Stephen: Thank you, thank you, thank you and "Spooky"

**Ford Prefect** · November 30th, 2011

Pt. 1: Thank you

Stephen, mine's a likely somewhat different story than many of the other gushing and wannabe writers here (however, my story is not better, to be clear).

I'm on book number six. Additionally, I'm on my eighth screenplay (could be ninth. Maybe tenth?). That said, I've been writing for about twenty-five years. I was banging out short-stories in my twenties until I got into a bit of a row with a fellah named Kim Mohan (I believe that's right) and when the dust settled, I realized what a fool I was... and sort of shunned the format for a decade or so.

Finally, I'm a writer for a network television program (It's not fiction, as I would prefer, but not all 'truth' either (You'll have to trust me that this is a mildly clever joke, which I can take more credit for cleverness than due to me since I've not had to explain the context)).

In the spirit of brevity, I won't plug this post up with the rest of the resume (read: life story) but it's been fun, odd, exhilarating, terrifying, soul-crushing and sometimes smelled a little funny.

That said, I've never given up the fiction writing. I had one agent, some years ago, and it was a terrible relationship. He was very old, possibly dead without anyone willing to break the news to him, and I was eager. That clash, and many other small bits added up to a byte, and we split.

In the literary desert, I've been lost, hauling my greasy, gray sack of books and scripts (the short stories I'd set alight to keep warm some time ago), every now and then finishing another and tossing it back there. Not to belabor the analogy but it's gotten heavy, man. Really heavy.

My ex-mother-in-law (the mother of my ex-wife, I'm unsure if that's not the correct term) gave me your book ON WRITING for birthday some years ago. She got me many books on writing over the years. I suppose it was a little like when some cousin or great aunt finds out you like golf, so every birthday you get tees, or fuzzy ball covers in the shape of some cartoon character whose show hasn't aired in several years.

Unbeknownst to her, I threw each of these books away, seeing it more as an insult than a kindness. "Me, I know how to write!" But for whatever reason, yours ended up in moving boxes as I headed, over the years, to the next three or four cities I'd call briefly home.

I had a week off, beginning this week, but last week needed a reason for the people who surround me to leave me the **** alone for an hour or so. Decompress. "Ah! A writing book. They have to leave me alone, now."

Okay, trying like hell not to gush. And to honest I wasn't your biggest fan before I picked up the book. But I'm in my forties, a full-time writer and was, I can tell only you, about one diet soda away from flicking my wrist and turning my ten year old car into the cement of an interstate overpass pylon (with hopes of maybe snarling traffic in a serious way (but not hurting anyone else), going out with a bang, baby!)

Within about a half hour of picking up your book, I was trying hard to stop my eyes from watering. I then flipped to the second half, the "writing" bit. Within and hour, I was sniffling and clutching your book ON WRITING like a drowning man on an ocean planet, who'd lucked upon a thick piece of driftwood.

After 25 years of writing, you've helped transform me in about ten days. What moved me so much, moved me to tears was you were so, so painfully honest. I heard you saying, "I'm writing this NOT to impress my writing friends, NOT to impress you the reader. I'm being brutally fking honest because it's important!"

Recently, the beginning of my sixth book was read by an significant agent who showed me a lot of kindness and affection. He encouraged me to give the story another go but until I read the raw-nerve honesty of your book, I was lost in what to do.

I know now. I know more than anything else I've ever done. And I know it's going to be published; my first novel to get there. There is no doubt.

The trouble was with the "plot" (something I'm not terribly fond of either), and I couldn't or wouldn't fix that element because the damn plot messes with my characters. And they can be, seriously, unforgiving. You said something that stuck, and that I believe-- it's story, not plot. Paraphrasing: plot can be contrived, man behind the curtain crap. Story? I can do story.

Of course, that's too simple. And no amount of I-don't-care-how-it-looks gushing will ever convey my gratitude for how brave you were to write that book. And how you saved a drowning man.

Thank you. Thank you, thank you.

Pt. 2: Spooky

So I don't come across as a pitiful sycophant, one note from the book I wanted to address.

You talk about how the characters talk to you and how that's "spooky," and it is indeed. And how others who may hear you say this (writers and non-writers), unless it's been experienced, will think you're a little nuts.

It's different for everyone but, after a couple chapters, my characters move beyond the spooky and kind of take over the book. No, no-- I'm not hearing voices and the neighbor's cat is not chiding me to kill the handyman (alas, she is no fan one of the neighbor boys, it seems)... but the best part of writing, I think, is when you're just transcribing. When you are plugged into something, don't know what it is, and don't wanna ask, but it just floooooowwws like a living spirit. That's ecstasy.

So, me, I do it all for the spooky, Stephen. If you ever tackle "writing" again-- in print or at a seminar, I'd love to hear more about the spooky.

And, thanks again. I really mean that.

R