One of the things I have noticed in the past couple of years is how many buildings, memorials, parks, etc. that Our Fearless Leader in Washington has put his name on. Even John F. Kennedy can’t hold onto an art center without a modern president wanting to share its glory.
But what I see happening is nothing new. You see people’s names being included on buildings and other stuff long after the person is gone. It’s the closest they can come to being immortal. These are people that don’t put much credence in the concept of Life After Death, which is a pretty good deal if you’re a Christian.
Writers approach this a different way. In his book, The Courage to Write, Ralph Keyes says: “One of the most fundamental of human fears is that our existence will go unnoticed. We’d all like to have it recorded somewhere. What better way to achieve this than by writing?”
Later, in the same chapter, he writes: “Robert Frost thought a writer’s prayer might be, ‘Oh, God, pay attention to me.’ “
I put this into a thought exercise in my writing class sometimes. I ask, “Would you rather write a mediocre book that get published and many people read it, or write an excellent book that no one ever reads?” Some of my purist English majors choose the latter, saying that quality is all that matters. But for me, it is all about communication. If no one ever reads your story, what’s the point?
There was a point–early on in my career–when I aspired to being famous. And there was a point later on, when I was pretty successful as a writer, that I was somewhat famous, what I call small-town famous. I was recognized in many circles. I still get people recognizing my name and saying they’ve read “my book.” I’ve stopped asking them “which one” and just say “thank you.”
Fame is overrated. It can open some doors for you, but I’ve learned that as they say, it is fleeting. Five years ago, almost all the students and faculty here knew me. Now I would wager that less than five percent know who I am, which is fine. I am not looking to have a building put up in my name, or a scholarship, or even a school. And I suspect that my books will be forgotten as time goes on.
And that’s okay with me. I’m just along for the ride.
