I met Salman Rushdie at a book signing once. He was friendly in a tired sort of way.
No :( But I caught Bolt Thrower live before they broke up, which is good enough
Anonymous :
15 days ago :
No.6635
>>6664
>>6635
interesting, thanks.
> hang on to every idea because they would stop coming at some point
i also hope this isn't true. but it probably has some truth because oftentimes i have come across accounts of novelists, filmmakers, etc. who had more or less originated the idea for all of their films before the age of 30, even if it took them another 30 years to get them all made.
then again, alan garner nearly won the booker prize in his 80s.
Another anon here, some "stories" from my days in a small local newspaper, from meeting and interviewing local authors. I don't know if they're that interesting.
None of these writers were my favorites, but I learned a lot. Most of them were full of humility, yet still prideful of the work done. It was a bizarre mixture. When there was an ego, it was more often an ego that knew its place, unless it was a first book, and then I was just sorry for the disillusion to come. Most often, I was the first source of disillusion. I was often the first reader of their book that was not family or friend, and I tried to relate in earnest because their expectations were sometimes so high.
One (20s) would go into parking lots after (night) work to distribute leaflets about poetry, to make sure the book would sell. I knew the numbers on poetry, but didn't say anything. Mostly, I admired the dedication to put it out there.
One (40s or 50s) was about family/local history, and some people later called the newspaper to offer missing information, or willing to thank the author. It is a pretty weird experience talking to an elderly woman on the phone just barfing her memories, stuck in a manic state in the 1940s, talking about the Germans doing this or that and what she had to do to survive - because this is what the book aroused in her. Later, I met again the author, who looked serene and accomplished: the book had done what it was supposed to do; it found resonance.
Several (50s or 60s) were patient and would just put in the work, relentlessly. Every year a new book, the tour, the events, the networking, the explaining, the repeating, etc. It was mechanical, and they just sounded tired, but they would do what was needed.
One (70s) had known a small late glory, and gave one advice: hang on to every idea because they would stop coming at some point. I'm still not sure I believe this, but just in case, I took better care of my notes and now make back-ups.
Another one (90s) wrote, I suspect, because of the loneliness. That is all that was left: partner dead, friends dead, children away, every place known disappeared a long time ago. National recognition was meaningless. I often wonder about this: you are one of the eldest in town, in great health, but people are so far away from you because of the age difference, and up until recently, you only hung out with people your age; but they died, one after the other.
And now I realize few (that I can remember) were in their 30-40s, those were probably busy raising children or building a career.
All my favourite writers died at least 225 years ago.
>>6635
Another anon here, some "stories" from my days in a small local newspaper, from meeting and interviewing local authors. I don't know if they're that interesting.
None of these writers were my favorites, but I learned a lot. Most of them were full of humility, yet still prideful of the work done. It was a bizarre mixture. When there was an ego, it was more often an ego that knew its place, unless it was a first book, and then I was just sorry for the disillusion to come. Most often, I was the first source of disillusion. I was often the first reader of their book that was not family or friend, and I tried to relate in earnest because their expectations were sometimes so high.
One (20s) would go into parking lots after (night) work to distribute leaflets about poetry, to make sure the book would sell. I knew the numbers on poetry, but didn't say anything. Mostly, I admired the dedication to put it out there.
One (40s or 50s) was about family/local history, and some people later called the newspaper to offer missing information, or willing to thank the author. It is a pretty weird experience talking to an elderly woman on the phone just barfing her memories, stuck in a manic state in the 1940s, talking about the Germans doing this or that and what she had to do to survive - because this is what the book aroused in her. Later, I met again the author, who looked serene and accomplished: the book had done what it was supposed to do; it found resonance.
Several (50s or 60s) were patient and would just put in the work, relentlessly. Every year a new book, the tour, the events, the networking, the explaining, the repeating, etc. It was mechanical, and they just sounded tired, but they would do what was needed.
One (70s) had known a small late glory, and gave one advice: hang on to every idea because they would stop coming at some point. I'm still not sure I believe this, but just in case, I took better care of my notes and now make back-ups.
Another one (90s) wrote, I suspect, because of the loneliness. That is all that was left: partner dead, friends dead, children away, every place known disappeared a long time ago. National recognition was meaningless. I often wonder about this: you are one of the eldest in town, in great health, but people are so far away from you because of the age difference, and up until recently, you only hung out with people your age; but they died, one after the other.
And now I realize few (that I can remember) were in their 30-40s, those were probably busy raising children or building a career.
interesting, thanks.
> hang on to every idea because they would stop coming at some point
i also hope this isn't true. but it probably has some truth because oftentimes i have come across accounts of novelists, filmmakers, etc. who had more or less originated the idea for all of their films before the age of 30, even if it took them another 30 years to get them all made.
then again, alan garner nearly won the booker prize in his 80s.