Reviewing Lost in the Valley of Death, a biography of trekker Justin Alexander Shetler, Michael Paterniti considers the inherent contradiction of a solitary seeker compelled to write about his exploits on social media, and asks “the most telling spiritual question: If you don’t post about a profound experience, did it really happen?” (The New York Times Book Review, 02/13/22). I pondered the literary corollary, “If you don’t send your manuscript into the world, are you really a writer?” which is akin to “What’s the difference between a job and a hobby?” I’d say the latter is solely for personal satisfaction whereas the former also entails an external reward — publication, good reviews, reader appreciation, even (least likely) income. I called myself a writer only after I began submitting my work. Were I to stop, would I no longer use that label? Or, once a writer, always a writer? Ditto an artist. “Writer” and “artist” are the jobs I list on my tax returns, whereas “developmental psychologist” disappeared after I retired in 2015. Life has enough unnecessary dichotomies that I hope never to be faced with “hobby versus vocation.” For more thoughts about the literary life, see REFLECTIONS.
