George Fischer wrote 19 autobiographies without ever planning to publish them. And he could have. Not only was he a talented writer and an accomplished scholar, but he had witnessed some of the most historic moments of the twentieth century.
Eleanor Roosevelt talked about him in her memoirs, which she did publish.
But Fischer made the right choice. He reached his intended audience. An audience of one: himself.
I never met this fascinating man, but I feel like I did because I read some of his diverse and experimental books when I assisted his younger brother, Vic Fischer, in writing an autobiography that was intended to be published, and was published.
Vic’s friends insisted he write his book, which he did reluctantly in old age. They wouldn’t let his amazing stories die with him—escaping Hitler, escaping Stalin, helping found the State of Alaska, and so on.
Vic was proud of the book, To Russia with Love. It captures some of the pleasure of hearing him tell his stories. With the book, we can continue learning from him, although he died last year, at 99.
George’s stories were equally impressive. As a young man in the Soviet Union, he was indoctrinated as a communist and groomed to be a leader. He lived through some of the horrors of Stalinism first hand, but had trouble breaking the spell of his training.
Eleanor Roosevelt recognized his extraordinary, precocious intelligence. She invited him to the White House in 1942, when he was 19 years old. Winston Churchill was another guest that weekend, on his first, secret wartime visit to President Roosevelt. George talked to him about Stalin’s repression.
Later, as U.S. Army officer, George saw the Soviets betray the allies with deadly effect. He sensed the coming Cold War. Assigned as a liaison officer to organize the Yalta conference, he tried to warn the American negotiating team.
As he aged with these memories, George didn’t have a huge circle of friends demanding he write. Friendship was Vic’s special gift. Instead, George wrote for himself, using his many tellings to understand his own life—the youthful brainwashing and sincere communism, and the disillusionment and confusion that followed.
He researched these books deeply. He wrote them carefully. They seem to have finally helped.
Vic read George’s books and commented, but not many others had the chance. Writing for a broader audience would have defeated George’s purpose.
A book’s purpose should match its audience and message. Books are communication. You cannot know what to say unless you know who you are addressing and why.
If you are writing only for yourself, you can think only of yourself. George did that honestly.
If you are writing for publication, you must think of those who will read what you have to say. That was Vic’s project, and a reflection of his outward-facing life.
As in most things, it’s ultimately better to do for others rather than for yourself alone.
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