Mac Speakers’ Series
2011 “So He Thinks He’s a Writer”
It always happens this way..someone asks me to come speak about writing, I say…sure, I write so I guess I know how. Then it comes time to prepare some notes and I think, “Heck, I don’t know what I’m doing.”
If you do a heart transplant then tomorrow you’re asked to perform another, you at least have some idea of how to do it again. You know where they put it. But writing…the sort I do…is so very varied, that one day’s task seldom resembles the next.
Newspaper column….a play….a feature story…a ten-minute skit… a musical…a radio commercial….a TV commercial.
I’m not going to lead you through my writing career step by step, but I will read you the first thing I ever got published…8th grade, Perry Grade School newspaper.
The Boy with the Firefly Eyes
To the boy with the firefly eyes we said, “Boy.. with the firefly eyes. You shore can, yes you shore can catch them fireflies whether on or off those lights would go that boy would catch them high or low to the ground don’t you know that boy was fast!” Now fire----flies… the strange little things, Don’t come out in the day But they come out at that peculiar time When the light’s just fadin’ away
And you won’t find that firefly bug in a mug or a rug or your grandpa’s jug or anywhere else it seems. And you gotta grab fast or the light won’t last and the firefly’ll get away clean.
Oh, none could match his speed, he grace, and the way he caught those things. And in the firefly catchers club he was the absolute King. They’d go up and up he’d go! Fly low? He’d hit his knees… They’d whirl, he’d whirl…. They’d flash, he’d dash.. As easy as you please.
The trick he found, was to sit on the ground and pretend he wasn’t there Then just when Mr. lightening bug would glow he’d jump up in the air. And I’ll bet you think he killed ‘em when they were tryin’ to glow.. I gotta confess, he hated the mess and he always let ‘em go.
Still my proudest accomplishment…I beat out the two best spellers in my 8th-grade class.
I never intended to become a teacher, but needed money for mortuary school.
I never intended to become a playwright….James Brim.
I never intended to become a newspaper columnist… Hubberville Drippings
I never intended to write scripts for speech competition…then I saw the awful material that was available for kids to perform.
I never intended to work with a writing partner, then Rich McCoy… Bob Crowe.
I never intended to be here tonight but they said they needed to fill a night in the Jacksonville Speaks series.
A better title for tonight… I really didn’t intend any of this.
Monday Conversation Club Nov 97 Marcie Burrus
Mrs. Smith.. Perry 5th grade.. “Whatever you do….”
Made notes for a few weeks… kept looking for an order. I speak a great deal and I like order. Found there was none. So A few random thoughts on writing.
I’ve only recently considered myself as a writer. I still consider myself as a teacher who writes even though in some months I spend nearly as much time writing as I do in the classroom. I enjoy writing. Of all the things I do, I enjoy writing the most. I enjoy writing a play, more than I do producing it. I enjoy writing music more than listening to it. In my head, it’s perfect.
I would rather write than anything I know. Nothing more satisfying. . Audience response is nice, but…….Private shouts of joy which only my computer can hear are far better. Journal.. every day since 1969. Many shouts of joy in it.
I think the creative process is the most enjoyable experience in the world. I think it comes down to not a love of writing, but the joy of creating.
More than once I’ve sat enjoying the Alps or the Louvre or St. Basil’s cathedral, thinking…I can’t wait to get back to the hotel to write about this.
My fantasy.. small cabin in Wales or Ireland (no income tax for writers). Piano. Computer. Dog (never had one before). (I’d probably give him away, but I’d like to give it a try.) A wooden desk. No phone. Lots of books. Pump water. Problem: I can’t fix anything. I’d probably starve or freeze, or get bitten by the dog. But I’d like to give it a try.
This is unusual today. I’ve nearly stopped speaking on how to write. My answers are often unsatisfying. Spoke to writers conference at Sangamon State. Introduced me: I’d written over a hundred plays.. most produced author of school scripts in the US and my answer to “How do I write?” I don’t know. I pray and sweat and it comes.. Not satisfying for the PhD’s congregated there.
Me: IC prayer.. next day, call. Write plays. This doesn’t make a good how-to seminar on how to write.
The idea is the hardest part. Writing is easy. Thinking is hard.
A gift from God.. pure and simple. And. like all of God’s gifts, it takes one heck of a lot of work. Often Helen will call within minutes.
Chillocothe.. dead probably..
Publishing is a funny business. Iowa publishing company called: Banned in Indiana.. winning too many contests… Bob & I found the answer: Our answer… compiled into a play. Barnes & Noble declined to carry the first Coonridge book nationally.. too regional.. so we didn't inquire about the second. Logged into their Internet homepage last week.. Both are listed. Where’d they get ‘em? Bob: Don’t argue. Won the Associated Press Award… call from Springfield Journal Register. Then, “One of the best things we’ve ever read. However, too rural for our readers.”
Being published is dangerous. A Sermon Diary.
Give Genesis of Coonridge.. Hubberville..
I had to return to my family after 30 years to find out why I’m a writer. Recent family reunion… all telling stories of Perry 60 years ago. Storytellers. That’s why I believe we’re all writers. Some of you just haven’t begun yet.
The downside of being a writer: My mother once had her check questioned.. Freida Marie…. Judge a speech contest at a distance. Hard to get a break for signing autographs. My students hear this and think what’s the big deal. Two little boys at the urinal. A hundred miles away makes you a celebrity. But being an amateur celebrity has changed the way I look at all celebrities. I begin to wonder if they’re as stupid as I am. I think that maybe they are.
Newspaper column… a real temptation to write what you know will please. Angry lady from Chandlerville… writing about her drunken uncle, she thought. Crazy Aunt…. Brunhilda Liddy… Lady from J’ville. “My Aunt! You described her perfectly! She’s nuts!” Lutheran minister…. Christmas tree. Distraught man from Chapin… people keep driving out here looking for Coonridge. J. Peck in coffee shop. “I don’t read that !@#$.” He writes it. “I know it!” Two subjects which draw the most angry mail… Religion and politics.. “God may not be a Republican” letter from Senator from Virginia… “I’ve been waiting twenty years from someone to write that column.” My own hate fan-club in Peoria… Militia members.. Don’t like my remarks about equality of the races. My lawyer says they haven’t threatened my life, so I can’t do anything about them. My revenge I write them back… told them I was a black, Jewish, lady.
I write more. I write better. I write smarter. Formed a publishing company. Expect to be the largest supplier to schools in a few years. l It’s good to have a writing partner. Writing is a lonely life. Not sad. Not depressing.. just solitary. Never write together. He has the time and ambition to push my work and our work. First known only locally.. and Iowa publisher.. Now worldwide. (still haven’t figured out how to price our stuff in Yen and Kopecks)… Still have an accounts receivable in pounds from England. Bob is a good promoter. I am a recluse. Bob enjoys public performances. I usually dread them.
I don’t mind speaking here, but…..sometimes not great experience. IC Intro.. quiet.. the quicker start.. Recent speech to a civic club in Illinois. Planned to talk on travel. Little old lady. “Glad you’re here. I’m getting damned tired of all the travel speeches we’ve been hearing.”
Roger Ebert.
Around the World with Freida Marie Crump… Dedicated to Dr. Charles Frank… Illinois College. p. 73.
Close with first bit of writing I ever had published… Perry High School newspaper, I think. Questions?