RIP Leslie Feinberg

I’m obsessed with two conversations right now. This one with Leslie Jamison at The Rumpus and this one at FSG with Meghan Daum, (whose new essay collection released today! I ordered one). If you write nonfiction, or are thinking about writing nonfiction, these are not to be missed.

“I think that when you write about yourself (and I consider this a dubious enterprise, despite my heavy trafficking in it), the debt you owe the reader for indulging you is to be mercilessly honest. You have to be willing to present your lowest moments. Otherwise, you’re just promoting yourself. You’re writing a personal ad. What’s more, you have to present those moments in such a way that the reader knows that you know how low they are. You can’t just lay them out there like “Look what a jerk I was!” They have to mean something. There has to be insight born of hindsight. Otherwise, you’re only confessing your sins and asking the reader to forgive you. And that is a complete misuse of the writer’s power and unfair to the reader.” ———-> Meghan Daum

Poets & Writers asked me what I do when I have writer’s block, and I said—> I watch movie trailers. 

Leslie Feinberg died over the weekend. I read Stone Butch Blues a year and a half ago on a friend’s recommendation. It was a pivotal time in my life, reading this book. The copy I read had this cover; I spilled a cup of coffee on it, the edges were curled, and I read it outside on my yoga mat in the sun each morning. It broke my heart; it comforted me; I learned things. When I finished my friend and I went out for beers and discussed it. I mention Stone Butch Blues twice in my new book WOMEN. I liked this essay on the book, and this article. Buy this book.


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