Why Tolstoy Played Chess and Victor Hugo Loved to Paint 🧑🎨
Plus Poem of the Week by W. B. Yeats | “5 Fabulous Things that Help Me Write” | Overcoming Writers’ Doubt | Weekly Round-Up Reviews | And More | BookGo Fridays | Issue 14
Hello and welcome to the second half of May! We’ve got another jam-packed BookGo Friday newsletter for you, kicking off with some quietly magical words in our poem of the week: “The Song of Wandering Aengus” by William Butler Yeats. Then, we’ve got a fantastic guide to non-writing activities that help with writing! In “5 Fabulous Things that Help Me Write… That Have Nothing to Do with Writing” Nancy explores her own activities and the hobbies of famous writers! Meanwhile, in our tongue-in-cheek regular update on the “Agony of Genius,” Michael explores the perennial penman’s problem of writer’s doubt. He’s got some wise words for how to get over the hump! Finally, we have more reviews and recommendations in our regular round-up of one to read 📖, watch 📺, and sip 🍸. This week Tom checks out Ryan Coogler’s new film Sinner, Edwin Frank’s recent guide to twentieth-century writing Stranger than Fiction, and a cocktail classic to close.
Check it out!
Table of Contents
Poem of the Week: “The Song of Wandering Aengus” by William Butler Yeats
Article: “5 Fabulous Things That Help Me Write… That Have Nothing to Do with Writing!” by Nancy Merritt Bell
Article: “The Agony of Genius: Dealing with Writers’ Doubt” by Michael McKinley
Round-Up: “Read One, Watch One, Sip One” by Tom Elliott
Poem of the Week: “The Song of Wandering Aengus” by William Butler Yeats🖋️
W.B. Yeats, one of the foremost poets and playwrights of the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries, was a great champion of the Irish Literary Revival, and his poetry is infused with the traditions of Irish and Celtic mythology, mysticism, and lore. We sense all of that in his wonderful poem “The Song of Wandering Aengus,” originally published under the remarkable but equally appropriate title “A Mad Song” in 1897 but then included with its full title in Yeats’ 1899 anthology The Wind Among the Reeds.
The speaker of the poem, presumably the “Wandering Aengus” of the title, remembers an experience that it’s not quite possible to define as either mystical or mad — quite possibly it’s both. On capturing a silver trout with a “wand” he’s fashioned from a hazel tree, the speaker finds that trout transformed into a beautiful young woman. That woman then haunts the aged Aengus’ dreams as he wanders, lost and alone (but content in his memory?) until the ending of the world. Yeats once described it as “the kind of poem I like best myself—a ballad that gradually lifts ... from circumstantial to purely lyrical writing.”
“The Song of Wandering Aengus”
By Walt Whitman (1897)
I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout. When I had laid it on the floor I went to blow the fire a-flame, But something rustled on the floor, And someone called me by my name: It had become a glimmering girl With apple blossom in her hair Who called me by my name and ran And faded through the brightening air. Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
5 Fabulous Things That Help Me Write… That Have Nothing to Do with Writing!
By Nancy Merritt Bell
“Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself,” so wrote Franz Kafka about the desolate craft of the writer.
Is the icy solitude essential to our craft the same for a violinist who can’t practice in a noisy traffic jam because they can’t hear themself? And if we have to lock ourselves away, then what are we writing about? How honest are our stories and characters? How vital and how human? And how healthy is this kind of writing life?
May is Mental Health Awareness Month and reason enough to get out the mental floss and take stock of our mental well-being. As writers, we know about the life of the mind, and how extensive hours there, and days alone, might help your novel along but also lead to darker corners of the mind, to social withdrawal, maybe addiction and anxiety, even depression.
The best thing for writing may be not writing at all. Neurologists suggest our brains function better by doing more and taking on various tasks and hobbies, whether we’re good at them, middling, or total losers. The reason why is pointed out by Harvard-based neurologist Dr. Alvaro Pascual-Leone who says our human brain is not a fixed mass, but on the move, and if we grow—in terms of experiences—our brains grow, refresh and recharge, and we can be better writers for it.
“I know a good many fiction writers who paint, not because they’re any good at painting, but because it helps their writing,” wrote Flannery O’Connor. “It forces them to look at things. Fiction writing is very seldom a matter of saying things; it is a matter of showing things… Any discipline can help your writing: logic, mathematics, theology, and of course and particularly drawing. Anything that helps you to see, anything that makes you look.”
Loads of other fine novelists and poets have thought so too: Victor Hugo was an outstanding painter, and so was American poet E. E. Cummings; Gabriel García Márquez took breaks from writing to draw cartoons; Leo Tolstoy played chess; and Flannery O’Connor herself was a chicken farmer. Hobbies and also travel, charity work, sports, even farming can recharge our brains and also give authors new—and real–experiences to write about, while developing skills that make them better writers.
Here are my Fabulous 5 Non-Writing Activities–and Jobs:
Travel: Top choice as it always gets me out of my comfort zone. Whether I am off to a five-star hotel—I wish—or camping, I love to travel wherever and whenever I can. As a writer, the travel-take away is beyond measure, but I am continuously awestruck by the human need for storytelling the world over.
Work for the Government: OK not a hobby and maybe not your number 2 pick but working for the government on-and-off for a few years took me out of the rarefied environment of writers into a space where I worked with a range of people with diverse skills, backgrounds and life experiences. My sense of character and my appreciation for ‘ordinary heroes’ grew exponentially.
Karate: In any martial art, the discipline and the physical training are astonishing and enduring, even if I long ago put away my dreams of a Black Belt. While training, my ability to concentrate went from easily distracted to a rock solid—I can write for hours anywhere, even a dodgy Brooklyn cafe. Also, to know I can still take down anyone in the room helps me feel safe on my travels, and even here in New York City.
Improvisation: I studied and then apprenticed at Yuk Yuk’s and Second City—I can tell you John Candy was not a nice man; Catherine O’Hara is wonderful. To survive the classes, you had to be fast and funny on your feet, or you were literally out the door. The sense of comedy and timing that improve demands now adds energy to anything I’m writing. I also think it trained me to solve plot puzzles and be always open to new ideas--even if they are not mine.
Bartending: To get through college, I helped tend bar. It made me become a good listener, because people really do tell their bartender everything, and good listening leads to a good ear for dialogue—and better tips. And it still comes in handy at the end of a writing day to know how to make a great Dirty Martini!
Are you a writer who is also a gardener? Are you into Tango? Do you volunteer regularly at a charity? Or are you an amateur archaeologist like Agatha Christie? What are your Fabulous 5 Non-Writing Activities? What do they do for you?
The Agony of Genius: Dealing with Writers’ Doubt
- By Michael McKinley
Every writer, at some point, is consumed by doubt. Indeed, probably every person on the planet is consumed by it, but the difference is that writers get to write about that doubt and so turn it into something potentially of value—to others, as a tool for reflection, or hey, if it leads to a killer plot idea, then to their bank accounts.
So let’s take a look at what doubt is and why we might have it and how we can deal with it when we do. “Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt,” wrote William Shakespeare in Measure for Measure, and it’s a useful way to look at doubt, as something attempting to stop us from winning the good. Now, of course, there are types of doubt that are not traitors at all, but very useful, such as doubting that an extra slice of Red Velvet Cheesecake is a good thing if you’re trying to lose ten pounds.
No, I am talking, as was Shakespeare, about doubting oneself, and so, doubting one’s abilities to do something. That something is creating things, and here, another writer offered her opinion that “Self-doubt is the worst thing that can happen to creativity.” Of course, the poet Sylvia Plath ultimately doubted her will to live, consumed as she was with depression, and so ended her own life at the age of thirty, in 1963.
But if we are doubting ourselves as writers, why is this so? Do we think that what we have written is no good? Of course, every writer has that thought, or should have done. It’s asking that very question that allows you to revise your creation into something even better. So, that’s a good kind of self-doubt. Not so much “this is no good” but “how can I make it better?”
A bad kind is when it stops you from writing at all. Maybe you have had one too many rejections from publishers. Maybe your best friend/spouse/partner didn’t love what you created. Maybe you just realized that the subject you sought to address in your writing was, in the end, not worthy of you, or you were not worthy of it. Every writer can doubt themselves into stopping. That’s what Sylvia Plath was talking about, and which is what she ultimately did.
So how do you get around it? By turning the dial on doubt. Think of it as a positive. How do you do that? As my great pal Chuck says, “You make a bet on yourself”. That’s the perfect way to look at it, because making a bet on yourself injects positive forces into that which you are attempting to do, and what does any bettor want to do? We want to win.
Of course, winning can be looked at many different ways, but all winners believe in their means to victory. So, you can bet that you will write five hundred words before noon, or you can bet that your novel will be the next hot selling thing in the marketplace. One you can control, one you can dream about, and that’s the most powerful tool of them all: our imagination. If you can dream it, so the saying goes, you can do it. So why doubt it? Just place the bet on self and see what happens. The beauty of betting is that you can bet as many times as you like. Double or nothing. And we know nothing will happen if you don’t place that bet.
🎊 Fame and Glory! 🏆
If you find yourself trudging through the “agony of genius,” or if you know of any silent geniuses who deserve to have their life story told, in a book or in a film, or both, please let us know! We'll take it from there and get their name in lights!
Watch One 📺, Read One 📖, Sip One 🍹
By Tom Elliott
After a few weeks away, I have another round-up of what I’ve been enjoying reading, watching, and sipping on this week.
📺 One to watch: Sinners, directed by Ryan Coogler (2025)
Well worth a watch this week, in my opinion, is the new film Sinners by Ryan Coogler, director of both of the Black Panther films, who teams up again with Michael B. Jordan here for a somewhat strange but very compelling deep-south-thriller-period-drama-musical-horror! The film takes place in 1932 in Mississippi, with Jordan playing the role of two identical twins Elijah “Smoke” and Elias “Stack” Moore, who transform an old sawmill into a juke joint.
The film’s interlayering of creepy horror with the story of the development of the blues in the prewar South takes inspiration from Robert Johnson, who legend has it sold his soul to the devil at a crossroads in Mississippi for musical success and fame. Coogler weaves this into a well-told and exquisitely produced tale for our times. Even the trailer is brilliant!
📖 One to read: Stranger than Fiction: Lives of the Twentieth Century Novel by Edwin Frank (2024)
A real book-lover’s book, Stranger than Fiction: Lives of the Twentieth Century Novel, has been written by Edwin Frank, editorial director of the New York Review of Books, whose whole career has been dedicated to introducing readers to some of the most remarkable books of modern times. In this book, he uses all of his knowledge, insight, and storytelling skill to weave a fascinating account of the development of the modern novel, ranging as far back as Dostoevsky’s Notes from Underground (1864) and as far forward as W. G. Sebald’s Austerlitz (2001), covering more than 30 novels in total and situating them clearly in the troubling times of the twentieth century. It will have you rediscovering modern classics or longing to take up the books you’ve never quite had the courage to tackle. On that note, maybe now’s the time I’ll finally attempt to climb the 750 pages of Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain… But then again, maybe not…!
🍸 One to sip: The Dirty Martini
Well, of course, in honor of Nancy’s sage advice above and her recommendation that a job in the bar or a drink at the end of the day are fine foils for the phenomenon of writing, I have been thinking about the pure work of art that is the Martini. Since there are so many ways to enjoy it, I won’t dream of telling you the right way to make it—gin or vodka, sweet or dry, olive or twist—though please make sure not to fall for James Bond’s faux pas of ordering it “shaken not stirred.” I will say that I had a rather remarkable one made with Konik’s Tail vodka, from Poland, last week—dangerously drinkable and very much recommended if you get the chance.
Since it’s a Dirty Martini we’re after, the origins of this particular version of the cocktail supposedly go back to 1901, where legend has it it was crafted by John E. O’Connor, bartender at the Waldorf Astoria. O’Connor would muddle olives in the bottom of the glass to give the dirty, briney look and taste that takes the sting out of the alcohol. Since then, the Dirty Martini, just like the Dry or Regular Martini, has gone through as many variations and twists in fashion as the twentieth-and twenty-first centuries themselves. You could redesign a different one for every decade, like Winston Churchill’s infamous version that used no vermouth at all (particularly difficult to come by during the Nazi occupation of France during World War II). Churchill, supposedly, simply stirred his gin with ice and then wafted the glass toward France. Now that’s one to knock you out… There’s undoubtedly a version to accompany every single one of Edwin Frank’s twentieth-century novels, and if you want to get really nerdy about it, check out this graph tracing a whole century of changing Martini recipes.
Whichever way you choose to make it though, enjoy it! There’s nothing better to take the edge off after a long hard week of writing!
— Tom
YourBook Mondays: Sneak Peek
Remember that we’ve switched up our newsletter format to twice a week to cater to all the different parts of our growing community and readers. As well as our ongoing Friday round-ups for our BookGo readers, on Monday we’re focused on what we call our YourBook writers.
Sign up for our tips and tricks for how to succeed in the worlds of publishing, writing, media, and more. ✨
Until then, that’s all for now! If you like what we’re doing, don’t forget to like, comment, and hit subscribe if you haven’t already. Thanks!
The BookGo Team 💖