"The plot of an Alafair Burke thriller doesn't just rip from the headlines. She's one step ahead of them. 212 scares you and keeps you turning the pages into the wee hours."
— Harlan Coben

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The Things I Write

Saturday, June 20, 2009

I had the privilege this week of meeting Gretchen Rubin, author of the forthcoming memoir, The Happiness Project. Like me, Gretchen is a former lawyer. She went to a pretty decent school called Yale. When I told her that I was working on an essay for the law journal she previously edited, she congratulated me wholeheartedly, noting that it wasn't an easy publication to land.

Two days later the conversation has me thinking once again about my life as a writer. It makes sense to me. I grew up with a father who was a writer and a mother who was a school librarian. Of course I sit at a desk all day in my sweats and write words. What else would I possibly do?

My life as a writer makes sense to me even though the content of the words changes wildly from day to day, hour to hour, minute by minute. Sometimes I'm working on the fiction that has led to five thriller novels. Other times I'm working on the articles about prosecutorial power that got me tenure as a professor at Hofstra Law School. Either way, I'm writing.

I've noticed, however, that other people find my work puzzling. How can I write both fiction and legal scholarship? How can I wear such different hats? Most daunting of all, they ask: How long can I continue to have two jobs?

Two jobs. Wow. That sounds hard.

Some days, the rare ones when I feel sorry for myself, I find my thoughts moving in that direction. I allow myself to feel pulled in two. I make what I do seem complicated. I let myself feel like Cybil, but with a MacBook Air.

But after my conversation with Gretchen, I've vowed to set that stinkin' thinkin' aside. I am a writer, pure and simple. And real writers write. A lot. About different subjects, in different formats, for different audiences, and sometimes just for ourselves. If I wrote only fiction, couldn't I knock myself around for writing both the Ellie Hatcher and Samantha Kincaid series, as well as the occasional short story and blog post? If I wrote only as an academic, might I wonder whether I should write only pure theory or get out there in the real world as a pundit/practitioner?

My way of being a writer might not make sense to other people, but I'm continually surprised by how well it works for me. My loftier thoughts about the criminal justice system find their way into the stories of Ellie and Samantha. Translating police and court procedures into stories about actual people makes me a better classroom teacher and academic. My book friends, like my new friend Gretchen, are much more impressed by my academic life than my academic friends are, while my academic colleagues marvel that I publish thrillers. Meanwhile, I'm in awe of all of them because they are writers, too, and I know that all writers, no matter what they are writing, have to work hard.

I finished my first book by telling myself I was a writer. I need to continue to treat myself as one. No pats on the back, but also no apologies or explanations. I'm a writer who writes what I know. That's not going to change.

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posted by Alafair Burke at 3:44 PM

3 Comments:

Blogger Jen Forbus said...

Thanks goodness! :) Just keep writin', A!

June 21, 2009 at 7:00 AM  
Blogger Dru said...

and I couldn't be any happier that you're a writer.

June 21, 2009 at 8:40 AM  
Anonymous Charlotte said...

You could always become a defense attorney. Then you could be a ham actor on top of being a writer. Think of the fun you would have. Learn to deliver those shop worn phrases with tremendous earnesty... "yer honor, my client was in the wrong place at the wrong time" and "yer honor, my client is turning his life around", etc., ad nauseum. My finest hour was working that most ancient of all sayings into a closing argument - "Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive," - I just wanted to see if the jury would let me get away with it. They laughed. I won.

Not to mention you could dress like you just climbed out of a Salvation Army bin instead of dressing like a prosecutor. My clients are always rolling down the collar of my jacket and idly picking Pug and Frenchie fuzz off my person - I think it calms them...

A former prosecutor. What a terrible waste...

June 22, 2009 at 8:27 PM  

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