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Interview: Roger Rosenblatt On The Writer's Life

Courtesy of HarperCollins

Word for Word is a podcast written and narrated by Roger Rosenblatt. Rosenblatt is known for his work as an essayist for Time and the "PBS NewsHour," among the first essays on television. Perhaps you’ve read one or more of his 18 novels and memoirs. You may have been to an off-Broadway play he’s written. There are six of those. Then there’s his one-man show, "Free Speech in America," that got rave reviews from The New York Times.

Rosenblatt recently spoke with Morning Edition Host Tom Kuser about his work and the new podcast. Below is a transcript of their conversation.

Roger Rosenblatt, good morning.

Good morning, Tom. Thanks for having me.

Essays, novels, memoirs, plays. Was it just the natural step to move into the digital world of podcasting?

Yes, when I was born, I said to myself, “I want to do a podcast.”

[Laughter]

Fortunately, it was, it was only about 60 years ahead of my time. No. I enjoy writing. A lot of writers I know, really good writers – better than I am – hate it. They like to have written, but they do hate the process of writing. I’ve always enjoyed it, so I try to find the form that works. That really accounts for the variety of things I do.

Is the process different – easier or harder – writing for podcasts compared to other forms?

No, but you have to be aware of the sound, and fortunately I’ve always written hearing my voice as I write. Some writers don’t do that. And there’s a danger in that because you can get enamored with your own voice and then not write as well and not make your writing available to the scrutiny that it ought to be, if you heard no voice at all. But anyway, it was my habit to do that. And so doing a podcast seemed kind of natural. I could hear my voice as I was writing it, and then thanks to the podcast, I could actually hear the voice.

Now you’ve written on many topics, but you do spend some podcasting time talking about writing itself, about being the writer.

I’m fascinated about being a writer. I put together a little book called "Mad Love," which was a collection of pieces. I didn’t want to publish it. I just put it together for my friends and my students. I was surprised to see how often I had written on the subject, and there were a variety of ways to approach it.

But I didn’t mean to take it as a subject I was teaching, to tell you how to do it or what not to do, but just in a sense to express the passion that goes into that line of work for me.

One of my favorites of your podcasts is The Writer’s Wife, and I’d like to take a few minutes now to listen to that.

[Music]

The Writer’s Wife.

Look at him, my active man, sometimes he sits and turns to the left, sometimes to the right. I wouldn’t think of disturbing him. He is dreaming his writer’s dreams, and his dreams are inviolable. I have the privilege of serving him and of watching him.

"Did you say something, dear?"

Nothing yet. Still dreaming.

Well while you’re at it, I better get to my chores. "No, don’t get up. I can handle it." Fix the engine on the Prius. Recondition the Steinway. Point up the bricks on the west wall. Build a bathroom in the basement from scratch. Busy, busy is the writer’s wife.

And please don’t even think of lowering yourself to the mundane details of bill paying, dry cleaning, shopping, cooking, dishwashing, trash toting.

May I get the door for you? May I get two? Am I complaining about my lot?

Never, sweetheart.

Intellectual challenges alone make it worthwhile.

How many ways can I invent to assure you that you’re not losing your touch?

Our topics of conversation, your obligation to your gift, my obligation to your gift.

Were you born before your time, or after your time, or just in time?

I forget.

Then there’s our social life, the dinner parties where everyone speaks in quotations. The book parties, where everyone says, “There he is!” or variously, “There she is!”

Do I want to go to Elaine’s? Are you kidding? I want to live there.

And don’t worry, I’ve laid out your uniform. Dark suit, dark shirt, dark tie, your special look. Do you think you might speak to me this month? It was so nice last month, or was it the month before, when you asked me how I was. For a moment there, I thought you’d asked who I was.

That’s just a little joke. Nothing to upset yourself about. But what am I saying? Why would you be upset? Why would you – sitting there in your dreamscape – why would you even look up?

My folks, having met you but once, suggested that I marry an actuary or a mortgage broker or a wife beater. Hell, what do parents know about the life of the mind?

Yours. The precious moments we shared, such as the times you asked me to read something you’d written. And if I said I love it, you say I’m blowing you off.

And if I appeared disappointed or confused, you go into a clinical depression.

And if I say, “Then please don’t ask me, if you don’t want my opinion,” you go into a clinical depression.

Oh, dear. Did I just say, “That was the best thing you ever wrote?”

Of course, what I meant to say was, “Everything you write is a masterpiece. And this latest masterpiece just proves it.”

That’s what I mean to say.

You’re right. I must learn to say what I mean.

Forgive me?

But soon we make up, and you’ll say, “Let’s go to so-and-so’s poetry reading.”

And I’ll say, “Oh, darling, let’s! Just give me a moment to freshen up and hang myself from the hall chandelier”…which by the way I repaired last week.

Memories, say, rather treasures, the day your agent returned your call, the day your editor returned your call, the day you found your name in the papers…in the phonebook. Remember that time we saw your first novel on sale in the Strand for $1? How we laughed! The night you awoke with an inspiration for a story and in the morning it sounded so silly? Remember when I tried to write something myself, and you said it was “interesting.”

You know, I used to like books.

Ah, but the daydream goes on. You’ve turned to the left again. I’m pooped just watching you, watching you in your dreams. I dream, too. Here’s mine:

Lord, please let him find a younger woman.

[Music]

Roger, pretty severe look at yourself there?

Yeah, as a matter of fact I think I got off easy. Writers are the most self-interested animals in the world. My wife is starting to write poetry, and she’s behaving almost as badly as I am. The whole idea of The Writer’s Wife occurred to me because maybe just for once in my life, I’d look at life from another point of view.

Word for Word by Roger Rosenblatt is produced in conjunction with the Audio Podcast Fellows program at Stony Brook Southampton.

 

Tom has been with WSHU since 1987, after spending 15 years at college and commercial radio and television stations. He became Program Director in 1999, and has been local host of NPR’s Morning Edition since 2000.