Page 38 of In a Word, Yes

“Novelist?” He chuckles derisively. “I suppose if one need reduce my particular form of storytelling to a single noun. But I prefer to think of myself as a kind of impressionist. Words are my medium, you see. It is my humble duty to convey meaning from beauty in all its forms. Particularly, the intrinsic beauty of romance. Intimacy—between thesexes.”

Bernard caps his speech with a wink in Nytasha’s direction, and she nearly chokes. From my low angle, I enjoy a peripheral view of Wyatt’s rapid series of facial responses. Raised eyebrows. Several blinks. A twitch of movement at the corners of his mouth.

Someone help me out. That really likeable actor with full lips and a chin dimple.

Maybe natural curiosity has no reason. It just is. A person either has it, or they don’t. Because, for whatever reason, I’m tempted to ask Bernard if there is a Mrs. Vandekamp. Now that I think about it, curiosity is probably a prerequisite of writing in any form. For sure, it’s essential for a journalist. Maybe this is why Sam believes in me.

If our fearless leader finds Bernard’s speech at all confounding,he hides it well. “We’re thrilled to have you, Bernard,” Ian says. “Looking forward to hearing from you in the weeks to c—”

“Actually,” Bernard interrupts, slipping a folded page from his blazer pocket, “I brought a piece with me tonight, and I’d be delighted to share—”

“Oh, brilliant,” Ian says. “Yes, that’s, uh, brilliant, Bernard, and we will definitely circle back to that. But first, to dovetail off your thoughts, if I may be so bold, I would argue that reading fiction”—here Ian cuts a look to Nytasha—“is essential to emotional and relational development. Human beings are wired for story, and novels contain valuable life lessons.

“In fact,” he continues, “between now and next week, I would challenge each of us to consider the ways we’ve been influenced by fictional stories over the course of our lifetimes. Perhaps we could share our discoveries at the next meeting.”

My thoughts drift to Stoneback’s stories. Her heroines are flawed. They doubt themselves. But they ultimately manage to dredge up enough of whatever it is they lack to overcome whatever peril the author throws at them. So perhaps these books have been working on me at the subconscious level, fueling my resolve to emerge as the heroine in my own life one sunny day.

When I set out to write something, I thought that if I told my story, I’d no longer be controlled by it. I’d move from fear and stuckness to courage and calling. And in the process, others might even be helped. But it’s not turning out that simple.

So why am I even here?

As if reading my mind, Ian says, “Creativity is such an act of courage that it can’t help but breed self-doubt. We have to accept that the two things will always coexist. That’s why I see this group as more about inspiring and encouraging one another than sharpening our skills. So, let’s finish by sharing any writerly wisdom you’ve found particularly helpful. Perhaps a favorite quote?”

I appreciate what Ian is trying to do—establish a foundation of trust and camaraderie. And in general, I have to admit I’m enjoyingmyself. Still, it’s hard to imagine remaining in this Styrofoam-bead butt nest through another round of sharing.

“I have one,” Nytasha says, lifting her chin and pulling her shoulders back. “‘Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly.’ That’s Bobby Kennedy.”

“Nice,” Ian says.

Sunny clears her throat. “It’s not really a quote about writing, though, is it?”

“Well,” Nytasha says a little testily, “fear of failure kills any kind of forward progress. Creativity included.”

Sunny harrumphs.

“So,” Wyatt says, shifting in his chair next to me, “this isn’t specifically a writing quote either, but one of my favorite authors said, ‘In whatever man does without God, he must fail miserably—or succeed more miserably.’”

A moment ticks by as we all consider this.

“That’s from George MacDonald,” Wyatt adds. “I mean, it’s from over a hundred years ago, but still ... an idea I try to be guided by—not only in writing, but in life.” He darts a glance at Nytasha. As if concerned she’ll interpret his angle on success as a challenge to hers.

In my mind, Wyatt’s quote is somehow more complete.

Nytasha smiles approvingly, seemingly oblivious to any distinction between their two perspectives. Then again, by the way she’s been running her eyes over Wyatt all evening, I’m guessing she hasn’t got her mind exclusively on building her inner mountain.

“What about you, Lucy?” Ian says. “What motivates you to write?”

Oh, peachy. And yet, after Wyatt’s meaningful quote, my desire to contribute something to the group overrides my normal tendency to opt out. Besides, I’m pretty sure I have a quote written down in my notebook...

“I think I have something here,” I say, fishing around in mycanvas bag. Sure enough, inside the spiral-bound cover I find a lime-green sticky note I placed there some time ago.

“This is from someone named Julia Alvarez,” I say, then launch into reading my own handwriting out loud.

It’s like my whole world is coming undone, but when I write, my pencil is a needle and thread, and I’m stitching the scraps back together.

My chest burns with unexpected emotion. I stare at the words, unwilling to meet anyone’s eyes, aware that a curtain of silence just fell over the room. I feel undressed. Had I remembered what the quote said, I wouldn’t have read it.

Sunny speaks so softly I can barely pick it up. “I rather like that.”