Obsessive Compulsive Writing Disorder

I was thinking about poetry the other day, though not in a particularly pleasant way. I was recalling my first day in English 101 and how I argued (long and somewhat loudly) with the assistant professor over the interpretation of a poem. Made for a very interesting start to a very long year, to say the least.
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To put myself in a better mood, I shifted my thinking to love poems. Well, it is the season, isn't it? I remember doing research on ancient flood stories and coming across what is supposed to be the first love poem, written some four thousand years ago in a region of southern Mesopotamia known as Sumer. The poem has the oh, so romantic title of Istanbul #2461 and the opening verse as translated by Samuel Noah Kramer goes:
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"Bridegroom, dear to my heart,
Goodly is your beauty, honeysweet,
Lion, dear to my heart,
Goodly is your beauty, honeysweet."
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According to Kramer, the poem was recited annually by the brides of King Shu-Sin, a kind of Valentine's Day wish long before there was even a St. Valentine. The poem raises all sorts of interesting and complicated questions about the Sumerian civilization, the standing and treatment of women in that culture, and of the powerful Shu-Sin, especially after reading this line from the second verse: "Lion, I would be taken by you to the bedchamber"). But I also enjoyed the poems straightforward simplicity and easy flow. It has a way of drawing the reader along in a seductive way, something I'm sure Shu-Sin happily approved of year after year.
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Not many people know that I began my writing career as a poet way, way back when I was twelve. And, yes, I wrote love poems. I did them for classmates who wanted to impress a girl and I "charged" one Lionel train car per work (guaranteeing that the poem was original, but not that it would win over the girl's heart). I went on to write serious poems in high school and was reasonably good at immitating the styles of a number of famous poets, male and female, though I gave up writing poetry in college when I realized that an aweful lot of poets committed suicide. Writing poetry can be very intense.
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Still, it's hard to completely give up the habits I developed over those years while writing and reworking and sweating over every line, every word, every change of beat. I still go through a similar process today when I do my nonfiction books. I see my text as a kind of flowing piece of music where the sound of every word matters and where a hiccup in a sentence distracts me and drives me crazy. I can't tell you how many times I've made a simple change on, say, p. 55, then gone back to reread the text from the start to make sure the alteration fits in seamlessly. It's an annoying obsession, driven by the fear that a clunky section, a single repetition, unclear thought -- whatever! -- will jar a reader enough to pull them out of the text. It's absolutely impossible to win this sort of mind game/torture, but it's a habit I just can't break. As painful as this is, hopefully it makes the writing a little bit better.
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Since I began this with a love poem, I'll end it with one as well. I wrote this for my wife, Alison, several years ago using those refrigerator magnets made up of individual letters, brief combinations of letters, and a few complete words. It's called Sweet Dreams and was meant to be fun, though our fifteen-year-old son, Ben, was very serious when he said it needed a stronger ending. The last line is his and I think it is perfect.
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My feet sigh,
My blood screams,
My shadow weeps,
Thinking of you --
and chocolate.
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Happy Valentine's Day everyone.

Odds and Ends

These are preholiday odds and ends musings, inspired by several posts on I.N.K. and e mails back and forth between many of us. Regarding two separate recent articles, one from the NYT declaring parents’ lack of interest in buying picture books for their little ones, whom they prefer to read chapter books at age five, and the other article declaring that nonfiction bores children, I decided to call Melissa Posten, the children’s book buyer(and, in my opinion, an expert) at Pudd’nhead Books, one of St. Louis’ few independent bookstores. She said, “Anyone who thinks children don't read nonfiction or picture books are dead hasn't shopped in a brick and mortar bookstore recently. Great nonfiction and great picture books are timeless, and the good ones get better every year. When I was little, nonfiction consisted of stale biographies and books about space with black and white pictures. Now there are nonfiction picture books about everything and everyone you can think of, from Sonia Sotomayor to William Shakespeare, from Foucault's pendulum to scuba diving. This is the golden age of picture book nonfiction, and we are lucky to be alive in it.” Well said, Melissa!!!
Strange that mothers don’t want to buy chapter books in lieu of picture books when according to another article in the NYT a week ago, and I quote, “Mothers want preschool television to be more about teaching social skills and less about pushing clear academic goals –at least that’s what Disney executives say new internal research indicates.” Gosh, the NYT should make up it’s mind!
Meanwhile a couple of my nonfiction books turned up on Google. Two blogs, one from a young person and the other from a parent. Here’s what the young folk had to say last after reading my biography Andy Warhol Prince of POP (with Sandra Jordan). This is from a beautiful blog called The Young Folks: Where the Midwest is not a year behind
PRINCE OF POP
No, i am not refering to MJ's son i am talking about Andy Warhol!( yes he gets an exclamation point)I have been so intrested in him ever since i started reading "Andy Warhol,prince of pop" written by Jan Greenberg and Sandra Jordan. I found out so much that was surprising to me like the fact that he was a very devout catholic and that he almost died when he was young. Anyways that book is good and it got me into thinking about how great of an influence he was to music like "femme fatale" by Velvet Underground( which is one of my favourite songs) that wouldnt have happened if it wasn't for him and of course the banana on thebands famed t - shirt ofcourse he did more than just paint pretty pictures what was great about him was what he said and how he did everything he did always not caring for what people said he dabbled alil bit in anything which back than was'nt so common as today and that what made him avant-garde.
Posted by The Folks at Monday, November 08, 2010

And this from the artist Timothy Archibald.
T.A.
New work from photographer Timothy Archibald as well as the work of other folks he really digs.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Chuck Close Up Close
I was in the library with my kids this weekend and found this book in the children's section: Chuck Close Up Close, by Jan Greenberg and Sandra Jordan. I grabbed it for them, but when I got home I realized it was really for me.mMaybe because its a kid's book, it really distills things down to the basics, but the important basics. How he started making art, the drive to make art, the drive to make art after adversity, and the hunger for the creative process. If this was a book for adults, I think it would devolve into gossip, name dropping, who he was getting it on with, who he partied with, etc. As a kids book, it really is in its pure state.mThere is really nothing more I want to say...I don't want to do a review...I just want to share my enthusiam here. I'd recommend any creative out there to grab it and dig in

So good…I’m glad somebody out there’s not bored with nonfiction. Thank you.

On another note, I’m enjoying Melissa Stewart’s posts about lyrical language and sensory images. I think one of the most beautiful passages in the English language is the last paragraph of The Dead from James Joyce’s Dubliners. Although this is fiction and geared toward adults, these lines are among those that writers of any genre can emulate. The flow of language takes my breath away. A rumination on snow in Ireland (and much more).
“It was falling on every part of the dark central plane, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.”

In closing and wishing everyone a very Happy Thanksgiving, I would like to share my famous spinach casserole recipe, served every Thanksgiving in my family for forty-five years….old-fashioned, thousands of calories, and absolutely delicious!!!
Greenberg’s Green and Gold (serves 10)
2 packages frozen chopped spinach thawed and drained
1 stick melted butter
2 beaten eggs
2 tablespoons flour
1 ½ quart ricotta cheese
1 package mild cheddar (cut in small pieces)
1 package brick cheese (cut in small pieces)
Mix altogether and cook at 425 degrees unto light brown and bubbly.

Crazy About Similes!

My fall book tells a tale using only similes as the text. The easiest way to get a sense of it is to watch this video preview. The impetus to create Crazy Like Fox: A Simile Story was to follow up on a previous book of sayings (There’s a Frog in My Throat) while using a different format. Frog is a compendium of over 400 sayings; Crazy tells a story as well as having several similes on each page. Every time a character is compared to something, he or she turns into it. For example, when Rufus is sleeping like a log, on the next page he becomes a log (and even snores like a chain saw.) This enabled me to have tons of fun with the illustrations. It’s been well-received, with a starred review from Kirkus.

I’m not aware of any similar book where the text consists of only similes, but please let me know if there is one for curiosity’s sake. The title was the first simile chosen, and the plot needed to explain what “crazy like a fox” means. So, Rufus the fox had to act weird for some reason that would make sense by the end of the story. In the manuscript’s early stages, he was jumping as high as a kite to get over a fence, running as fast as the wind to escape some critter, and finally building a contraption to vault him across a river to get breakfast at Mama Somebody's Cafe. The ending seemed a tad flat, though.

Meanwhile, I was busy collecting similes. If there’s some master web site full of zillions of ‘em, I never found it. This one has a fair number (you have to scroll down a bit.) But mostly, I had to compile a list using various general idiom or cliché sites. One of my favorites is this one that you can search by key word. Of course, only a small percentage of any group of sayings are similes, so it took awhile to get a reasonable number to “audition” as part of a potential text. After amassing quite a few, for the sake of organization they had to be put in alphabetical order by first key word. Thus, as tall as a giraffe came before as tough as nails. For Frog I had made a database, but for this project a list worked fine. I did separate “like” from “as“ similes to make it easier and to ensure there was a good balance of both forms in the book. Also, I left out similes that were obviously unsuitable because they were too antiquated (as mad as a hatter), inappropriate for young children (like a bat out of hell), or probably wouldn’t fit into the story. Whatever the story turned out to be, that is.

Eventually the idea popped into my head for Rufus to pick on his friend Babette the sheep, and thus lure her into chasing him all the way to her own surprise birthday party. The party is as noisy as a herd of elephants, so of course the guests turn into... elephants! If you’ve never seen a possum, a crow, a ladybug and several other critters transformed into long-trunked proboscideans, this is your chance.

In the book biz, snags can crop up anywhere, and towards the end there was suddenly a title problem. Namely, the publisher wanted me to jettison the title Crazy Like a Fox and call it Simply Similes. Rather than freaking out (my first impulse,) I sent them a list of the pros of keeping the title as it was, plus the requirements for any alternate title (has to be catchy and fun, inspire kids to read it, tie in with the story, and so on.) I also had the chance to mention the issue to a group of teachers who all were in favor of the original title, and POOF! that little issue went away (yay!)