There was this book I read long awhile ago If You Can Talk You Can Write by Joel Saltzman. I really liked that book. Joel made writing accessible. Like writing was right there at the tip of your tongue and all you had to do was type out the words. Then ta-da - you’d have a post, an essay, a story, or whatever.
See there are times I’ve picked up say an essay by Peter Matthiessen or John McPhee - both great writers - and reading those two guys, I’m usually “screw it, I’ll never be this good,” and slam my laptop shut and trudge off to bed. A bit of self-loathing with every heavy step. Those guys just wrote at another level. I get that. They’ve been doing it for years, schooled and trained at prestigious colleges, practised their craft daily. Plus, they cared more than I did, obviously. I’ll never be anywhere near those guys. So why try? What’s that Ben Franklin quote, “better to appear ignorant than open your mouth and remove all doubt.” That’s how I feel about my writing, all the time.
It’s why I like Chuck Wendig at Terribleminds (language warning). Boy does that guy write like he talks, but he must’ve been a sailor in a former life because boy does he use colourful language. Still, even in his “talking” does he use very descriptive prose. And cussing. Did I mention the cussing?
I did read one of his books, Blackbirds. It wasn’t bad and I’d read again if given the chance. Now, granted, I disagree with his politics, but the guy writes from his burning black heart. Still, its fun to read. At least for me, it is.
One of my favourite writers is William Goldman (Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Princess’ Bride, All the President’s Men). I love the way he writes. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve picked up and read Which Lie Did I Tell? It’s my favourite book of all time. Next to the Bible, it would be with me on a desert island.
I mention all this because it's bothered me that after all these years that I don’t have a voice or a style. I once read an essay by Stephen King about Harlan Ellison. I forget the name and the essay is lost in one of Ellison’s byzantine anthologies. King said something along the lines that when you read Ellison your like milk. Milk, King says, picks up whatever flavour of something that’s near it in the refrigerator. So when you read Ellison you write like Ellison or Hemingway or whomever your reading at the time. I’ve never had that experience with milk, but I have had that experience with writing. In fact, I’ve been on the shelf next to Goldman for quite awhile. Well, going on twenty-years when I first read Adventures in the Screen Trade. I just loved the way Goldman wrote. He was right there in front of me, telling me stories and teaching me how to write a screenplay.
All this to say, is that when I think about this blog, I kind of want it to be an ongoing conversation about the things that interest me. Like reading Goldman is for me.
One of my favourite moments of the day is when I get home and tell my wife the day’s story. That one thing that happened that made the day. Thinking about it now, I’ll admit, there are days where I would rehearse the hell out of the story before the first telling. Punching it up here and there. Looking for were the laughs or reaction might be. Re-working it until it was something to tell. Then, I’d come home and do a first run of the story with my wife. Then, I would gauge her reaction. Did I hit my marks, etc? If was a worthwhile story, I would “take it on the road” if you will.
It’s like a week ago I had gone to the grocery store to pick up some meat. Checking out I noticed the girl’s name tag, Honestie. I asked her how she got her name. As she packed my groceries she told me that her parents had known each other since the age of ten and have been married for a while. They credited being open and honest with each other for their success. Hence her name. As I picked up my bag, I said, “that’s sweet. If I had a daughter, I’d have to name her “sometimes.” She laughed.
I told that story six times during a twenty-four hour period. It was a bit and I knew it. It was until three days later I posted this on Facebook:
“Checking out of HEB one day I noticed the cashier’s name was Honestie. I asked how she got her name. She tells me she’s named after what’s kept her parents together and married all these years. “Damn,” I say, “based on that if I have a daughter I’ll have to name her sometimes.”
And it worked. It got a good response. Thing is I noticed that I was working on “material.” I shaved off a word here and there, re-wrote it several times, said it out loud, etc.
It wasn't till awhile later, that it occurred to me that I was writing. Honest to goodness writing. I can tell the difference. The bit worked in my small little corner. People got the joke and well, it wasn’t too bad. So heres to doing more of that.