cross-posted from: https://kbin.social/m/13thFloor/t/485321
In the early nineties (it might have been 1992, but itās hard to remember when youāre having a good time) I joined a rock-and-roll band composed mostly of writers. The Rock Bottom Remainders were the brainchild of Kathi Kamen Goldmark, a book publicist and musician from San Francisco. The group included Dave Barry on lead guitar, Ridley Pearson on bass, Barbara Kingsolver on keyboards, Robert Fulghum on mandolin, and me on rhythm guitar. There was also a trio of āchick singers,ā Ć la the Dixie Cups, made up (usually) of Kathi, Tad Bartimus, and Amy Tan.
The group was intended as a one-shot dealāwe would play two shows at the American Booksellers Convention, get a few laughs, recapture our misspent youth for three or four hours, then go our separate ways.
It didnāt happen that way, because the group never quite broke up. We found that we liked playing together too much to quit, and with a couple of āringerā musicians on sax and drums (plus, in the early days, our musical guru, Al Kooper, at the heart of the group), we sounded pretty good. Youād pay to hear us. Not a lot, not U2 or E Street Band prices, but maybe what the oldtimers call āroadhouse money.ā We took the group on tour, wrote a book about it (my wife took the photos and danced whenever the spirit took her, which was quite often), and continue to play now and then, sometimes as The Remainders, sometimes as Raymond Burrās Legs. The personnel comes and goesācolumnist Mitch Albom has replaced Barbara on keyboards, and Al doesnāt play with the group anymore ācause he and Kathi donāt get alongābut the core has remained Kathi, Amy, Ridley, Dave, Mitch Albom, and me . . . . plus Josh Kelly on drums and Erasmo Paolo on sax.
We do it for the music, but we also do it for the companionship. We like each other, and we like having a chance to talk sometimes about the real job, the day job people are always telling us not to quit. We are writers, and we never ask one another where we get our ideas; we know we donāt know.
One night while we were eating Chinese before a gig in Miami Beach, I asked Amy if there was any one question she was never asked during the Q-and-A that follows almost every writerās talkāthat question you never get to answer when youāre standing in front of a group of author-struck fans and pretending you donāt put your pants on one leg at a time like everyone else.
Amy paused, thinking it over very carefully, and then said: āNo one ever asks about the language.ā
I owe an immense debt of gratitude to her for saying that. I had been playing with the idea of writing a little book about writing for a year or more at that time, but had held back because I didnāt trust my own motivationsā why did I want to write about writing? What made me think I had anything worth saying?
The easy answer is that someone who has sold as many books of fiction as I have must have something worthwhile to say about writing it, but the easy answer isnāt always the truth. Colonel Sanders sold a hell of a lot of fried chicken, but Iām not sure anyone wants to know how he made it. If I was going to be presumptuous enough to tell people how to write, I felt there had to be a better reason than my popular success. Put another way, I didnāt want to write a book, even a short one like this, that would leave me feeling like either a literary gasbag or a transcendental asshole. There are enough of those booksāand those writers āon the market already, thanks.
But Amy was right: nobody ever asks about the language. They ask the DeLillos and the Updikes and the Styrons, but they donāt ask popular novelists.
Yet many of us proles also care about the language, in our humble way, and care passionately about the art and craft of telling stories on paper. What follows is an attempt to put down, briefly and simply, how I came to the craft, what I know about it now, and how itās done. Itās about the day job; itās about the language.
This book is dedicated to Amy Tan, who told me in a very simple and direct way that it was okay to write it.
Posted free to Simon & Schusters mailing list a long time ago, provided here as a service to those unable to afford their own copy.
Stephen Kingās website is here if youād like to check out his new releases.
A great book. It may not directly relate to your style of writingāeveryone is differentābut he makes some great points, and there is something for everyone to glean from one of the most prolific and best selling authors of all time. Love him or hate him, this book should be required reading for anyone serious about getting into the trade.