... Recommendation: James Patrick Kelly's "1016 to 1" in June's Asimov's. . . ...
May 18, 1999
4:32 a.m.
I mentioned VH-1's guitar heroes show in my last entry. Well, for one reason or another, I managed to watch it again Sunday night. One segment featured Eric Clapton on a gorgeous solo. Yes, it was masterful and magnificent. Yes, it was moving. Yes, it was technically above what most normal humans are capable of even imagining. But what I liked the most about it was something I noticed about halfway through the piece. Picture Clapton playing, swaying about in Normal Guitar God mode. Imagine a wailing lead. Imagine sweat rolling off a scraggly beard. Then imagine a single expression. Somewhere inside his head, Eric Clapton heard something new, I think. He surprised himself, or maybe rather than thinking he surprised himself, maybe he did something that was particularly pleasing. There amid the wailing and the crying and the crashing, Eric Clapton smiled at himself. Patted himself on the back, as it were, or just gave himself a nod of satisfaction. Yes, he's Eric Clapton. But the point here is not how good he was that moment. The point here was that he was playing for himself. He was enjoying himself. He was putting everything he had into this moment. And in the process, he was transformed into the best he could be. A chill literally ran through my spine when he made that expression, and I'm sure I was smiling a goofy smile. Brigid even asked me what was wrong. From that point on, I looked for that expression on all the folks they highlighted. And you know what? It was there. No, not every time or every person. But it was there almost all the time. Carlos Santana, Jimi Hendrix, Jimmy Page, even Chuck Berry.   Last Friday, I went to a new "writers group." It was a collection of parents and teachers in Brigid's school who are interested in writing. We talked about a lot of things. Someone asked me if I write to be read or if I write for myself. I repeated my comment from before about it being the writer's greatest game of "chicken." That the best way to write for the reader is to forget that the reader exists, and to write for yourself. Write what you love, and what you're interested in, and people will want to read it. Write what you think people want to read, and you'll wither. I hope I answered that question right. But to me, that's what Eric Clapton's smile said to me. He was playing what he loved right then. He would have still played it that way if no one would pay him for it. He would have played it that way if he were down in his basement all alone. He would still have played it that way if there had been no camera, or no accompaniment. And he would still have smiled the same way. Have a good one.  Yeah, but he's Clapton. You're just you. Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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