I gave a dinner party last weekend to clear out my pantry. A neighbor brought along esteemed company to my humble table, a recipient of the Pulitzer Prize for fiction and author of a book made into an Oscar-winning movie. I haven't seen the movie or read any of his books, unfortunately, so I didn't have anything to add to his ego wall. Anyway, this gentleman so generously led the after-dinner conversation with his signature brash joie de vivre. Here are some gems from that night :
"The Pulitzer isn't about passion. It's about sarcasm. Write a lot of good sarcasm, and you'll win it."
"If you want to be respected as a writer, don't quote Shakespeare. It's cheap. Downright cheap. Anyone who quotes a popular author for the purpose of being romantic is a bleedin' hack. Same could be said if you're quoting Dickinson or Frost. But, you could do it if it's tongue-in-cheek, as a meta reference -- hey, do you have any more of that port?"
"OK, watch as I quote poetry in prose. Who's that good-lookin' fella on your mantel? What's his name? CJ? I once knew a rancher named CJ, craziest son of bitch who'd ever -- anyway, observe:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I
...i took the one less traveled by...
and I saw CJ and beat the Jabberwocky outta him,
and a fly passed by while he died
and that has made all the difference
"Back in my day, being a writer used to mean something. Now everyone's a writer. And that garbage the whole lot of them turn out - there's no charm, no wit, no deep tragedy. Just...wallowing. Actually, they're wading. In shallow water. They want to drown, so they kneel down. When that doesn't work they lie down and bury their faces in the mud."
"You fall out of love, and that son of a bitch hurt you like a mother, rip him up, destroy him in prose. You're gonna grow cold and lonely, but man, years from now you're gonna be quoted. Every pimply-faced kid in high school's gonna know your name. Look at Hemingway, wanna be great like him? Make your life as great as your writing. What I'm trying to say is, you're gonna have to be brave enough to let your life fall into a bit of ruin. The compost - what's left - is your material, your golden nugget. I'm not kidding. Writing's not for the piss weak."
"If you've got the tiniest bit of ambition, you'd have to forget about being happy. Happiness only exists in mediocrity, when you'd have stopped trying. So, shine or die."
"I woke up at noon today. Well, I would've slept until the cows came home.There's something about European cities that encourages you to be downright sybaritic."
"I'm tired talking about what I do for a living. Can we talk about something else? Rachel, don't you own a microwave? Wouldn't you rather just nuke the tea!"
On a happy note, I think I've hit my stride in the art of the souffle-making at last. I'd only ever made souffles twice before, and they didn't come up puffy enough. I remember my grandmother telling me that whenever I'm feeling anxious in the kitchen or in bed, a shot of spirits is gonna make me instantly amazing in both :) Sooo...I chugged down a good amount of gin and tonic while I was cooking this time around. Whether or not that resulted in my souffle's improvement is, uh, debatable :P
"The Pulitzer isn't about passion. It's about sarcasm. Write a lot of good sarcasm, and you'll win it."
"If you want to be respected as a writer, don't quote Shakespeare. It's cheap. Downright cheap. Anyone who quotes a popular author for the purpose of being romantic is a bleedin' hack. Same could be said if you're quoting Dickinson or Frost. But, you could do it if it's tongue-in-cheek, as a meta reference -- hey, do you have any more of that port?"
"OK, watch as I quote poetry in prose. Who's that good-lookin' fella on your mantel? What's his name? CJ? I once knew a rancher named CJ, craziest son of bitch who'd ever -- anyway, observe:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I
...i took the one less traveled by...
and I saw CJ and beat the Jabberwocky outta him,
and a fly passed by while he died
and that has made all the difference
"Back in my day, being a writer used to mean something. Now everyone's a writer. And that garbage the whole lot of them turn out - there's no charm, no wit, no deep tragedy. Just...wallowing. Actually, they're wading. In shallow water. They want to drown, so they kneel down. When that doesn't work they lie down and bury their faces in the mud."
"You fall out of love, and that son of a bitch hurt you like a mother, rip him up, destroy him in prose. You're gonna grow cold and lonely, but man, years from now you're gonna be quoted. Every pimply-faced kid in high school's gonna know your name. Look at Hemingway, wanna be great like him? Make your life as great as your writing. What I'm trying to say is, you're gonna have to be brave enough to let your life fall into a bit of ruin. The compost - what's left - is your material, your golden nugget. I'm not kidding. Writing's not for the piss weak."
"If you've got the tiniest bit of ambition, you'd have to forget about being happy. Happiness only exists in mediocrity, when you'd have stopped trying. So, shine or die."
"I woke up at noon today. Well, I would've slept until the cows came home.There's something about European cities that encourages you to be downright sybaritic."
"I'm tired talking about what I do for a living. Can we talk about something else? Rachel, don't you own a microwave? Wouldn't you rather just nuke the tea!"
On a happy note, I think I've hit my stride in the art of the souffle-making at last. I'd only ever made souffles twice before, and they didn't come up puffy enough. I remember my grandmother telling me that whenever I'm feeling anxious in the kitchen or in bed, a shot of spirits is gonna make me instantly amazing in both :) Sooo...I chugged down a good amount of gin and tonic while I was cooking this time around. Whether or not that resulted in my souffle's improvement is, uh, debatable :P
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