Lately, I’ve been reading Thomas Merton’s Confessions of a Guilty Bystander (thank you, Ed!), which was first published in 1968 but remains as relevant as ever on the 50th anniversary of its publication. Here’s one of the first passages I underlined, from Merton’s introduction:
I do not have clear answers to current questions. I do have questions, and, as a matter of fact, I think a man is known better by his questions than by his answers. To make known one’s questions is, no doubt, to come out in the open oneself.
This quote came to mind as I recently read Danielle Lazarin’s essay in the latest Glimmer Train bulletin, Question Everything. She discuses her use of writing notebooks, where she tops and ends pages with questions. She writes:
At every stage of my work, questions are my most essential writing tools. I use them to move through to the other side of murky. It’s only by stepping into that unknown and uncomfortable space repeatedly during my process that I can become more deliberate in the story I’m telling.
Also this month from Glimmer Train:
- Writing Archival Fiction by Thomas Fox Averill
- On Rejection by Aline Ohanesian
Jane Friedman has spent nearly 25 years working in the book publishing industry, with a focus on author education and trend reporting. She is the editor of The Hot Sheet, the essential publishing industry newsletter for authors, and was named Publishing Commentator of the Year by Digital Book World in 2023. Her latest book is The Business of Being a Writer (University of Chicago Press), which received a starred review from Library Journal. In addition to serving on grant panels for the National Endowment for the Arts and the Creative Work Fund, she works with organizations such as The Authors Guild to bring transparency to the business of publishing.
I’d love to see one of her notebooks with all the questions. 🙂
“What if” is always a wonderful question, especially for finding your way to something new. I also like to ask “Why?”
Why is this character saying this, as opposed to that? Why this setting? Why this plot point? Does it go beyond the arbitrary… or is there a deep-seated reason for this and that choice?
And, great Merton quote.