Copyright 2006 Ben S. Pollock
Tuesday 10 January 2006. P.J. O’Rourke, in reviewing the novel Dog Days by Ana Marie "Wonkette" Cox last Sunday for The Washington Post, wrote:
"Creative writing teachers should be purged until every last instructor who has uttered the words ‘Write what you know’ is confined to a labor camp. Please, talented scribblers, write what you don’t. The blind guy with the funny little harp who composed The Iliad, how much combat do you think he saw?"
Dr. Suess, Maurice Sendak, are their creatures autobiographic? Stephen King? What character in each of Dickens’ novels represented the author? Who started this conviction that there always is be a stand-in for the author in each book? Which character in Shakespeare’s plays? Elmore Leonard, Carl Hiaissen, Margaret Atwood, John le Carre? (Dr. Suess wasn’t even a doctor. Call the lit police!)
Sure, there’s some fine readin’ among the fictionalized me-news, say J. Franzen or Jay McInerney. But as they get repetitive, you wish they’d have the moxie of Michael Chabon who uses a terrific imagination and skill-set to break out and write genuine made-up fiction.
Oh, give me a tome / where buffalo nickels roam / without care for authenticity all day. …
How many "roman a clef" can we stand? Is it a sign of authorial weakness that their first book or two — and often that’s all there is and isn’t this why? — are roughly or closely autobiographical?
I grew up reading Ray Bradbury and Edgar Rice Burroughs, J.R.R. Tolkien and Kurt Vonnegut. I grew up thinking they used imaginations, and boy was I envious.
Is this quotation genuine? "The secret to creativity is knowing how to hide your sources." — Albert Einstein (quoted by UA University Relations "headlines" 01/12/06)
Reputable historical novels and biographical movies contain at the beginning or end statements that events and characters are changed and condensed to aid narrative flow. It’s a fine dotted line: Who wants to see Johnny Cash brush his teeth?
Maybe I am making it too hard on myself due to childhood naivete. I should write about Fort Smith, and change its name. If that isn’t enough, invent streets, restaurants, schools, stores, disk jockeys, newscasters, even though real names would add authenticity, if not veracity. Whatever it takes.
Sinclair Lewis and John Steinbeck made up nearly everything yet were vilified in their home towns by people who felt humiliated though nothing clearly identifying them appeared in their books. Yet, some time after the authors’ deaths, it was realized that tourist money could be made off them. Cannery Row Fish House, anyone? Babbitt Boutique, my eye.
As strongly as I feel about the power, magic and importance of fiction, my attempts feel lousy. Making up plots and characters gives me headaches. I am no raconteur. I cannot tell stories on myself to friends — too self-conscious. When I rejoined this newspaper, some people recalled anecdotes about me then asked if they were true. They were lots better than I could tell. Sometimes the facts were spot-on.
I risk being boring when I relate some significant incident from years ago; the listener seeks distraction. Sometimes I should say what I ate for lunch; "sandwich" is allowed, but not what’s in it. Adam Sandler is a chef-restaurateur in Spanglish, and in a terrific scene makes a fancy snack at home. That sort of thing makes for character development, but it’s late in the movie so that’s not needed.
The other writing program rule is Keep it Simple, Stupid (when a writing teacher leaves out the comma, you’re in the wrong class). The snack scene is only a vignette but it made the show for me. You Keep It Simple closely enough (fiction, essay, poetry, anything else) and nothing’s left. The magic’s gone.
If Shakespeare followed KISS, here is everything he wrote:
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