Writing and Why Beppe Was Right

 I've been reading quite a bit of Italian literature recently, which may be part of an unconscious transition to our upcoming life in Italy.  One of the novels I read was Beppe Fenoglio's A Private Affair, which I liked quite a bit. In the introduction I felt a definite sense of communion with Fenoglio's comment on his writing: "I write for a great many reasons . . . but certainly not for fun." I'm in the process of putting final gloss on my Epics manuscript, and am also sending around proposals to publishers, with my goal to have the entire five-hundred page tome finished (obviously, it will be altered and amended when/if I find a publisher) by the time I teach my last class at Champlain. That will give me the summer to begin to transition to other projects, get back to the gym, and start packing. Beppe's words jumped out at me because I really don't like writing, I mean, I do and I don't. Like most writers, researching and pursuing mad flights of fancy is a ton of fun, but grinding your way through endless revisions is pretty tortuous. Having said all that, I do like it now in a way that I thought that I never would - and this is helping me get my mind around the thought of retirement, because I can now imagine a different and meaningful world when I'm no longer teaching. Still, groan, Beppe is spot on. It's exhausting and lonely and it completely eats away at your self-esteem. Groan.