Lessons From Classic T.V.

I recently watched an episode of the old Dick Van Dyke Show where Rob receives in the mail a copy of an old friend’s first novel. Ever see that one? It’s full of tidbits that reflect real life, and is well worth the half hour of your time, especially if you’re a writer. Wish I could recall the title, but if I saw it I’ve completely forgotten. (I guess I’m title-challenged in all directions, from creating to remembering them.)

After receiving this friend’s book, the first thing Rob does is look on the dedication page. Surely he’s mentioned by his friend, after encouraging him, loaning him money, being there for him during the years this friend struggled to write.

No. It’s dedicated to the author’s cats. (That’s Lesson #1 – dedicate your book to someone who can appreciate it!)

Okay, well, the author/friend did write a nice inscription just inside the cover, inviting Rob to use his cabin if Rob ever wants to get away to pursue his own writing endeavors.

Rob’s feeling a bit envious right about now. And inadequate. Laura, being the dutiful, loving partner that she is, reminds Rob that he is indeed a writer – he writes for television, and obviously doing very well. But Rob’s not satisfied. He’s holding tangible evidence of his friend’s talent. A book is something that’ll last, leave an impact. The words Rob writes disappear the moment the show is over.

So Laura encourages Rob to finally sit down and write the book he’s always wanted to write. He’s on vacation; he has three weeks left. Why not spend the rest of that time writing? (Lesson #2 – writers need encouragers!)

Rob goes for it. He heads to the den and spends the next three days trying to write. But everything from their son Richie to the neighbor Millie to the imaginary ring of the telephone distracts him from getting anything done. (Lesson #3 – writing is harder than it looks in its finished form.)

So Rob takes up his friend’s offer to use the writing cabin. Okay, so far I’ve ignored the obvious. The author/friend has had one book published and had to borrow money from Rob before that book was published. Now all of a sudden he’s got a lovely cabin in an artsy, country community, fully furnished and obviously only used when this friend’s muse is in action.

The fact that he can afford this after the book is barely on the stands is far harder to believe than Rob’s month long vacation, but all of that is beside the point. (So there’s no lesson learned in this instance, rather it propagated a myth . Authors aren’t instantly wealthy and unless you have a writing job like Rob’s 9 to 5 one, it’s good to know only a small percentage of freelance writers make enough to live on, let alone earn enough to buy a second home.)

The real point, the one that’s so on target, was watching Rob in the cabin trying to write and finding out there were just as many distractions there as he had at home. A paddle ball to play with; the construction of a huge trash bin in which to pitch the unusable first drafts of his novel (remember, this show was black and white, and he was working on a typewriter – no eco-friendly computers saving paper!). He needs just the right chair, the desk at just the right height for the typewriter, he becomes desperately lonesome for company, and all in all the time is entirely unproductive—at least as far as writing is concerned. (Reiterate Lesson #3 about writing being harder than it seems.)

When Laura comes to visit him (worried because he doesn’t call, so like any intuitive wife knows things aren’t going well) Rob must confess all he’s written is a really lovely dedication – to her, of course.

Now all he has to do is write a book to tack on to it.

The biggest lesson? As he’s leaving the cabin to go home with Laura, Rob tells her when he’s ready to write he’ll be able to do it at home or anywhere, with the telephone ringing, with any amount of noise or countless others around. Nothing will be able to stop him. And it’s obvious he’s just not ready.

That’s the truth of it. I recall many years ago when I was in this writing business for the first time, I thought I could only write in the morning, with complete silence, in my own study, no distractions.

Then a few years ago I realized I was writing a scene while my handicapped son made noises only he can make, my then two-year old son was climbing up the back of my chair, my husband was reading a newspaper article to me, and my daughter was playing loud music from her bedroom. And there I sat. Writing.

I admit I still prefer to write in the morning, without noise, without interruption. In my favorite chair, at my old desk. I’m an introvert and I don’t process interruptions well. However I can write in almost any condition, once the book is defined in my head and my characters are alive in my heart.

What Rob said was true. When we’re ready to write, we’re ready—no matter what. So that’s what I’m off to do right now.