THIS NOVEL WAS BORN ONE afternoon when Jennie Shortridge and I attended a planning meeting for a month-long arts festival to take place in Seattle. We had cofounded a literary nonprofit called Seattle7Writers, and so had been invited, along with a number of other people from the Seattle literary scene, to brainstorm ideas of fun events for the “literary week” of ArtsCrush.
I have to admit, most of the ideas were a bit bland, and entailed . . . readings. More readings? Seattle, ranked the nation’s Most Literate City three out of the past six years (placing second in the off years), has dozens of readings every single evening at our wonderful bookstores, libraries, literary centers, and other venues. More readings? Was that the best we could do?
“Let’s come up with something special,” I said. “How about a reading marathon for the entire week?”
My suggestion was met with raised eyebrows and mumblings.
“Better yet,” I said, “how about a writing marathon!”
Well, now, that sounded promising.
Jennie and I immediately began tossing about ideas, and soon, the kernel of The Novel: Live! emerged. We would write twelve hours a day for six days. Each writer would take a two-hour stint, requiring thirty-six authors. We would do it in a public place, on a stage, with an audience. We would simulcast it on the Internet, have a chat room function, raise money for our causes. We would bring in school field trips, auction off naming rights, and, hopefully, get it published. But best of all, we would energize readers and writers everywhere for a once-in-a-lifetime event!
People called us crazy. People called us unrealistic. People said, “This is not how books are written!” We said, “Wait until you see how much fun this will be.”
The Richard Hugo House immediately joined in and offered their cabaret space, video projector, staff, and cafe facilities. Amazon.com pledged a grant to underwrite the production. Independent bookstores all over the region agreed to help market TN:L! and offer special discounts to attendees. Restaurants donated food. Local luminaries offered to host evening events. An army of volunteers answered our call for support.
And thirty-six authors laughed and scratched their heads and said, “Why the heck not?”
On October 11, 2010, at 10:00 a.m., Jennie Shortridge typed the first word. On October 16, 2010, at 6:00 p.m., Susan Wiggs typed the 73,535th word. In between first and last words, great fun was had: from Mary Guterson’s record-setting stint (4,560 words!), to Erik Larson’s record-setting cups of coffee (four!), from Kit Bakke’s Long Distance Award (Shanghai, China!), to Susan Wiggs’s costume changes (four!).
Writers are perfectionists by nature. We immerse ourselves in our manuscripts for months or years until they are just perfect. Being allotted merely two hours, and being put on stage, was liberating for so many of our authors. Part of it was the pressure: as Clyde Ford said, “I’ve written more in two hours than I usually write in two weeks; I should try this at home!” Part of it was the camaraderie: “No matter what happens, I’m only 1?36 to blame,” Kevin O’Brien said. Part of it was the craziness: “I can’t believe I agreed to do this,” said Erica Bauermeister.
Keep in mind, this was not a free for all. Before we began, an editorial committee was convened, composed of Elizabeth George, Robert Dugoni, Jennie Shortridge, Maria Semple, and me. We brainstormed a story idea and outlined a plot. We knew if we were going to write a complete book in six days, our authors had to have very clear goals for their writing sessions. So in addition to each author reading the text that had already been written, he or she also met with an “editor” before taking the stage. The editor reviewed the narrative arc and the themes, and made suggestions about where we had to go next. Outside of these specific plot necessities, the writer was free to let his or her imagination roam.
It was never our intention to accomplish in six days what took James Joyce eighteen years to accomplish with Ulysses; we knew we were not writing a literary masterpiece. It was our intention to build a solid, fun story that was a collaboration between three dozen writers, various editors, and an audience both live and virtual—what we wanted to create was a community. We began our project with so many objectives: make the writing process transparent to students, support our local literary causes, and raise the visibility of dozens of local writers. But in the end, one objective stood above all the rest: create connections between readers and writers, between bookstores and customers, between literary centers and libraries and their communities.
In that sense, TN:L! continues to embody everything we stand for at Seattle7Writers, for we are a collective of Pacific Northwest authors with a twofold mission to raise awareness of Northwest literature and to give back to our communities by doing good works for literacy causes. We began our nonprofit with seven of us. We grew to ten, then to eighteen, then to thirty-two, and at latest count we are an alliance of forty Northwest writers who make it our mission to inspire people with our passion for reading and writing.
After working with our editor, Julie Doughty, and all the folks at Open Road Integrated Media, we are proud to present the completed result of The Novel: Live!—Hotel Angeline: A Novel in 36 Voices. It is collaboration in every sense of the word—different styles, different tones, different voices all working to a common end: a single story.
How do thirty-six authors write the same characters in the same story? How does a character such as Alexis take any kind of coherent shape when drawn by thirty-six hands? Do fiction writers create their stories, or do we merely discover them and interpret what we see for others?
I believe that we who write fiction discover our fictional worlds—or at least parts of them—and do our best to bring what we see to others. I also believe that until a reader interprets a writer’s vision through his or her own set of ideals, values, experiences, and expectations, a book is just a colorful doorstop, and it is not doing what it was designed to do: provoke thought and imagination.
So I hope that you will take our novel as a provocation on multiple levels. First, as a story, of course. But also, as a provocation to think about what makes a community a great place to live. Conversation and dialogue are central to our society. Give and take, listening, speaking, thinking, hearing, adapting, understanding, evolving. The act of writing a book—which necessitates that that book be read to be valid—is the epitome of conversation, and so stands at the center of our communities.
With that in mind, I encourage you to support your local libraries, bookstores, and literary centers; these are the places that help make our communities vibrant. In fact, by purchasing this book, you are doing just that: 100 percent of the proceeds earned by Seattle7Writers will be re-granted to not-for-profit literary causes throughout the Northwest.
I hope you enjoy the story and adventures of Alexis and her wacky extended family. We certainly enjoyed bringing them to you. And now, turn the page, flick your finger across the screen of your ereader, or stay tuned on your audio book, and have fun getting to know Alexis, Linda, LJ, Habib, and rest of the cast of Hotel Angeline: A Novel in 36 Voices.
Garth Stein, Seattle, 2011