Why Writing Is Still Worth It: Sean Murphy on Endurance, Inspiration, and Literary Citizenship

Lisa Cooper Ellison [0:00]
Well, hello, Sean. Welcome to the Writing Your Resilience podcast. It is so great to see you because we’ve done things together in the past, but as we were talking about before I hit the record button, you and I haven’t actually seen each other since 2019.

Sean Murphy [0:16]
It’s wonderful to be here. Thank you for inviting me, Lisa. And yeah, I mean, we’ve lived in this kind of pre- and post-COVID world. We lament how Zoom kind of made everyone into digital presences, but I’ve really appreciated how it affords opportunities that might not otherwise exist. It’s always better to do it in person, but when we can’t do that, to have the opportunity to engage—I salute and celebrate our technology for making these opportunities possible.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [0:43]
Oh, I feel exactly the same way. And you know, I can say for my business, it has grown so much as a result of Zoom and all these other technologies that allow us to connect with people everywhere. So, I’m sure we have lots of things we could say about technology that aren’t great, but this is definitely a part that I do love.

And we’re going to talk about so many different things related to writing, but before we get started, I always like to give my guests a chance to tell us a little about them. And you wear so many hats, and I want to make sure people know about these different hats that you wear.

Sean Murphy [1:21]
Wow. I mean, I’m fond of saying, you know, that whole “jack of many trades, master of none.” But I certainly have dabbled. In terms of my writing, I’ve published poetry, published fiction. I’ve written a lot of nonfiction as a freelance journalist and critic. I have a Substack now, like everybody else, which is a lot of fun.

And I started a nonprofit literary arts organization called 1455, which is named after the year the Gutenberg Printing Press started. In recent years, I have been invited to work on this endeavor at Shenandoah University called the Center for Story. And so, the connecting line of all these different things is: I’m obsessed with creativity—both in terms of my personal engagement, but also just exploring it, celebrating it, teaching it, talking about it.

So, opportunities like this—you know, I think my main motivation in life is finding interesting people and learning from them and sharing their great work. And it enlarges my world and hopefully adds a little bit of value.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [2:24]
And one thing you forgot to add is that you are also a fellow podcaster. So, writers, here’s another writing-related podcast you can listen to. Some Things Considered is another way that you are reaching out to writers.

And what I love about your podcast—you come in, so I’m just going to say what I have heard, and you can correct me if I’m wrong—you come in as this curmudgeon in a certain way, like the person who has a level of despair. And I see you asking your guests, “Okay, writing sucks right now. The whole industry has changed. All these things are happening. Help me have some hope.” And then your guests have all these amazing things that they share with you.

Sean Murphy [3:02]
Yeah. I mean, I think that’s fair. I’ve got to own that. I wouldn’t say curmudgeonly so much as—what I’ve found in my now decades of kind of being in this world is that you either hear the roses approach—like, “If you write your dreams, everything will work out.” Which—we all should feel that, we all should say that—but we should always caveat it with: it’s a very brutally competitive field. There’s never been much security. There’s never been a lot of money.

So, balancing the inspiration—which I take as a given; if you’re going to do this work, it’s very hard, it’s very demanding, but it’s so rewarding—but what are ways to kind of see the world for what it is, accept it, and what are some strategies to ensure the best possible path for success?

And of course, it’s different for every individual, so I find that very liberating—that there really isn’t a one-size-fits-all approach. No matter what your age or level of experience, there are several factors that can contribute to a literary life. But the key thing to me—the through line, of course—is always: you must put in the work.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [4:08]
So, I’m going to quote a couple of things here. I had this Substack follower, and I cannot remember her name right now, but I am going to give her a shout-out in the intro. One of the things she said in response to a recent Substack post was that one of the ways writers are navigating things right now is through this concept of “hopeful despair.”

Which you’re sort of alluding to—like, on the one hand, we have to have this audacious hope that our work is going to get out in the world, we’re going to be able to do these incredible things, and that’s what we use as motivation to keep going. And yet, what we hear a lot of is the doom and gloom—the Big Four, they’re not taking things, forget about getting an agent, you’re not going to get one—all those rabbit holes we could go down that can make you feel like, “What’s the point?”

And I love how you deconstruct that. You break that down through the interviews that you have. And I want to quote one of your recent guests, Robert Anthony Siegel—we were talking about him just before I hit the record button as well. I love what he had to say, which was that “writing is like water—it always finds a way.” And another thing he talked about in that episode is how writing is very different from publishing, right? Those are two separate endeavors.

Sean Murphy [5:28]
Yeah. I mean, I’m so delighted and grateful that you name-checked Robert. As we were saying before we came on air, a wonderful writer, amazing human being, super inspirational. He and his wife Karen are wonderful human beings.

I love what he said. And I think a lot of writers would say similar things—especially, you know, again, those of us that have been doing it for a while. I think that says a number of things. One, it doesn’t necessarily mean there’s been success so much as endurance and a commitment to doing it.

And I think at a certain point—again, whatever your age is—but at a certain point, because there’s so little money for most of us, and so little opportunity in terms of, “I’m going to be famous and rich,” the work itself at some point has to be its own reward. Or you have to actually enjoy it or enjoy the process of being a writer. If you don’t have that, I don’t know how someone could do this for more than a few years.

And that’s why we see very talented people fall by the wayside—not just in writing, right? In music, probably in sports, in the theater. But if the work itself scratches some itch that a lot of other things don’t scratch—that is almost like a drug.

Because what I’ve seen—and I’ve experienced it in very small doses—but what I’ve seen from friends who have been successful is, again, even if you’re able to make a living, these are dopamine hits that are very short-lived. If you don’t have your physical and mental health, if you don’t have friends and family, if you don’t have a love of life, it’s difficult to sustain the day-to-day of life—much less the creative life.

So, I can appreciate that it edges up to sentimentality and cliché—like, “the work is its own reward.” Of course, it isn’t. We do this so that we can connect. We do this so that we can create and put ourselves into the world. But I see people on social media that kind of live on social media, and they’ve mastered the post-writing process, but I’m often scratching my head and going, “I hope you’re saving some time to get some writing done.”

Lisa Cooper Ellison [7:34]
Yeah, and I see that especially in the nonfiction space, where we’re told that our author platform is so important. And yes, it is important—if you want to be a published author, you have to be reaching your readers—but if you’re focusing especially on activities that do not light you up, that do not bring you joy, yeah, it sucks away all your creativity.

Because, you know, one of the things—I can’t remember where I heard this, and I will try to look it up later, because I like to attribute whenever I can—but then, you know, of course we’re in conversation and it’s like, “I don’t remember”—is that actually the dopamine comes from the process. And that’s one of the reasons why so many writers experience a low, and sometimes even a depression, after their book is published. It’s like, “I put in all of this work, I’m expecting to have this experience that I’m not having.” Right? It’s not the mountaintop high. The mountaintop high actually happens when you’re doing the work. And we forget that. So, the work needs to light you up. It needs to make you feel more alive.

Sean Murphy [8:40]
I love that. And what you just said reminded me—I mean, I’ll pull on athletics. Like, you see the Olympic athletes that have sacrificed so much and have given so much, and when their moment comes and goes, they’re able to easily walk away from it. To me, it always makes it pretty obvious, like, wow—was this not something that was deeply held? Were you pushed into this? Were you pressured into this? Or were you doing it to fulfill some other urges or obsessions?

The people that are going to be in this game for a long time need to derive joy from that day-to-day work. And I think the balance, right—it is work. It’s something that should be taken very seriously. You have to work at it ceaselessly. But there has to be that joy.

And I think the other thing on a craft level—I’m not implying that you have to be happy to create work that people want to read—but the insidious kind of societal, cultural cliché that artists are always miserable? That hasn’t been my experience. And the most grounded writers tend to be the most generous, the most humble, and the most gifted. But they also work the hardest.

So, it’s like—there’s a lot of mystery, there’s a lot of luck and happenstance—but there are some consistent things. The people that work the hardest tend to get inspired. And the inspiration comes—you know, I think it was Picasso who said inspiration likes to find you when you’re busy. And it’s like, yeah, there’s something to that.

So, if there isn’t joy in the process for you, I would say: really question, is this what you want to do? Because writing a bestseller, if you’re good or lucky enough to have that happen, is definitely not going to make all your problems go away.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [10:10]
No, it’s just going to give you a new set of problems, right?

Sean Murphy [10:13]
Right. Yeah.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [10:14]
I mean, that happens so often to people. You know, I think writers come in, and they come to me—and I’m sure they come to you—with this big dream and so much pressure. So much pressure around the process, around hurrying up, around, “I’ve got to make it big. It’s got to have a payoff.” That is what sucks the joy out of the work.

Sean Murphy [10:38]
For sure. And speaking of that pressure—I mean, again, I’ve got no problems getting my sentimental on—but I do also think, when I talk to younger writers or students, I try to impress upon them: even if you get what you think you want—and I think this is true, right, of relationships as well as creative endeavors—but you want to put your best project out there, because you have to live with that for the rest of your life.

So, even if you do take a shortcut—or a shortcut is afforded to you—or something happens, you’re not going to feel great about revisiting work that you put out there when it was half-baked. Which I also think is one of the downsides of social media. I think it’s good because it lets people get things out of their system before they do more engaging work that is meant to be revised. But you can’t rush the process.

And I can’t say it with more emphasis: if you feel truly good about the project, it might not pay your bills, might not bring you acclaim, but you are going to feel something like you’re doing what you were put on this earth to do. No one else could have written that book—or even attempted to write that book.

So, when I have a friend that writes a new book or is a first-time author, I always make it a point to really congratulate them and say, “You’ve done something that a lot of people that are very talented haven’t had the stamina, the luck, the whatever, to see it through.” So just writing a book that you’re proud of is a huge accomplishment.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [11:59]
I tell every writer that publishes a book: your book is a miracle. And it does not matter if it’s good. The fact that you’ve made it this far—and of course, I’m sure your book is good—but just the fact that you’ve made it this far, that you’re holding it in your hand, is a huge, huge deal. It is something to be celebrated.

And you have written a number of books. You also are wearing all these hats. And I’m really curious: how are you managing all of this and finding time for the writing that lights you up—especially in the world that we are now navigating?

Sean Murphy [12:35]
Great question, and I’m grateful that you ask it. It’s both complicated and simple. I mean, the somewhat facetious response is: you must love writing—or prioritize writing—more than other things that might be more fun. So, happy hours or a Netflix series or, you know, etc. There are trade-offs that you have to feel good about making.

But why would you expect—why would one expect—to get things accomplished if one’s not willing to put in the time? No one would say, “I’m going to run a marathon. I’m going to train some of the time, but when the day comes, I’m going to be ready.” We should look at writing the same way. You have to put in that time. How dare you expect that something meaningful will come if you don’t put in the time?

But the other part of it, now that I’m older, is—I’m kind of happy to say it’s been challenging, mostly good—but I’ve endeavored to kind of create a life that blurred the lines between, you know, day job and responsibility and creativity. And I think one of the things—again, culturally, if not even in MFA programs—that we are kind of inculcated to believe, which I don’t think is true, is: you need to set aside time to write and be creative, and then you can go on about your business. That certainly works for a lot of people and is inevitable.

But for me personally, I have such a kind of insatiable appetite to read, to write, to listen, to engage, that I just want everything to constantly be feeding off itself. And so, in a weird way, I’ve tried to minimize distractions, but I’ve also made my life way more complex, because I can kind of shift from poetry to a podcast to working at my nonprofit to teaching to doing this stuff. But it’s kind of like training, I guess.

I’ve trained myself for several decades to be able to access those sparks when they arrive. And again, lest that sound pretentious, what I simply mean is: I respect the opportunity to create or be productive enough that I want to ensure I’m, as often as possible, in an environment where—if and when imagination or creativity or inspiration strikes—I can take advantage of it.

And even if I get the first line, say, of a poem or a title, getting that down sometimes is enough to kind of break the dam. And then you can revisit it, come back to it, and you’ve already engaged.

Similarly, I’ve also found—especially with poetry—and this is just my own personal observation, I have no idea how it works for others—but for poetry, because it can be such a short burst, if you don’t capture that inspiration (because it can come from nowhere), you might lose it and never be able to come back to it.

So, you also have to respect that. I’ve been known to pull over while I’m driving—I do pull over!—but you know, to write something down, to make sure I capture it. And I just think there’s a kind of humility—not taking oneself too seriously, to be clear—but appreciating that these opportunities even exist and capitalizing on them.

But all of that could be reduced to one other thing. It’s also, ultimately, very selfish. I want to read a lot. I want to watch good movies. I want to have conversations like this. I want to create when I can. So, I do as much of it as I can.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [15:48]
I love that. And what I also love about this is that, you know, a lot of it’s about the mindset, right? The mindset that we bring to all of this. Because someone else could say, “Oh, my podcast is my job,” or “This work at Shenandoah University—that’s my job, and this is my creativity.”

And what you were just saying is making me think of—I have this Osho Zen tarot deck, and there’s this creativity card. And one of the things it says on this card is that true creativity is a connection with the Divine. We are not doing this alone—we are connecting with something greater.

So yeah, when you capture those moments, being able to get that down is so important. And I’m going to ask you a question here in a second about how you do that, because sometimes I find that to be my lost opportunity.

Also, thinking about process—that mindset around your process is so important. Because one thing that I see a lot of writers doing is beating themselves up when they get feedback that says, “Oh, you need to do it again.”

And I’m so glad that I’ve worked as a coach for so many years, because I am learning to play guitar now. I just decided—my dad gave me a guitar. And I had tried to play guitar when I was 13. There are a wide variety of reasons that didn’t work. My dad was traveling a lot, so I only had access to a guitar once every four to six weeks.

I chose Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N’ Roses. I was like, “My first song that I’m going to do is—I’m going to play Welcome to the Jungle. Yes, metal all the way.” And I’m also going to play Stairway to Heaven. I’m going to start there.

Which I think is very similar to how a lot of new authors or new writers approach this. It’s like, “I’m going to try to emulate the bar that is so high it’s never going to happen.” And so, then I felt very frustrated. I felt like, “Oh my gosh, I can’t play guitar because I can’t do this thing that a virtuoso is doing.”

And so now that I am, you know, coming back to the guitar, I’ve realized, yes, I am going to vindicate myself, because one day I will play these songs. Maybe not the solo for Welcome to the Jungle, because that’s pretty hard—that takes a long time. But I will at least play the rhythm section. I will be able to do these things.

And I also recognize it may take me five years, seven years—who knows how long it’s going to take for me to do that. And right now, what I’m working on is making good sounds, recognizing what the chords are, understanding how chord chains work—super basic stuff—and not beating myself up because I can’t do these other things.

Sean Murphy [18:29]
Yeah, I think we’re speaking kind of similar language in that. I think as it relates to craft—anything you do that can be seen as lending to your writing or your creativity—you could be at happy hour or, you know, a company party, watching a good movie, listening to music, and you’re picking up vibrations. You’re picking up data. You’re picking up information, snippets of conversation, seeing someone—the way you interact with the post office. All that stuff is fodder.

So even when you’re not writing, you’re writing.

What I was thinking when you were talking earlier was—I’ve always been in such awe of jazz musicians when they improvise. What I think is critical to understand—especially for people that don’t like or understand jazz—is: in order to improvise, which is kind of, “you don’t know what you’re about to play,” but to get there, you’ve learned how to walk the tightrope. It’s not just sitting down and noodling. You’ve become an expert at a particular instrument, and several people that are experts together communicate in this spontaneous way. But there’s a mastery informing that act.

I think it’s similar with writing—it’s just more subconscious. If you are reading a lot, if you’re taking in a lot of information, if you’re eager and receptive to the world, you’re feeding your imagination in ways you might not even understand.

Then—what we were talking about earlier—which, again, maybe sounds a little pretentious to the non-writers—but when you write something and you look back at it and go, “I don’t know where that came from.” That’s the drug. That’s the beauty. Yes.

When you realize, “I couldn’t sit down today and rewrite that,” because it was a moment and something happened—this wiring in my soul, my consciousness, produced that. It came from me. I own it. But I couldn’t recreate that.

To me, that’s part of the magic right there—just the fact that it couldn’t be duplicated. That’s why AI can’t create art. That’s why computers can’t do what we do. For better or worse, this is human beings expressing with their kind of limited toolset—and that’s why other human beings respond to it.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [20:37]
And I think—one of the things, I was talking with a colleague about this—so how do we become AI-proof, right? So how do we—I’m going to say “save our jobs”—be more human, connect to more aspects of your humanity?

And one of those is being present. And I was actually working with someone yesterday who is a great writer—and they’re emerging, they’re working on some skills—and we’re looking at: how can you sharpen the details on your scenes and make them come more alive?

And part of that was, I asked her, “Just start riffing. Start saying things out loud. What do you think? What do you see? What do you hear? Don’t worry about getting your sentences right. Let’s just talk through it.” And, you know, “Let me just catalog a few of these things that you say.”

And so, we were able to do that. And then I said, “Now go back into your life with new eyes, with new ears, right? With new hands. And re-experience the world.” Because then you’re going to soak all that in—all those details—and then that is going to inform your writing.

And so that’s just one of the ways that, if you are a writer, if you are creative, you are continually creating and working within that dance—even when you’re away from the page.

Sean Murphy [21:47]
I’ve actually evoked this in a recent podcast. One of the books on my shelf is the autobiography by the amazing jazz musician Charles Mingus. And in his autobiography, he talks about the years that he paid dues. And for him, when it finally all clicked, he realized that he was working as a postman—or maybe even like an elevator operator, like in the ’40s—but he realized, “I’m composing music when I’m not composing music.”

He was like, “I’ve now figured out—I’m thinking about music all the time.” And so, his sensibility, through all this practice, through all this combination of play and dedication and intention, he was able to access it.

So, you know, I can look back to when I was a younger writer and I would write a couple of stories a year, or a poem every year—those beautiful, magic moments where it would come fully formed. And like—I live for those moments.

And the reality is, for most of us anyway, that doesn’t happen that often. I mean, it’s too much to ask for. So, you need to create the circumstances where you can access that channel more readily.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [22:49]
Yeah, it’s like, if you’re starting a garden, you may have one seed that blossoms incredibly, but it’s really good to have a bunch of other starts, right? Because you never know which seeds are going to blossom and how that’s going to work.

And I love where you’re taking this, because it brings me back to what I wanted to ask you about. And I have a specific scenario that I want to ask about: how do you capture these bits of wisdom, these amazing lines, as they come to you? One way is you pull over—but what’s your process?

And then I’m going to share my sticking point, and I’m hoping you have a solution for me.

Sean Murphy [23:27]
Okay, I can’t, you know, prescribe anything. I think each individual needs to find what works for them—or hopefully, what things work for them. Yeah.

But for me, you know, it really is—like when I’m talking about how I’ve kind of cultivated this sensibility—for better or worse, I could actually be watching the news or reading a book, hearing a line on TV, or in any situation, and all of a sudden the idea for a poem—like, I could talk about X, Y, and Z through this; this is a window into that; this metaphor works to talk about racism or my childhood or whatever.

So, I’m going to the page or the computer with intention and I’m locked in, but something happened.

But the point, I guess, is—as opposed to kind of sitting down in the morning and getting my hours in—I’ve never been that person. I envy those that do. I’m also not saying I walk around all day with my head in the clouds and things happen. It’s in the middle of those two kind of interesting poles.

Anything could be fodder, and I don’t know—like, I don’t sit down saying, “Listen to Miles Davis and go motivate a jazz poem.” It could. It could motivate a non-jazz poem.

I’ll give you an easy prompt that I would loan to anyone. Run with it if it works for you. One of the emails I get is from the History Channel—like “On This Day”—and it’ll list eight or nine things that happened on that day in different years. That’s prompted dozens of poems for me, because I’ll just read a paragraph like, “On this day in 1820, blah blah blah happened,” and I’ll think, what a great way to talk about Western expansion in the context of an imperial America.

You just don’t know what’s going to cause it—but I’ve learned that when it comes, run with it. And of course, there’s a whole folder of unfinished or false starts, but some of those become poems.

So, I guess I’m at pains to not say, “It all just happens, Lisa. It just happens.” No—I don’t want it to sound pretentious—but I’m just in awe of the way the world will give you material if you’re willing to listen.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [25:32]
Yes. And I will share another prompt for listeners, which is actually a reminder prompt, because Laura Davis—who I also interviewed—she shared this, which is: This is how it is right now. And there is something about that that can be so evocative to get you into, like, well, what is it like right now?

But I’m going to get nitty-gritty, down into the weeds. I’m going to share my scenario where—this is what I’m stuck with—and it is the fact that most of my great ideas happen when I am in the shower, and I am sudsing my hair.

It is just a place—and I know part of it scientifically, the negative ions that come from the water bouncing off the walls. You’re not doing anything else. Your mind has a chance to wander. That’s the science behind it, right?

The reality is, I get all these freaking great ideas, and my hands are wet and there is no place to put some paper. So those are the ideas that are the fastest to dissipate.

And so, I’m just curious—because you said, “I pull over to the side of the road and I’m recording these”—what do you do when the ideas come in the shower?

Sean Murphy [26:42]
Well, two things.

First of all, be willing to jump out of the shower. Nothing can be more important than getting that idea down. You’ve got to be careful—you don’t want to slip and hurt yourself.

It’s funny because I don’t think I’ve ever told this story, so it’s absolutely the truth: when 1455 started in 2017, I initially was calling it “Virginia Center for Literary Arts,” because I was like, it’s in Virginia, it’s going to be a center. And I was never satisfied with it. So, I was always kind of thinking.

And I was in the shower one day, and I started thinking: What are some of the best years in literature? And I was like, what year was Moby Dick written? And what year was The Great Gatsby written? And I was riffing on that, and out of nowhere, I was like, What year did the printing press start? And I didn’t know.

So, I got out of the shower and looked it up, and it was 1455. Whether it’s a good name or not—for me, I was like, that’s perfect. It’s articulating what I’m trying to get at. It speaks to a larger, like, what is the connecting line between the first book and the digital age? And it’s—to me—this line that runs through story.

So, I have literally gotten out of the shower to write something down. You try to find a shorthand way to keep the idea alive.

That’s a tricky one—and if you’ve kind of tricked yourself unconsciously that that’s where the best things happen, maybe have the phone there and be ready to, you know…

Yeah, I’ve been in waiting rooms or in a line at the grocery store, had an idea, and there’s no shame in my game. I’ll try to be very surreptitious and be like, “Ideas for story,” or I’ll just get my phone out and frantically jot some notes down.

And forgive the indulgence, but I recently moved, and so I was going through boxes—this is another, like, from my years in corporate America, or just my years of living—the boxes of Post-it notes or shreds of paper where I wrote something down: the back of the proverbial napkin, matchbook—boxes full of that stuff.

One side—we could look at that and go, look at all those missed opportunities, or things to revisit—but also, just, it’s always been there. There’s always—I mean, we are a certain breed, whether we would be envied or pitied, maybe a little bit of both—but writers understand. That impulse has always been there, even if it leads to nothing.

Like, what would make someone grab a matchbook or, you know, cocktail napkin, and write down the name of a character? Like, only writers would really understand and appreciate that.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [29:08]
Yeah, I think I’m going to have to bring my phone into the bathroom with me. I have some rules around—I try not to have things with me early in the morning. But I’ve noticed, like, especially the last few days, I’m like, “Oh my gosh, I have these great ideas. What was that idea?”

And so, I think I’m going to do that. And I’m going to look and see—and listeners, if you have some ideas around this, please feel free to text and/or comment to the podcast.

Yeah, is there a dry erase board, you know, solution? Or is there a waterproof paper solution that we can either invent or that already exists for situations specifically like this?

Sean Murphy [29:46]
For sure. At least—I just have to say, I mean, first of all, I totally enjoy talking to you.

What I love about this is—I think, I’ll speak for myself—this would be a conversation… I mean, I wouldn’t be self-conscious. I’m at a point in my life where I couldn’t care less. But one would be wary of sounding like we’re sounding in mixed company.

But amongst writers—when you were explaining your dilemma, I got it. I empathized with it. I was immediately trying to think of solutions. Whereas I think some people would be like, “What a weirdo. Just wait to get out of the shower. What could be so important?”

Writers get it. And that’s something I think we both feel very strongly about with the notion of being a literary citizen. It’s this solidarity, it’s this empathy, it’s this combination of curiosity—wanting to know more, wanting to trade secrets and shortcuts and recipes—but also this real desire to lift up and celebrate and say: there’s so many of us trying to do this great work.

It doesn’t take away from my writing to celebrate other people’s writing—or other people’s process or other people’s projects. I think that is a very overlooked secret to a happy writing life: spending less time thinking about your own stuff. Getting out of your own head.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [30:56]
Literary citizenship is good karma, right?

It helps you earn some more of that good karma, and it helps you feel good, and it helps you feel connected. And what I’ve found is that the more I engage in literary citizenship—by having people on my podcast or writing reviews for someone’s book or, you know, just celebrating what they’ve done on social media with a simple “Congratulations”—it doesn’t have to be so involved.

I think sometimes we can get scared, like, “Oh my gosh, I have to make this grand gesture.” No, you don’t. You can make a very small gesture, and it can make a huge difference for someone.

When you think about literary citizenship, where does that take you? What kinds of activities are you doing? What kinds of activities do you encourage the writers that you work with to do? And how has that changed your life?

Sean Murphy [31:46]
It’s a great question. I’m happy to try to attempt to answer it. I think I alluded to it already, but I’ll expand and say what I’ve found, in my experience, is—almost, there are always exceptions—but almost without fail, it’s the more accomplished, celebrated, busy, and productive writers who make the time to be generous and give you a blurb or an introduction or recommendation.

And invariably, and perhaps not surprisingly, it’s the ones who seem very focused on themselves and their careers and their brand—there’s nothing wrong with any of those things, and we all have to be very cognizant of how necessary they are—but I’ve seen enough information to make some conclusions. It’s not a coincidence that some of the writers who have the best reasons to be too busy tend to find the time, and they tend to be better human beings, more productive, more fulfilled writers.

So, I do think it pays forward. I do think there’s karma involved. But I think what we find is—this is where, to me, the artistic and spiritual really overlap. If you’re trying to be a generous person, you’re trying to support and encourage others—I certainly don’t do it so that I’ll get it back—but I found somewhere along the way, I like doing that. And even if it’s a defense mechanism, like to lift up another author or celebrate someone’s book publication, it gets me out of my own worries for even a moment. Right there, on a very basic level, it’s its own reward.

But to go a little bit deeper, Lisa—and you know, kind of as it relates to the life I’ve built, nonprofit and all—I’ve always been one that’s been obsessed with art as long as I can remember. I’m that guy that—maybe not literally, but figuratively—art has saved my life on myriad occasions. I can’t imagine my life without music and books and movies.

So, almost out of a kind of fealty to this positive force—in a world of politics and business and all these isms—art is the one thing that’s always positive and expands your own capacities. So, I feel the least I can do is constantly be shouting out my heroes—dead and especially alive. I say “especially” because the people that are here now definitely want the help. And you know, it might make a difference.

To me, I can never do too much of that. I don’t have a limit in terms of “I blurbed two books this year,” or “I interviewed three new writers,” or “I took time out to talk to an undergrad.” What more important work could we be doing, aside from our own work?

And you know, it’s all about boundaries and being productive. But for me, if I write one less book at the end of my life but have had these types of conversations and felt like I was part of a family—and I’ll say that without irony—like part of a fraternity, dash fraternity in the literal sense, like this fellowship of fellow creatives—it’s a real gift, and it’s something I take very seriously.

So, I guess I don’t know if I’m answering your question so much as saying, to me, it’s all part of this process. So being a literary citizen means understanding and embracing the responsibility of doing more for others.

For me, especially as a white male, I just recognize—I’ve had opportunities. I’ve worked hard, yada yada, but I’ve had opportunities that so many others who are way more talented than me never had. So how dare I not be filled with gratitude? Have a real desire to be productive? Use my time wisely—but as much as possible in these times, lean into the celebration and focus on the things that we all can rally around.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [35:29]
I’m right there with you. And I do feel like—I don’t think “made it” is the right word. I don’t think you ever make it—but we have gotten to a place in our careers where we are capable of doing certain things, or we have access to certain things.

You know, for example, you and I both interviewed Jane Friedman, right? So, we’ve gotten to a place in our careers where we’ve done that. You know, shout out to Jane.

Sean Murphy [35:49]
Shout out to Jane.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [35:50]
Yeah, the one and only Jane Friedman. And speaking of, you know, literary citizens and someone who supports so many writers—I think she is a great example of that. And she doesn’t blurb books. That’s actually, I think, one of her rules. She doesn’t—just because I think everyone would ask her.

But she does so much for the literary community. She helps us all understand writing in so many ways—it’s incredible. And I think when we do that, when we are in connection with others, we get clear about what writing is supposed to do.

Because yes, we are writing to be read, right? That’s about sharing. But in a capitalistic society, we often are reduced to the product. And I think sometimes even loving family members and friends can say like, “Oh, you’re still working on that book? I thought you’d be a New York Times bestseller by now.” Or, you know, “Are you kidding me?”

And so, then we can feel that pressure, like our value comes from having completed something rather than the process, which is actually what gives us a sense of value. And so, when we’re around other writers who get it, and we are supporting them, we are supporting ourselves. Because we are in that community, we see ourselves as just one more part of something that is truly magical.

Sean Murphy [37:14]
I love the way you just put that. And yeah—so both in the here and now, we’re kind of connected to this chain of others, which is a very powerful, you know, crossing cultures and time zones and everything.

But I also am really turned on by the idea of—we’re part of a chain that goes back to not only Gutenberg, but like, yeah, first cave drawings. You know, there are people that invent rockets. There are people that figure out how to cure diseases. And I celebrate the multitudes.

But to be in one’s own kind of, you know, group and recognize there’s been an impulse in certain types of people to document and bear witness—there’s kind of an awe-inspiring part of that. Because to me, there’s nothing more human than this fundamental desire to share and connect.

And not surprisingly, you know, the people that are sharing and connecting tend to be anti-war, tend to be interested in justice and peace, and tend to be generous people. So, I think the artists are on to something.

And I also feel a part of my mission is—whenever possible—not only to recommend and celebrate great art but try to demystify. I do this a lot with jazz. I do less of it than I used to. But the idea that you don’t have to be a certain level to understand literature or to understand jazz or classical music or foreign films—like, dive in and see what tickles your fancy. And you might be pleasantly surprised.

But the only thing that none of us should do is go through life kind of with blinders on and curate our own, you know, cultivated existence. Let the other influences in, and you might be really delighted by how big your world gets.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [38:52]
Stories increase our empathy—I mean, there’s been some science around that. And I think one thing that is true is that when you know another person’s story, you can’t help but love them. So, stories and the work we do truly are about increasing love in the world.

And Sean, you and I could be here for the next 10 years, I think, talking about these things, because there are so many great—I don’t know—little rabbit holes or avenues or topics that we could talk about. So, I’m going to have you on the show again another time so we can do that, because this has been so much fun for me.

But for now, I want people to listen to your podcast, to read your books. You have gotten four Pushcart Prizes. You have two Best of the Net awards. You have all this wealth of information and these beautiful books and pieces that you’ve written.

How can people connect with you, read your work, and learn more about what you’re doing—and about 1455 Literary Arts?

Sean Murphy [39:54]
Thank you so much for asking. There are two sites that will take you down any number of avenues of exploration.

SeanMurphy.net is my website, which is just my name—S-E-A-N-Murphy.net. And then SeanMurphy.live is my Substack. The podcast and Substack both cross-pollinate, but if you go to one of those sites, you can find out what I’ve written, the stuff I write on my Substack, the podcast guests. I have my contact information, etc.

My office is open for complaints, suggestions—and of course, we always welcome generous checks. Just kidding. Go to my website and you can find out more.

I will not let you get away with saying—Lisa, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed talking to you. So, I will not only take you up on that offer, but of course—and we’ve already discussed this behind the scenes—you must become a guest on Some Things Considered, and I can put you in the hot seat. We can continue—I won’t say deeper—we can continue going deep into the craft and purpose.

And, you know, this is the catnip, right? I think for our kind, these kinds of conversations should be joyous. They should be—hopefully—inspirational, but mostly it’s all about the inspiration. And you absolutely inspire me, so I thank you for that.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [41:08]
That means a lot to me, especially coming from you. So, thank you so much, and thank you for being on the podcast today. It has been an absolute pleasure.

Sean Murphy [41:16]
Right back at you. Total honor to be here. And keep doing the awesome work you’re doing—a lot of us appreciate it.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [41:22]
Well, thank you. And I can’t wait to be on your show.