9:16 pm, Kara Says:
this post is exactly why i love reading your blog so much. i, too have been thinking a lot about what i leave out of my blog and what that says about me. reading the funny is great, but reading the mundane, for me at least, is sometimes comforting. makes me feel like i’m not the only one who gets bored, feisty, and even cranky. i’m reading a memoir by augustine burroughs right now and it’s making me feel freakishly normal.
how bout this: if you keep writing, i’ll keep reading. and you don’t have to force fabulous or funny if you don’t feel like it. deal?
January 25th, 2006 at 9:32 pm, Andie D. Says:
I think all mommies “exaggerate for comic effect” from time to time, weather we blog or not. It’s simply one way to take what can be an incredibly difficult and unappreciated role and make it lighter.
I’ve had the same concern that a “mommy blog” is insignificant/unimportant. But it’s not. I have already learned so much from the wonderful bloggers I frequent, like you. I’ve been comforted, challenged, and inspired.
P.S. You can usually tell when I’ve hit a wall in my writing by the inane meme or quiz I’ve posted. I’ve got one on there right now. Yippee!
January 25th, 2006 at 11:28 pm, CarpeDM Says:
Well, how’s this? I really enjoy your blog and I don’t have kids. I never plan on having children unless I adopt a teenager. And yet I adore your blog. In fact, a great deal of the blogs that I read are considered “mommy blogs” which is a term that I hate.
I like to read blogs that are funny, articulate and entertaining. You fit all of those categories. You just happen to have children.
And honestly, what blogger doesn’t exaggerate? Seriously. I exaggerate daily for comic effect as well. Heck, I even say that I’m the self proclaimed Queen of the Universe so you have to realize not everything I say is 100% truthful (or am I really the Queen? Hmm).
January 26th, 2006 at 8:00 am, Nancy Says:
First off, I am glad you don’t have strep. I hope you can get the rest of the taffy out of your head soon.
Second, I think the important thing about writing is that it’s all about perception — there really is no absolute truth in the written word, for the most part, because even if two people record in narrative form something they’ve witnessed, it might sound like 2 different events occurred. So I never look for absolute truth in writing — I look for writing that tells a story, that keeps me entertained and gets me to react. Even better if it makes me laugh or cry.
You do that quite successfully, even when you’re discussing the most “mundane” topics. And that’s why I love your blog.
January 26th, 2006 at 10:17 am, Laura Says:
I agree with everyone else. Life is only as mundane as you make it, and children, even when they are naughty and screaming at the top of their lungs, are still entertaining. Maybe not in a good way, but entertaining nevertheless.
And just because we Mommies don’t have big dramatic drug rehab stories to tell doesn’t mean that our stories aren’t as worthwhile, or shouldn’t be told. Because they should. There is no Mommy Handbook, and we write our own by using our own perceptions, and the ideas we have gleaned from others, like your blog. We are more important than someone like James Frey. We are raising the next generation, and by doing so, are going to change the world, as all Mommies do. And we should never feel like we aren’t worth reading about. End of sopabox.
January 26th, 2006 at 10:56 am, Franny Says:
Delurking here, to let you know that I think we are leading parallel lives at the moment. My 2 girls and I are sick, sick, oh so sick and I am really tired of it. Just keeps jumping between the 3 of us, and my husband.. downing his Cold Fx like it’s M & M’s doesn’t feel nary a tickle in his throat. I too struggle with interesting and relevant things sometimes blogging, and will go days without posting an entry until guilt will push me back. There are times that I am “into it” and things flow freely from my mind, and other times where I just find everything about my life so.. well.. mundane and boring. I love blogging and reading others, and would never think of giving it up now, but sometimes I wish I didn’t feel such pressure to perform.
January 26th, 2006 at 2:05 pm, ieatcrayonz Says:
Okay, fine. You got me. Lauren is really a 9-year-old prepubescent boy.
And my name isn’t Crayonz. It’s Lolita. And damn it if blogger didn’t totally piss me off today.
January 26th, 2006 at 2:18 pm, The Daring One Says:
Hurray for the mundane! I sure hope my life is never “exciting” enough to get on the news for the reason most people make it on the news or on Oprah. I’m glad to live a quite, strange life in my little corner of the world.
January 26th, 2006 at 3:02 pm, WILLIAM Says:
Hello, I came here through “A new Day” Meegs.
The problem with the Frey story is that he had people (readers) invested in his story because he and the publisher claimed it was true. I don’t think people were mad they they paid for the book but that that they invested themselves into the character and the story.
Much like blogging. Whatever readers a blogger has they are investing their time, emotion, sometimes prayers and good vibes into someone’s story. Those investors deserve better than “I made this up.” Unless they KNOW they are reading something that is made up.
January 26th, 2006 at 3:32 pm, Susan Says:
William, my friend Leslie and I had been talking about Frey’s book, right after he was on Larry King (when Oprah called in to defend him); when I saw her today, in the carpool line, I told her about Oprah’s recantation and Frey’s admission that the story is, essentially, untrue.
‘NOOOOO!’ she said. ‘I’m half way through the book! I don’t want to know that it’s not true!’
I think you are absolutely right about the investment of the reader being an important part of the reading experience. And the more I think about Frey, the more he irritates me, because he had all sorts of people–including Oprah and various book reviewers–investing in his story.
The story may indeed be a good story, but the experience of thinking that it was true and then finding out the contrary will change the experience readers have with the text. And not in a good way.
January 26th, 2006 at 4:23 pm, adria Says:
I think Oprah read your post and changed her tune today! Ha! You go Susan.
January 26th, 2006 at 5:13 pm, The June Cleaver Diaries Says:
I’m the Queen of Editing, because I was busted as a young’n for Embelishing.
The things I write about are FAR from interesting (except the day I smashed Lou Gramm in the sack with my grocery cart), but writing about them forces me to see the humor and the absurd in the day to day routine. As you might remember, I had/have postpartum depression, so next to the happy pills, this has been a huge help to me. And so has your site. And Misfit’s. And Hausfrau, and on and on, because it helps me to know that we’re all going throught the same crap, and that I’m not a bad mom if I sometimes wish they’d just leave me alone.
When I first started writing, I made sure that everything I wrote was at least slightly witty. And like Franny, I was starting to feel the need to perform. So now, I’m just writing, boring, funny, whatever, and it still helps. I’m sure I’ve lost a ton of readers, but I try to remember that forming a fan club wasn’t the purpose of doing this.
Although I’ll be in Fresno signing autographs on Saturday. Please try not to stampede when you see me…