I spent many a gibbous Moon attempting to edit my Dad's written story - "A Taxi to Perdition".. He wrote it not long after marrying my Mum in the late 1930's ( hopefully not a reflection of their marriage ). He submitted his completed story to a publisher somewhere - I don't know who, but it was returned to him with corrections and suggestions that he do further rewrites before submission in future. He became discouraged and gave up on his creation.
He died in the mid 1970's and we his offspring were given photo copies of his book - keepsakes from my Mother.
I tried reading it a number of times but became exhausted each time, shoving it away in a drawer until recently this past year when I thought I might try to edit it in memory of Dad. It wasn't so much the grammar or language which threw me but rather the story itself which reads as a gumshoe tough-guy taxi driver taking on 1930's Vancouver's mob - including big busty babes and dust-ups with no-neck bruisers pushing dope.
Anyway, my good intentions became a lesson in why attempting to improve on someone else's creation is a dumb idea. The book is back in a drawer - a kind of talisman or fetish - reminding me of the creative Daimon currently hibernating in my own DNA.
Very synchronistic - I am currently putting together an application for a fellowship and yesterday thought to myself "they have to want me for me and what I actually do, not for what I could be or do for them". I always call this the satisfying of the Big Daddy (like the stupid Adam Sandler film and loosely riffing on Lacan's Big Other!), a fear that to be seen as illegible by the 'Author(ity)' is a devastating or shameful position, so legibility becomes a way to satisfy Daddy (genre, form, institution, leanings). But it is precisely in these moments that the self is finally revealed, the ugly, beautiful, foolish, wise self in all of its fallible and infinite glory. The turtle peaks from beyond its shell and feels that the sun is warm.
In the, half remembered, words of Nicholas de Cusa's Idiota "you are led by authority, and you are deceived!"
Thank you for the rec, Clint. I just scanned the transcript and saw exactly what you're talking about. The parallels with what I got at in the post here are palpable. Looks like a fascinating conversation. I'll make time to listen.
Your point is also how writers should think in the age of AI. Instead of worrying how much machines are like humans, humans need to strive to become less like machines. The machines were trained on material that follows the “rules.” I’m coming to detest AI style writing, “GPT voice,” and find a unique voice refreshing. I hope to push that in my own efforts.
Most advice is just a reflection of someone's personal taste wrapped in a fancy bow. What matters is finding your own style, even if it’s a bit messy—after all, the world wouldn’t be as interesting if we all sounded the same.
*Henry James has just entered the chat, with a wide approving smile and a wave of his ink-stained fingers; he'd also very much like to discuss the appalling lack of punctuation in modern writing, along with a shift away from complicated, intricate sentences, elegantly riveted together with commas, semicolonss, a few dashes, and surprisingly, the artful use of colons by those who know they are far more than list announcements..."
Thanks for your essay's argument. It was a joy to read and I'm thoroughly glad that there is at least one talented living writer still out there who isn't afraid of constructing an awful, labyrinthine sentence or two. 🙏
*Bradbury. (It's so difficult editing Substack comments after posting them. It really punishes you for not proofing, or for fat-thumb typing via a small phone screen 😂)
Hi Matt
I spent many a gibbous Moon attempting to edit my Dad's written story - "A Taxi to Perdition".. He wrote it not long after marrying my Mum in the late 1930's ( hopefully not a reflection of their marriage ). He submitted his completed story to a publisher somewhere - I don't know who, but it was returned to him with corrections and suggestions that he do further rewrites before submission in future. He became discouraged and gave up on his creation.
He died in the mid 1970's and we his offspring were given photo copies of his book - keepsakes from my Mother.
I tried reading it a number of times but became exhausted each time, shoving it away in a drawer until recently this past year when I thought I might try to edit it in memory of Dad. It wasn't so much the grammar or language which threw me but rather the story itself which reads as a gumshoe tough-guy taxi driver taking on 1930's Vancouver's mob - including big busty babes and dust-ups with no-neck bruisers pushing dope.
Anyway, my good intentions became a lesson in why attempting to improve on someone else's creation is a dumb idea. The book is back in a drawer - a kind of talisman or fetish - reminding me of the creative Daimon currently hibernating in my own DNA.
What an amazing account, Richard. And moving.
Very synchronistic - I am currently putting together an application for a fellowship and yesterday thought to myself "they have to want me for me and what I actually do, not for what I could be or do for them". I always call this the satisfying of the Big Daddy (like the stupid Adam Sandler film and loosely riffing on Lacan's Big Other!), a fear that to be seen as illegible by the 'Author(ity)' is a devastating or shameful position, so legibility becomes a way to satisfy Daddy (genre, form, institution, leanings). But it is precisely in these moments that the self is finally revealed, the ugly, beautiful, foolish, wise self in all of its fallible and infinite glory. The turtle peaks from beyond its shell and feels that the sun is warm.
In the, half remembered, words of Nicholas de Cusa's Idiota "you are led by authority, and you are deceived!"
Fascinating, Cameron.
I’ve been thinking about this very point lately. You would enjoy this interview: https://howiwrite.substack.com/p/ocean-vuong-the-art-of-writing. Ocean makes the very same point with some different examples. He also discusses mimesis vs. poesis.
Thank you for the rec, Clint. I just scanned the transcript and saw exactly what you're talking about. The parallels with what I got at in the post here are palpable. Looks like a fascinating conversation. I'll make time to listen.
Your point is also how writers should think in the age of AI. Instead of worrying how much machines are like humans, humans need to strive to become less like machines. The machines were trained on material that follows the “rules.” I’m coming to detest AI style writing, “GPT voice,” and find a unique voice refreshing. I hope to push that in my own efforts.
You and I are simpatico here.
Most advice is just a reflection of someone's personal taste wrapped in a fancy bow. What matters is finding your own style, even if it’s a bit messy—after all, the world wouldn’t be as interesting if we all sounded the same.
How right you are, Barry. Thank you for saying it.
*Henry James has just entered the chat, with a wide approving smile and a wave of his ink-stained fingers; he'd also very much like to discuss the appalling lack of punctuation in modern writing, along with a shift away from complicated, intricate sentences, elegantly riveted together with commas, semicolonss, a few dashes, and surprisingly, the artful use of colons by those who know they are far more than list announcements..."
Thanks for your essay's argument. It was a joy to read and I'm thoroughly glad that there is at least one talented living writer still out there who isn't afraid of constructing an awful, labyrinthine sentence or two. 🙏
*Bradbury. (It's so difficult editing Substack comments after posting them. It really punishes you for not proofing, or for fat-thumb typing via a small phone screen 😂)
Thank you. And thank Henry James as well. 🙂