Another Definition of Writing

The process of putting one's obsessions in order. (Jean Grenier)

--from THE CYNIC'S DICTIONARY edited by Aubrey Dillon-Malone

Bringing Down the Fire

In [my Father's] confessing his own weakness [he] had found access to a hidden source of power inside, or perhaps outside, himself. In any case it was a source of power that was magical and mystical.

Until that night I had only understood that the writer's goal was to reveal truths in words manipulated so effectively as to cause movement in the minds and hearts of those who read them. What I hadn't understood was that it would cost anything. I thought I could do those things while remaining secure and safe in myself. I had even thought that writing fiction was a way to conceal my true feelings and weaknesses.

But that night I realized that no matter how good I became at manipulating symbols I could never hope to move anyone without allowing myself to be moved that I would only arrive at slight truths if I wasn't willing to reveal truths about myself.

I didn't enjoy the realization, for I was no fonder of self-revelation than my father was. And although I knew I would love to do with written words what my father had done in speech, I wasn't sure I could pay the price. I wasn't sure I wanted to.

Eventually I would write about my father and his church, in an article that was published in the New York Times. I wasn't exactly afraid to write that piece. But even as I began it I was aware that I would be touching on the marrow of my bones, that I would be playing with fire. And even now I can't say too much about the process, except this: it's still going on. Not writing the piece-that was done two years ago-but writing, or rewriting, myself.

For that's where my understanding of all this has brought me. . . . I also suppose that's how Faulkner [in Absalom, Absalom] may have felt, how he captured the fire to reach across the barriers of generation and origin and race and kindle a light of understanding in my heart. What I had to do to be a writer was to be in two places at once-to both bring the fire and to allow it to wash over me, to change me and touch me and make me different.

It may sound silly, but I believe that to become a better writer I have to try to become a better person, just as I believe that the best preacher is not the saint but the person who allows himself or herself to be touched by the word, even as he or she transmits or interprets it. Of course a writer isn't really a preacher, and a novel isn't divine word. . . Every preacher is not a saint, God knows. But the truth, I hope, is that we come to both a book and a service of worship with the same hopes-that we'll learn something, yes, but, more important, that we'll be touched by something, that we will feel a connection with some source of power and energy and understanding.

from a talk by David Bradley in "Bringing Down the Fire, part of Spiritual Quests, William Zinsser, editor.

Yet Another Definition of a Writer

Somebody a little below a clown and a little above a trained seal. (John Steinbeck)

--from THE CYNIC'S DICTIONARY edited by Aubrey Dillon-Malone

Another Definition of a Writer

A frustrated actor who recites his lines in the hidden auditorium of his skull. (Rod Serling)

--from THE CYNIC'S DICTIONARY edited by Aubrey Dillon-Malone

Definition of Writing

Trivial personalities decomposing in the eternity of print. (Virginia Woolf)

--from THE CYNIC'S DICTIONARY edited by Aubrey Dillon-Malone

Similar passages in two books published 5 years apart

By The Associated Press | April 23, 2006

Examples of similar passages in Kaavya Viswanathan's "How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life" and Megan McCafferty's "Sloppy Firsts."

McCafferty's book, page 7: "Bridget is my age and lives across the street. For the first twelve years of my life, these qualifications were all I needed in a best friend. But that was before Bridget's braces came off and her boyfriend Burke got on, before Hope and I met in our seventh grade Honors classes."

Viswanathan's novel, page 14: "Priscilla was my age and lived two blocks away. For the first fifteen years of my life, those were the only qualifications I needed in a best friend. We had bonded over our mutual fascination with the abacus in a playgroup for gifted kids. But that was before freshman year, when Priscilla's glasses came off, and the first in a long string of boyfriends came on."

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McCafferty's book, page 6: "Sabrina was the brainy Angel. Yet another example of how every girl had to be one or the other: Pretty or smart."

Viswanathan's novel, page 39: "Moneypenny was the brainy female character. Yet another example of how every girl had to be one or the other: smart or pretty."

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McCafferty's novel, page 23: "Though I used to see him sometimes at Hope's house, Marcus and I had never, ever acknowledged each other's existence before. So I froze, not knowing whether I should (a) laugh (b) say something (c) ignore him and keep on walking.

Viswanathan's novel, page 49: "Though I had been to school with him for the last three years, Sean Whalen and I had never acknowledged each other's existence before. I froze, unsure of (a) what he was talking about and (b) what I was supposed to do about it."

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McCafferty's novel, page 68: "Tanning was the closest that Sara came to having a hobby, other than gossiping, that is. Even the webbing between her fingers was the color of coffee without cream. Even for someone with her Italian heritage and dark coloring, it was unnatural and alienlike.

Viswanathan's novel, page 48: "It was obvious that next to casual hookups, tanning was her extracurricular activity of choice. Every visible inch of skin matched the color and texture of her Louis Vuitton backpack. Even combined with her dark hair and Italian heritage, she looked deep-fried."