Thursday, March 02, 2006

 

A Handbook for Writers
by Ned Foskey



A hobby for the leisure class. Sit down, relax, imagine as a child does, something exciting and wonderful. Stroke silks as you do. Pass the day in a trance, or impassioned wildly, or in an athletic frenzy listening to Dizzy Gillespie, your shirt soaking in sweat and swilling rivers of coffee. Become eccentric; a personality. Grow your whiskers long. A goatee perhaps. Try wearing black, thick-rimmed spectacles. Or . . . bring back the monocle. Speak seldom in public and with drama when you do. Dress in grand style, if a bit threadbare; or see if the shabby look goes well with your face and body type. Swagger subtly when you walk—just enough to seem to mean it but not enough to seem to want it too badly. Have a black-and-white portrait taken of yourself looking off dreamily into the far distance as if seeing into the future with clarity and insight. Do things that other people hear about but never see. Take up drinking as a second job. Quit your first job. Try to avoid washing for a couple of days although the idea disgusts you. Force yourself on yourself. Be unreasonable. Rant occasionally without warning and stomp your foot uncontrollably. Insult Henry James loudly, saying that he was a pompous turd and a chronic masturbator. Act as if you're surrounded by fools without alienating them. Believe everything they've been saying about you once you've acted so as to make them say it all. And, finally, try to write a line or two between drinking espresso, smoking cigarettes and keeping your image together so that you'll have something to show them when they ask, "What do you write about all day?"

posted by Hog 5:41 PM