"Hey, Sard," Joe T. called to me from one of the booths in the Attic. "How do you spell 'desert?' One or two s's?"
One.
There was a silence. He kept looking at me, expecting me to ask why he wanted to know how to spell 'desert.' As it was, I was pained that he had asked that and not 'dessert.' That would have been more palatable. Was he writing a letter or doing a crossword, I asked myself. Oh, it didn't matter what I did because Joe was going to tell me.
"I'm writing a story."
Really.
"Yes, Oedipus thought my little tragedies would make great stories. Maybe even a book, like you have."
That's great.
How I hated myself giving him encouragement.
"I'm writing how I couldn't get laid until I was twenty years old. All the missed opportunities."
You know, Joe, that some of your tragedies have already been chronicled in the Sardine pieces and book.
"I know. But there are so many of them. I wish I had recorded them when I was going on and on about my life all those times with Oeddie and Othello."
Yes, you should have (NOT).
"I didn't hear the last thing you said."
I said a thing not.
"Heh-heh. You writers sure know how to change the order of words and still make sense."
It is called syntax.
[It's a sin that he's taxing you with those incoming stories, my Pun Pal IM's the Sardine.]
"Maybe you could proofread it for me."
Well, I'm busy writing now.
"Oh, I'm only on the first paragraph. It might be a couple weeks before I'm done. And if it wouldn't be asking you too much, could you give me some tips on how I could get it published."
Sure.
I had to hold down a fountain of vomit. The last thing I wanted to do for Joe or anyone was to help them get published. On the surface, I cared not to have another rival for the affections of editors. Not that Joe was inking a masterpiece.
"Sorry to interrupt what you were writing, but I was wondering how long the story should be?"
He probably asked his teachers the same question. How long do you want this essay? How many pages does this research paper have to be? Have I written enough for this question?
Just write as much as you can. You can edit it later.
"Crap, you don't mean I have to rewrite it."
I don't think it will be very coherent the first time through.
"I don't want a masterpiece. Heck, I've never written anything longer than three pages."
I thought you had a lot to write.
"I'm getting to the tragedies quickly. I'm going to skip a lot of the description."
I had to leave. Hopefully, in a day or two, Joe would lose the desire to write. And if he wanted to record his tragedies for posterity, I would be glad to use a few more here.
Logged-In Public: We thought you would encourage everyone to write.
Too many people are writing. As I was saying before Joe interrupted, Joe is a rival in the sense that I don't need writers like him inundating editors with drivel. Too many magazines close themselves to submissions because they are getting too many.
L-I P: It is good for people to write.
Do I want to put billboards on the Interstates saying DON"T WRITE? Who would heed them? Would Joe stop because I told him his writing efforts were worthless? Am I trying to stop anyone from penning their precious thoughts and opinions? No more than I would have a billboard saying DON'T PROCREATE.
But I would encourage wannabe writers to restrain themselves. I would make it standard for a Writing Program at a university to discourage as well as encourage the students to write novels and poetry.
L-I P: There's the height of hypocrisy. You were the product of a Writing Program.
I wasn't that good when I started. If the head of the program or teachers tried harder to discourage me, perhaps I would have put it aside. As it happened, I plowed on regardless of my talent at the time. And if I had the misfortune to have entered Columbia University's School of the Arts when Edward Dahlberg had taught there, I might have stopped writing!
L-I P: Who's he?
Remember, about three years ago, you were pawing a book in my apartment. A book of aphorisms called Reasons of the Heart.
L-I P: We remember you talking about aphorisms but sort of forget what they are.
Dahlberg taught writing classes at Columbia in the 1960s. According to an article by Jonathan Letham (Harper's, Feb. 2003), Dahlberg was not beyond verbally crucifying students and telling them to quit writing. Of course, this is a misanthropic ideal, but an ideal with reality.
Of course, writers must ignore Dahlberg's frenzied opinions. I am thinking of Joe T. and others like him who think writing something would be a good idea. They should be told.
But I will keep billboard space handy.
Bob Castle is the author of A Sardine on Vacation. He has had two other books published this year: The End of Travel, a comic memoir and send up of traveling abroad (Triple Press) and Odd Pursuits, a collection of stories (Wild Child Publishing). He is regular writer for Bright Lights Film Journal and has over one hundred fifty stories, essays, and articles published. The first fifteen installments of his saga can be viewed at the old Unlikely Stories. Episodes One through Forty-Seven of A Sardine on Vacation (with five semi-canonical additional episodes) are also available in book form.