I’d love to discuss the (oh so obvious) Oscar nominees tonight, but truthfully, there’s nothing more to say until I’ve at LEAST seen King’s Speech.
Instead, I’ll air an inner struggle that has caused me more angst in the last year than the argument of who has better donuts: Krispy Kreme or Tim Horton’s (If you haven’t heard of one or the other, get ye to the opposite side of the Mason Dixon line).
I’ve come into a great deal of ambivalence here in these post-grad days trying to figure out what it is I really, truly, deeply want out of life—more specifically,
what do I want out of a writing career?
For the life of me I cannot make it all fit. My plans, my ideas—who am I kidding? My ideals—seem to be fitless in between the polar opposites of the writing world: literary writing and commercial writing.
I like drama. A lot. But I cannot seem to marry the concepts of writing for dramatic entertainment with what academia has taught me to perceive as important writing. Here’s what I mean:
I was grudgingly reading about the difference between drama and melodrama in this super-nifty-second-favorite-textbook-in-the-world last night as the author placed good theatre on the ++dramatic++ side and generally all television on the – – melodramatic – – side. I felt guilty as a writer for owning a collection of Gilmore Girls DVDs and watching Grey’s Anatomy ceremoniously.
So here’s the question: Can a writer be both literary and commercial?
Must she sell her soul and fidelity to one or the other in order to be a successful writer? To be sure, melodrama pays better. Western civilization needs her ration of emotional outbursts and shattered lives each night to sustain her sense of reality.
The more pragmatic writer says the pig doesn’t need another coat of lipstick, but the dreamer in me still wants the best of both worlds—the literary cake with commercial icing, so to speak.