The Literary Assistant as Point Guard

Abstract

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

• The Literary Assistant as Point Guard
• E. Ethelbert Miller (bio)

Is there an app that keeps track of how many books an author signs? In the old days, successful writers had book tours that took them to many major cities. Folks would wait patiently in long lines for the autograph, the signature that too often resembled hieroglyphics. The author with bent head might make small talk with the person whose book he or she was signing. Casual conversations at books signings are similar to what one encounters at airports and on train rides; seldom do they last beyond the destination and the departing.

Then there are magical moments of connection. A writer talks to someone after a reading, lecture, or workshop. The conversation opens the door to the various levels and degrees of life. The author becomes linked to another person like stanzas and paragraphs. Words suddenly make sense. A sentence is completed while punctuation, like time, becomes something to cherish.

I think of this when I think about Kirsten Porter. Now I think about her all the time, because we work together and she is my literary assistant. When we first met, in 2007, she was an undergraduate student at Marymount University. Upon first impression one might mistake her for a young nun living in France. Slender and small, she conveyed a spiritual sweetness when we talked, a kindness that elevated her and enlarged her size and frame. I can't recall what we first discussed or how we quickly found ourselves renovating the first floor of a place for our friendship. I did, however, stay in touch during the time she was enrolled in the creative writing program at George Mason University. Kirsten claims I called the director of the MFA program and encouraged him to find a slot for her. Perhaps this is folklore. I do know it was poetry that brought us together, and maybe during that first meeting at Marymount I was simply autographing a book for her.

I never know what to say in an autograph. Maybe there should be a workshop on this. Just signing one's name is the equivalent to having an ink stamper. [End Page 93] Writing just "thanks" and "love" above one's name tends to have no true meaning and is the equivalent to a fist bump. A longer written statement in a book is just a caress and comes nowhere near being a French kiss. I've never signed anyone's book in a way that might make them blush or fear lending their book to someone.

These are the small things writers are seldom instructed on. How might an autographed book influence a critic many years later? Is it important to know that Langston Hughes often signed his signature in green?

In basketball, a good point guard is essential to having success on the court. Managing the clock is similar to managing a career. I prefer to view Kirsten as a teammate and not just a literary assistant. I view her first as a poet and writer before I think of her as an editor.

I doubt I could handle as many projects as I do without her help. So what does she do? She maintains and updates about forty files of my work. She files selected correspondence between me and other writers, she edits all new poems and essays, along with responding to inquires around speaking engagements and requests for submissions from journals and presses.

I don't need AARP to remind me that I've started the aging process. My memory is now the pitch that leaves a hand and misses the plate.

Marymount University, where I met Kirsten Porter, is one of the area colleges that I like visiting in the Washington area. Over the years, I must have been invited to speak seven or eight times for a combination of poetry reading and lectures there. On these occasions I got to meet many people who remain my good friends today, among them the writers Holly Karapetkova and Susan Mockler, the philosopher Michael Boylan, and the visual artist David Carlson. In some of my photos I'm wearing a Marymount University baseball cap...