Thoughts on Bob Dylan’s Win (And Defending Him Against Some Criticisms)

So, if you somehow missed the news, Bob Dylan won the Nobel Prize in Literature last Thursday. To say this was unexpected would be downplaying it; his possible candidacy had long been treated like a joke, a way to throw away money at betting sites (because not only can you bet on the Nobel, it’s a prime way speculation works).

I admit, I’m not head over heels with the pick. My initial reaction when Sarah Danius, the permanent secretary of the Swedish Academy, aka the ones in charge of the decision, read out his name, I was shocked, wondering if I hadn’t misheard her—that “D,” did she mean DeLillo? After all, everyone was saying it looked like DeLillo’s year (based on odds movement on the betting sites). Nope, she repeated herself, and it was in fact Bob Dylan. Over the course of Thursday, I stewed over the news, and I got over my initial disbelief and came to listen to more Dylan, I accepted the decision as a good one. He’s still not the American I would’ve picked, maybe not even in the top 5, but I’ve stopped thinking of literary prizes as representing the best of the best and instead wonder if winners reach my vague idea of quality based on the standard from past laureates. On this basis, then yes, Dylan was a good choice. And, even better, I like the Swedish Academy’s ideas of songwriting as literature—surprisingly forward thinking from a committee often known for being too conservative.

Predictably, his win set off a ton of mixed reactions, even more so than usual. Gone were the articles about how no one knew the winner or that Philip Roth should’ve gotten it; pieces questioning whether Dylan deserved the Nobel instead took the center stage. While some of those that were pro Dylan had nonsensical arguments, it was the ones arguing against his win really annoyed me, and here I’ll be doing my best to defend Dylan against some of the ridiculous reasons he didn’t deserve the Nobel.

Songwriting isn’t literature.

I think this is one of the most common criticisms I’ve seen. It’s BS. Of course songwriting can be literature. Is all of it? No, but then not all books are literature, either. Poetry has been tied to singing for as long as there’s been poetry.

Some have said that because the lyrics don’t hold up as well on the page as other poetry and they rely on being sung to sound truly powerful, it doesn’t count. For whatever reasons, when I’ve seen this come up, plays are usually okay, because they’re still gripping when read, but movie scripts aren’t. I don’t see the logic. It seems like an arbitrary cut off so that it helps the argument. For starters, plays definitely lose something when they’re read. Then there’s also musicals which just do not work at all on the page. Hamilton just won one of the most acclaimed literary prizes in the U.S. Where was the outrage then? I haven’t come across any compelling reasons to exclude songwriting from literature; if you know of any, please let me know.

Who will they award next, a Youtuber?

Okay, first of all, ignoring that slippery slope, as far as songwriting goes, Dylan is not your typical one. Academics have been analyzing his work since the 70s and he’s been nominated for the Nobel since the late 90s. Compare that to a Youtuber, or even most other songwriters. Second, he’s just better than almost every songwriter out there. Eminem is not going to suddenly win 30 years from now; Dylan won because he’s produced a large body of literary and critically acclaimed songs and lyrics.

This is actually a quite conservative choice dressed up as a progressive one.

Okay…and? This is one of the oddest critiques I’ve come across. Dylan’s an American white male, so this is actually quite a conventional pick. I don’t see the problem with his ethnicity. Sure, it’s annoying the Swedish Academy doesn’t award more PoC, but Dylan still deserves his Nobel. And no matter how you look at it, awarding a songwriter for the first time is definitely a step forward. Sure, it might not be the radical choice you wanted, but it’s still something new, and anyway, I don’t see how this in anyway takes away from the decision to give it to Dylan.

If they were going to award it to him, why not give it during the 60s or 70s when he was still producing quality work?

This just displays ignorance about how the Literature Nobel works. Almost all winners are older. Getting it at 75 is pretty common. The youngest winners recently have been in their mid 50s, and those were close to being outliers. Also, you don’t win for a few hits; your entire body of work is awarded. In the 70s, he didn’t have nearly the body of work (nor the age) winners often have.

In addition, the Swedish Academy made a point to mention his memoir from 2004 and his album Modern Times, which debuted 10 years ago, when discussing his work. Not the most recent “masterpieces,” but longer gaps between last published quality works and winning have happened (see: Harold Pinter and Doris Lessing).

The prize should’ve gone to a lesser known writer who needed the money.

 Contrary to popular belief, most writers who win the Nobel aren’t just scraping by. In fact, a lot are bestsellers (just not in the U.S.). Mo Yan, Patrick Modiano and J.M.G. Le Clezio, despite being virtually unknown in the English speaking world, were all bestselling novelists in their home countries. Alexievich did say it would allow her to pursue one or two projects she needed to save for, but she’s also an exception, as her nonfiction work requires her to travel a lot. And, anyway, where was the outrage over this when Alice Munro and Mario Vargas Llosa won? They were both incredibly famous and didn’t need the Nobel to pin themselves into literary history.

Him over _____ (insert other writer here)?

This reaction comes up almost every year. It’s how prizes that can only pick each winner a year work. Someone has to win, and plenty of others have to lose. Sorry the Swedes’ taste in literature doesn’t exactly line up with yours, but then it doesn’t perfectly line up with anyone’s, not even individual committee members (there have been some nasty disputes over past winners).

I don’t think Dylan’s lyrics (poetry) compare to the work of other poets.

This is actually one of the few arguments circulated against Dylan’s win that I feel really holds merit. True, it’s subjective, but then all literature is. And it’s not some weak protest that crumbles under closer scrutiny. If you don’t like Dylan, you don’t like Dylan, nothing wrong with that. But don’t dress up your dislike and pretend it’s something that it’s not. “Oh, I like Dylan, but he’s a musician not a writer. He shouldn’t win.” “He’s so rich and won so many other prizes, did he really need this one?” etc.

And at the end of the day, it’s just another literary prize. Granted, it’s one of the oldest ones around, but the Nobel has made almost as many missteps as it has awarded true greatness. Only time will tell if Dylan is a great choice or a gimmick winner best forgotten, but if you ever find yourself arguing over the Nobel, just remember that’s it’s far from the end all be all in books.

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Bob Dylan Wins the Nobel Prize

In a very unexpected move, the Swedish academy, the group in charge of awarding the Nobel, gave this year’s award to American singer-songwriter Bob Dylan “for having created new poetic expressions within the great American song tradition”.

Dylan had been nominated before, had even shot up in the odds on Ladbrokes before, but his candidacy was usually treated as a joke. This morning, his odds went from 50/1-16/1. Like I said, he had risen before, I think most prominently in 2010 when he was in the top 5. Most people assumed that since he was such a familiar name, people were betting on him, but now it seems like he might have been a serious contender then.

It’s a real surprise. Although I like Dylan’s music and the academy’s rationale that a songwriter should win (comparing the occupation to Homer and Sappho of the Greeks), I’m still not sure how I feel about Dylan winning. I’m sure I’ll warm up to it, and it is nice to see an American nab it. It’s such a difference with the usual little-known and little-translated author.

I think this will be met with negative reception, but time will tell. I’m sure the general public will be happier with this.

Nobel Prize Speculations

So, the announcement date for the Nobel prize in Literature has been pushed back by a week. The committee said that this is due solely to the dates and when they meet, but as others have said, it’s quite probable that this delay is actually because of a disagreement about who to award. Most times in past years, the eventual winner was in the top 10 at Ladbrokes (yes, people bet on everything; not only that, but betting sites are actually used quite frequently in Nobel speculation), and, to my knowledge, the few times it wasn’t, the laureate had been added to the list and was rising suspiciously through the odds at this point in time. So, going off this, who could be this year’s winner/if there is an argument, which writers could they be battling over?

Haruki Murakami has consistently been the odds favorite for many years now, could this be his year? Could some academy members wanting to give him the prize be the reason for the delay? Honestly, probably not. As a fan of Murakami, I don’t know if I’d say he’s deserving. His prose is simple (and not in the Hemingway-sense where it feels like there’s an artistic reason behind it) and at times awkward (which could be the translation, but I’ve heard the English versions are quite close to the original). His stories are all similar, and, most importantly, if they’ve passed over him before, I don’t see any reason to give it to him now. His latest book wasn’t exactly a masterpiece, and if he didn’t win before, I don’t see him nabbing the Nobel now.

There is Adunis, though, a Syrian poet who writes in Arabic. I’ve read a short collection by him, and although poetry is not really my thing, I wouldn’t mind to see him win. That said, he has been considered the frontrunner before and has certainly been nominated—in 2005, the last time the announcement was delayed by a week, he was thought to be a finalist—meaning, why would he win now? The political situation in Syria? The civil war and refugee crisis isn’t new this year, and in 2005, sources said Orhan Pamuk, who was undergoing a trial in Turkey over freedom of speech, was another finalist but that the academy might pass him over in order to prevent the prize from getting too political (Pamuk would end up winning the following year). Perhaps the row is over giving it to Adunis, but I don’t see why he would end up walking away with it.

Ngugi wa Thiong’o has long been thought of as Africa’s frontrunner, but he has the same problem: nothing he’s published recently has really made waves. I also greatly dislike his work, so while it wouldn’t be the end of the prize if he won, I would prefer to see another African win. (On the other hemisphere, I put Joyce Carol Oates and Philip Roth in this category. I don’t understand why they keep coming up year after year).

Jon Fosse rose in the odds in 2013, when Alice Munro turned out to be the winner, but since then he’s been thought of as a likely candidate. Boosting his chances are his plays—Pinter was the last playwright winner—and a recent prestigious award for his recent “trilogy.” So we have an underrepresented type of literature with a recent big important work that might put him over the edge. I am hesitant, though: the same academy that awards the Nobel also gives out a smaller Scandinavian-only prize that Fosse won in 2007. If it was his year, I don’t know if an argument like this would be happening—the academy clearly already likes his work.

Javier Marias, meanwhile, is one of the few writers to see real changes in odds this year. He started out around 50/1 and moved all the way up to 17/1. The thing about him, though, is that he really didn’t deserve to be at such low odds originally. If I was a betting man, I’d have put some money on him just because of how low he was. He’s been bandied about in discussions online as a potential winner for several years now, and betting on him at 50/1 could give you a pretty penny.

Mircea Cartarescu has been called the Romanian frontrunner for several years now, after his humongous work Blinding, and just this year he published another large, critically acclaimed work. Like Marias, he also saw a jump in his odds, but also like Marias, he really should have been higher to begin with anyway.

So, who will end up winning? Other than Cartarescu and Marias, a few others have seen their odds go down (Fosse, Adunis and Roth included) but those changes were so small and there has been no other movement from them that no conclusions can really be drawn. And anyway, those with the lowest odds usually see them drop even lower in the weeks prior, so it’s not unexpected. Hopefully this next week, as the academy figures out who will win, we see more movement/even a leak.

As for my picks, I’d like to see Fosse or Marias win it this year. There are a number of others I wouldn’t mind seeing win (William T. Vollmann, Can Xue, Su Tong, Louise Erdrich), but I don’t think it’ll be any of them; had they made it to the shortlist, we probably would have seen their names rise (or just appear) on a betting list.

A Young Ernest Hemingway

Ernest Hemingway needs no introduction. His minimalistic stylistic innovations won him the Pulitzer and Nobel prizes and are still influential almost a hundred years later. Not only that, but his first full-length novel, The Sun Also Rises, established him as a major force in literature and some consider it his best work today. I recently read two volumes of a Hemingway biography, The Young Hemingway and The Paris Years by Michael S. Reynolds, and was struck by just how motivational a figure Hemingway was. Even if you dislike his social views or his larger than life persona, there’s a lot to learn from his discipline and early failures.

After serving in World War 1 as an ambulance, driver falling in love with a nurse, he returned to his family in Illinois and tried to piece back his shell-shocked life. Overseas, he had mentioned to the nurse that he was a writer, and he was determined to professionally publish something so that his lie would become reality.

But as their relationship fell apart, he continued writing and sending off his stories to places like the Saturday Evening Post. Although he wrote voluminously, all were rejected. They were, for the most part, non-autobiographical tales written in imitation of the popular writers of the day like Kipling and Sherwood Anderson and bad poems. He also started a novel based on his life in the war and with the nurse and worked on it intermittently. At the same time, he found work as a journalist, honing his skills for papers, but he considered this hackwork.

Eventually, he found another girl, Hadley, married her, and soon after attracted the attention of Sherwood Anderson. He advised the young writer to go to Paris, where the cost of living was a lot less, and where many artists were shacking up. He gave them a couple of letters of introduction to people like Gertrude Stein and Sylvia Beach, and then the couple was off in 1922.

Hadley had a trust fund that would have enabled them to live, albeit just above the poverty line, with no work, but Hemingway refused and kept doing journalism, and traveled to Germany and Turkey and Greece to cover stories. All the while he kept writing–until tragedy struck.

While traveling, Hadley was supposed to meet him, bringing with her a valise filled with his stories, but somehow, somewhere in the crowded train and station, she lost it. Hemingway was heartbroken: other than on story (Up in Michigan) and some juvenilia he had outgrown, every story he had written along with his novel had vanished. He revised Up in Michigan a bit, but due its sexual content, it took a while for it to see print.

But the good news was soon after he finally got a book deal. It was not a glamorous publishing house, in fact, it was practically a vanity press printing, and the book, Three Stories and Ten Poems, sold less than ten copies in Paris. His next book, in our time, received similar press. And although he was starting to make a name for himself in literary circles in Paris, few magazines would take his work. His first big story publication, Indian Camp, was published in The Transatlantic Review, where he sat on the editorial board. Another short story collection followed, entitled In Our Time (with capital letters this time), and while it won praise from critics, the day when Hemingway would be able to earn decent money from his writing was still a few years away.

His break out novel came out in 1926, 8 years after 1918 when he had returned to Illinois and begun toiling away almost everyday. Although he is falling from critical favor now, he still provides a good lesson on staying motivated. If you don’t quit writing, one day you’ll see publication. Just don’t get discouraged when it takes you multiple years.

Pulitzer Prize in Fiction 2016

So, the 2016 Pulitzer Prizes were announced today…and I was completely off.

Winner: The Sympathizer by Viet Thanh Nguyen

Finalists: Get In Trouble: Stories by Kelly Link

Maud’s Line by Margaret Verble

I’m kicking myself for not reading The Sympathizer sooner. It had a lot of buzz this past fall, but I just had too many other books to get to it. On the speculation website, it was ranked 9th, a bit lower than the winner usually is, but still in the top 10. Also, I’m sure every wannabe writer hates him right now. To win one of the biggest American literary prizes with your debut novel…that’s every writer’s dream.

Most years one of the finalists comes in from left field with not a single person expecting it to have been on the shortlist, and it appears this year the committee outdid themselves in that regard: both are completely unexpected. I had vaguely heard of Kelly Link before this, but I didn’t even know she had a book out this year. Get In Trouble is a collection of short stories that I assume are written in her signature weird/fantasy style (she’s won almost every major scifi/fantasy prize for novellas and short stories). The Verble is a complete enigma. It’s about Native Americans on an Oklahoma reservation in 1928. Maud, a teenager/young woman, goes through her monotonous, occasionally violent days when a stranger comes through one day and offers her a chance at a better life and at love.

While my library did not have Maud’s Line, it did have the other two, so look for reviews of The Sympathizer and Get In Trouble on here in the coming weeks.

As for the prize, while a part of me is sad The Tsar of Love and Techno didn’t win, another part of me is happy neither A Little Life nor The Sellout won (the latter of which I enjoyed, but, as I said in a previous post, I’m not sure how powerful it would be if it were not for contemporary events). And it brought some interesting books that probably would’ve slipped by me if they had not had the recognition. A lot of people have voiced their dislike for literary prizes in general, but as long as they keep introducing me to great books, I say the more the merrier.

Pulitzer Prize 2016 Predictions

Lately I haven’t been doing too good a job of keeping this blog updated. I recently started a full time job and am still figuring out the schedule, but I’m slowly working out the kinks and should have a few posts up this week. Anyway…

The 2016 Pulitzer Prize will be announced on Monday at 3pm. It’s easy to argue that it’s the US’s most prestigious literary prize (almost all winners receive a huge boost in sales and it’s gone to a number of classics in the past, such as The Grapes of Wrath and To Kill a Mockingbird). Nevertheless, some people are not fans of it. William Gass has argued that the award reflects popular book club books rather than literary merit, and while there are a couple of works that make me disagree with him, on the whole I feel like this assessment is not too far off the mark. The Orphan Master’s Son by Adam Johnson, the 2013 winner, was amazing, while The Goldfinch and All the Light We Cannot See were just average (but bestsellers beforehand). But speculating is fun, so let’s see if I can predict the winner and finalists.

This website has created an algorithm to predict the winner. Twice it has correctly predicted which book comes away with the prize; usually the winner is ranked in the upper half of the list.

The Sellout is currently number one. See my review here. I think it’s a humorous, topical book, but maybe a bit too topical: some of its power comes not from the plot but from being released at the right time. Nonetheless, this would be a worthy winner, and in any other year I’d be rooting for it. But…

The Tsar of Love and Techno is also in contention, and it’s just too good to ignore. The Pulitzer Prize is supposed to have an American theme, so the Russian setting might work against this, but then The Orphan Master’s Son and All The Light We Cannot See were set in North Korea and wartime France and Germany, respectively.

I’ve been so busy with work and reading this year that I haven’t taken too good a look at the other possibilities, but if the prize decided to go the popular root again, A Little Life might come away with the prize. A tale of child abuse and its affects later in life, it is pretty much to 2015 what The Goldfinch was to 2013. All that’s missing is a Pulitzer.

I think that out of these 3 books, 1 will be the winner and 1 will be a finalist (1 of the 2 finalists usually comes out of left field, so I won’t even pretend to have any inkling as to what it could be). I really want The Tsar to win, but a part of me feels like The Sellout will be the winner and A Little Life the finalist. Unfortunate, but Anthony Marra, Tsar’s author, is quickly proving himself to be one of the best up coming writers, so I’m sure he will write an award winner (or, in the words of Gass, the Pulitzer board will give him a consolation prize).

A Young William Gibson

Wouldn’t it be great to knock the ball out of the park with your first novel? Write a revolutionary novel that goes on to become a classic? That’s the dream. And while some writers do cement themselves with their first book, their number must rank in the decimal percentages. And it’s nowhere as easy as that infinitesimal number might make it appear.

William Gibson is one such writer. After falling into writing almost by accident and a few acclaimed short stories, he wrote NEUROMANCER, a novel that changed scifi and brought about the cyberpunk subgenre; while Gibson has written a lot of other novels, it was this one that secured his legacy. And it’s not just his first published novel: it was his first attempt at a novel.

But in reality it wasn’t such a straight line to success.

As with any good writer, Gibson spent a lot of his childhood and teenage years reading: J.G. Ballard, Henry Miller, the Beats, science fiction pulps. He lost his father in childhood, and after his mother died when he was 18, he decided to dodge the draft and travel to Europe and Canada, where he would eventually settle. There, he suffered weeks of homelessness before scraping together a living from working at a hippie drug store and appearing in a documentary film, with his little extra cash going mostly towards psychedelic drugs. And it was there that he met his future wife, with whom he again traveled to Europe.

She had a teaching position. Gibson, rather than get a real job, first went to thrift stores trying to find items marked way below their value and then selling them, before returning to college as he felt maintaining a high enough GPA to qualify for rich student loans was easier than work. Here he took a class on science fiction and wrote a short story in lieu of a final paper. This turned into his first published story, FRAGMENTS OF A HOLOGRAM ROSE, which saw publication in 1977.

His next story got published in 1981, but during those years he was still working: JOHNNY MNEMONIC was started the same year as FoaHR. Not too mention the inevitable false starts and stories that didn’t measure up. A few more well-received stories flowed from his pen, earning Hugo and Nebula award nominations, and eventually he was commissioned into doing a novel. And rather than summarize the unease and anxiety Gibson felt while writing this, I’ll let him do it for me.

The best writing advice I ever heard was to go out and see the world. If you stay indoors reading and writing all day, you’ll eventually become a great writer but have nothing to write about. Gibson embodies this principle: a well-traveled homeless hippie. No wonder most of his work deals with those rejected by society. It took him a bunch of years to try writing, and a bit of encouragement and practice after that to really get the ball rolling, but once he was ready, there was no shortage of material for him.

So remember, as the weather grows warmer, to put down your books and pens and get out of the house. The inspiration for that break out story might be one block’s walk away.

A Young Donna Tartt

I like to post articles on here about famous writers when they were still struggling artists for motivation. Unfortunately for me, today’s subject, Donna Tartt, likes her privacy, so there’s not too much information on her early life.

Long before THE GOLDFINCH, her Pulitzer, writing THE book of 2013, before her other novels that also brought her awards and acclaim and put her on bestsellers lists, she was a freshman at the University of Mississippi. That year she enrolled in a creative writing class where her pieces caught her professor’s eye. He recommended she enroll in Barry Hannah’s graduate level writing class while still 18 years old. It’s tough to say just how much she had read and written before this but it must have been a large amount to win a professor’s admiration so early on.

Following more recommendations from her writing professors, she decided to transfer in 1982 to Bennington College, where her friend group included other writers such as Bret Easton Ellis and Jonathan Lethem. In fact, she actually briefly dated Ellis; the two shared drafts of what would become LESS THAN ZERO and THE SECRET HISTORY. The former would be published in 1985 to general acclaim and great sales. The latter would receive similar reception in…1992 when she was 29?

Fans of Donna Tartt should know she takes her time with novels; a 10 years wait for her next work has come to be the norm. While Ellis was enjoying literary fame, Tartt quietly labored over her book. The latest she could have started it was in college. Since Ellis published his work at the age of 21, they must have traded drafts during their sophomore or early junior year.

THE SECRET HISTORY, then, is clearly no exception to the 10 year turnaround time, but that period of time must have felt a lot different to her than the composition periods of her other books. For those years she was at work on her first book, she did not know if it would be published, she had no deals, no bestsellers. It would not be a stretch to say that what got her to keep working on her novel was pure perseverance.

Tartt has put in her hours. Before she even started her first published novel, she had enough experience to impress her professors, and even then it took another ten years before she was published. Remember that next time you feel like quitting. Though there might be luck and coincidences in Tartt’s plots, in her own life story, there is just hard work.

A Young James Joyce

When it comes to writing (or almost anything that takes practice), no matter how much I want to deny it, inherent talent definitely plays a role. The question is, how big of a role does it play?

Some writers, like Stephen King, have said that if you do not have talent, it is not worth attempting to become a writer. I disagree. It can give you a leg up but it is far from the end all be all, and besides, even talent won’t get you too far.

Today’s subject is James Joyce. If there was ever a writer with talent, it was him. Between the ages of 22 and 25 he wrote all of the stories contained in DUBLINERS. His first published novel, A PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS A YOUNG MAN, is a classic, still widely read, and then there’s ULYSSES. All of this, along with a play, some poems, and the occasional essay and journalism, published before his 40th birthday. There are many other writers who don’t begin publishing quality pieces until their late 30s or early 40s; Joyce had burst on to the scene at the age of a college senior with short stories that would become canonical. If there was ever a writer with talent, it was Joyce.

But he also worked very, very hard. At age 9 he wrote a poem about the death of Irish politician Charles Parnell that his father thought was good enough to be published. Though there is little else recorded from this time in his life, it is quite likely he continued writing. He also began to read voraciously, to the point where his English teacher at school let him sit quietly and read during class as he had already gone through everything they were teaching and could answer questions about the texts with ease.

At 18 he had his first official publication, a review of a Henrik Ibsen play, and wrote a number of other articles as well as two unpublished (and now lost) plays. The next few years were quite eventful for Joyce: he travelled to Paris to try and study medicine and failed, his mother died, he met Nora Barnacle, his life partner, and his first short stories were published. He also wrote an essay dealing with aesthetics, entitled A PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST, which was rejected by magazines, and which he decided to revise into a novel.

He and Nora soon eloped to continental Europe, where Joyce took a bunch of jobs as a teacher, tutor, singer, and bank teller to support themselves while he continued reading and writing voluminously. His career as an author had run into some problems: none of the printers wanted to publish DUBLINERS, deeming some of the stories obscene, and Joyce refused to censor the offending passages. He finally had them brought out in book form in 1914, after approximately 8 years of attempts at publishing them. The novel he was fashioning out of his essay, STEPHEN HERO, was never published during his lifetime; he later started over from scratch and wrote A PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS A YOUNG MAN.

From there, Joyce would become a celebrated figure of Modernism, one whose works still enjoy renown today. Clearly he was talented when it came to writing, but more important than that were the hours he spent reading books and authoring various texts. Publishing classics when you’re in your early/mid 20s suddenly becomes a lot more understandable when you’ve read enough to know more about literature than your teachers and write a number of articles and plays before attempting prose fiction. And even then, it still took a number of years to publish his books. Had he been talented but not determined, Joyce could easily have given up after a year or two of rejection.

So talent is obviously important, but not nearly as much as hard work and determination. So to anyone feeling depressed because of rejection, just remember, even the greats had to deal with plenty of it too. The problem is that many short biographies online gloss over these rough early periods for many famous writers.