This post is inspiring on several levels! Thank you for sharing the beautiful exchange with your father. Do you feel that interviewing in this way helps you cut through your own muddled, safe versions of the truth? In life and in art I struggle with this… It’s more tempting to be a hit at the BBQ than laid bare. How do you personally commit to the truth as an artist and human?
There are a lot of great questions here, some of which I've been working on another essay about. But I'll come back to answer some of what you've asked as soon as I get a moment to focus (I live in Australia and my kids are about to get up). In the meantime, thank you for reading, thank you for the coffee (that was you, I think?), and more very soon!
Well now, lets talk! I went from being a journalist to something someone called an arts and culture columnist to a music writer for a weekly (when things were printed on paper), all the while studying pretty intensely how to be a screen writer. Even took a class from Mamet, and became sort of a believer in how he sees it. I do not know if I write dialogue well. I am pretty sure I do not. But, I know that part of what I do is to fix it in the writing of others, and people pay me a small pittance for that. So, someone thinks I am okay. Either way, I loved your piece.
Thanks, Dino, I appreciate the note. Have you read my secret origin story in which I talk about breaking into Hollywood by way of freelancing for U.S. alt-weeklies?
No, but I sort of think I must. I do not know how, in much actual detail, I ended up getting that fat network and movie check, I often think I am horribly untalented but people like me around because I am funny and maybe a bit charming. But, by all means, I want to read yours.
Christmastime 2004 rings so true for me man. And I would tell your sister that the sun shines different in LA than it does in Wisconsin (for me) and there is in fact a thing about how I learned to put my head down in California. WHich is totally opposite to how when I lived in NYC, I learned to keep my head up. I came home to Wisconsin from LA staring at my feet, and came home to Wisconsin from NYC with some sort of strange NOT staring at my feet. But, the LA thing I totally got the 'putting on airs' from at least 2 girls.
Thank you, Cole. I always find these pieces affecting, especially the ones where you talk about your own life. Had a little cry at the end of this one. I’m glad you had that opportunity to let you dad share all those things with you.
Every time I start writing one of these, I think, "Does anyone care about this? Maybe I should just break down another film I love." It shocks me every single time anyone does end up caring. Thank you for reminding me that they do.
I love your writing. I love the human aspect of it. It reminds me how essential to human endeavour is the desire to create and respond to works of art. We want to see our truth and experience reflected in others and I think that is something you do very well.
Great point about the "act of submission to other human beings" of interviewing and being present with others. I'd agree, and thanks! (Yes, also enjoyed the bit about your parents.)
You’ve done a great job getting your father to tell his story. Expertly interviewed and recorded. I wish I had the skill to write down all the stories of my family but they go so far back.. early 1900’s and span over two continents. I’ve been a nurse since 1982 and have worked in many different environments- even in a convent for a while- and have people’s stories in my head.. too many to count but all of them special as most stayed in my head. It’s probably why I’m slightly peculiar or mad. 😬
I've always admired nurses for their capacity to listen. I hope all those stories helped you in some way, as much as you probably helped all those people letting them share with you.
I’ve found it difficult though to judge if the person is who he/she has become because or despite their story. Is there even a difference? I can’t even tell regarding myself.
This piece touched me. My father died in April, closing off 83 mostly unhappy years. He was told by his mother at an early age he was unwanted and it broke him. His own father drank and threw punches. The whole Philip Larkin experience. He was very hard to talk to. As he lay dying, and I was travelling to hospital to see him for what would be the second to last time, I thought I would ask him what life had meant, and maybe record the answer for his grandchildren. When I arrived, he was just angry and complaining and there was never a good moment to try to u-turn the talk in the room. Next time I saw him, the final time, he was unconscious.
Great read Cole & fascinating insight to the lives of your parents. I think I'm going to buy myself a recorder...
Well then, mission accomplished. I only wish I had bothered to do this while my mother was also alive. Also, thank you for the coffee!
This post is inspiring on several levels! Thank you for sharing the beautiful exchange with your father. Do you feel that interviewing in this way helps you cut through your own muddled, safe versions of the truth? In life and in art I struggle with this… It’s more tempting to be a hit at the BBQ than laid bare. How do you personally commit to the truth as an artist and human?
There are a lot of great questions here, some of which I've been working on another essay about. But I'll come back to answer some of what you've asked as soon as I get a moment to focus (I live in Australia and my kids are about to get up). In the meantime, thank you for reading, thank you for the coffee (that was you, I think?), and more very soon!
Excited to read more on the topic! Take your time. And yes that was me!
Thanks for this post Cole. I am thinking about a lot of these things recently.
I'm glad to hear it resonated with you, Cecil.
Well now, lets talk! I went from being a journalist to something someone called an arts and culture columnist to a music writer for a weekly (when things were printed on paper), all the while studying pretty intensely how to be a screen writer. Even took a class from Mamet, and became sort of a believer in how he sees it. I do not know if I write dialogue well. I am pretty sure I do not. But, I know that part of what I do is to fix it in the writing of others, and people pay me a small pittance for that. So, someone thinks I am okay. Either way, I loved your piece.
I have a Zoom H1, a Marantz Solid State recorder, and a bunch of others.
Thanks, Dino, I appreciate the note. Have you read my secret origin story in which I talk about breaking into Hollywood by way of freelancing for U.S. alt-weeklies?
No, but I sort of think I must. I do not know how, in much actual detail, I ended up getting that fat network and movie check, I often think I am horribly untalented but people like me around because I am funny and maybe a bit charming. But, by all means, I want to read yours.
Hey, I think we both wrote for CITY PAPER! The film/TV business is mad. I'm sure you fit right in. https://colehaddon.substack.com/p/portrait-of-an-artist-as-a-young
Christmastime 2004 rings so true for me man. And I would tell your sister that the sun shines different in LA than it does in Wisconsin (for me) and there is in fact a thing about how I learned to put my head down in California. WHich is totally opposite to how when I lived in NYC, I learned to keep my head up. I came home to Wisconsin from LA staring at my feet, and came home to Wisconsin from NYC with some sort of strange NOT staring at my feet. But, the LA thing I totally got the 'putting on airs' from at least 2 girls.
Thank you, Cole. I always find these pieces affecting, especially the ones where you talk about your own life. Had a little cry at the end of this one. I’m glad you had that opportunity to let you dad share all those things with you.
Every time I start writing one of these, I think, "Does anyone care about this? Maybe I should just break down another film I love." It shocks me every single time anyone does end up caring. Thank you for reminding me that they do.
I love your writing. I love the human aspect of it. It reminds me how essential to human endeavour is the desire to create and respond to works of art. We want to see our truth and experience reflected in others and I think that is something you do very well.
Thank you for saying so, Lou.
Not being sure if anyone will care is the type of risk-taking that real, heartfelt communication depends on.
Love this post Cole! Thank you for sharing 🙏🏼☀️
And thank you for reading. I'm glad to hear it resonated with you.
Great point about the "act of submission to other human beings" of interviewing and being present with others. I'd agree, and thanks! (Yes, also enjoyed the bit about your parents.)
Thanks for reading and the lovely note, Catherine!
Thanks for sharing this moving account. So much of writing dialogue - and indeed being a good person - is about listening intently and well.
Absolutely. Listening is hard. I fail at it all the time.
You’ve done a great job getting your father to tell his story. Expertly interviewed and recorded. I wish I had the skill to write down all the stories of my family but they go so far back.. early 1900’s and span over two continents. I’ve been a nurse since 1982 and have worked in many different environments- even in a convent for a while- and have people’s stories in my head.. too many to count but all of them special as most stayed in my head. It’s probably why I’m slightly peculiar or mad. 😬
I've always admired nurses for their capacity to listen. I hope all those stories helped you in some way, as much as you probably helped all those people letting them share with you.
I’ve found it difficult though to judge if the person is who he/she has become because or despite their story. Is there even a difference? I can’t even tell regarding myself.
Beautiful story about your father.
Thank you, and thank you for reading.
This piece touched me. My father died in April, closing off 83 mostly unhappy years. He was told by his mother at an early age he was unwanted and it broke him. His own father drank and threw punches. The whole Philip Larkin experience. He was very hard to talk to. As he lay dying, and I was travelling to hospital to see him for what would be the second to last time, I thought I would ask him what life had meant, and maybe record the answer for his grandchildren. When I arrived, he was just angry and complaining and there was never a good moment to try to u-turn the talk in the room. Next time I saw him, the final time, he was unconscious.