Another encounter with my nemesis.
N: Congratulations, Laura.
Me: Thanks!
N: Now get that all-American novel going.
(Yeah, he actually said all-American. And it wasn’t exactly espirit d’escalier, because I instantly thought, but did not say, “Do you mean the Great American novel? Because if you’re going to throw cliches around, you might as well get them right.”)
The blog has been quiet because I haven’t actually been doing any book-related events, other than media. Yesterday’s photo shoot for the Baltimore Sun was particularly interesting, as my cold has staged a spectacular comeback and just holding my head up was almost more than I could bear. Spent the afternoon drifting in and out of sleep, lulled by the dulcet voices of the girls in ANTM, Cycle 7.
Thinking about who could maybe really play you who might even be alive, considering that Meg Ryan and Bette Midler are just being a bit not right in my mind, (being the only two mentioned who are alive). You’d want someone who could go from playing basketball to chasing down a story and back to the newsroom without looking too wasted.
I see Stephnie March who formerly played a prosecutor on Law and Order SVU. She’s the one who played Alexandra Cabot who was targetted by someone she put away and was supposedly killed by him on a street right in front of Benson and Stabler.
As to your nemisis I say pull him aside and tell him if he really wanted to insult you he would bone up on his cliche’s first so he wouldn’t be emabarrasing himself in front of all those other people.
Sorry for the cliche, but WHO IS THIS JERK? Obviously he’s not as lettered as he THINKS he is! (calming down a bit).
I’ve figured out from some of what you’ve said that this jerk is at the Sun? No names, but I think I figured it out. Sigh….how do these guys keeps getting big reporter type jobs when us well-read erudite folks are reduced to inputting data (not that I don’t enjoy my “day job”; it pays da bills) instead of what they’d really love to be doing (read ME)…which is sports reporting…ah well, can’t have everything.
No, no, no — my nemesis has nothing to do with the Sun. I’ve been very vague about his identity. All you need to know is that he’s an acquaintance and our paths cross frequently and regularly.
Right now, there is no one at the Baltimore Sun with whom I have a fractious relationship.
Just realized another comment here had gone missing: I love Rosalind Russell. She played three of my role models, Hildy in HIS GIRL FRIDAY, Mame in (duh) Auntie Mame and Ruth in WONDERFUL TOWN, which was based on Ruth McKenney’s My SISTER EILEEN.
Some of you know that I have a <a href=”http://www.lauralippman.com/april03.html” target=”_blank”>secret yearning</a> to write a biography about McKenney. She had a very tragic life — the death of her sister and, IIRC, the suicide of her husband. I’ve read that her daughter is, or was, a judge in New York.
By the way, there will be no more info about my nemesis, so please stop guessing. I don’t want to embarrass anyone on this blog.
Laura, is nemesis a coffee drinker?
Don’t you mean MY SISTER EILEEN? Not Eve?
Fixed, John! I got interrupted midway, uploaded too soon.
I’ll be at Timonium tomorrow night if you need a volunteer reader. Pich a passage.
Ab
People patronize like that because they’re insecure and jealous. So it’s actually a compliment, albeit an annoying one.
Next time, just refer him to your stellar write-up in the Philadelphia Inquirer.
Yes on Jean Arthur – but Laura, the key here is CAN YOU WEAR HATS? You gotta be a good hat wearer to be the intrepid girl reporter.
I’m starting to think something along the lines of “so tell me, do you actually think before you say things to me or do they just spill out of your mouth without any sort of control mechanism?” or a version thereof for this dickwad. I mean if he really thinks he’s being helpful he needs to learn otherwise. If he is deliberately obnoxious (and given that he seems to be around you a bit much, so one wonders) he doesn’t deserve polite responses.
Lord knows I don’t want to launch any more genre-war stuff, but do not under-estimate how certain ill-read people think about genre. The nemesis is a mainstream male, whose opinions are shaped by mainstream media outlets, and he has come to believe that genre fiction is lesser than literary fiction. The fact is, if I wrote the Great American Novel (or even the semi-Great American Novel), he wouldn’t read that either. But he would read a review or two, and take his hints from those. It’s kind of like all those people who think Grey Goose or Stoli is the better vodka, when a blind taste test established that Smirnoff’s scored highest. (More liquor similes. I think this blog has a problem.)
A lot of people live life second-hand. They don’t actually read or see anything; they read reviews of the things they have no intention of reading or seeing.
What, exactly, is this Great American Novel I keep hearing about? Because someone already wrote GATSBY, and only Philip Roth can write Philip Roth novels.
I think you can call them hell-wishers rather than well wishers. Too bad they don’t hide it better.
If you’re going to write an All-American novel, shouldn’t it feature a protagonist named Jack Armstrong?
I think it’s more a comment about all the overseas outsourcing that is so common these days in the realms of novel writing and novel writing support. He just wants to buy American.
And should the movie of that novel star Dennis Quaid and Jessica Lange (am I being too obscure – Everybody’s All American, an interesting if not rambling 1988 flick about decades of a Southern couple’s life).
But that’s the novel – who would play you in the movie of your life, Laura? Have you done that question in this forum before? I have always said it would be duel casting for myself – Meg Ryan (because I wish I looked like her) and Bette Midler (because I *am* her).
Play me? Eve Arden or Thelma Ritter.
I’m as neurotic as anyone when someone represents some sort of manifestation of iconic insecurity to me instead of being just some bozo. So I’m being hypocritical when I ask the question I’m about to ask. If I didn’t know I was being hypocritical, I’d also be supercilious and intrusive.
But I do know, so I’m just being friendly and helpful.
What do you care what some guy thinks?
I don’t care what he thinks. I care that I feel trapped by propriety into just taking it.
One of the things I haven’t highlighted here is that I think these exchanges are deeply sexist/age-ist. My nemesis is a man and significantly older than I am. As a man, he feels entitled to talk down to me. As my senior, he’s reasonably certain that I’ll be respectful.
Let’s say that I AM a hack who should be aspiring to write something better. It’s not this man’s place to tell me that. We have the most superficial relationship possible. I wouldn’t dream of giving him advice about anything, unsolicited.
When I meet a lawyer socially, I don’t make lawyer jokes. When I meet a doctor socially, I don’t request a diagnosis. I know many people do just that, however, so I’m not surprised that when people encounter writers, they feel extremely comfortable denigrating certain choices and giving career advice — even without the benefit of having actually read anything by that writer. I think this man has atrocious manners. No more, no less.
Aha!
Now I get it. I was still stuck in the genre/literary frame. This is the supercilious asshole frame.
Considering both the conventions of our genre and your concern for propriety, I think you’d be best advised to pack a deadly sidekick. I’m game.
No, no, no. I keep saying. Jean Arthur.
I mean, okay, she’s dead, but we’re talking Platonic movie ideals here. The intrepid girl reporter turned NYC bestselling mystery writer? Jean Arthur.
I want Keith as my deadly sidekick. Here’s just one reason <a href=” http://journalscape.com/keithsnyder/2005-06-09-21:45” target=”_blank”>why</a>.
The All American novel should feature only Americans doing AWESOME things to other countries and then chuckling about it over hot dogs, beer and apple pie while watching a baseball game.
Your nemesis must be reading your blog and wants more attention. Perhap next time you meet, you should ask about HIS progress on the “all-American” novel? You’re exhausted from writing a best seller! I mean, New York Times best seller. Take that, nemesis.
How do you keep running into this nemesis?
Thelma Ritter? Nah. You could fit her in your pocket. Eve Arden is a good choice, but what about Roz Russel?
“I care that I feel trapped by propriety into just taking it.”
Now I understand. I’d been wondering why this guy was even a blip on the farthest reaches of your radar screen. The answer is your southern roots, those few early years in the South (was it Georgia? Alabama?-I read your bio but don’t remember now) took hold. As a Baltimorean with southern roots (grew up in Balto. but with summer visits to grandparents in the South, etc.), I can identify (and identify with) the conflict. The Baltimore influence is pretty much saying kick the guy in the balls and move on while the southern influence is requiring smiling politeness.
Just pat yourself on the back because you are not only a NY Times bestselling author, you are a polite NY Times bestselling author!!
And then smile innocently and move on to the next book signing while your deadly sidekick slices him into little twit ribbons.
David, a couple of days ago, I took one of my two-year-olds out walking, which is a rarity when you have twins. One of the stores along Queens Boulevard that we visited is run by a lady who’s sort of the local Asian Yenta. Need a babysitter, a restaurant referral, or a 10″ tube cake pan? She’s who you talk to.
Butchie was in heaven, tromping up and down these packed, narrow housewares aisles, but I wanted to get on with it, so I said, “Come on–let’s go get our donut!”
“A <i>donut?</i> A <i>donut?</i>” (This was the storekeeper, not Butchie, and the tone was horrified and corrective.) “What kind of <i>donut?”</i>
I said, “The kind made out of pure lard and sugar, with whiskey and coffee mixed in.”
It defused my annoyance, made her laugh, and then we went to Dunkin and Butchie got his corn muffin.
Anyway, thanks. I’ve actually polished that memo considerably and have new plans for it.
I don’t look forward to the day when I have to explain to my daughter why Daddy is eating a half-dozen donuts, but she can’t have even one.
“The All American novel should feature only Americans doing AWESOME things to other countries and then chuckling about it over hot dogs, beer and apple pie while watching a baseball game.”
Uh-MERRRR-i-kuh! [Hell], yeah!
Laura, you are a woman after my heart with your love of Thelma Ritter. I have often proposed there should be an award for character actors called the Ritters in her honor.
Regarding casting you, though feelings can sometimes get hurt in that particular game, I respectfully submit Emily Watson.
Ha! That post of Keith’s cracked me up. People do love to share their unsolicited, useless advice, don’t they. The other day the neighbor asked me if I was feeding the baby. (I’m a stay-at-home Dad.) The baby is 9 months old and almost as big as I am. So yes, she’s clearly getting nourishment from somewhere.
I think you’re right, Laura, about your suspicions regarding that a-hole’s motivations for his comments. Would he have made those remarks to Michael Connelly? Probably not.
I find Emily Watson very flattering, much too pretty to play the likes of me. Does she have an overbite? That’s pretty much a requirement. When Chiaki was taking a picture of me the other day, she kept saying, “Close your mouth,” and I wanted to say, “I can’t! Didn’t you notice that in all those years we worked together?”
My boys accept that the amber glass with the clinking noises is Daddy Water.
I think a lot of this has to do with delivery. How good is your poker face?