>Famous Authors And Their Typewriters

>There’s a nostalgia out there for typewriters; this may be overselling the point a bit but there’s a nostalgia for famous writers and their typewriters as well:

There’s something magical about catching a glimpse of one of your favorite authors at work – even a photo of the epic event can send an anxious thrill down your spine, as if you might be able to see some hint of literary genius in posture or setting, in attire or facial expression. And it’s even better if they’re working on a typewriter. After all, there’s something impossibly gorgeous about a typewriter – maybe it’s the vintage charm, maybe it’s the physicality the noisy machine lends to the writing process, but people. . . go mad for typewriters. . .

I think the writer of this piece misses the point about typewriters. It’s likely she learned her craft clicking away at a computer keyboard and has little experience with typewriters.

Sure, nostalgia for typewriters is fun but writers used these instruments as tools of their trade. Bottom line: a typewriter helped the writing process and made getting the prose down on paper easier. Using a pad and pencil or pen was inferior though many may have continued to use that – Hemingway recommended first drafts in long-hand – you had one more chance to sharpen your prose and no one knew more about sharp prose than Hemingway- and Martha Grimes still writes in long-hand though you can be sure the manuscript she turns in to her publisher has been run through a word-processing program. Which is to say if a writer is still writing his drafts by hand, he’s being self-indulgent. But when it comes time to cranking out clean, readable copy for editors or readers or other users of the piece of writing, typewriters were far superior than old-fashioned handwriting. I imagine these writers at the linked article would gladly trade their Remingtons and Olivettis and IBM Selectrics for a laptop and a Word program.

No, I’m not immune to romance. This is what I imagined I’d be doing when I graduated from college with a degree in journalism:

The truth is, crafting prose is hard work and you’re lucky if you can make a living doing it. A professional finds, and uses, the best tools of the trade to help him along.

>Cheap Books

>Speaking of cheap books – and I was – the price point of e-books may be as low as 99 cents:

Joe Konrath has an interesting interview with independent writer John Locke who currently holds the coveted #1 spot in the Amazon Top 100 and has sold just over 350,000 downloads on Kindle of his 99 cent books since January 1st of this year, which, with a royalty rate of 35%, is an annual income well over $500k. Locke says that 99 cents is the magic number and adds that when he lowered the price of his book The List from $2.99 to 99 cents, he started selling 20 times as many copies — about 800 a day, turning his loss lead into his biggest earner.

I think that’s about right. I know for iTunes, I don’t mind taking a chance and dropping a buck on a tune. If I don’t like it, I’m only out a buck; if I do like it, well, the pleasure of the 3 or 4 minute ditty is endless.

Writing a book takes a lot of time and effort and talent but no more so than producing a piece of music. Sure, the pleasures of a good book may last longer but that’s only because it takes a longer time to consume. You’d think, then, you’d be willing to pay out more for a book than for a song but that’s not how the market works. You pay what for perceived value.

In this case, Konrath has found no one’s interested in taking a risk on his book for $2.99. For a dollar, they’re willing to take that risk. I’d take that risk, too, if I used an e-reader. Once Konrath has his reader hooked at this price, he still has the writer’s responsibility to be interesting. If he is, then he’s got a customer for his next book. If not, well, he still earned a buck. In the writing world, that’s not bad.

>Stephen Hunter – Why 33 Rounds Makes Sense in a Defensive Weapon

>Writer Stephen Hunter – Hey! I was just talking about him the other day! – explains why an extended magazine makes sense for a self-defense weapon:

(E)xtended magazines are rarely featured in crime – and that awkwardness spells out the magazine’s primary legitimate usage. It may have some utility for competitive shooting by cutting down on reloading time, or for tactical police officers on raids, but for those who are not hard-core gun folks it’s an ideal solution for home defense, which is probably why hundreds of thousands of Glocks have been sold in this country.

But that’s not why I’m linking to his article. Forget Hunter’s subject; admire his style. Here’s why I like him as a novelist, as a movie reviewer, as a columnist:

Guns were the software of the 19th century; the most dynamic age of development was roughly 1870 to 1900, when the modern forms were perfected. Two primary operating systems emerged for handguns: the revolver, usually holding six cartridges and manipulated by the muscle energy of the hand, and the semiautomatic, harnessing the explosively released energy of the burning powder to cock and reload itself. Since then, design and engineering improvements have been not to lethality but to ease of maintenance and manufacture, or weight reduction. A Glock is “better” than a Luger because you don’t need a PhD to take it apart, nor a fleet of machinists to produce the myriad pins, levers, springs and chunks of steel that make it go bang. Moreover, you can lose a Glock in a flood and find it six months later in the mud, and it still will shoot perfectly, while the Luger would have become a nice paperweight.

>Would It Kill You to Read Some Poetry?

>Via amba12 on Twitter, Barry Casselman discusses why Americans no longer read poetry:

Outside the older grades of high school and most college English literature courses, almost no one in America reads poetry. It is often pointed out that this is not so in many other countries, especially societies in Europe, South America and Asia. In the U.S. past there seemed to be more poetry readers, especially in the 19th century when American poetry first blossomed.

The question is whether this is due to the character of American civilization itself, the current state of the U.S. cultural mood, the nature of poetry in the American English tongue, or the contemporary quality of poets and their writing. In short, is the lack of interest in poetry inherent in our U.S. society, or is it the responsibility of those who write poetry?

I come down on the side of writer responsibility. It’s not the reader who is uninterested; it’s the writer who is uninteresting.

Casselman points to what he thinks is the problem with American poetry:

So much contemporary U.S.poetry, in my opinion, is so esoteric, obscurely self-referential and political that the task is immense. I think it will require a new and younger generation of poets.

I should add that some of the problems affecting poetry have also affected serious U.S. music, painting, sculpture, dance and theater. Poetry is not alone in this dilemma.

I think once the arts became democratized, that anyone can paint or write or make music or do anything in the arts and no one could tell you otherwise, the arts fell into decline. If anything goes, nothing does, and we’ve reached the point now where the consumer of art is guilty of failing to “get” the artist rather than the artist failing to communicate his intentions. That’s why I get a sense of hostility from modern art when we visit the art museum. I feel I’m being assaulted because of my ignorance when, really, all I want to do is look at pretty pictures.

But back to poetry. My favorite contemporary poet, – my only favorite contemporary poet – Billy Collins, when he was Poet Laureate of the United States, introduced Poetry 180, a program to bring a poem a day into the daily routine of high-schoolers. I’m not sure if it helped but at least students had the opportunity to hear good poetry. I admit to not being entirely comfortable with free-verse poetry – isn’t it really just prose chopped up into verses and stanzas – but Collins style is sort of free verse and I seem to have no problem with that. Sure, I think poetry should follow formal rules – like Robert Frost said about free-verse being like playing tennis without a net – except for when poetry doesn’t follow the rules. I just want it to be well-written – you do, too, don’t you? – and that’s sometimes hard to pin down. Ray Bradbury says you may not understand poetry but your animal brain does. I enjoy Collins because of his wry humor and observations of every day objects and his descriptions of clouds. Give him a try and you might find you like poetry, too. It certainly won’t kill you. And neither will eating broccoli so you need to do that, too.

>Faulkner’s Too Busy For Messages

>Via Althouse, William Faulkner on “messages” in literature:

That he is too busy dealing with people to have time to deliver messages to anyone. The messages happen just by chance. That he is interested in—in creating flesh and blood people to do the—the tragic or the comic things which people do for—for pleasure. That is, I think that one should read for pleasure, that one doesn’t necessarily have to read for pleasure, but I myself read for pleasure, not for ideas. That if it’s—I’ve got to hunt around in a book to—looking for an idea, then I’d rather do something else. I’d rather do something that’s more fun than that. It won’t be reading.

Imagine that. A Nobel-prize winning writer reads for pleasure, not for ideas. Tell that to your English professor next time he demands you write a paper on the symbology of a particular work.

(See also this post about Billy Collins and poetry.)

Fitzgerald in Hollywood

An interesting discussion about the many reasons for F. Scott Fitzgerald’s downfall in Hollywood. Goodness knows he burned with talent but not the kind of talent that could lead to success in Hollywood like the kind of success he had enjoyed in the ’20s. The reasons for Fitzgerald’s failure are many but one I hadn’t thought of before may have been his political incorrectness – Fitzgerald was never really concerned with the social issues like the rest of Hollywood was in the ’30s:

Of course, Patsy Ruth is describing the emerging cells of Hollywood Reds. The love of humanity at the expense of the individual is at the core of Communist ideology. Too often Communist purges, where thousands if not millions are murdered, are justified by the charming dictum: “You have to break a few eggs in order to make an omelette.”

Patsy Ruth observes:

His work was condemned, they said, and he believed them. He denounced himself even more harshly than his judges, accusing his work of being trivial and superficial.

“He actually told me he’s ashamed of The Great Gatsby,” John fairly snarled. “Those cursed Do-gooders… they’ve got him believing his work isn’t worth a tinkers damn just because he wasn’t waving a banner or marching in a picket line. They’ve destroyed him, as sure as God made little apples.”

That shouldn’t keep him from writing,” I protested.

The Hell it doesn’t,” John said. “Who can write when you’ve been told, when you’ve been convinced that anything you have to say is a bunch of crap. He can write rings around every one of those bastards who’ve done this to him, but he doesn’t believe it any more, and if you don’t believe it, you can’t do it.”

I think that’s reaching a bit – Fitzgerald’s downward spiral can be traced back to his post-Gatsby days. Still, it’s good to see that despite whatever outside pressures he was feeling, Fitzgerald stayed as true to his vision as he could. That’s no small thing.

Hunting Down Ideas

I’m following Wil Wheaton on Twitter and his blog feed on Google Reader and he’s immensely entertaining in his nerdy way. (What? You don’t know who Wil Wheaton is? And you call yourself a Trekker.) Warning: if you click through below and browse his site, you’ll find he sometimes he uses salty language.

I’m not sure I entirely agree with this post about the pursuit of ideas, though:

As writers, it’s vital that we meet our deadlines, of course, but we also have to build time into our work schedule to read books, take walks, visit doctor whisky, play with our dogs, and do the other things that may not look or feel like work, but are integral to our creative process.

I think this is true of everyone, not just people who pursue creative endeavors. No matter your profession, what you do in your every day life feeds it. Or should.

And, besides, writers and artists should pursue their passions as a profession as well. That means you don’t sit around and wait for inspiration to strike. You produce. You don’t produce, you don’t eat. Hunger is a great motivator.

I like how Bradbury put it about inspiration. Just jump off the cliff. Build your wings on the way down.

So, if you’re an artist, what are you waiting for? Jump!

Fifty Years of Simplicity As Style

Here’s another discussion of the great classic writing guide “The Elements of Style.” (I blogged about the book’s 50th anniversary here.)

This year marks the 50th anniversary of the publication of Strunk and White’s “The Elements of Style,” and lately I’ve been thinking it would be fun if both authors could come back to life, at least long enough to mark the occasion and to give us their thoughts on the proliferating varieties of written communication we’ve crammed into our lives in recent years. A friend of mine suggests that as soon as they got a close look at the current situation—the flurry of texting, tweeting, IMing and Facebook chatting, much of it speed-thumbed while steering with the forearms—Strunk and White’s next move would be to form a suicide pact.

Maybe. I think it’s more likely that they might just shrug, resolve to stay off the roads, and settle back over chilled martinis to reminisce about their Cornell days. Strunk and White, both reasonable, good-humored men, would recognize that texting, tweeting, emailing and the rest are simply conversation: the “rules-free, lower-case flow that keeps us cheerfully in touch these days,” as White’s stepson, the well-known New Yorker writer Roger Angell, writes in the foreword to the current edition of “The Elements of Style.”

For all of my Twitter and Facebook friends who are students, PR and marketing gurus, if you haven’t snagged yourself a copy of this book, don’t wait. Do so now and apply its principles and watch your writing improve immediately. (And for those of you who already have this book on your bookshelf, I guess I’m preaching to the choir. Sorry. But you agree with me about the book’s usefulness for improving the craft of writing, don’t you? Yeah, I knew you did.)

>The Only Statue That Is Smiling

>Noonan on the dedication of the Ronald Reagan statue at the rotunda of the U.S. Capitol:

“You are there.” The rotunda of the U.S. Capitol, that great, sandstone-walled, light-filled hall ringed with statues of the great of American history—Jefferson, Washington, proud Andrew Jackson in his flowing cape, Eisenhower, U.S. Grant, his eyes surveying the terrain as if he sees something out there in the wilderness. It’s 11 a.m. Wednesday, June 3, 2009, and Ronald Reagan marches in, surrounded by his peers. Actually his newly installed statue is unveiled there, in a ceremony attended by officials of both parties (including the speaker of the House and the leaders of the minority), his wife, Nancy, and a few hundred of his friends, appointees, staffers and cabinet members. It was standing room only.

The mood: mellow, proud and modest with the increased modesty of age. “How lucky was I to walk into history when Ronald Reagan was in the room?” The speeches ranged from the heartfelt to the appropriate, with two (James Baker and Mrs. Reagan) being outstanding. It is usual, after formal ceremonies with their frozen rhetoric, to come away feeling that no cliché was left untouched. In some cases here they were quite thoroughly molested, but no matter. The general feeling was that Ronald Reagan restored America to itself, and that’s what people more or less said.

Noonan’s never better than when she’s writing about Reagan, her hero.

The Only Statue That Is Smiling

Noonan on the dedication of the Ronald Reagan statue at the rotunda of the U.S. Capitol:

“You are there.” The rotunda of the U.S. Capitol, that great, sandstone-walled, light-filled hall ringed with statues of the great of American history—Jefferson, Washington, proud Andrew Jackson in his flowing cape, Eisenhower, U.S. Grant, his eyes surveying the terrain as if he sees something out there in the wilderness. It’s 11 a.m. Wednesday, June 3, 2009, and Ronald Reagan marches in, surrounded by his peers. Actually his newly installed statue is unveiled there, in a ceremony attended by officials of both parties (including the speaker of the House and the leaders of the minority), his wife, Nancy, and a few hundred of his friends, appointees, staffers and cabinet members. It was standing room only.

The mood: mellow, proud and modest with the increased modesty of age. “How lucky was I to walk into history when Ronald Reagan was in the room?” The speeches ranged from the heartfelt to the appropriate, with two (James Baker and Mrs. Reagan) being outstanding. It is usual, after formal ceremonies with their frozen rhetoric, to come away feeling that no cliché was left untouched. In some cases here they were quite thoroughly molested, but no matter. The general feeling was that Ronald Reagan restored America to itself, and that’s what people more or less said.

Noonan’s never better than when she’s writing about Reagan, her hero.

>Murky Language

>Peggy Noonan takes on the murky language of bureaucrats:

The indecipherable language of government has actually become dangerous to the well-being of the nation. As the federal government claims ever greater powers, its language has become vague to the point of meaningless and meaningless to the point of menacing.

The other day I was watching “Morning Joe” on MSNBC, and Kathleen Sebelius, the secretary of health and human services, came on from Washington to talk about health care. A reporter on the set, Andrew Ross Sorkin of the New York Times, asked a few clear and direct questions: What is President Obama’s health-care plan, how would it work, what would it look like? I leaned forward. Finally I will understand. Ms. Sebelius began to answer in that dead and deadening governmental language that does not reveal or clarify but instead wraps legitimate queries in clouds of words and sends them on their way. I think I heard “accessing affordable quality health care,” “single payer plan vis-à-vis private multiparty insurers” and “key component of quality improvement.” In any case, she didn’t answer the question, which was a disappointment but not a surprise. No one answers the question anymore.

I suspect, though, this kind of obscurity isn’t limited to government; corporate finance-speak suffers from the same lack of clarity. Is it purposeful? Maybe. Most people don’t write or speak well and don’t realize that they don’t. They hid behind this kind of language because, well, it sounds like they’re saying something when they aren’t.

Speaking the truth is hard but speaking it clearly isn’t.

Murky Language

Peggy Noonan takes on the murky language of bureaucrats:

The indecipherable language of government has actually become dangerous to the well-being of the nation. As the federal government claims ever greater powers, its language has become vague to the point of meaningless and meaningless to the point of menacing.

The other day I was watching “Morning Joe” on MSNBC, and Kathleen Sebelius, the secretary of health and human services, came on from Washington to talk about health care. A reporter on the set, Andrew Ross Sorkin of the New York Times, asked a few clear and direct questions: What is President Obama’s health-care plan, how would it work, what would it look like? I leaned forward. Finally I will understand. Ms. Sebelius began to answer in that dead and deadening governmental language that does not reveal or clarify but instead wraps legitimate queries in clouds of words and sends them on their way. I think I heard “accessing affordable quality health care,” “single payer plan vis-à-vis private multiparty insurers” and “key component of quality improvement.” In any case, she didn’t answer the question, which was a disappointment but not a surprise. No one answers the question anymore.

I suspect, though, this kind of obscurity isn’t limited to government; corporate finance-speak suffers from the same lack of clarity. Is it purposeful? Maybe. Most people don’t write or speak well and don’t realize that they don’t. They hid behind this kind of language because, well, it sounds like they’re saying something when they aren’t.

Speaking the truth is hard but speaking it clearly isn’t.

>’Elements’ at 50

>I didn’t know Strunk and White’s Elements of Style turned 50 not long ago; I thought it was older than that. But anyone who’s interested in writing well knows about the book though there are some who find it grumble-worthy:

(S)ince its publication in 1959 Elements has sold nearly 10 million copies, which is pretty impressive indeed, even if several million of those were bought by college freshmen under compulsion. On the evidence the book remains a great sentimental favorite with the language-loving laity. Among those who examine words for a living, however–the clerics of the language game, the linguists and grammarians–the book is in bad odor. Some of them even consider it an active hindrance to knowledge, for the same reason a real-estate mogul would disdain “Monopoly” or professional hitmen take offense at the Godfather movies: It may look fun, but it gives everybody the wrong idea.

Gosh, I guess people will complain about anything.

Click on through for Andrew Ferguson’s spirited defense of a book that, points out, is merely a starting point for good writing and not the end-all rule book for the written word.

Lighten up, people.

‘Elements’ at 50

I didn’t know Strunk and White’s Elements of Style turned 50 not long ago; I thought it was older than that. But anyone who’s interested in writing well knows about the book though there are some who find it grumble-worthy:

(S)ince its publication in 1959 Elements has sold nearly 10 million copies, which is pretty impressive indeed, even if several million of those were bought by college freshmen under compulsion. On the evidence the book remains a great sentimental favorite with the language-loving laity. Among those who examine words for a living, however–the clerics of the language game, the linguists and grammarians–the book is in bad odor. Some of them even consider it an active hindrance to knowledge, for the same reason a real-estate mogul would disdain “Monopoly” or professional hitmen take offense at the Godfather movies: It may look fun, but it gives everybody the wrong idea.

Gosh, I guess people will complain about anything.

Click on through for Andrew Ferguson’s spirited defense of a book that, points out, is merely a starting point for good writing and not the end-all rule book for the written word.

Lighten up, people.