A writer's library



Strunk & White: The Elements of Style, illus. by Maira Kalman

Charles Baxter, Burning Down the House: Essays on Fiction
Madison Smartt Bell, Narrative Design
Anne Bernays & Pamela Painter, What If? Writing Exercises for Fiction Writers
Dorothea Brande, Becoming a Writer
Renni Browne & Dave King, Self-Editing for Fiction Writers
Janet Burroway, Writing Fiction
Julia Cameron, Letters to a Young Artist
Raymond Carver, Fires
John Gardner, The Art of Fiction and On Becoming a Novelist
Philip Gerard, Creative Nonfiction
Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones, Wild Mind, and Old Friend from Far Away
Karen Elizabeth Gordon, The New Well-Tempered Sentence
Ariel Gore, How to Become a Famous Writer Before You’re Dead
Diana Hacker, Rules for Writers
Ted Kooser & Steve Cox, Writing Brave and Free
Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird
Mario Vargas Llosa, Letters to a Young Novelist
Ron Padgett, ed., Handbook of Poetic Forms
Nancy Peacock, A Broom of One’s Own: Words on Writing, Housecleaning and Life
George Singleton, Pep Talks, Warnings & Screeds
William Stafford, Writing the Australian Crawl
William Strunk Jr. & E.B. White, The Elements of Style
Abigail Thomas, Thinking about Memoir
Brenda Ueland, If You Want to Write


Writing advice from Ruth Harrap

Whenever I start to take myself too seriously, I reread Penelope Lively's “Crumbs of Wisdom.”  In the story, Elaine, a writing teacher and "published writer ... whose two novels, long out of print, could occasionally be tracked down in public libraries," is thrilled that she and her students are to be given audience with Ruth Harrap, a once-famous romance novelist.  In this scene, Elaine and her students are gathered in Ruth Harrap’s flat.

At this moment there came the unmistakable sound of a lavatory being flushed. Ruth Harrap re-entered the room, adjusting her skirt, and sat down again without a word. The group fidgeted uneasily.

“Have a look round the garden if you like,” said Ruth Harrap.

The group gazed out of the window, beyond which the conifers and a rectangle of lank grass were almost obscured by a curtain of drizzle.

“Well ...,” murmured Elaine. “What we’re all wondering,” she went on brightly, “is ... what advice would you give to the aspiring writer?”

“The who?”

“Aspiring writer. The ... you know ... person who wants to write.”

"You needn’t spell it out,” said Ruth Harrap tartly, displaying her first sign of animation. “I couldn’t hear you, that’s all.” She paused. “Don’t. That’s what I’d say.”

Elaine laughed merrily. “Oh, I do understand. I mean, in my humble way I’ve toiled in the vineyard as well. I know. It’s grueling. Punishing. But the rewards, Miss Harrap! And I don’t of course mean financial rewards. The artistic satisfaction. All that.”

There was a silence. The author stared at Elaine, her face knotted in disapproval. “That may be your experience, for what it’s worth. It’s not mine. I never wrote but for cash. I wanted to be a buyer in a department store. Never got promotion. Ten years in china and gifts, I was, and then all those books, and I don’t know which was worst.” She heaved herself to her feet again. “You’d better have some tea before you go. How many with sugar?”

. . .

Broccoli

I'm on Falls of the Neuse Road, stuck in traffic behind a wreck, not far from the house where Aunt Helen lived before she left Raleigh to escape the traffic.  I don't blame her for leaving.  I never blamed her, though I did miss her after she moved away.  I remember a night she had me over for supper -- I was new to Raleigh then -- and as an appetizer served raw broccoli florets with a curried mayo dip, thus commencing my long love affair with curry, which I had never before tasted, and which was more exotic and wonderful than I could have imagined.

I'm sure Aunt Helen forgot about the broccoli right away, but I never have. 

I'm driving around the wreck now, no one hurt.  I'm getting off Falls of the Neuse, heading downtown to the grocery store. 

I don't have a grocery list, I just know we need food for supper.  I walk in the store and, without stopping to think, make a beeline for the broccoli and pick out a nice head, which tonight I will cook with a curry sauce in memory of Aunt Helen, who opened new worlds for me.

"Emma called, good news"

Maybe my favorite note from my husband ever . . . so I called Emma back, that's my agent, and the good news is, BYRD will be published by Dzanc Books in spring 2014!  Let the celebrating begin, and go on and on and on . . . .



painting by Anna Podris