Sunday, July 09, 2006
July 9, 2006
I was talking to someone the other day about a book and she said that the author “writes beautifully.” That phrase struck me, and I was jealous. I want to write beautifully. I never will. I write interestingly, maybe, or perhaps some might say I write well, but I don’t, and can’t write “beautifully.”
My writing is not mellifluous enough to be beautiful. I write like a journalist, short, choppy, direct sentences. When I am in the groove my writing is easy to read, even flowing. But beautiful, never. Great authors like T.S. Eliot or Charles Dickens wrote beautifully. I am more like Mike Royko. I write like I speak. In many ways this is a nice gift, in that it allows me to write quickly and somewhat easily. I just sit down and the words come out. I imagine writing beautifully is hard work. But well worth the effort. I suppose authors who write beautifully are the literary equivalents of Michelangelo, while I am a house painter. That is not self-deprecating. After all, the world only needs one Sistine Chapel, but everybody’s house needs to be painted. In other words, everyone should read “The Grapes of Wrath” once, but the newspaper comes every day.
I plan to keep writing, and blogging. Please let me know if you want to be taken off the list.
I was talking to someone the other day about a book and she said that the author “writes beautifully.” That phrase struck me, and I was jealous. I want to write beautifully. I never will. I write interestingly, maybe, or perhaps some might say I write well, but I don’t, and can’t write “beautifully.”
My writing is not mellifluous enough to be beautiful. I write like a journalist, short, choppy, direct sentences. When I am in the groove my writing is easy to read, even flowing. But beautiful, never. Great authors like T.S. Eliot or Charles Dickens wrote beautifully. I am more like Mike Royko. I write like I speak. In many ways this is a nice gift, in that it allows me to write quickly and somewhat easily. I just sit down and the words come out. I imagine writing beautifully is hard work. But well worth the effort. I suppose authors who write beautifully are the literary equivalents of Michelangelo, while I am a house painter. That is not self-deprecating. After all, the world only needs one Sistine Chapel, but everybody’s house needs to be painted. In other words, everyone should read “The Grapes of Wrath” once, but the newspaper comes every day.
I plan to keep writing, and blogging. Please let me know if you want to be taken off the list.
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