Books like No Other Life

When you're living in the sterile, gleaming world of a fertility clinic, I’m not sure there’s a more inviting landscape to disappear into than the poetry of Mary Oliver.

I find something so moving and hopeful—almost meditative—in the lyricism of her language and the beauty with which she renders the natural world. What a lovely place to live, even for a few hours or a few pages.

I actually considered borrowing a line from one of these poems for the title of my book. 

While Jack Kerouac can arguably be synonymous with the Beat generation, the poems in this collection reveal a lesser-known and seldom seen but poignant side of Kerouac’s legacy. He distills his surroundings into short vignettes, reminiscent of the Beat style and motif, but incorporates a significant amount of nature imagery. They’re beautiful glimpses of the world through the eyes of one of America’s most influential authors.

This volume of selected poems and unpublished works spoke to me during a time when I was finding my voice, and was formative during my early years as a poet. While not heavily embedded in the nature genre, the author on occasion writes her observations of the natural world with strong imagery. The author is also from my hometown of Santa Cruz, California, and left her mark on the poetry community. Her poems are powerful but accessible and written in simple language, which I feel makes for the best kind of poetry.

The majority of Sarton’s work is introspective, giving glimpses into a writer’s creative process, a passion for writing, and one’s observations and emotions. This short collection of Sarton’s poems embodies her work as a nature poet without being overwhelmingly so. It’s a great introduction to her work. For a brief time in my life isolated myself for a month in a small cabin in a remote forest to do nothing but write. I read May Sarton and it was as if my experience paralleled her and my struggles validated by her work.

As with Madeleine L’Engle, everything I’ve read by Ursula K. Le Guin—fiction as well as nonfiction—has radically influenced my writing and my teaching of writing. In fact, her impact on my creative awakening was so profound that I sent her a copy of my first book as a thank you! Steering the Craft is filled with wisdom and exercises for both new and seasoned writers, but perhaps the most liberating for blocked writers is her controversial view that “story” is defined by “change” not “conflict.” That’s especially welcoming for writers who feel hemmed in (and, perhaps, blocked) by the traditional definition.

The original Save the Cat by Blake Snyder was written for screenplays but captured the imagination of all kinds of writers, myself included. But often it was difficult to translate to novel format. Jessica Brody’s book is an excellent adaptation of Snyder’s foundation for book people. 

The story structure methodology uses the same 15 beats (plot points) as the screenplay version. I love that Brody uses book examples as even most books about writing books tend to use movie examples. I think some authors worry about following story structure too closely, but I have always felt thinking analytically about story can only improve your writing. It’s only formulaic if you write it that way.

The houses on your block probably all have walls, roofs, foundations, floors, and plumbing…but they don’t all look the same, even on the outside. Once you get inside—all bets are off, right? But they all need… show more.

I had never been to Greenland when I first read Gretal Erlich’s book, and I knew very little about this mysterious continent. What I loved most about Erlich’s writing is that she really takes readers on a journey, introducing us to the people she meets in her travels, which are as fascinating as her singular way of describing the landscape, which is like no other place on earth.

Many years later, I travelled to Greenland and appreciated the accuracy of her descriptions firsthand. 

Gutkind founded the journal Creative Nonfiction and has been a tireless advocate of the CNF genre for decades, as a writer, teacher, public speaker, and publisher. His nuts and bolts guidebook, You Can't Make This Stuff Up, offers a wide-ranging examination of the craft of writing true stories – dialogue, description, beginnings, endings, intimate detail, reflection, point-of-view, framing – as well as clear and helpful chapters about forming a writing habit and learning to live one’s life as a writer. Gutkind has generously packed decades of wisdom and knowledge into perhaps the most comprehensive nonfiction guide available.

I came across Dani Shapiro’s Still Writing at a time when I believed writing to be an impossible, nay, mythical career. Like the imaginary friends from my childhood, I saw it as something I must snap out of if I was ever to find the real thing.

I loved Shapiro’s part-memoir, part-guidebook because she spoke to the true mystery and unknowingness of writing. Clarity, as she puts it, may be the main aim of our game, but it seems to fall further and further away the more we try to grasp it.

The deceptively simple language and tone of Still Writing was a timely reminder for me that, despite the difficulty, risk, vulnerability, and tumult of this discipline, writing is an indelible part of my life, which is not only possible but within my reach. 

The title captivated me.

Then, page by page, the content courted me with insightful and inspiring essays. I’ve read many craft books. This brilliant and eloquent gem is my absolute favorite. Chapter by chapter, Benner Dixon and McDermott’s personal essays reveal craft—not as how-to, but rather through inference, story, and metaphor.

In the chapter on memory, they speak of how memories linger, betray us, and befriend us to be better. Consciously or unconsciously, our memories influence our writing in the best of ways, as memories are held in our bodies and in our hearts. And when we write from the heart, we’re able to give life to our characters in the best possible way, even if the memories are painful.