A week or so ago I was reading a review of David Lindsay-Abaire’s new play where the critic basically blamed the crappy ending (in his opinion) on Lindsay-Abaire’s foray into Hollywood:

“…The actors perform skillfully, but Lindsay-Abaire, who won a Pulitzer Prize for his play “Rabbit Hole,” has been spending time in Hollywood, and the industry’s habitual glibness infects the ending of the play, which seems as fraudulent as it is bewildering.”

That “habitual glibness” (which, I think, means a consistent paint-by-numbers approach no matter the film’s subject matter, although it’s such a wide-open phrase that it’s hard to tell) is definitely a part of screenwriting, but what this critic and many critics across the board seem to miss is that unless you’re one of the few high ranking writers known by name, there really isn’t any other way to get a movie made in Hollywood.

So by saying Lindsay-Abaire’s new play was “ruined” by a Hollywood sheen, what the critic is really saying is, “you know that ‘habitual glibness’ [excuse my vague phrase] that’s basically essential to getting a film made and screenwriter paid? I don’t like it.  And it makes for terrible endings.  And I refuse to get to the root of the problem which is that it’s really, really difficult for a writer to simultaneously make a critic and producer happy [even in theater] – so I’ll just blame it all on the writer.  For refusing to be creative.”

Critics and producers are like divorced parents who are so obsessed with their own agenda, they can’t possibly see that they’re tearing their child into pieces with their vastly diverging opinions. Read more »

Ernest Hemingway's 1918 passport photo

Passport photos of famous artists, via The Rumpus.

Was Shakespeare actually a woman?

Over at The Millions, a book pirate bares all.

Literary cartography, via Silliman’s Blog.

The top 20 most annoying book reviewer cliches, and how to use them all in one meaningless review, via Eimear Ryan.

Is there such a thing as a “typical” New Yorker short story?

Dictionaries have been banned from southern California schools after a parent’s complaint over a “sexually graphic” definition.

Is it possible to accurately rank writing programs?

And to get you through the hump day, here is a video of Ninja Turtles stealing pizzas: Read more »

7 contemporary writers answer the question: is Leo Tolstoy the greatest writer of all time?

The Millions breaks down fiction released by The New Yorker in 2009.

Poeteevee is a new online poetry video series, via HTMLGIANT.

Selections from the Twitter stream of personal ads from the London Review of Books.

Well, it’s official: watching TV will make you die.

James Frey’s six-word memoir: “So would you believe me anyway?” Heh. Via The Book Bench.

The pickup artist poem, via Ron Silliman.

How many have you slept with? Uh, books, I mean.

Aaaand because it’s Wedneday, a video called “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to Murder,” in which a hitchhiker (true to statistics, a murderer) meets his driver (also true to statistics, a murderer). Excellent. Read more »

I’m re-hashing an old debate here, but I only want to rehash it for the sake of silencing it once and for all:

Is writing creatively something that can be taught?  Is getting an MFA (Masters of Fine Arts degree) in Creative Writing a waste of time and money?  [Read the instances of these arguments: Should Creative Writing Be Taught? and here Why Always Write in a Room Of One's Own?]

Okay, let me say right off the bat that I’m not a fair candidate to debate this issue since I’m currently enrolled in an MFA Program.  But I think I can still fairly go on a mini-rant. Read more »

Did you know that Edgar Allen Poe considered himself not just an accomplished writer but THE BEST CRYPTOGRAPHER EVAR??? He loved to dedicate his genius to solving ciphers, puns, riddles, you name it, and he was known to boast that “nothing can be written which, with time, I cannot decipher.” Oh, and he also liked to remind people that “Edgar Poe” is an anagram for “a God Peer.” Nice.

In 1841, Poe challenged readers of Graham’s Magazine, where he was an editor, to solve a devilishly difficult puzzle a friend had sent him. He promised to post the answer in the next month’s issue, but flaked (could it be that he couldn’t solve the puzzle himself??). Today, The New Yorker is giving readers the chance to match wits with the self-declared puzzle master by offering that same puzzle. Read the text full of jumbled letters and numbers, and with the help of a few cryptic clues, find out for yourself if Poe was nearly as brilliant as he thought he was. [The New Yorker]