This book consists of short, interrelated essays and anecdotes on writing and being a writer—being a human—grouped around larger themes. The parts are 1) Writing, 2) The Writing Frame of Mind, 3) Help Along the Way, 4) Publication and Other Reasons to Write, and 5) The Last Class.
One of the essays in the “Writing” section is titled “Shitty First Drafts.” Here, Lamott writes, “All good writers write [shitty first drafts]. This is how we end up with good second drafts and terrific third drafts.”
She then goes on to say that despite the perception that some great writers can sit down and hammer out a perfect draft, “Not one of them writes elegant first drafts. All right, one of them does, but we do not like her very much.” (pp. 21-22)
This sets the tenor for the whole book.
Thoughts:
I laughed a lot while reading this. Lamott has many good one-liners. She is not afraid to be vulnerable or show her own failings. When a newbie writing friend keeps calling to extol her sudden unexpected success (“I don’t know why God is sending me so much money this year!”), Lamott is supportive of her friend but shows the reader how jealous she is. The reader sees her trying to rid herself of that jealousy and anger. Something occurs to her to see it from a new perspective.
The idea of writer’s block also arises. She discusses this in her typical roundabout way. See it not as a block but as a well that’s gone dry. Maybe you need a change of pace. Maybe you need to remember.
While I found the book a pleasant read, I hesitate to say that it was helpful with respect to writing. Lamott is a cheerleader—nothing wrong with that. But for me, it was too amorphous and vague. It was as if she expected the reader to get her points by osmosis, as if she were saying something like:
“Now get out there and write! Yeah, it’ll suck, and you’ll want to do something more fun. Just do a little bit. And do a little more. Do what you want to do. Make what you’ve written suck less.”
Many people enjoy this book. It is indeed enjoyable. Helpful? Maybe.
Bio: Anne Lamott (b. 1954) is an American author, writer, teacher, and speaker. She is the daughter of the late writer Kenneth Lamott. Among her works are Imperfect Birds (2010) and Small Victories: Spotting Improbable Moments of Grace (2014).
Title: Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life Author: Anne Lamott (b. 1954) First published: 1994
A little early for Halloween, but a flash fiction piece of mine, “Words to Live By,” was published in an online magazine titled Danse Macabre.
I always liked this silly little piece about a university professor who is friends with the ghost of a mariner from days gone by. The captain has a fondness for rum and something of a potty mouth. Unfortunately, our hero Amelia also runs afoul of a demon.
This is a non-sensationalized biography of early American Davy Crockett (1786-1836), frontiersman and congressman, written by a distant relative. Author Mark Derr seeks to wade through the many myths and find the person behind the stories. He adopts a more-or-less neutral tone, neither excoriating nor lionizing the book’s subject. He openly admits, for example, that the wealth of Crockett’s second wife allowed him to enter politics and that the family owned slaves, whom they sold when pressed for money—a little detail the folks at Disney didn’t mention.
Derr opens his book with a discussion of the Disney TV shows and movie, which took some factual and legendary elements and added some of their own fiction to create an American hero who won every fight except the last one at the Alamo. Disney’s portrayal set off a frenzy for coonskin caps in the mid-50s.
Thoughts:
Derr writes that as both a distant relative and an admirer of the (ghostwritten) autobiography A Narrative of the Life of David Crockett of the State of Tennessee, he set out to find the man behind all the legends. He relied on what documentary evidence he could find—marriage licenses, land deeds, sale of slaves, or summaries of court cases. He is careful to state what is known, what is probable, and when he is speculating.
Complicating matters is that the legends began in Crockett’s lifetime, sometimes with his approval or encouragement. For example, Crockett often exaggerated his illiteracy. In the days before spell-checkers and handy dictionaries, people tended to spell phonetically unless they’d had a formal education. Like many of the era and background, Crockett’s family found a formal education beyond their means and, frankly, unnecessary. David could read and write—quaintly—as demonstrated in a handful of letters he wrote to family members. Derr quotes from some of these.
In the 1830s, a play called The Lion of the West opened in New York, half-poking fun, half-celebrating Crockett with a character named “Nimrod* Wildfire.” (In England, the play was titled The Kentuckian.) Nimrod, a congressman, introduces himself to a New York uncle, saying, “I’m half horse, half alligator, a touch of the airthquake with a sprinkling of the steamboat.” He continues, “I’ve got the prettiest sister, fastest horse, and ugliest dog in the deestrict.”
The narrative gets into the weeds a bit when describing the legislation that Crockett unsuccessfully championed, but it also demonstrates how bitter he became. His rancor toward his political opponents, real and perceived, only increased with time. After losing his congressional seat, he is supposed to have told his constituents, “You can go to hell. I’ll go to Texas.”
It’s hard not to feel sadness after reading this. I sensed a lot of “almost.” Crockett sponsored needed land reform while in Congress that went nowhere. A version of his bill passed sometime after his death. He opposed the removal of Native Americans. He seems to have been a glib talker, always ready with a story or joke.
Perhaps because the author intended to remain as neutral as possible, the prose can get a little dry at times, but that is forgivable. The hero, the Davy Crockett of Disney, born on the mountaintop in Tennessee, is an easier sale than the fallible human. At the same time, the Davy who killed him a b’ar when he was only three is a cardboard cutout rather than a real person. The human is more interesting, IMHO.
As for recommending the book, I can’t say it’s a page-turner, but it is interesting.
* “Nimrod” is used now to denote a stupid or clumsy guy. My guess here is that it hearkens back to its older use, that is, speaking of a hunter.
Title: The Frontiersman: The Real Life and the Many Legends of Davy Crockett Author: Mark Derr First published: 1993
This was a departure from our usual Saturday pizza and bad movie fare, a Western with some supernatural flavor. Not to give too much away, but the bad guys got their comeuppance in spades. Or lead.
Plot:
In the beginning (not the last biblical reference to come), two things are happening. First, a group of men rides horses hell-for-leather. Second, another group of men pans for gold in a small stream someplace in California sometime after the Civil War. In the camp of the latter, a woman named Sarah Wheeler (Carrie Snodgress) hangs up laundry. Her fourteen-year-old daughter, Megan ((Sydney Penny), runs after her dog, calling, “Lindsey!” Megan wears long braids. A dog starts barking.
This will not end well.
The hell-for-leather group descends on the guys trying to mine and tears their camp apart. For good measure, one of them shoots and kills Lindsey in front of Megan. The only other fatality is Megan’s grandfather, whose heart gives out, so there’s no sense going to the law.
The raiders ride off.
Megan buries her dog and prays for a miracle. “If you don’t help us, we’re all gonna die,” she tells God.
The viewer then sees a tall man (Clint Eastwood) on a white mottled horse riding through the countryside.
After the raid, Hull Barret (Michael Moriarty), the claim owner, takes the wagon into town for supplies. A couple of people tell him he’s stupid. He ignores them.
In town, he picks up some supplies—the dry goods store owners generously extend him credit again—and loads up his wagon. Thugs from a mining concern that wants Barret’s land surround him and pick up wooden ax (?) handles propped up outside the store. One of them notices the same tall stranger on a white mottled horse at the end of the street, who quickly vanishes. They beat the daylights out of Barret. As one is about to set fire to the goods the poor man has just bought, someone douses the firebug with a barrel of water.
The man on the white horse tells him, “You shouldn’t play with matches.” He picks the last ax handle. The roughs descend on him but soon find themselves in a bleeding, moaning pile.
The stranger rides off. Barret follows him, expressing gratitude, and offers him hospitality—“three hots and a cot.”
Inside his room in Barret’s cabin, the stranger takes his shirt to wash his face. Barret catches a glimpse of his back, which bears six marks looking like gunshot wound scars. How did he survive this?
The stranger comes dressed for dinner in a preacher’s clothing. Everyone calls him “Preacher” after that. After a tour of the camp in the morning and assurances that Barret’s claim is legal, that the other miner is trying to run him off, he asks Barret to put him to work.
Thoughts:
The “pale rider” refers to one of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse, death. This is reinforced by Megan reading the Bible passage in question to her mother just as Barret brings the Preacher to the camp. “Now fetch me butter and syrup,” Mrs. Wheeler says.
The body count is quite high in this flick. Preacher barely works up a sweat. At times, he seems almost to teleport. In one scene, he sits atop his horse while a train passes between him and the viewer. Once the train passes from view, only empty plains remain.
Who is the Preacher? The viewer receives some answers by the end of the movie, but not all.
While the Preacher gets to utter some cute, pithy sayings, one of the best scenes goes to Megan. As she’s burying Lindsey, she recites Psalm 23 but adds her own thoughts along the way:
“’The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want’—But I do want. ‘He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul’—But they killed my dog. ‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil’—But I am afraid. ‘Thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me’—We need a miracle. ‘Thy loving kindness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life’—If you exist. ‘And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever’—But I’d like to get more of this life first. If you don’t help us, we’re all gonna die. Please. Just one miracle. Amen.”
This is a traditional Western. A hero comes by to help save a little guy from a rich guy who has corrupted all authority in town. The supernatural elements, which are never completely explained, are a new twist on an old story. Is Preacher the miracle Megan prayed for? Is he something else? Is he really a preacher? Maybe he’s a reformed gunslinger? Maybe he’s a ghost?
Coy LaHood (Richard Dysart ), the miner trying to run the group off their claim, is disappointed to hear there’s a man of faith with the “tin-pans,” as the bad guys contemptuously refer to our heroes. A man of faith can give them faith and bind them together. He tries to bribe, corrupt, and intimidate Preacher.
Preacher doesn’t save the day in the old-fashioned way. He has his own score to settle, one that perhaps involves the six scars on his back. He offers help, but it is up to the miners to take care of themselves.
Preacher tells him that a man can’t serve God and Mamon and adds, “Mamon being money.”
I don’t know why the line struck me so funny. I doubt anyone intended it such. It seemed so out of place, aimed more at an audience who hadn’t been to Sunday school in a while, if at all.
The big fly in the ointment for me about the movie was women, including underage Megan Wheeler, throwing themselves at Preacher. To his credit, he declines all offers, but what on earth is the attraction—outside of novelty? ICK
There is a good deal of violence in this—some of it rather graphic—including a lot of death and an attempted rape. I’m guessing that the latter is responsible for the movie’s “R” rating. There is no sex, and if there is any nudity, it was too brief for me to notice.
The Western Writers of America awarded the 1986 Spur Award to the movie for Best Screenplay. I agree; this is one of the more intriguing movies I’ve seen in a long time. Sydney Penny received a 1986 Exceptional Performance by a Young Actress – Motion Picture for her portrayal of Megan Wheeler. The film was 1985 a nominee for Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival.
While I generally don’t like Westerns, I enjoyed this movie. It left a lot for the viewer to interpret, even with the “Mamon being money” line.
Title: Pale Rider (1985)
Directed by Clint Eastwood
Writing Credits Michael Butler…(written by) & Dennis Shryack…(written by)
Cast (in credits order) Clint Eastwood…Preacher Michael Moriarty…Hull Barret Carrie Snodgress…Sarah Wheeler Chris Penn…Josh LaHood (as Christopher Penn) Richard Dysart…Coy LaHood Sydney Penny…Megan Wheeler
Released: 1985 Rated: R Length: 1 hour, 55 minutes
The Stuff: The author wishes to portray Roman culture and character based on the writings of Roman poets and playwrights. Despite her awareness that this strategy leaves out vast swaths of the Roman world, including women, slaves, artisans, and the disadvantaged, she confines her study to the lettered, leisured male.
Proceeding roughly chronologically, she begins with two early comedic playwrights, Plautus and Terence. Never heard of them? Never fear.
“The comedy of each age,” Hamilton writes, “holds up a mirror to the people of that age.”
I hope that two thousand years from now, sociologists/historians don’t watch sitcoms and think they have anything to do with the reality of the present day.
She discusses Cicero at length, Horace’s odes to the good life, the tortured love poetry of Catullus for his ”Lesbia,” and Juvenal’s biting Satires.
Of course, this is not everything, but these are the long poles in the tent.
Thoughts:
Using these, and other writings, particularly of the Stoics, Hamilton compares and contrasts the Roman character with the Greek. Both fought many wars. In Greek literature, no one wants to die—fair enough. Romans, on the other hand, are all too willing to die. No Greek would have written anything like “Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori” (“Sweet and fitting it is to die for one’s country.”), but the Roman Horace did.
Another topic she discusses at length is the differences between the “classic” and the “romantic” Romans. The classic Romans adhere to facts and measurable things. The romantic Romans indulge in the poetic and the not-quite-so-literally-true.
Hamilton acknowledges that Rome was at war for most of its existence and indulged in the games, where condemned people or professionals were killed for public amusement. One of Rome’s great legacies is law and a sense of justice.
“The little town on the seven hills conquered the other little towns around because her citizens could obey orders,” Hamilton writes.
…maybe.
It is tough for me to recommend this or pitch against the wall. I enjoyed reading this. There is a lot of good information, and the quick survey of centuries of Latin literature was engaging. Still, I can’t get around Hamilton’s outdated thinking and conclusions.
So. A conditional recommendation. If you’re interested in classical literature, yes. And take Hamilton’s musings cum grānō salis (with a grain of salt).
Bio: Edith Hamilton (1867-1963) was an American classist and educator specializing in the teaching of Latin. Her books, especially The Greek Way and The Roman Way, popularized classical culture. They were written in a style easily accessible to the everyday reader.
Title: The Roman Way Author: Edith Hamilton (1867-1963) First published: 1932
This was an enjoyable Saturday night pizza and bad movie flick for more reasons than no ghoulies popped out of a toilet. It was an old-fashioned haunted house story about the ghosts of those who have taken the lifetime squabbles beyond the grave and aren’t too concerned about who gets hurt.
Plot:
While on vacation on the Devonshire Coast in 1937, brother and sister Roderick and Pamela Fitzgerald (Ray Milland and Ruth Hussey) come across an empty house that reminds them of their childhood home. On the spur of the moment, they decide to buy it.
They first meet the owner’s granddaughter, Stella Meredith (Gail Russell), who welcomes them until they tell her they want to buy the old house known as Windward. She assures them it’s not for sale and practically kicks them out.
The owner, Commander Beech (Donald Crisp), arrives and proves only too happy to sell them the house for well below what it’s worth. He mentions “disturbances” tenants have complained about.
Roderick and Pamela brush off the ghost stories.
Now that they have keys, Rod and Pam unlock a room at the top of the house and find a painter’s studio, with a skylight and large windows to a view of the sea below. Rod, a music critic, decides he can use the room to compose. Both he and Pam feel uncomfortable in the empty room, however, and leave.
Rod runs across Stella in town. She tells him that she’s now happy he and Pam are in the house. Her mother would not want her to resent them. Rod knows that Stella’s mother is long deceased. Stella clarified that she has a portrait of her mother. He invites her to go boating rather than run errands for her grandfather.
He is clearly infatuated with her and invites her to dinner in a few weeks once he returns from London and everything is settled at the house. She happily agrees.
When Rod returns with their maid Lizzie Flynn (Barbara Everest), he’s pleased with what his sister has done with the house, but their dog has run off. The dog wouldn’t stay in the place.
In the middle of the night, he hears a woman crying. He gets up. Pam meets him. She says it happens frequently and ends at dawn. She’s never been able to find anything.
After the goings-on, Lizzie Flynn packs her bags and her cat, Whiskey. She will not stay another night in the house.
Thoughts:
This was originally a novel written by Dorothy Macardle. It is moody, gothic, and also funny, with beautiful scenes of the coast. I don’t know how closely the movie adheres to the book.
The house itself is lovely. Anyone could see why an artist (Stella’s father) or a composer like Rod would like it. The studio is lit by natural light—which is good because the house has no electricity.
The commander wishes to protect Stella. He sees malignant forces in the house wishing her ill. Stella is not convinced, believing the house haunted by the presence of the mother who loved her and died by falling off a cliff when she herself was only three. She will not be frightened and goes to dinner at Windward with the Fitzgeralds.
Things are not quite as they seem, of course. While the mystery becomes easy enough to see through, this old-fashioned haunted house flick was engaging and fun. Not all of it made sense. The question of why the studio was such an uncomfortable place is never answered. Perhaps it is in the book.
I liked it.
The film was a 1945 Oscar Nominee for Best Cinematography, Black-and-White.
I could not find it for free download. It is available on YouTube to rent or purchase.
There is a 2009 film by the same name, but is doesn’t appear to be anything like this one.
Title: The Uninvited (1944)
Directed by Lewis Allen
Writing Credits Dodie Smith…(screen play) and Frank Partos…(screen play) Dorothy Macardle…(novel)
Cast (in credits order) Ray Milland…Roderick Fitzgerald Ruth Hussey…Pamela Fitzgerald Donald Crisp…Cmdr. Beech Cornelia Otis Skinner…Miss Holloway Dorothy Stickney…Miss Bird Barbara Everest…Lizzie Flynn
This is a memoir/autobiography by American journalist Linda Ellerbee, covering her years in television up till the mid-80s. She describes her times as a Washington correspondent for NBC and an anchor on a late-news magazine program called Overnight, among other things.
She discusses little of her private life but focuses on the professional. Amusing and irreverent little vignettes fill the narrative. The opening lines set the tone for much of what follows:
I wouldn’t mind writing one of those books about the good old days—how I went out into the land and committed journalism, covering the important stories, every one of them, everywhere, better than anyone—but the thing about lying is that unless you’re a political candidate or a network vice president, you’ve got to set yourself some limits and hold fast.
She further states that the book isn’t about television news.
“All I mean to do here is to tell a few good stories.”
Thoughts:
This is the first of Ellerbee’s three memoirs/autobiographies. It takes place before she contracted breast cancer and became a patient advocate. She is about forty at the end of the book.
Ellerbee confesses to mistakes, some of which are amusing in themselves, even if she suffers rather drastic consequences for them. One that stands out early in the book is what she refers to as “the Letter.”
In 1972, the Dallas AP where she worked had just purchased some spiffy new word-processing equipment. Ellerbee wrote a “chatty” letter to a friend that contained juicy gossip. She did NOT hit “send,” which would have sent the potentially libelous letter out over the AP network. She printed it out to mail to her friend. However, she did not erase it but sent it to a holding queue.
The next morning, AP showed off its spiffy new word-processing equipment to people from NASA and other places. Someone saw her letter ready to send and sent it out over the AP network.
“I was fired,” Ellerbee writes, “only because the AP legal department told them it was absolutely against the law to shoot me no matter how good an idea it might be.”
What arises from these stories, however, is a profoundly cynical worldview. Ellerbee admits she got into journalism because, alone and with two children to care for, she needed money. There was no “calling,” per se. Needing money is a powerful motivator, IMHO, particularly if you have children depending on you. That doesn’t mean you view your job with any less professionalism.
Some of her stories are great. The book is entertaining. I wish it left me feeling a little less like I’d read a noir novel, however.
Title: “And So It Goes”: Adventures in Television Author: Linda Ellerbee First published: 1986
We’re still on delayed viewing with Svengoolie because of our bout of Covid. I’m enjoying it—the delayed viewing. Covid was wretched. We zip through commercials and get to choose an earlier start time, which leads, of course, to an earlier bedtime. There is indeed a silver lining to every cloud.
And then there’s this movie…
Plot:
A priest (Anthony Dawson) runs through the woods carrying a bag with something squirming inside. Three men in red robes—could they be Satan-worshippers?—chase him. The priest breaks the glass on a door in a closed car repair place and ducks inside. The three Satan-worshippers run by, look in, and decide no one is around. He notices a frothing open barrel marked “TOXIC.” All the cool car repair places have them, so they say.
The priest thanks God for the opportunity to destroy demons and dumps his bag’s contents into the barrel. Out of nowhere, a flying demon knocks him into the barrel.
In the meantime, our hero Larry (Damon Martin) is driving with his soused Uncle Ned (Royal Dano). The radiator in their truck needs water. Larry uses the CB to call ahead to the carnival where they’re headed to let them know they’re having mechanical difficulties and may be late.
Uncle Ned and Larry run the “Satan’s Den” house of horrors at the carnival. Their truck has a banner to this effect, complete with drawings of horrors and some goofy-looking things that bear a striking resemblance to the ghoulies.
Of all the repair joints in all the towns in the world, Uncle Ned and Larry pull into the one where the demons are swimming in toxic waste. The hair on one demon is dry. A red-tinted human skull floated with them.
After ascertaining that the place is closed, Larry gets water. Uncle Ned walks around. The ghoulies/demons break the lock in the back of the truck and move in. They’re going to the carnivals.
The next day, little person Sir Nigel Penneyweight (Phil Fondacaro) works at the carnival gate as P. Hardin (J. Downing) drives up. Sir Nigel is an actor who quotes Shakespeare. Hardin is a member of the family who owns the carnival—and the business accountant. He wants to meet everyone and tell them that if they don’t start bringing in the receipts, he’s going to let them go, and that includes Satan’s Den.
Yeah, bad guy.
Thoughts:
This movie had nothing to do with the first in plot or characters. One could easily understand it without having watched part one. Or, one could easily go about the day without watching either.
As soon as they set up shop in Satan’s Den, the ghoulies murder one of the dancers, Patty (Ames Morton). Patty thinks she hears her lost cat, Muffy, meowing in Satan’s Den. It is a cat (?) ghoulie. The ghoulies dress Patty up to look like a prop mummy.
This follows one of the many tacky exchanges of dialogue.
Patty: Have you seen my little Muffy? Zampano, the strong man (Romano Puppo): Who hasn’t? Patty: I mean my kitten, musclehead!
Muffy’s fate is never discussed.
It’s all fun and games, of course. The kids who go to the House of Horrors take the ghoulies for props and think they’re cool. They tell their friends. One spoilsport gets upset when a ghoulie breaks his boom box (“My tunes!”). The ghoulies vomit on people. I guess they must have seen The Exorcist.
I laughed once throughout the whole movie. A ghoulie was at the shooting gallery, shooting at two other ghoulies who were ducking between the various targets. It was just goofy. A shortened version is in the trailer, so if you’ve seen the trailer, you’ve seen (IMHO) the best part of the movie.
The big improvement over the first movie is that the ghoulies appear for a while as stop-action figures in addition to puppets. The writers give the viewer some less-than-credible character development. And, of course, the evil green baby ghoulie crawls out of a toilet, much to the detriment of a deserving individual.
We get hints of a sequel—which I’m not going to watch.
Altogether, I can’t say I enjoyed this movie. It wasn’t as much mean-spirited—though there was a bit of that—as it was just empty.
I couldn’t find it available for free download. You have to pay to see this turkey. I advise buying yourself a cup of coffee and reading a book you enjoy.
Title: Ghoulies II (1987)
Directed by Albert Band
Writing Credits Charlie Dolan…(story) Dennis Paoli…(screenplay) Luca Bercovici…(characters) (uncredited)
Cast (in credits order) Damon Martin…Larry Royal Dano…Uncle Ned Phil Fondacaro…Sir Nigel Penneyweight J. Downing…P. Hardin Kerry Remsen…Nicole
Reviews of Old and New Stories. Mostly Old 