Being a writer has a lot of perks. One of them is everyone around thinks of you as rather a wizard. There’s something magical about writing to those who don’t. And here you are, making up all this stuff that goes on for chapters and chapters. Then wham! You have a novel, complete sentences and all. Impressive stuff.
There is a drawback, however. Whatever we write, we try to do it to the best of our ability. That works fine for a novel, short story, eulogy, or speech about water rights. When it comes to how many quarts of milk we need or should we have spaghetti or fish for dinner, it’s another matter. Just how eloquent should you be on a grocery list? But we try. How we try. We can’t let our readers down, even if they are only the cats, who in my case, think I’m overrated, anyway.
Speaking of quarts of milk, that reminds me of the writer, Scott Turow. I remember him giving an interview years ago and telling a wonderful story. His wife asked him to write a note to the milkman about cancelling a future delivery. Remember when we had those? People who delivered one thing to your home at no extra monthly cost to you? Now, of course, there is Safeway, Nob Hill, and Walmart delivering the whole kit and kaboodle for a fee. From bathing suits to prescriptions to food. One Stop Shopping without having to stop and shop. Sometimes the milk is warm, the eggs are cracked, and they’ve thrown in baby wipes which I didn’t order, but nobody’s perfect.
But I digress. Back to Scott Turow, his wife, and the milkman. After an hour, his wife appeared at Turow’s desk and seized the scratched-out paper he labored upon. She sat down and scribbled, hold the milk on Thursday. Thanks. Then she got up and taped it to the front door.
As Mr. Turow was speaking to a room full of writers, his story not only got a big guffaw, but a round of applause. Nobody knows better than we do how the search for the perfect word becomes all encompassing. And how long it takes to find that word matters not. We are writers and that’s our job.
I tell people repeatedly when I give a lecture or speak to a book club, that what we do isn’t smoke and mirrors. It’s like tennis. The more you practice, the better you get. Yes, you have to have a certain amount of talent, but what it really takes is hard work, tenacity, and joy.
Joy is a definite perk. No matter what’s going on in the world out there or in my world at home, when I sit down to write, I am taken to a place I want to be.
Hmmm. In a way, that is magical.
Ladies of Mystery 