Emulate a Great

August 21, 2009

I have never read an entire book. I know that sounds incredible, especially coming from a teacher, but it's almost true. If I exclude children's novels, which I could count on one hand, and one short book, The Bridges of Madison County (I realize that should be capitalized, but I can only italicize, not capitalize in this blog) it is a true statement. Having said that, I find writing easy. I don't know why since one would expect that good writers learn to be so from reading good literature. So then I begin to question, "Am I really a good writer?" Perhaps I should start reading something good. After all, this adventure is all about learning. I should learn from a master. I peruse my double sided, 5-shelf bookcase filled with children's literature. The books are all alphabetized (I'm a bit compulsive that way) - everything from Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day to Z Goes Home. I've always taught elementary school or parents of preschoolers, so the selection is limited to mostly preschool through third grade books. I keep looking. I spy my sons' high school literature books on top of the bookshelf. They are dusty and the pages are well worn (my children all read (that's present tense) voraciously). Wow! They're thick. That is what always deterred me in the past. I'd read a few pages and boom, I'd be asleep. It has always been too overwhelming when I see that many pages. I remember when I was in school the first thing I'd do when I was assigned a book to read - count the pages. Then I'd try and figure out how many pages I'd have to read in a day to finish the book in time. I never made it...not once! I keep dusting the shelf.

Ah-ha!!! There it is...The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. Wonderful. I read the back cover. Yes, I remember it, sort of. I remember I didn't finish it. It's still as thick as it was in high school; maybe even thicker. The print is small. I begin to read the back cover, then the introduction by Robert DeMott. Maybe I should skip the intro since it wasn't written by Steinbeck. No, I should start there. Immediately, I'm captured. He begins with a quote from Steinbeck's personal journal written more than 3 weeks after starting The Grapes of Wrath. Steinbeck writes,

"If I could do this book properly it would be one of the really fine books and a truly American book. But I am assailed with my own ignorance and inability. I'll just have to work from a background of these. Honesty. If I can keep an honesty it is all I can expect of my poor brain...If I can do that it will be all my lack of genius can produce. For no one else knows my lack of ability the way I do. I am pushing against it all the time."

Excellent! Even John Steinbeck questioned his ability. Now, I'm sure I'm no Steinbeck, but honesty - that I have. The book/screenplay I'm writing, after all, is MY story, my TRUE story. No one knows it better than I do. And a poor brain - I have that, too. I begin a sentence and forget where I was headed. I have a thought and as I'm writing it, it disappears. Interestingly, however, the story I'm writing is not something I've always remembered. Growing up, I don't recall telling many people about my past. It didn't define who I was or who I was becoming. It merely was. It is only in traveling to the site where my story takes place and meeting the people that knew me then that I begin to remember. The puzzle pieces begin to fit. I'm consoled by the fact that Steinbeck questioned his ability to write. I laugh. I look at the thick book sitting next to me on the desk and sigh. The house is quiet. I'll begin reading it tonight...right after I e-mail my kids to read mom's confession herein. Look, kids, you've taught mom a lesson about reading and finishing what I start. Thanks, children!