On Sunday morning, before I began the business of cleaning, cooking and other odds & ends, I had a long think. In your last post, James, you said “[The burden of creation] must not be demystified or pretty soon everyone will think they can write or draw or play music. Who wants that?” And at first, I agreed. You’re right, some people are special and are better at creating art! If everyone thought they could do it, then it wouldn’t be special any more. What kind of a world would that be?
With this thought in mind, I started thinking more about what I am doing this coming week. For those of you who don’t know James and me personally, we work together at a bookstore. But this week, I’ll be leaving the Andover crew to hold down the fort while I venture down to New Orleans for the American Booksellers Association’s Winter Institute. This annual event is a gathering of booksellers, publishers, authors and other members of the book selling world. This is my first year attending and I was already super excited because it is being held in New Orleans, which happens to be one of my favorite cities. But then I got an email that I never expected in my wildest dreams. A representative from Penguin invited me to a private author dinner with John Green!
I have been to a few author dinners before. There are usually about a dozen people there, including the publisher rep and the author. It’s an excellent chance to speak with the author in an intimate setting and to network for future events. But this particular author dinner goes well beyond my normal level of enthusiasm for such things. I have been an avid John Green fan for about 3 years now. I’ve read all of his books and follow his YouTube projects. He’s always struck me as an all-around good guy who has the right combination of intelligence and humor. He’s been a personal inspiration for my own writing and I’ve watched his YouTube channel with the specific goal of making my own videos better.
So when I say that this author dinner won’t be like the others, I hope you understand why. John Green isn’t just another author for me to network with. He’s a personal hero who I have spent a number of years looking up to. He’s one of the “special ones” that James alluded to. One of the people who excels at creation. If everyone were like John Green, well the whole world would be a lot more awesome, but there wouldn’t be anything special about him anymore. So I wasn’t feeling all that bad about my slight level of obsession. I felt good about having him up on a pedestal and I was looking forward to standing up there with him for a few hours. All I had to worry about were my nerves.
But then I read Paper Towns (the only book of John’s that I hadn’t read yet). I just finished it Sunday morning and two of the passages stuck out. They came to me exactly when I needed them, and from the man himself.
“But isn’t it also that on some fundamental level we find it difficult to understand that other people are human beings in the same way that we are? We idealize them as gods or dismiss them as animals.”
“What a treacherous thing it is to believe that a person is more than a person.”
Thanks John Green, that’s exactly what I needed to hear, and not a moment too soon. You’re just a guy, John. You’re a guy who happens to be very good at conveying a story, in many different mediums. And I think that’s what Paper Towns is all about: how hard it is to see our own understanding of the human experience in someone we have placed upon a pedestal. That is my challenge this week, James. To sit next to John Green and see him as just another human being. Because that is where the real honor will be. In sitting at a table, talking and laughing as equals.
So after that epiphany, I started thinking about stories. We are all made up of stories. Some are great. Some need to be followed by a snarky line like “And then I found 12 plastic skeletons.” But everyone’s lives are made up of a string of stories. Some of us tell them really well and can even conjure up imaginary stories to delight our friends. Still, others don’t think their stories are worth sharing or are too afraid of what others might think.
Then a metaphor entered my mind. Try to follow me on this one. Imagine a supermarket, with dozens of isles filled with food (in this metaphor, the food is stories). Folks like you, me and John Green, we are like giant grocery stores packed with food. We rely on stories to succeed, we are defined by the fact that we have stories inside of us and that we need to tell them. Other people, they might be more like malls or Hess gas stations. Sure, there is some food in those places, but that’s not their defining trait. You go to the mall to shop or the Hess station for gas. You might stop while you’re there for a cup of coffee or a cinnabon, but neither a mall nor a gas station would go out of business if they stopped selling food. Some people need to tell stories in order to live. It is what we are meant to do, and if we are lucky, we can also make a living doing it.
So James, tell me what you think about stories and what sort of role they play in this world. Do you have any great stories to share? I hope that by Friday, I have plenty of new stories for you.
Be good while I’m gone!
-Jen