December 1, 2021

I Thought It Was Cute

My brother once asked me if I valued honesty or whether I preferred he tell me he loved every story I wrote.

I replied quickly and unequivocally: I do not value honesty at all. I am not contemplating quitting my job, mortgaging my house, or putting my family at risk in order to pursue a pipe dream of being a writer. I am a 62-year-old man who has embarked on what can only be generously described as a quasi-vanity project.

With emphasis on vanity. Why would I be interested in the truth?

But it got me thinking about feedback.

My cousin Morris has a passion for music. He writes his own songs and records all the instruments in a make-shift studio in his basement. He is a pretty accomplished guitar player. He puts his heart and soul into creating music and then sends it out to friends and family in order to get feedback. I am sure he would continue to make music even if it were only for himself. But it is human nature to seek validation from our peers. Some of us seek and need it more than others. Morris gets miffed if we take more than 48 hours to get back to him. He will sometimes follow up and ask if we received his email. Truth be told, it is a four-minute song and not such a hard thing to do for my first cousin and good friend. I wish I could say I like all of his songs but that is not always the case. For those songs, I try to find something positive to say. “I really liked the guitar solo in the middle.” I never say, “It was not my favorite.”

My brother argues that saying things like, “It’s not your best,” is actually a way of acknowledging he thinks I am a good writer, have written better things in the past, and he expects more from me. He might be right. If he forwards a piece to a friend or colleague at work, I know he found some merit in it.

My editor Jules will say “ this one is good for friends and family.” That’s his way of saying it is not good enough to make the collection.

My friend Carainn will sometimes say, “Ce n’est pas de mon gout.” It’s not her cup of tea. I guess, in part, comments like this give weight to her more effusive praise.

My friend Steve subscribes to the theory that if you have nothing good to say then say nothing at all. I almost never hear back from him.

The same is true of my friend Arthur- who I golf with in Florida. Once, when we reached the third hole of the golf course, which is the setting of my story Waiting for Zakarian, I said to him ‘you should read that story. I think you will like it.’ And he said ‘ I did read it.’ So I waited for a compliment. But it didn’ come. Instead, he said “ It’s your shot.”

My friend Ellen tells me she loves everything. She supports me unreservedly. I could send her a grocery list and she would love it Back in the day, when a date didn’t call me back, she would say maybe her answering machine was broken.

I tell every waitress dinner was delish. What is to be gained by saying I wouldn’t feed it to a Guantanamo prisoner?

I think Morris likes it when I tell him that I loved the guitar solo in the middle.

I don't think he and I are fools. We know the truth. We just prefer to look for our own truths.

I tell my brother I don’t value honesty. Find one positive thing to say. It’s not so hard.

Some people are good-hearted but turn themselves into a pretzel trying to find the positive. “Such an interesting article.” “It was really cute.” “I didn’t know poker could be so complicated.” But I am okay with that.

My friend Snowbird told me he liked the color of the typewriter on the cover. Nice shade of green he said. Larry is an artist so maybe it was a real compliment.

Others are really good at finding something to compliment. My friend Joel Mickelson quoted a line back to me and said it was “brilliant.” I genuinely believe Joel liked the piece, but even if he hadn’t, his feedback was nothing short of genius and it raised my spirits for the entire week.

Sometimes, “it was really cute” means just that. “It was really cute” is good. I would be happy with that.

My friend Harold Rosen flips things around. He almost always likes all of my stories but still manages to find at least one thing wrong in order to keep me honest. He gets invested in the stories and characters and lets me know if I veer off the path.

My friend Karen, who is both a psychiatrist and an avid poker player, is always very supportive but also quick to point out things which don’t make sense in her world. I have a story called Bad Beat where the main character makes a decision out of spite which also penalizes him financially. Karen says no self-respecting poker player would ever do that.

Who ever said anything about self-respect?

The Country Club where I spend the winter has a book club. Every month they send out an email telling us which book they are reading. And every month my friend Paulie, who also has a home here, sends me an email with one line: “ they are fucking you again.”  It is his way of showing his support. My friend Larry did him one better, he emailed the events director in order to try and get me on the list.

I’m still waiting.

My cousin David sent me a text message about the opening act of a Dylan concert we had seen together in 1975. I had no idea what the hell he was talking about. It turns out he was referencing a piece I had written about the opening act for a Santana concert I had seen. He was letting me know he had gone on my website and read a story.

He didn’t say it was good.

But that was still nice.

One of the recurring characters in some of my stories is called Lewberg. Lewberg is very very loosely based on a very good friend of mine. Those of you who know him have already guessed. My friend was at lunch with his wife the other day when she turned to him and said, “Can I ask you a question?” He said sure without knowing what to expect. She then said, “Are you Lewberg?”

I love that story.

Life imitating art.

I don’t understand people who look for and invariably find typos. It isn’t Where’s Waldo. Someone asked me why I didn’t capitalize an I.

Seriously?

My friend Helen was my first real editor and the person whose opinion I value the most. She is not a fan of my lack of quotation marks and shoddy punctuation. I tell her it is my writing style. She calmly tells me bad grammar is not a style.

I often tell people the only two acceptable responses are “I really liked it” or “I loved it.” Sometimes they will reply that they really did love it, despite me saying that was the only acceptable response.

That was nice.

I like hearing nice things. Often, more than often, it makes my day.

I don’t think I would write if I couldn’t share. Maybe. But I don’t think so.

While I think I am more needy and insecure than most, I don’t think it is odd to want to hear nice things.

Like the rat in the lab, I go back to the piece of cheese which gave me a pleasurable jolt.

It reminds me to try to say nice things too. I am not always successful, but I am trying.

It costs nothing.

A short story is not a four-minute song. It requires time and concentration. It goes without saying I understand and realize it is an indulgence to ask this from my friends and family.

I really appreciate it.

I would like to think I would do the same but suspect I might ask if I could just write a cheque instead.

So thank you.

And if you need to, go ahead and tell me you really loved the paragraph in the middle.

I’m okay with it.

The end.