HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2004-10-14, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 14, 2004. PAGE 5.
Other Views
How to be a rich and famous writer
Writing is easy; all you do is sit
staring at a blank piece of paper
Until the drops of blood appear
on your forehead.
— Gene Fowler
Jam just a few years away from certified
senior citizenhood and my Lifetime
Achievement List still has a lot of blank
spots.
I have not (yet) learned to:
Wolf whistle
Play Boogie Woogie piano
Tie a reliable clove hitch
Fix anything remotely mechanical.
Actually, my `To Do' list is a lot longer than
that, but space is limited, so let me concentrate
on what I have managed to accomplish.
I have written books. Eleven of them, as a
matter of fact. Pretty paltry compared to
walking word factories like Pierre Berton and
Stephen King — but still...11 books.
Not too shabby. It follows that I must be rich,
right?
Har followed by har: This is Canada. chum,
where a runaway bestseller is anything that
sells 5,000 copies.
The author's standard share of the list price?
Ten per cent. Average price of a book: 20
bucks.
Even writing a bestseller leaves you with just
enough money for a down payment on a
second-hand beater.
Am I bitter?
Hell, no. Why should I be bitter?
A mite jealous, maybe, when I pick up a
copy of The New York Times, turn to their Best
Seller list and see that a book called Star: A
The only time this writer fought a major
development near his home it turned
out the developer's lawyer had given
money to half the city council.
This happened in Toronto, but such attempts
to buy influence are becoming common almost
anywhere there is large-scale development and
Liberal Premier Dalton McGuinty is now
being asked to take a stand on them.
The writer and other residents met the
developer to discuss his proposal to build a
condominium complex substantially higher
and more spacious than the city's official plan
and zoning bylaws permitted.
The reporter asked the developer if he had
donated to council members who would make
the final ruling and his lawyer interjected he
was advising his client not to answer. The
developer replied anyway, saying he had not
donated to councillors.
-The lawyer was asked if he had donated and
he replied this had no relevance and the
reporter would object if asked what charities
he donated to. But the reporter said he had no
objection and reeled off a short list.
The reporter added there was a difference
because someone donating to charity does not
expect a reward, but a lawyer donating to
councillors might expect they would repay by
supporting his requests, giving him access or
fostering an atmosphere friehdly to
developers. •
City hall told the reporter next day the
lawyer had donated to no fewer than .25
candidates in the last_municipal election.
Such widespread donations are- common in
some municipalities, where developers and
their lawyers provide more than half the
money donated to candidates for council.
The development industry does not donate
to as many candidates for provincial or federal
office, so it must be 'presumed it gives to those
Novel is sitting in 13th place, just behind
Stephen King's latest opus.
Star: A Novel is the work of an ex-
compatriot of mine — and yours — Ms. Pamela
Anderson. You remember Pammie. She's the
blonde bombshell from Ladysmith, B.C. who
parlayed a daunting set of gravity-defying jugs
into a Hollywood career.
Pam became the star of -Baywatch, a show
about lifeguards on a beach. Pam's acting,
which consisted pretty much of jiggling in
skimpy swim togs while standing on said
beach, led to a couple of movies, a lot of
magazine centerfolds, and now this: a novel.
Star: A Novel is about a celebrity who, wait
for it now, starts out as a small-town girl with
big boobs and becomes a sensation on a TV
show called...Lifeguards, Inc.
Not terrifically original, for sure, but Pam is
new at this, remember.
And it's not as if she starved in a garret to
write the book. As a matter of fact, she
restricted her authorial input to one day a week
(Fridays, including a catered lunch) for a mere
seven months.
James Joyce took 17 years to write
Finnegan's Wake and eight to write Ulysses.
Pam turned out her best-seller out in 28 days.
Impressive, considering Pam's urn. lack of
running municipally ...because they judge its
applications to build.
This practice may be about to change
because Toronto's city council has passed a
resolution asking the province to ban
companies and unions from donating to
municipal candidates.
Lumping in unions makes it sound more
equitable, but unions gave less than four per
cent of total donations in recent years.
The request places the Liberals in a
quandary. They have promised wholesale
reforms to make elections fairer and shown
some sincerity about it.
They have brought in legislation to ban
governments spending on advertising
promoting their parties and set fixed dates for
elections to prevent them timing votes for
when their prospects look good.
The Liberals also said in the last election
"money has too much influence in politics"
and promised vaguely to reduce it.
Now that they are in government, however,
they will be offered the lion's share of
donations by companies. And if they ban
companies from donating to municipal
candidates would have difficulty justifying
still allowing them to donate to pr6vincial
candidates and parties.
The Liberals say they are studying the issue
and plan to indicate the direction they will take
within a couple of months.
literary apprenticeship. As she told a reporter
for The Washington Post, this whole book-
writing books business can be darn confusing:
"Like, chapters," she complained. "How
many pages are in a chapter? How many
chapters in a book? I needed some guidance."
And she got it. The truth is, Pam didn't
actually, you know, 'write' her book. She had
28 lunches with a guy named Eric Shaw
Quinn. Mister Quinn, a professional
Hollywood hack, passed the guacamole with
one hand and scribbled notes with the other.
So Ms Anderson didn't so much write her
book as 'chat' about it — but no matter. Pam is
on The New York Times bestseller list and the
coast to coast book tour and the Letterman
show and Entertainment Tonight.
And I'm wondering if it's too late to learn
how to play Boogie Woogie piano.
Could be worse. I could be like Henry, who
suffered the ultimate indignity for writers. Not
only did his book, A Week on the Concord and
Merrimack Rivers tank with readers and
critics, (a thousand printed, 294 sold) his
publishers told him they were throwing out the
unsold copies because they were taking up
valuable space in the warehouse.
Henry asked that they be sent to him. When
they arrived and were safely stowed in Henry's
house he wrote this melancholy entry in his
diary: "I now have a library of nearly
900 volumes, over 700 of_ which I wrote
myself."
Henry — did I mention that his last name was
Thoreau? — was just a hard-luck kind of guy, I
guess. Unloved by critics. Ignored by readers.
And born about a century and a half too
early for silicone implants.
Incidentally; those who oppose develop-
ments should beware of pitfalls. When the
writer asked the developer's lawyer if he
donated to council members, several residents
grumbled this suggested impropriety and
walked out in a huff, although the laW now
requires councillors to identify who gave them
money so taxpayers can judge whether there is
an attempt to exert influence.
One phoned the writer's wife and said he
had embarrassed residents and would not be
welcome at future meetings.
Most residents cannot afford time to keep
fighting. More than 300 angrily denounced
this development at a public meeting, but only
one followed through and opposed it at the
Ontario Municipal Board, so it could pull the
rug from under him by asking rightly if so
many oppose this development, why are they
not here?
Developers, their lawyers and so-called
expert witnesses can continue attending
hearings because they get well paid from the
big money that accrues when applications to
build are successful. But they have fat too
much power when councillors supposed to be
neutral collect money from them, too.
Letters Policy
The Citizen welcomes letters to the editor.
Letters must be signed and should include
a daytime telephone number for the purpose
of verification only. Letters that are not signed
will not be printed.
Submissions may be edited for length,
clarity and content, using fair comment as our
guideline, The Citizen reserves the right to
refuse any letter on the basis of unfair bias,
prejudice or inaccurate information. As well,
letters, can only be printed as space allows.
Please keep your letters brief and concise.
Bonnie
Gropp
The short of it
Blessings and more
This past weekend, families gathered to
celebrate and acknowledge the many
gifts and blessings they enjoy.
We think about the wonders of nature, the
beautiful skies, the 'assortment' uf weather we
are given. We know how fortunate we are to
live in the country we do, in spite of its
shortcomings, because we're well aware
they're nothing to those of others. And our
hearts accept the wonderful gift of family and
friends.
Sunday, I, like so many others, sat at a dinner
table burdened with food, lightened by love.
My husband, our children, their families, my
parents were all there to give it greater
meaning. Add to that some not bad autumn
weather, and an opportunity to enjoy time
outdoors under a blue sky, and it's certainly not
difficult to count your blessings. After all,
they're staring you in the face.
But are we seeing enough? Recently I re-
read Frank McCourt's Angela's Ashes and
'T'is, the first about his life growing up poor
in Ireland, beginning in the 1930s, the second
about his early years of trying to find his way
in America.
His mother, Angela gave birth to seven
children and buried three. His father Malachy
seldom worked and when he did usually drank
away his paycheque.
The family begged, borrowed and stole to
survive. Their teeth rotted. The four children
shared a flea-ridden mattress, used old coats to
cover themselves at night, and often went to.
bed hungry. Bathrooms were outdoors, shared
with many other families living in the lane.
Coal to keep warm was acquired by following
the wagon and picking up what fell to the
ground.
When Frank was 10 his father left for
England and never returned.
Through all of this, Angela never
complained about her circumstances, he said.
Her harsh world was "God's will" thus, while
she never gave up, she accepted.
Few people in this country understand this
kind of poverty. We can gripe about the
weather. But imagine, an existence where the , rainy season made a lake of the first floor of
your home.
We obsess about carbohydrates and fats, all
the while loading our plate with helpings far
greater than we need. Think of a daily serving
of fried bread and tea. Or a Christmas dinner, if
you were lucky enough, of pig's head and
cabbage. The young Frank craved a time when
he could have a boiled egg with butter melted
over the top, any time he wanted. Most
children today would be incredulous at the
notion.
We worry about high prices. Sometimes
surprises like a new winter coat or boots for the
kids can throw the budget right out of whack.
But imagine simply repairing that worn pair of
boots with pieces of a bike tire, which didn't fit
just quite right so slapped on the road when
you walk.
Imagine living every day with the threat of
disease, sleeping on stained mattresses
obtained from charities, never. knowing who
the previous owner had been.
Imagine all of this, then ask yourself why
you got to be so lucky, why you were born in
this time, in this place. Sure, there are many
today who find their way into poverty and
cannot climb back out. But, here at least, the
majority are aided by our more prosperous
culture.
Last weekend, we gave thanks for all that we
have. Perhaps we should make a' point of
really considering all that that is.
Developers power questioned