Written by Meghan Daum | 25 August 2012

The school year is again upon us and I thought I'd finally get around to something I've been meaning to do for awhile: address the many students who write to me because they've been assigned a paper or a project about op-ed columns.

Though I have railed against the manner in which some of these requests are presented (hint: spell check is good, so is grammar, punctuation; also, perhaps best not to make your requests in text message shorthand; I'm old! I don't understand you!) I try to answer as frequently as I can. But it's not frequent enough. So here are some answers to some of the most commonly answered questions.

 Q: How do you choose your subjects?

A: As a weekly columnist, my challenges include not only finding timely, worthwhile subjects, but also making sure that they will still be fresh by the time the column is published. The column runs in the Los Angeles Times on Thursdays. That means that on Monday morning I'm usually searching for a topic with an aim to start writing by the afternoon so I can file to my editor sometime on Tuesday. So the logistical part of choosing an idea is very much about timing. The conceptual part has to do with finding something that not only compels me but that I actually have something interesting or original to say about it. To that end, I try to avoid topics that have already been chewed over to death in the media. I try to take a subtler or more hidden side of the story and explore its larger meaning.

Q: What are your main themes?

A: The themes that most frequently turn up in my column are the same ones that turn up a lot in of my other work: authenticity, the machinations of media, the trappings of social class, the general hypocrisy of the human psyche (I mean that in the nicest possible way.) If I notice something going on in the culture wherein people seem to be saying one thing but meaning the opposite, chances are I'll want to write about it. Often I take a counterintuitive approach to a subject. That means that if I notice that the majority of people are looking at something a particular way, I'll look at it in a different or unexpected light just to see what happens.

Q: How would you describe your style?

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Written by Meghan Daum | 30 June 2012

There are few guarantees in life, but one of them is that women writing about their personal experiences will almost instantly trigger a cascade of gripes about their narcissism, their privilege, the hubris that's inherent to the sharing of personal details and feelings. Writing about parenting often has that effect. Writing about not parenting nearly always does.

Before Anne-Marie Slaughter's Atlantic cover story "Why Women Still Can't Have It All" swept in and effectively blew all other conversations into great, desiccating piles by the curb, a series of articles in the online magazine Slate entitled Childfree Women Explain Themselves was drawing lots of attention. In response to a rather inflamed reaction to Katie Roiphe's theory that parents secretly pity the childless, Slate's Double X editors invited happily childless readers to share their reasons for not reproducing.

 The result was six testimonials that drew thousands of comments (the kickoff piece by Soraya Roberts has more than 3200 to date.) Many of those comments were from people who shared or at least understood the choice not to become a parent. Some, predictably, took it upon themselves to set the writers straight and enumerate the reasons that you can't know what real love is--or live a real life--without raising children. Along the way, of course, there were countless remarks about how no one cares. "If you don't want to have children don't," wrote one commenter. "But please stop yammering about it to the rest of us."

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Written by Meghan Daum | 22 June 2012

Recently an English teacher at Fort Vancouver High School in Vancouver, Washington asked if I'd write a letter to his students about "success." He explained that 75 percent of the students at the school were on a free or reduced lunch program. He said that many of his students barely understood the meaning of success, let alone how to achieve it. "They have heard me talk about success ad nauseam," he wrote. "I think if they see a letter from you and other writers it would carry more weight."

I offered the following thoughts. I wish I knew what other writers this teacher approached and what they had to say. I could always use more advice in this area.

June 15, 2012

Dear Students of Fort Vancouver High School,

Your teacher asked me to write something to you about success. I'm flattered by the request, as it implies I have some first hand experience with the subject. But in sitting down to really think about it, I realize I'm not sure how to talk about success. In fact, in many ways I'm not even sure what it means. I hear you might be similarly confused on the matter, so I guess we're in this together.

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Written by Meghan Daum | 15 June 2012

Just finished a week of teaching at the Nebraska Writers Conference in Lincoln. My class "Finding Your Authenthic Voice in Creative Nonfiction" went for three hours a day, every day. I think I have about exactly 15 hours of information in me to impart to students, so it was lucky the conference didn't go another day. I think a few students may have come close to finding their authentic voices. The others are doing a good job of faking it, which is half the battle, if not even more impressive.

It's my fourth year teaching here, though it's been ten years since I moved on from my adventure in Nebraska. Here's a road near the little farmhouse I lived in during my time here. I know this landscape isn't for everyone, but it just undoes me everytime. It is so austere and stunning and beautiful to me.

Oh, and I made my students watch this video of the brilliant and kickass Fran Lebowitz talking about Jane Austen. Actually she's talking about the whole nature of writing and reading and responding to literature (and why Austen is loved for all the wrong reasons.) This has nothng to do with Nebraska. But, like the Conhusker State, listening to Fran Lebowitz is one of my favorite things. (Bet you've never seen those two mentioned in the same sentence before.)

Fran Lebowitz. Not a Nebraskan.

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