A Crisis in Confidence
discourages me terribly—that fucking
fluency!” wrote award-winning novelist
Philip Roth in a letter to his no-less
distinguished fellow author John Updike,
which resonated with me deeply. All
the same, I took a deep dive into his life,
the multiple works of John Hoyer Updike,
to overcome my life-long fear of reading
him, five months of steady reading, short
stories, novels, poetry, book reviews,
essays, travel pieces, lectures, personal
reflections, introductions, promotional
talks, interviews— “Does he have one
fucking thought that he hasn’t published?”
decried Roth; all of his prose, so clean
and tight with that New Yorker polish
where he began his prolific career under
the tutelage of some of the best editors
in the business; but so brilliant is his
writing and so copious his erudition, that
it snuck up on me and caused a
crisis
in confidence, and I had to put his writing
and my new book aside until my confidence,
more bruised than I wanted to admit, was
well enough to come back to me.
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