Ask a Writer

Lately I’ve been pondering my brain as a possible staging area for a variety of special effects ranging from low-watt headaches to the audial illusion of cicadas shrilling outside (in January?), to this rumored substance that’s said to gum up the neural networks, that is variously referred to as plaque, amyloids, and alpha synucleins, and is suspected of causing or abetting Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s, Lewy Body dementia, diminishing executive function. the squandering of time, and (why not throw the book at it?) the whole erosive process of aging.

Arrayed against this crew of sludgehammers is a wannabe hero, age 73, with a waning reserve of energy and a quixotic plan relying on luck, faith, and magical thinking. That Igorish commando is me, the Writer, picking my way through a minefield of words and ideas, while brandishing my color-coded graph-ruled notebooks and wondering alternately, Am I saying anything useful? and What if writing is all I’ve got?  Outrageous! Alarming! Courageous! Charming! —to borrow Randy Newman’s lyric from “Simon Smith and His Amazing Dancing Bear” Yes, I brandish and borrow like a Brando contender, showing off, getting distracted from writing  in preference for listening to Randy Newman’s song, which pulls me deeper into youTube plaque (Steve Martin’s “King Tut,” Brian Wilson, the Beatles, Linda Ronstadt, etc). Then maybe I’ll stumble onto something like “sludgehammers” and all is well.

 Pay attention to the humbug behind the curtain. It’s me, posing as a brain expert who’s posing as a warrior who’s looking for a conduit to explain just how writing works. (Wait. You don’t know?) (Let’s just say it’s elusive. I figured creativity starts with the brain, so I thought l’d borrow and brandish a little neuro-authority and throw around the amyloid reference for cover.) (I think this is not exactly filling me with confidence in your credentials, bro.) (Stick with me, parenthetical pal. I need an ally).  (But do you? The title of this piece,“Ask a writer” You wrote that, I assume? ) (Yes.) (And therefore the writer you are referring to must surely be you! So ask yourselfI what’s the big mystery about writing? As you suggested earlier , writing is words expressing ideas, no more, no less.) (I guess so.Maybe it’s a Parkinsonian thing. Fear of falling. I need to feel safe. In fact, I was going to ask you, other self: can we share the same pair of parentheses? Seeing how we have the same parent, he sez. See what I did there? Parent-he-sez? —Yeah. clever. Here’s another one.”If you flaunt it, make sure you’ve got it.” Usually it’s the other way around. But seriously, don’t worry about losing the knack.Assume you’re capable. Assuming is a writer’s power. You can even assume you’re not alone, that writing is the craft of a crew of carpenters. In fact, there was an old TV show in the 1960s called “I’m Dickens, He’s Fenster,” about a pair of carpenters, played by John Astin and Marty Ingels. Of course, the true craft on display wasn’t carpentry, but writing. And the title of that show could have been, “I’m Ideas, He’s Words.”” Close parentheses!)

Idears and Words

Fraught with peril but as enticing as high tea with scones, butter cakes, and cookies,. And three kinds of tea, all favorites—assam, oolong, lapsang-souchong…. I know, I probably overdid that high tea metaphor. But hey, give me credit for canceling the cream pies. Words can get you into trouble, no doubt. But they’re also undoubtedly toothsome and habit-forming. (Who uses toothsome anymore? And why cookies and not biscuits?) Don’t get stuck in word plaque, Fenster! Naw, words know the joy I take in their infinite multiplicity.Or variety. Or verbosity. Even if I‘m constantly overruling myself about my choices. Words matter. WORDS ARE FUN. (Cap lock error, but stet it) And words are a puzzle-setter’s holiday compared to the serious decisions, the big-time adult-table choosing of ideas (until words start to edit them to smithereens) But let me not imply, or invite an inference, that Dickens and Fenster—or Ideas and Words—are on opposite sides in a writers’ civil war. Not so. Aren’t they playing nice now? Just please don’t bring up the Question. 

Okay, fine, let’s assume there’s an amnesty. Go for it. The Question, asked of writers through ignorance and innocence since Hector was a pupil, is: WHERE DO YOU GET YOUR IDEAS? Not even “How do you get your ideas?” which would make more sense. But “Where…?” as if ideas regularly crawl in from interesting, arcane, recondite sources, such as a magical gargoyle, a giggling maiden, a gifted mynah bird, a gift horse mind reader, and Celeste goes on, It’s odd that no one ever seems to ask a writer, “How do you choose your words?” Am I the only one who finds that strange? asks Fenster. Not to compete with my grown-up table colleague or anything. 

Naw,a writer needs both ideas and words in healthy rapport as well as healthy friction, and usually that collaboration starts with an idea: a staging area inspired by the brain, planned from seeds and sparks, and built with words. But a word can spark an idea. Or the sparks arc back and forth from Dickens to Fenster and Fenster to Dickens.

“Write Anyway”

Here’s an idea I had recently. Write anyway. Despite the outrageous & alarming slings and arrows I hurl obstacularly in my way, Despite the hisses and boos disguised as ideas but are actually Mr. Hyd/eas, as in Dr. Jekyll’s hidden foil. (BOTCHED THAT ONE! sneers Hyde, Or it could also be “Write any way.” Which grants you permission to write in any manner or mode, such as that dialogue between the two parenthetical voices to cut the cleverness with a little wisdom. Or sprinkle in obscure cultural references like “I’m Dickens, He’s Fenster” and justify it by using them as metaphors for Words and Ideas.(Actually, I thought that was pretty resourceful.) But allowing oneself the liberty of a particular writing style is more like a Word choice. Whereas “Write anyway” is an idea with broad, even universal, application.Designed to combat obstructive thinking. It would make a good wall motto. Or a plaque—the good wooden kind: WRITE ANYWAY! Dickens, you’re hired.

Next: A word can be an idea? Granted.