I finished reading The Writer's Book and it was jam-packed with information on writing, of course. Essays by prominent men and women such as Paul Gallico, Lionel Trilling, Babette Deutsch, Phyllis McGinley, Niven Busch, Max Ehrlich, and Winston Churchill. The essays ran the gamut from Anthologies, Writing for the Movies, Television, Radio, Short Stories, Style, the difficulty of changing your novel to theater, writing for the "Slicks", etc.
In two or three of the essays it is mentioned that you can't teach writing. It's a natural phenomenon that an individual devotes himself to after learning the basics like grammar, style, vocabulary, etc., at least some of them learn those basics and some don't. Why writers become writers is another question that remained unsolved because of the many reasons for writing that are put forth by those practicing the profession. I got the impression that writers are all wacky, not necessarily not normal, but just a little bit odd. Who in their right mind would spend so much time staring at a typewriter or blank screen or piece of paper waiting for the urge to write something extraordinary and different than that already written? For what? Money, fame, publicity, notoriety? Good luck with that.
The last few pages of the book covered these questions and others in a manner that made me laugh heartily, you know, guffaws, and pointed out to me the futility of such a pastime. But, what the heck, I will sit here staring at the screen for as long as it takes, sometimes not long at all, other times a little longer, just waiting for the urge to strike to write something.profound or striking or just plain dull. Oh, the joy of finally seeing words on paper! Am I slightly odd?