Winchester Library
Oct 3, 2004
Thanks for having me… Questions when I’m done.
First theme: Mrs. Smith.. Perry 5th grade.. “Whatever you do….” --------I wrote anyway....I wrote about things like monsters and dragons, and space ships....Then I started writing about the people I grew up with Grandpa...2 fingers cut off 2 donkeys...1 bucked Aunt Lizzie into a tank of water Grandma...cutting chickens head off...backed her into a bush Sheep dragged me through the manure My dad...a clown..goes to parades...magic button...pants down
I’m not sure what you wanted me to speak about today, so I’ll take the advice of former student: Glenda… Thought you had to be really smart to write a book. When I’m finished perhaps you’ll think that you don’t have to be that smart.
The life of a writer. You may have read or seen my work and decided I am not a writer. If so, please busy yourself with the table decorations and try to make as little noise as possible.
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 a writer. Rather..a teacher who writes. I complained to my publisher once that I still don’t consider myself a writer.. He asked What Do You Like to Do Best? I said “Write.”
I enjoy writing a play, more than I do producing it. Writing is the dessert I save myself after a day of trying to convince 7th-graders that “She was like…” is not a verb phrase. I enjoy writing music more than listening to it. In my head, it’s perfect.
I seldom read a column I’ve written because I can’t change it. I’ve never watched one of my plays on video. The best education for playwriting…sit in the audience.
Sometimes it turns out better than what I wrote. Short play, The Spot. .. U of I. Professional.. Wow!
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. Tour of Switzerland: evening walk around a small village.. Barb: the Alps all around us.. Mary Phalen.. shop windows.. Lucille: chatting with ladies on park bench.. All I could think about: I can’t wait to get back to the hotel to write about this. I thought: Either I’m crazy or I’m a writer.
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. Spoke at Illinois Authors Conference last year.. that answer was unsatisfying.. even insulting to some. One man walked out.
Easy to get a big head: Chillocothe.. dead probably..
I’ve learned the art of the book signing appearance. 1st book signing session. Holiday Inn. Huge Crowd. Didn’t sign date on first 100 books. Bob: “They’re worthless without the date.” Heck, I didn’t know they were worth anything with the date. Barnes & Noble… forgot we were coming.. Shuffled off to a corner. The largest book-signing in their history. Booked into a place Bob had never heard of.. ended up being a Head Shop. Still owe. Court. Left town. Booth beside Dennis Rodman.
Learned one thing: have a seller writing names down.. “Just my first name..” “How do you spell it?” “S, U, E.”
Publishing is a funny business. Over 100 plays published … only one rejection.. later published.
First play.. changed Title..too long to get on cover.
Iowa publishing company called: Banned in Indiana.. winning too many contests… Bob & I found the answer: Our answer… compiled into a play. Thanks to computers, the only made-to-order plays in the world.
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 . . Both are listed. Where’d they get ‘em? Bob: Don’t argue. Cracker Barrel… “only for our Southern restaurants”
Coonridge Digest: 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.. “Pooty”
I find myself calling my father to get details of a story he told me years ago. Charlie Walker. “Shall we gather at the river.”
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.
Roger Ebert.. Les Miz.
R’ville (unnamed show) .. Omitted the last scene.. intro-ed author.. Mike Post stood up.
Quandry… often invited to see a production of my show.. seldom like it. What do you say? Black urban school… Toad in the Hole.. Tode in da Hoe
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 angriest 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 wrote them back… picture of a black lady with Star of David.
I stumbled along for many years, then Rich McCoy asked me to come backstage before YOU CAN’T TAKE IT WITH YOU. Teaming up with Bob Crowe.. a real difference. Our relationship has changed my life as a writer. I write more. I write better. I write smarter. He taught me a very important lesson: Charge for it. Formed a publishing company. Now the largest supplier to schools in the U.S.
It’s good to have a writing partner. Writing is a lonely life. Not sad. Not depressing.. just solitary. Never write together.
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.”
Close with first bit of writing I ever had published… Perry High School newspaper, I think. And ironically, this first thing published, pretty much sums up all the rest.
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, his grace, and the way he caught those things. And in the firefly catchers organization he was the absolute King. But like all boys about his age, he soon grew up it seems, and now he writes about fireflies and other silly things.
Questions…
Winchester Library
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