Anthony Doerr and Artistic Failure

Image Credit: Portland Literary Arts. Anthony Doerr gives his presentation to a group of Portland middle school students.

Image Credit: Portland Literary Arts. Anthony Doerr gives his presentation to a group of Portland middle school students.

The Portland-based nonprofit Literary Arts invited  author Anthony Doerr  to Portland’s Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall on November 19th. Pacific University’s MFA in Writing and Silk Road Review had the lucky privilege of supporting this event, and showcasing our magazine in the lobby.

Doerr, author of the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel All the Light We Cannot See, fully understands that during the writing process, failure is every bit as important as success. His hour-long presentation included several examples of his personal experiences with failure—experiences that ranged from childhood Halloween costume mishaps to entire deletion and rewriting of formerly treasured passages. His message was simple, yet elegant: failure—as long as it is purposeful in its nature—is just as formative, rewarding, and essential as accomplishment; it is crucial in facilitating progress, much as a torn muscle fiber is instrumental in creating a stronger bond.

2015 PA&L_Proctor and Doerr

Image Credit: Literary Arts. A moment during Doerr’s talk.

If Anthony Doerr taught us anything that years of writing through frustration and desperation hasn’t, it was that the best way to find success is to throw oneself after it, no matter the risk of embarrassment. It was that dedication to the concept of completion, that perseverance in the face of the knowledge that—try as we might—we will never be finished writing, and that’s what makes it so great. Revision is an ongoing process, with an indefinite number of stages and no end in sight. Write, develop, revise, develop some more, revise some more, and repeat as necessary—this is the cycle with which most writers are heavily experienced, and we are no exception. We cannot thank Anthony Doerr enough for reaffirming that this process, futile as it may appear, is completely normal and ultimately productive.

2015 PA&L_Quinton and Doerr

Image Credit: Literary Arts

We would also like to thank Anthony Doerr for his riveting, insightful, and—most of all—humorous testament to the struggle all writers face on a daily basis. Components such as accuracy down to the tiniest details—was it raining on November 23rd, 1946, and department stores have fire alarms yet?—transference of our innermost thoughts to the page, and ultimate satisfaction are all aspects of writing that we have grown to abhor every bit as much as we love. Doerr made a point to mention that he, a critically-acclaimed writer, still finds himself dissatisfied with his end product, simply because it can’t be as perfect on the page as it is in his head. Language is a beautiful thing, but it has its restrictions; by this logic, the potential for perfection is out of the equation, and the pressure of writing is subsequently diminished.

It’s always a relief when someone comes along to validate and assuage our deep-seated insecurities. In addition to delivering an incredible presentation in which he portrayed himself as down-to-earth, experienced, and accessible, Doerr created a connection with every writer in the sold-out concert hall by addressing these common problems with writing. To hear him struggling with the same things that plague us as undergrad students was perhaps the most inspirational message of the evening, and it couldn’t have come at a better point in time.

Ruth Ozeki Event

Event Correspondent: Katie Fairchild

“Portland is a town of readers and eaters,” Ozeki began. “You are my tribe.” Which is exactly why Silk Road Review attended acclaimed novelist Ruth Ozeki’s talk at the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, hosted by Literary Arts. In the lobby of the historic building, we got to promote our past issues, as well as our upcoming Asia issue, for which we are still taking submissions. We were also eager to support Ruth Ozeki, who had already wormed her way into our collective hearts through her brilliant writing. Just as we suspected, Ozeki endeared herself to all in attendance from the moment she opened her mouth.

Ozeki’s most recent novel, A Tale for the Time Being, is about a 16-year-old Japanese girl and her journey of self-discovery. It is about time-being. It is about connection with one’s family, which in protagonist Nao’s case means connecting with her 104-year-old anarchist feminist zen Buddhist nun of a Grandmother and the ghost of her kamikaze pilot Great-uncle.

And what exactly is a time-being? Ozeki addressed that in her talk, which was part of the annual Portland Arts & Lectures series, co-sponsored by Pacific University. Ozeki primarily referenced Dogen Zenji and his concept of “uji”. She explained that uji has many different translations and meaning based on inflection. For us and our context, it means “time being,” but Ozeki says that it is a word that refuses to settle. The word has a spirit of its own. This is especially apropos when put in the context of A Tale for the Time Being. People, places, spirits, and the concept of time itself are all fluid. Why would language be any different?

Ruth Ozeki has one of the best endings to a lecture of all time. She led over 2,000 people through meditation. Not only was the audience obediently quiet, but they were actively engaged in the art of mediation for a solid five minutes. I don’t think I’ve ever been more relaxed than I was in those moments. Even the person next to me, who had been less than thrilled to mediate, turned to me at the end of the session and said, “That was exactly what I needed.”

Overall, Ruth Ozeki’s talk was phenomenal. How great was it? you may ask. You’ll just have to take my word for it, at least for the time being.