Damn, I Wish I Wrote That!

I often find myself asking, uh, myself  (or anyone who will listen, really ) what it is about words. How do they hurt and itch and haunt and beguile in the way that they do? How do they get to the very core of “everything,” and send chills down my spine?

That may sound dramatic. And after several instances wherein I failed to hold back syntax-induced tears on public transportation, I figured maybe I was totally overreacting to the English Language. But then I had lunch recently with a friend. After we finished our meal she pulled out a book of David Foster Wallace short stories and began reading aloud. As she read, her voice sped up and she clenched my arm at sporadic intervals as if to make sure that I, too, was feeling the way she did about the array of words laid out on the page before us.

“Damn,” she said. “I wish I had written this!”

Witnessing her reaction to the string of sentences was a testament to the sanctity of language. What moved her to such a visceral reaction, to such bold proclamations of what I like to call “Fantasy Authorship,” is not necessarily what would move me to do the same.

And that got me thinking: Out of all the articles, essays, poems, fiction books, nonfiction books — and hell, even tweets! — that I’ve read, if I could only put one to my name, which would it be? Which one do I wish I had written?

After some rather painstaking deliberation I decided upon Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree. Its language is clear, its message simple, albeit tragic. It’s not my favorite piece of literature, no, but it is consistently the story that moves me to tears upon mere mention of its title. Words, man.

Now I’d like you to join me in this round of Fantasy Authorship. What is the one “thing” you wish you’d written? Was it something about the turns of phrase? The biting humor? The storyline itself? Spare no details! Oh, and accounts of sentence-induced public transportation meltdowns also welcome.

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