Dear Sars,

Re: your response to Sharpening The Butcher Knife: I have an
almost-nine-year-old boy, and children of this age can be difficult.I
thought your response was right on; I completely agree that Rosemary doesn’t
seem to take the friendship very seriously, and Knife should take that at
face value and act accordingly.

However, one question: it seemed to me that this child has some serious
problems.I can’t imagine how she must act in school.I also can’t imagine
what she might have witnessed at home between her parents that would cause
her to act like this (trust me, kids learn this stuff — they don’t just make
it up).Well, I take that back; I CAN imagine it, and that’s what’s bugging
me.So here’s the question: do you think it would be worth it for Knife
to tell Rosemary that she’s really worried about how this child seems to be
reacting to the break-up and divorce, or do you think she’s wasting her breath? It just seems like this kid has gotten the short end of the divorce stick,
as kids often do, and it’s sad.This acting-out stuff usually has an
underlying reason.

Just curious where you’re at on this one.Thanks again for your site.

School Music Teacher Who’s Seen This Many, Many Times

Dear Teacher,

That does seem like a good, tactful way to handle it — by couching her issues with the Antichrist in terms of concern for the child’s mental health, Knife can express her annoyance, but without exactly calling it “annoyance.”

Now, whether that’s actually going to have any effect on Rosemary’s parenting strategy here, I don’t know, but I wouldn’t give it good odds.It’s obvious that the Antichrist has a lot of rage, but it’s also obvious that Rosemary is pretty much not dealing with that reality, so if Knife shares her worries with Rosemary, but Rosemary then continues to let the Antichrist act out, Knife is back at square one.

I think Knife acknowledges that the kid has some shit going on, and tries to sympathize, but that doesn’t mean she wants to — or should have to — deal with the emotional fallout all the time.

Dear Sars,

Not only are you great at what you do, but also you have managed to
construct a life and identity writing.I anticipate that most of the answers to
my question will follow the common sense/good judgment tone, but what I
have is nonetheless a writer’s problem, and I thought this forum best suited.

I have put myself out on a major limb concerning job security.I am now
twenty-five and have for six years worked all manner of jobs, beginning and
most recently ending with retail.I have copy-edited for newspapers.I
have played senior administrative assistant to a world-class oncologist.I
have done reading and script coverage for a middle-ranking film producer.I
have been a production assistant.I have waited tables in nationally
acclaimed restaurants.I have been a stripper (where, for those interested,
the money was best and the emotional cost second-highest).In short, I have
made it my business to remain employed since before I graduated from
college.And I just quit a job slinging coffee in New Haven after one year
of absolute mindlessness (where the emotional cost was greatest — retail
sucks.Don’t do it if you don’t have to).

So now I am wading through openings at the local universities and
dusting off my résumé and tailoring my cover letter and Sarah, for the first
time in six years, I’d like to say I’m really fucking scared.I can write
anything; from medical abstracts to advertising copy, I’ve done it all.
I’m cursed to write; even if I didn’t love it, I would scrawl and type and
construct fiction to the exclusion of all other distractions.It’s what I’m
meant to do with myself and what I want to pursue.And jumping in seems to
mean living without the carefully wrought security I’ve described above, and
living with the fear.

So Sars, I guess my predicament boils down to good old-fashioned
self-doubt.I know you can’t tell me how to forge ahead or even if I
should, and that’s not what I’m asking.I’m just scared.I feel like I’m
taking the biggest risk of my life (and after substance abuse and the sex
industry, that’s really saying something).I know it’s impractical blah
blah blah safety-net-cakes to “follow the dream,” but this is what I have to
do with my life now.How do I shake the fear?Do I?What is it about —
rejection from Random House or delusions of celebrity?Did you experience
this kind of ambivalence when you embarked on your career?How did you
reckon it?At this stage in your own life, are you still scared?

Any words on the matter will be greatly appreciated.

Sincerely quavering,
Lady J

Dear Lady,

Learn to live with the fear, because it isn’t going anywhere.

Of course, there’s a way to minimize your risk exposure when you decide to write for a living, because writing for a living doesn’t always make you a living, so a lot of writers take part-time jobs or write at night or find some other way to do their creative work while still making rent.But the fear never goes away.Take last Monday afternoon.Last Monday afternoon, staring at the not-quite two pages I had managed to wring out of my brain, I thought to myself, “Well, that’s that.I’ve got nothing.It’s over.I have already written the last decent sentence in my repertoire.Hello, law school.”And it’s not the first time that’s happened.It’s not even the first time that happened in the last week.

Even when you attain a measure of success, you feel the fear — I’ll never write anything funny again, I’ve peaked, I’ve made a big mistake with this career, they say not to give up and to have a thick skin but what if everyone who thinks my writing is “eh” is right and I should become a fire-jumper and do some good with my life instead of trying to finish this goddamn poem which will not fucking scan no matter how I come at it and could the Iambic Pentameter Fairy please get off her ass and find me a word that rhymes with “scorpion”?

It’s not just the writer’s block situation, either; every writer feels a little uncertain, even if it’s not conscious, even if it’s not every day, and if she says she doesn’t, she’s lying.But the fear is normal, and you learn over time to carry it in a way that doesn’t hurt your back.You just have to put one foot in front of the other and do it.

Dear Sars,

I’m looking for an objective opinion about a serious subject, and I
appreciate the thought and sensitivity you give to your readers, so I’m
hoping you’ll give this question a shot.

Recently, my best friend (M) asked me if I would consider being named as
guardian to her son if anything ever happened to her. I told her that it was
something I would need to think about before I could give her my final answer.

Her son is almost four years old. She and I are twenty-five. There are no
reasons to believe that this guardianship will ever come to fruition — she’s
just trying to sort out her affairs.

She has experienced far too many terrible problems in her life, and she
has very few people to support her. There is no one in her family fit to
raise her son — they all belong on a Jerry Springer type show. Her ex-husband
has severe psychological problems, and currently sees his son only during
weekly supervised visits. She has a restraining order against him also. M
has full custody; she doesn’t think that a court would award her ex
custody if she died, but she thinks his mother may have a chance. His mother
is also unstable, enables her son in his various problems, and refuses to see
anything wrong with the whole situation. She also treats my friend horribly
and refuses to obey the rules that my friend set down for the ex-in-laws when
visiting with her grandson.

M says that the way I treat her son is the way she treats him. M knows and
loves my family, and thinks that since they were able to raise me, that I
would be able to raise a child in the same loving, caring way.

My problem is this: while I love my friend, and adore her son, I don’t
think I could actually raise a child. I’m still young, and I realize that things
could change, but at this point in my life I don’t expect that I will want
children. I am currently single, and am having trouble supporting myself in
the manner in which I would like. I would hate to take responsibility for
this child’s life and then possibly resent it. However, I think that if he
were to be placed with any of the other players in this miserable little soap
opera, his life would be changed dramatically, and not in a good way. I don’t
believe that the ex-husband or his mother would allow me to see the child if
he or she were granted custody. I would hate myself if anything like that
happened to this kid, whom I love.

As you can tell, I have a lot of mixed emotions here. M knows this, and
says she completely understands if I choose not to do it. The thing is that
she really does not have anyone else to ask — she’s just saying that so that I
don’t feel pressured to do something I don’t want to do.

The matter may be moot anyway, because she hasn’t yet asked her lawyer
about it. I might not even be able to be named guardian, due to all the
ex-family issues. If I say I’m willing, then she’ll talk to the lawyer.

Sars, what would you do in this situation? May I ask if any of your readers
have been in this same situation, and if so, what did they do?

Thanks for the opportunity to ask,
Loyal Friend

Dear Loyal,

I would feel the same way you feel in that position — I’d want to support my friend and set her mind at ease, and I’d want to provide a better life for her child than he might get from his paternal relatives.On the other hand, I don’t know that I have the tools to raise a child, as I’ve said at some length, and no, I’d probably never have to step in — but what if I do have to step in?It’s not impossible.Something awful could happen, and I’d have to find a place for that child in my life in a matter of days.What if I’ve gotten married by that time and my husband doesn’t want kids?What if I have my own kids, and we can barely support them, much less one more?What if M’s son has emotional problems stemming from his mother’s death?

It’s not a small thing that she’s asking, and if she had anyone else to turn to, I’d probably tell you to say exactly what you said to me — it’s a big responsibility, and I don’t think I should take it on if I don’t know for sure that I’d handle it well.But she doesn’t, and while that isn’t your fault, maybe you should just play the odds here.Assume that she’s going to live to a ripe old age, urge her to drive carefully, and agree to do it.

I assume that she is in fact in good health and no more likely than you or I to pass away before her time; if, say, she has MS or cancer of the bone marrow, that’s a different discussion, because you probably will wind up with custody of the child in those circumstances.But if she’s just asking “in case,” I would go ahead and do it.If, God forbid, something does happen to M, remember that life doesn’t generally give us anything we can’t handle.

But I have no experience with this type of situation, so let’s see if the readership has anything to add.

[9/6/02]

Share!