Some Thoughts on Writing

Some Thoughts on Writing…

I am not a writer.

When I was three I was a parrot. In fact, it is still a running joke in my family.

My grandparents were convinced that I was a prodigy because I could memorize  Golden Story Books and I knew when to turn the page; they thought I was reading. My dad would have to tell them, “No. My child is just a parrot.”

I am a good mimicker. I can easily adapt to other forms of writing (and apparently co-opt forms of writing) either consciously or unconsciously. As someone who critiques very, very amateur writing for a living I often have to emphasize the concept that “more is more”, because no one abuses language like a non-writer.

For my peers who aspire to be writers and have asked for my very small opinion on writing I usually have to use the phrase “Use your words like a scalpel, not a hammer”, because nobody abuses language like a writer.

For my own narrative I might as well adopt the phrase “I’m not a doctor, but I play one on TV”.  I am not a writer, but I write.

I have a large but limited lexicon and most of the time it does not translate well to written form because I do not enjoy writing the way I speak to the world. I write the way that I speak to people, and there is a difference.

My personal library has shrunk to a depressing state since I moved to a new state (ba dum pum. I love puns, by the way). I have the privilege of shopping for new books and I spend my New York money on a New York past time: reading on the subway. I read more in a week than I did in six months when I was driving everywhere. It’s amazing how much you can read in 18 minutes and six subway stops. Here’s how much of a book nerd I have advanced to in record time:

I was studying in Washington Square Park the other day and a guy approaches me.

Guy: Hi there. I work for Time Out New York (hip magazine) and I am doing a piece on the best places to pick people up within the city. What do you think is the best place to pick people up?

Me: …

Guy: Take your time.

Me: Can I see some ID? (Not a joke; I actually made him show me his press pass and two forms of identification.)

Mental process: Now I have to actually think of a place where people pick up strangers…

AS IF I KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT PICKING UP STRANGERS. Do I look like some floosy? Who does this guy think I AM? I am wearing GAP jeans and I have a sweater on from the outlet mall.

Crap. I need a good answer. THIS GUY THINKS I AM CAPABLE OF PICKING UP STRANGERS!!!

[Note: I went from being threatened to insulted to flattered in a matter of seconds.]

Me: Well… I guess The Strand. Huge used bookstore off of Broadway….

You get the idea. I was actually able to save the answer to sounding halfway knowledgeable on where people pick up…other people in random locations in a city where the next best thing is right around the corner. They even called to fact check me, but I never confirmed my response. Sadly, my name will never be in print as “The Woman Who is Responsible for Romance in the Romance Section”. (Another pun, you say? Don’t mind if I do!)

Lately I have been reading so much Nora Ephron that I subconsciously stole a format of hers in my last blog. Just the format, not the writing. I read it MONTHS ago. I hadn’t looked at it since July and yet her writing totally entered my grey matter and transposed itself onto my MacBook.

I adore her writing and few things have made me sadder in recent readings and reviews than knowing I will never get to meet her. I also know that she was someone who tried on many hats and styles before she found her own, so perhaps she would forgive my ineptitude for finding my own yet.

If you haven’t read her work, you should start today. Nora Ephron makes me laugh until I cry and she has some pretty remarkable, simple but stylish, thoughtful and thought-provoking things to say about life and romance and this city and all of the little things that have brought you to wherever you are sitting as you read her books.

So read Nora Ephron and remember that her books can be found at The Strand where you might find the love of your life according to an anonymous source in Time Out Magazine (Online version [Did not get asked for the print version. Bollocks.]) But even if you don’t find romance in the romance section, you will enjoy her books just the same.

And each chapter can be read in exactly 18 minutes and six subway stops.