Last night, I met up with the radiant Lia LoBello in Greenwich Village for some tea. Because this city is all about the quickness of evolution, one of the most valuable types of people we can ever collide into are people who see us at various points in our lives. Lia and I interned at Radar together—back when it was kind of The Awl before The Awl was ever a thing—and it was an interesting time. We were at different points of our writing career and she was one of the most awesome, honest individuals I met when I was trying to figure out how media worked. (The Answer: It’s basically like high school!)
Anyway, we eventually got down to that weird annoying-but-always-fun-to-discuss question of “Who is a writer?” I guess I kind of break it down into two things: People Who Make Things and People Who Tear Things Apart. I think it is too easy for anyone in that second camp to mock the first one because they themselves are never creating anything or laying bare pieces of themselves. It takes balls to put together a work and serve it to the world. It might objectively suck but what doesn’t suck is the gumption of someone putting some strain of their DNA up for public viewing. I think that’s what differentiates a writer from a culture reporter.
The culture reporter, the Gawker writer, The Awl columnist, the Perez Hilton ghostwriter—these people aren’t necessarily creating, but picking apart. And maybe they have other roles where they do create, but in this particular role, they’re actually performing some act of decomposition. I think that’s necessary. But I think when it happens too aggressively, it’s counterproductive to the creation of culture.
I’m thinking about Lana Del Rey’s SNL appearance and the consequent crap-storm of criticism that raged on. I’m thinking about how Del Rey did what any of us would do if given that once-in-a-lifetime chance to reach a huge audience, an audience we were willing to get even if it meant we had to change our name, get plastic surgery, and dye our hair. I’m thinking that Del Rey’s flub-up—really guys, was it as bad as Ashlee Simpson? No.—was more an opportunity for a lot of critics to wax misogynistic to work out some demons they haven’t gotten over. But the writing about it! It’s so destructive. And hateful. Worse: It’s easy. And it really does separate people into two camps: Those making things and those tearing things apart. It takes less energy to tear something apart than it does to make it.
It’s odd because as “manufactured” as Lana Del Rey is, she’s still more “authentic” than the music critics panning her: She’s getting up in front of a crowd and fucking up; music critics are hiding behind their computers, smart phones, wherever, and sniping her down without offering up any alternatives. Like a cat to curtains, they’re just tearing her down. How useless.
It would be nice if this year, People Who Tear Things Apart for a paycheck would make to start becoming People Who Make Things. It’s easy to be the first and absurdly difficult to be the second. Not impossible, though!
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