Didn’t you always want to say that line? I know I have. It sounds so official, and it must certainly be good news, right? Because when it isn’t broken, they find the bodies frozen in the ice a few months later.
I haven’t exactly had a radio SILENCE, but whatever you might call the interim between commentaries has effectively been terminated. An idea has been kicking around in my barren head for about three years to write an essay about uncles for Fathers Day. Sadly, no amount of coaxing could pry it from the sticky beneath-the-seat-cushion realm so that it could be worked into something worth hearing. Then this spring, for no reason, bamf, there you are sir, here’s your essay.
(Many people think that’s the wonderful part about being a writer, that ideas seemingly show up at your doorstep unexpectedly and you have to invite them in. Actually, while it’s certainly better than not getting any idea-visitors at all, this unpredictability is something that greatly taxes my nerves. I’d much rather choose my own idea, put a certain amount of hours into it, and have a finished product to show off and maybe sell. All that cal about the wonder of characters springing up and taking your stories in unexpected directions? Do accountants appreciate it when their spreadsheets take on lives of their own and write their own endings? Do carpenters like it when their crossbeams twist themselves in surprising ways? Feh. Mystically creative muses are fickle and taunting. And they leave rings on the furniture.)
The essay “Uncle-Hood” was broadcast this morning on WBEZ’s “848” Program. You can listen to it here, and follow the instructions I embedded in the text.
I’m very glad they slated my piece to go before the interview with David Sedaris, who’s in Chicago for a book tour. Now I’m his warm-up act, my White Snake to his Def Leppard. It’s certainly better than following him. I think he’s a fantastic writer, and keeps getting better. I remember 10 years ago, talking with my then-editor at my then-publisher about the humorous literature world in general. He thought Sedaris was a flash in the pan after “Santaland Diaries” and “Barrel Fever”, but I knew better. I knew he had the chops and the skills to make a good career out of a moribund genre, and his success would reflect well on all of us who try to make a living at the funny.
On the other hand, my editor thought that everything I put down on paper was golden. Maybe that’s one reason he’s not in publishing anymore.
“There were uncles giving lectures on ancient Irish history…” I believe that you are the first (and more than likely the last) person to compare me with Behan. Though it is a hyperbole I am honored. Uncles inspire us to do things we never would have otherwise; dad may build and shoot off rockets with you, but an uncle will build a potato cannon and tell you to shoot it at his brother.