This is something I’ve been thinking about for awhile. And it seems worthwhile, if not important. I’ve often found new authors by seeing who my favorite authors are reading and enjoying. For example, both Yoko Ogawa and Samanta Schweblin mentioned Paul Auster as being influential to them. That led me to the Auster’s New York Trilogy, which — how did I live without it?
I’ve picked up so many books that I’d have been intimated by if not for the direction of others. It’s a bit like when you find out all of your favorite Westerns were inspired by Samurai movies. Good Lord, the well is so deep. Never ending and wonderfully accessible if you dare look.
Over the next few months, and years and decades (if i’m lucky), I’ll be considering the question, “Where do I fit in?” I’ve written so many short stories, and chunks of novels, that are nothing more than poor imitations of the greats. But, slowly, my own brand of prose is emerging. The beauty, and utter terror, is that this will take a lifetime of practice. I’ll discover new works that completely change and dismantle my own processes. I’ll fall in love with new novels and revisit my own work with fresh eyes and tools.
So, be on the lookout for maps and diagrams and thoughts about my own Narrative Genealogy.
An ever-changing, often frustrating, always enriching ride — trying to be a writer.