I have a lot of friends who are writers. We have long conversations about theme and point of view and word count. We talk about fiction, for the most part. Although some write news and current events, creative writing is closer to our hearts.
I suppose this is part of living in Mississippi. Southerners are natural storytellers. It is something almost everyone here does quite well.
These days writing seems like a futile endeavor. Why write? There are fewer readers today than ever in my memory. Oh, I understand that not too many generations ago a lot of people were illiterate. However, baby boomers like me were taught to read and, wow, did we catch on.
The summer afternoons of my childhood were spent lying near an oscillating fan with a book and a cool drink. In those days there was no cable or satellite TV. (There were no satellites.) We had three channels, black and white only, and all they broadcast in the afternoon were soap operas — dull, boring, of no interest to me. TV in general was only a small part of our lives.
But some very dramatic changes have happened since my childhood in the 1950s. Television became a centerpiece in American homes. It is our source of news, a babysitter, a means of escape. We can sit, zombie-like, staring at a screen that is spewing out mindless babble. And we do. It seems like the screens get physically bigger, but the themes get intellectually smaller.
Currently, a huge percent of network shows are “reality” based (and I use the term “reality” loosely). The premise is almost always the same: a group of strangers who are looking for love, or seeking adventure, or are spoiled college students, or are trying to lose weight (the list is endless, just fill in the blank) are put together in a house, or jungle, or foreign country (once again, multiple choice). And, the producers hope, hilarity ensues.
But what really happens is that the people who are showcased are so incredibly uninteresting that they are forced into staged situations that just get more vulgar and tasteless. Grabbing attention is the goal, but is it entertaining? The scenarios are embarrassing both to the participants and to anyone watching.
In the South we are known as great raconteurs. The rich tradition of Faulkner, Welty, O’Connor and a thousand others is alive today. Most probably have no real expectation of being published. They write because something in their soul impels them to do it. Writing is not a choice.
One local author is Jennifer Caldwell, who has penned “The ABCs of Mississippi Blues.” She talks about names that we know well (Howlin’ Wolf is just one), and how Mississippi musicians and their music have influenced rockers, even those from across “the pond,” like The Rolling Stones and Eric Clapton.
Jennifer is the niece of Big Joe Shelton, who is not only a great local bluesman but also writes many of his wonderful songs.
Artist Seldon Lambert wrote and illustrated a charming little book called “The Voyager.” It is an allegory of finding your way in life.
Both of these books are appropriate for children or adults. You can’t say that about much of the junk we see on television.
I could name a long list of people who are turning out interesting and smartly written stories. My question is, why are they not writing for television? There is a wealth of undiscovered talent right under our noses. I would love to see writers from Mississippi, and all places “South,” creating their “real” art, instead of manipulated “reality” shows for morons.
Are you listening, Hollywood? I am sick of reality. I want something escapist and artfully written.
Adele Elliott, a New Orleans native, moved to Columbus after Hurricane Katrina. Email reaches her at [email protected]
Adele Elliott, a New Orleans native, moved to Columbus after Hurricane Katrina.
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