One of the funniest (if not THE funniest) movies I have ever seen was released in 1971 and is called “A New Leaf”. Elaine May wrote the screenplay, directed, and starred opposite Walter Matthau. It’s about a vain, aging, trust fund bachelor, who runs out of money, and the plan he devises to avoid destitution is to marry a rich woman and murder her to acquire her wealth.
I know. It sounds awful. And if the character of Henry Graham (played to absolute perfection by Matthau) had been written by anyone other than Elaine May, the audience would most likely have only seen a terrible human being plotting horrific things. However, in May’s masterful hands, the audience gets to watch a terrible human being plot horrific things- who is also, very, very funny.
Other than writing and starring in one of my favorite movies of all time, I knew virtually nothing else about Elaine May. I did not know that she and Mike Nichols practically invented what we now know as “Improv”. I did not know that Second City and Saturday Night Live were incubated in that early work that she and Nichols created. And even though the writing is by far the most brilliant thing about “A New Leaf” – a film full of brilliant things – May’s most enduring reputation is as a “script doctor”. Having trouble with your multi-million-dollar screenplay? Call Elaine May. If she likes you, if she agrees to help you, she’ll fix your story and make it 1,000 times better than you could have hoped for.
I won’t go into the complicated backstory of May’s personal life, but Courogen mines all available sources to paint as complete a picture as she can of someone who is famously, pathologically elusive. What we’re left with to admire is a woman who knows her worth and stands her ground even when it costs her. A loyal friend, a generous and supportive mentor of other artists, and someone who only gets labeled “difficult” when she challenges the men who are in charge.
She is the GOAT in a category that most people aren’t even aware exists, and that’s probably just how she likes it.
It’s been a while since I’ve read a book straight through. I started this on a Wednesday afternoon and finished around 2am the next day because I just could not put it down.
What I appreciated the most, the thing I found most compelling, is that Cook, in her careful and thorough reporting, treats her subjects with a compassion and dignity that some people might not think they deserve. Often, our first reaction to people who find themselves caught up in these types of “fringe” movements, is to call them crazy and congratulate ourselves for being smart enough to know better.
Cook never refers to anyone as crazy. In fact, she does an excellent job of showing us how an otherwise smart, rational, “normal” person can get swept up in this type of thinking. She explains how it isn’t so much the things they believe as much as how being a part of these things makes them feel that can be as addicting as drugs or alcohol. How loneliness, wanting to feel important and part of something bigger than yourself also plays a role.
On the other hand, there is the damage. Cook does not sugar coat the pain and despair experienced by the people who can only stand by helplessly as they watch the people they love become complete strangers, consumed by the conspiracy theories and misinformation.
It is not a light read, but in my opinion, it is worth your time, especially if you’ve ever had to navigate any kind of profound change or shift in a primary relationship. If nothing else, it does what all important books do – it helps you know you’re not alone.
Occasionally, I attempt to read books that claim to offer inspiration and practical advice for writers. With the exception of Stephen King’s “On Writing” (“The road to Hell is paved with adverbs” just might be the greatest quote in the history of literature) I usually find them hard to swallow.
There are a couple of reasons for this.
I tend to get a bit queasy whenever I try to even sneak up on the presumption that I might be a “writer”. I am not a writer. I am a person without a formal education of any kind, who has no experience whatsoever due to a total lack of effort and complete ignorance of the profession. I have always felt that I don’t have permission to call myself, or even think of myself as a writer. I mean, the nerve…
And so, for the reasons stated above, whenever I do read all of those helpful tips – “creating an outline for your novel”, “how to flesh out a backstory for your main characters”, the benefits of sticking to a “schedule” and “committing” to a pre-determined word count every day, “how to write blog posts that will attract the maximum number of Google-searching eyeballs”- none of it ever feels like anything that I can realistically relate to. It just adds up to more reasons to not bother.
I did not have high hopes for “1000 Words”. The title alone seemed like too much pressure. But I kept running into rave reviews that were so consistently effusive I ignored my usual resistance and gave it a shot. To say I’m happy I did is like saying it’s nice to have indoor plumbing.
For one thing, it isn’t really an advice book. In fact, the point is made more than once that most advice doled out about writing, while well meaning, is usually terrible. What works for you, may not necessarily work for me. Human beings and their highly complex brains are so unique that no one can tell you what your best method for harnessing and taming your special brand of creativity is going to be. You’re going to have to figure that out for yourself.
However, Jami Attenberg has done a beautiful job of curating a wide variety of complex and creative brains, including her own, to share some of their personal methods. Not as a “How-To”, but more as a “Me-Too”, which I found to be far more helpful. The book features many writers, some that I recognized, many I did not, telling the truth about how hard it is (even for the professionals) to sit down and force themselves to write. The procrastination, the lack of self-discipline, the crippling and terrifying writers block, the desire to do – anything – other than what they are supposed to do, what they are sometimes contracted to do, because writing is often no different than torture, and besides, what makes them think they are even qualified to do this in the first place?
And then there is the great revelation. If you write – whether or not you do it for a living, whether or not you have an MFA, whether or not you have a degree at all, whether or not you’ve ever been published, whether or not you’re trying to get published, whether or not you just do it for yourself, whether or not you’re even any good – you are a writer. And you don’t need anyone’s permission to own that.
Writing can be exceptionally hard. But after reading “1000 Words”, I’ve crawled out on the other side feeling, maybe for the first time, like I might actually be able to do it. As long as I avoid those adverbs.