As a writer with ADHD and mental problems, it sounds like Jane possibly had mental health issues and would have faired differently with her writing if she had lived in another time.
Jane’s story is quite painful to read, and knowing she gets a stroke at 40 making it even harder to write! But I love the love story of Paul and Jane Bowles, and his encouragement to keep things easy. It seems to me that Jane was consumed with the myth of complete originality which majorly blocked her work. Making peace with bad art in order to make art at all is my takeaway here.
This was a very thought provoking read.. Maybe Jane had no mental problems. She simply decided that her art has to be difficult and she always had to overcome difficulties for both her art and herself to be respected. Maybe because life wasn’t challenging enough for her. I know an artist who’s has a tough childhood and he views life and art through the lens of difficulty. Maybe art is about how we have lived, and want to continue to live further. We each choose our own difficulty levels. Same as levels of comfort or convenience.. in life and in art. We all have patterns. If we figure them out then creating could become more understandable/clear. Thank you for sharing!
I only got two days into the Milch challenge (I suffer from the same affliction as Ms Bowles at this point in my life).
I had a similar experience to you where one character seemed determined to have the other one understand him. The other was afraid to be honest about his thoughts and was looking for reassurance all the time that he wasn't odd. This definitely reflects different parts of my psyche.
Interestingly, they were both older men with failed love-lives and no direction in life. No idea what to make of that. So many theories...
I think I've figured it out! My partner watches a lot of TV shows with these kinds of male protagonists and I think I've absorbed a lot more than I've realised- ha!
I did the Dialogues exercise. A very cool and unexpected benefit was that I found a way into committing to a writing routine on work nights, something I’ve been struggling with for six months. The content came out as a sort of full cycle of a conflict between two characters about work vs. leisure/overwork vs. rest. I tried adapting the exercise the second week for dialogue between characters I was working with elsewhere, to get a better idea of how they related to one another. It was worthwhile, but didn’t offer as much surprise as staying true to Milch’s instructions.
I found the Two Voices exercise really fascinating. One voice kept trying to get the other to go do something, while the other wanted to stay put. It became clear though as they talked that neither was right or wrong, that tension was just the fundamental nature of their relationship. Maybe that tension is a key category in my imagination?
Thanks for this comment! It made me realize that the Two Voices exercise relates back to that idea of "the flux" that I've been writing about in a few issues this year. Super interested in that tension of two imaginations coming together . . . even if they're figments of one mind!
Very interesting! I knew about Paul Bowles but never even heard of Jane. My painting process is similar but thankfully nowhere near that of Jane! Thanks for sharing!
I agree with the other reader who commented the Jane Bowles likely had issues that might have been addressed differently if she were around today.
As for the David Milch exercise, I had all good intentions to do it. I actually laughed out loud when I opened my journal one day and saw that I'd done the dialogue on one day only, and then I'd *completely* forgotten about it! I've become completely engrossed in a revamp of Feed the Monster to include journaling and note-taking (still in the works), concurrent with finishing the journaling workshop I've been making forever. Everything else has fallen by the wayside. But I'd like to do the exercise in the future, and I'm also going to have to read MIlch's "Life's Work".
I DID finish the David Milch 5-day challenge. Damn. It was exciting. I haven't thought about it afterwards, at least not much, and I enjoyed doing it.
I noticed that whenever dialogue has come up in my writing previously, I'll skirt around and avoid it. Now I feel like... OK... bring it on.
In terms of categories of the imagination, I'm cautious to overanalyse, but some cool images came up: A living being talking to a disembodied spirit who doesn't know they're disembodied, friends doing horrible your-mum jokes at each other (something I know from life, but that has never made it anywhere near my writing), a mother and a daughter on a car journey... or maybe they're hedgehogs walking somewhere... who knows.
Antagonism of people who've known each other a long time.
Another interesting pattern was "Top-Dog/Underdog" patterns, as Fritz Perls (one of the creators of Gestalt Therapy) calls them. If you look at Gestalt Therapy Verbatim, you can find good examples. (I'll look at some Gestalt ideas in upcoming audio rambles on my Substack in the coming weeks).
I'd be curious to return to it in a few weeks after letting it settle.
I loved reading these vivid details about Jane’s relationship to her writing and also to her fears. Cautionary and inspiring at once for anyone wrestling with a creative practice in which they seek to produce something true, while also holding their nerve in the void! Thanks.
As a writer with ADHD and mental problems, it sounds like Jane possibly had mental health issues and would have faired differently with her writing if she had lived in another time.
Jane’s story is quite painful to read, and knowing she gets a stroke at 40 making it even harder to write! But I love the love story of Paul and Jane Bowles, and his encouragement to keep things easy. It seems to me that Jane was consumed with the myth of complete originality which majorly blocked her work. Making peace with bad art in order to make art at all is my takeaway here.
I love to read these. Thank you for writing!
Her novel confounds me to this day. There is NOTHING else like it!
I went to the Jane Bowles school of writing.
Yes — currently enrolled 👨🏻🎓
This was a very thought provoking read.. Maybe Jane had no mental problems. She simply decided that her art has to be difficult and she always had to overcome difficulties for both her art and herself to be respected. Maybe because life wasn’t challenging enough for her. I know an artist who’s has a tough childhood and he views life and art through the lens of difficulty. Maybe art is about how we have lived, and want to continue to live further. We each choose our own difficulty levels. Same as levels of comfort or convenience.. in life and in art. We all have patterns. If we figure them out then creating could become more understandable/clear. Thank you for sharing!
I only got two days into the Milch challenge (I suffer from the same affliction as Ms Bowles at this point in my life).
I had a similar experience to you where one character seemed determined to have the other one understand him. The other was afraid to be honest about his thoughts and was looking for reassurance all the time that he wasn't odd. This definitely reflects different parts of my psyche.
Interestingly, they were both older men with failed love-lives and no direction in life. No idea what to make of that. So many theories...
Wow, that's super interesting — especially about the "older men with failed love-lives and no direction in life" (!) Thanks for sharing!
I think I've figured it out! My partner watches a lot of TV shows with these kinds of male protagonists and I think I've absorbed a lot more than I've realised- ha!
I did the Dialogues exercise. A very cool and unexpected benefit was that I found a way into committing to a writing routine on work nights, something I’ve been struggling with for six months. The content came out as a sort of full cycle of a conflict between two characters about work vs. leisure/overwork vs. rest. I tried adapting the exercise the second week for dialogue between characters I was working with elsewhere, to get a better idea of how they related to one another. It was worthwhile, but didn’t offer as much surprise as staying true to Milch’s instructions.
Interesting! That's so cool that it helped you get into a writing routine on work nights (always a struggle). Thanks for sharing your experience!
I found the Two Voices exercise really fascinating. One voice kept trying to get the other to go do something, while the other wanted to stay put. It became clear though as they talked that neither was right or wrong, that tension was just the fundamental nature of their relationship. Maybe that tension is a key category in my imagination?
Thanks as always for sharing!
Thanks for this comment! It made me realize that the Two Voices exercise relates back to that idea of "the flux" that I've been writing about in a few issues this year. Super interested in that tension of two imaginations coming together . . . even if they're figments of one mind!
Very interesting! I knew about Paul Bowles but never even heard of Jane. My painting process is similar but thankfully nowhere near that of Jane! Thanks for sharing!
I agree with the other reader who commented the Jane Bowles likely had issues that might have been addressed differently if she were around today.
As for the David Milch exercise, I had all good intentions to do it. I actually laughed out loud when I opened my journal one day and saw that I'd done the dialogue on one day only, and then I'd *completely* forgotten about it! I've become completely engrossed in a revamp of Feed the Monster to include journaling and note-taking (still in the works), concurrent with finishing the journaling workshop I've been making forever. Everything else has fallen by the wayside. But I'd like to do the exercise in the future, and I'm also going to have to read MIlch's "Life's Work".
Hi Mason,
I DID finish the David Milch 5-day challenge. Damn. It was exciting. I haven't thought about it afterwards, at least not much, and I enjoyed doing it.
I noticed that whenever dialogue has come up in my writing previously, I'll skirt around and avoid it. Now I feel like... OK... bring it on.
In terms of categories of the imagination, I'm cautious to overanalyse, but some cool images came up: A living being talking to a disembodied spirit who doesn't know they're disembodied, friends doing horrible your-mum jokes at each other (something I know from life, but that has never made it anywhere near my writing), a mother and a daughter on a car journey... or maybe they're hedgehogs walking somewhere... who knows.
Antagonism of people who've known each other a long time.
Another interesting pattern was "Top-Dog/Underdog" patterns, as Fritz Perls (one of the creators of Gestalt Therapy) calls them. If you look at Gestalt Therapy Verbatim, you can find good examples. (I'll look at some Gestalt ideas in upcoming audio rambles on my Substack in the coming weeks).
I'd be curious to return to it in a few weeks after letting it settle.
Sending you warmth. You kick ass!
Sebastian
I have not related to someone so much in my life before her. Oh, Jane, who were you?
I loved reading these vivid details about Jane’s relationship to her writing and also to her fears. Cautionary and inspiring at once for anyone wrestling with a creative practice in which they seek to produce something true, while also holding their nerve in the void! Thanks.