Dr. Joan Steinau Lester
Dr. Joan Steinau Lester is an award-winning commentator, columnist, and author of critically acclaimed books, including the novels Mama’s Child and Black, White, Other. Her writing has appeared in such publications as USA Today, Los Angeles Times, San Francisco Chronicle, Chicago Tribune, Cosmopolitan, Ebony, Common Dreams, and Huffington Post. Her memoir, Loving Before Loving: A Marriage in Black and White, will be published on May 18, 2021.
Twitter: @joan_lester
Instagram: @joanlester2019
Favorite non-reading activity?
My favorite non-reading activity is daily walking on my hills or hiking--any way I can locomote! There are so many benefits. First, the sheer pleasure of my limbs, so often tethered to the chair, moving freely. Swinging my arms or high-stepping, I feel my body begin to heat, warming me against an early morning chill. Then there is the sheer beauty of wooded landscapes, where I hike little-used trails.
The scent of eucalyptus, the crunch of brittle leaves or twigs underfoot, the call of a sparrow or screech of a jay, the sight of a turtle sliding off a log into a pond—all awaken my senses and pull me out of the heady realm where I usually dwell. I remember then to gaze up at the startling blue, or straight ahead at early spring sprouts bursting on bushes, and am totally in the moment. The activity that most resembles this, for me, is writing. There too I exist completely in present time, flowing, floating, sliding down rivers of words. In the woods I glide along paths, hoping to spot a loping coyote up ahead or rabbits, their prey, darting into burrows. In both places, I feel a quiet, satisfied bliss.
Is your go to comfort food sweet or savory? Is it something you make yourself? Does food inspire your writing?
Acme walnut levain toast slathered with crunchy almond butter, and when I’m feeling generous with fat, a dab of coconut oil smeared on top to sweeten it. Now THAT is heaven.
Have you ever experienced Imposter Syndrome?
Ha ha, is there an accomplished woman who hasn’t? As the writer Sally Kempton once said, “It is hard to fight an enemy who has outposts in your head.” The female training I, like other girls of my post-WWII generation, received, was strong on deferral. When I put myself forward, which has always been my wont, an invisible voice often urges me back: Who are you to take charge? I have to wrestle with that voice and generally continue to speak anyway, but am terrified I will fail. Or that others are criticizing my unseemly forthrightness.
It doesn’t matter than I have a doctorate, a long list of publications, or any other credential; the cultural imperative insists that I minimize myself in every way, including my knowledge and abilities. It’s a constant struggle for me to see who I actually am. I’m not fully there yet, although I have definitely joined the battle!
Not all books are for all readers… when you start a book and you just don’t like it, how long do you read until you bail?
I’ve become a great skimmer. When I’m disappointed after a promising beginning, I will skim ahead to see if something catches me, and I often read the final chapter, too. If that resonates, I may go back and pick up some threads, but I probably only read 5% of the books I start all the way through. Every page. That is a mark of my complete enjoyment. During the last year I started keeping a log of my reading, with a page for each book, summarizing my response and giving it stars. I often record, “Stopped reading after thirty pages.” “Or forty.” That’s about my limit before I either put it down or glance ahead.
What’s the difference (at least for you!) between being a writer and an author? How do you shift gears between the two?
The process of writing a book (I have completed eight and sold seven) is so lengthy, so all-consuming, that it merits the separate designation. Author. A person who has completed a grueling, rewarding activity, composing a coherent narrative of some length—generally at least 60,000 words. Keeping track of all the threads over many years and tying them together is quite different, while maintaining some linguistic elegance, is sharply distinguished from the multi-day task of writing an essay or article.
When I write the latter, I experience the joy of losing myself in the material and the composition, then send it off. Those that aren’t accepted for publication make it into my blog, so I also feel the immediate pleasure of reaching a reading public.
With a book, everything is delayed. I labor for years, writing, revising, finding my story, editing it over and over again. Then off to the agent, where it receives more scrutiny and will need more revision. Ditto with the editor who buys it. And then the managing editor, the copy editor, the proofreader. At each step I have another chance to make changes. Finally, I work with the art director on the cover, the publicity director on the jacket copy, and then, many months later, a printed book is in hand. I feel immense pride as I share the book with the world. And suddenly, too, an emptiness after all that intense effort.
As both a writer and an author I am glad to work in each platform, with their different gifts.
