How To Be a Good-Enough Literary Citizen

because we're humans, not robots

Photo by fotoweedio on Unsplash

In my mind, this is what the epitome of a GOOD LITERARY CITIZEN looks like. The Stepford Wife of literary citizenship, if you will, minus the hand-baked pie:

She shows up (with bells on!) to every author reading and book signing within a fifty-mile radius of her home, and might even buy a few extra copies for friends!

She NEVER shops on Amazon, and ALWAYS pays the highest price possible for her books at her local bookshop. In her universe, budgets don’t exist.

She volunteers her time, knowledge and mental energy endlessly. OF COURSE she will painstakingly review your query letter, edit your novel, or accompany you to research that possibly-haunted cemetery, no questions asked!

She subscribes to ALL the writerly newsletters (“upgrade to paid!” is her middle name).

The magazine basket in her bathroom overflows with back issues of Poets & Writers and Publishers Weekly that she doesn’t actually have the time to read, but can’t bear to not SUPPORT(!).

Her every spare minute in the car or on a walk or elbows deep in dishes is backed by the soundtrack of one of the fifty podcasts she is committed to keeping up with.

Workshops, webinars and Zoom courses fill her calendar. She takes copious, mind-expanding notes which she always finds time to organize, color-code, and implement seamlessly into her daily life.

She cheerfully belongs to multiple book clubs and writing groups.

She listens to audiobooks at 2.5 speed because FOMO!! So. Many. Books. To Read! To Rate! To Review!

She volunteers to write shelf talkers at book stores for which she does not work.

She briskly crosses the grass, calling out to people perusing the Little Free Library installed alongside her yard, “Let me know if you want a recommendation!” She means it, and is sorely disappointed when no one ever takes her up on this offer.

Confession: I’ve done *most* of these things, minus the cemetery. And I’m realizing I need an intervention. Maybe, my lovely literary friends—so do you.

Currently, I’m beta reading or otherwise critiquing work for five other writers. Granted, it’s a much busier week than normal, but…it’s a lot. These writers are lovely and their work is so thoughtful and creative and good, and I feel honored to be one of the few people reading it. Truly! And—I simply wish there were more hours in the day… you know?

I’m also buddy reading a book over which I’m engaging in thoughtful, daily conversation (I really like these friends, and the book is hilarious!) while racing against a library due date to finish another (It could be a comp to mine, how could I not read it?!). I’m behind on every single podcast and audiobook I have been meaning to “get to” and at this point I am barely even attempting to “keep up.” I’m traveling to two writing retreats in the next five months and doing several Zoom writing groups from home most weeks. I’m constantly working to “build my network” through Instagram and Substack. I’ve forgotten Threads exists. My brain DRAWS THE LINE at Threads.

I tell myself I love all these things and…..it’s too much. It’s not sustainable. I simply cannot keep up with every. single. WhatsApp message, critique the work of anyone who may benefit from my feedback, or consume ALL THE THINGS that people I care for and respect are writing, posting and podcasting about. If you lend me an unsolicited book, there is a low likelihood I’ll read it. There are only so many hours in the day. I like sleep too much.

These are some ways I’m (working on, definitely without having perfected) giving myself a break:

*I will no longer strive for a “perfect record” when it comes to keeping up with ALL THE THINGS. I will not listen to every podcast or read every newsletter. I will hop around. I’ll skim. I’ll be okay with missing out.

I’ll set aside books that aren’t holding my interest, and will resist the urge to read every new book that “everyone is talking about.”

*I’ll buy some of my books from the Indie bookstores I love so much, but I won’t shame myself or others for sometimes opting for the price and speed of Amazon, or the ease and wholesomeness of the public library. (The other day I paid $42 for two rather slim paperbacks by authors at a book event I attended, while simultaneously thinking, “This is lovely! I’m showing my support!” and “$42 for two paperbacks?!”)

*I’ll sign up for the occasional class, workshop, or webinar because I WANT to, not because I’m scared of what I’ll miss out on or what edge I might lack if I don’t.

*I’ll wait a beat before committing my time to things I might not actually have time for. I’ll say I need to think about it. I’ll sleep on things. I’ll utter that most outrageous of words: No.

*I’ll cancel magazine subscriptions when I don’t have time to read them.

*I’ll ask for more time than I think I need to complete a task. Instead of saying, “Sure, I can do that tomorrow!” I will practice saying, “I think I can get to that sometime this month.” I NEVER regret asking for more time to complete a project than initially feels natural. Life’s busy. You’ll fill the time, and will be glad to have the wiggle room. Trust me.

*I’ll hit that Book of the Month “skip” button with reckless abandon.

*I’ll prioritize time for my own creative work instead of watching it dry up until it becomes a distant memory because of the self-imposed hamster wheel I’ve tied myself to, trying so hard to keep up with all the people, and all the things.

To be clear—I LOVE that I’ve been able to carve out a life for myself in which I am surrounded by writing, reading, education and community that entertains, challenges, and inspires me. It has been an extremely mindful process, cultivating this life for myself and finding others to share the journey with. And I love giving back and being generous with my time when I am able. I don’t ever take it for granted when I get to sit down at my desk and dive into this world of words. But, I’m also continuing to learn, that each time we say “yes” to something, we really do say “no” to something else.

The Stepford Wives may look like they have their shit together without skimping on beauty sleep, but I’m pretty sure the story ends with them all turning into robots and at least one of them committing a serious violent crime.

Let’s not be Stepford Wives. Homemade piecrust is over-rated, and so is signing up for every opportunity on the planet. Being good-enough literary citizens is the only way I know of, to truly protect time for the things that matter most.

I would really love to hear from other writer and reader friends on this!

*How are you showing up as a literary citizen?

*And—how are you not showing up (this is a safe space!)? What are you allowing yourself to let go of or do less of?

*Because it is now all I can think about, what is your favorite kind of pie?

Thanks as always, for being here.

(And if you’re not here, or only sometimes here, or barely-skimming-my-long-winded-words ‘here’ while thinking mostly about what you’ll have for lunch, and *definitely* without time for all that extra like/share/comment nonsense—I get it. I really do.)