It's the new year, and I've been calendaring--"not a verb," as I'm reminded by my friend and mentor, Nancy K. Miller. Nancy recently gifted me this “2020 engagement calendar,” as it’s called, with a painting by the English artist Walter Crane (best known for illustrating children’s books), “At Home: A Portrait,” reproduced on its cover. The woman in the painting happens to be reading while leaning against a mantel piece, her cat very still as it watches her. (I think the cat is eyeing that feather, and is about to snatch it from her hand; but I hope she’ll just keep on reading, as I would.)
The reading woman is inextricably linked to the writing woman, at least in my mind; and both are, for me, again, bound up in mentorship—experiences of it, cravings for it. Mentoring has meant many things to the people in my life. For some, that word, “mentor,” conjures scenes of abuse. For others, it signifies a yearning, a craving, even; something unsatisfied, a person, a relationship, they have always been looking for, but never found. And for the lucky few (I consider myself a part of several of these cohorts, though primarily, now, in this final one), the word evokes a person, maybe several people, who have helped them muddle through personal or professional dramas and progressions. Mentoring, mentorship, has been a lifeline, and they, I, can’t imagine life without it.
I’ve been talking through many of these issues with Nancy, who recently published a brilliant essay on the topic, “When Your Friend is Also a Mentor: The Mentrix Identity,” in the journal Tulsa Studies in Women’s Literature. Nancy and I are currently brewing up an anthology of essays related to the topic of mentorship by a fantastic crew of artists and writers, so stay tuned…