[long sigh, shaking head]
How do you do it?
How do you write with such style, and class, and grace? How is your writing style so clean, efficient, and crisp? How do you make me care about characters and situations I thought I'd care nothing about? How do you draw me into a story and make me feel like I'm there? How do you make your story come alive like it was just happening? How do you write like no other writer? How do you make me wish I wrote just like you?
When Sutton first came out, I recognized your name from the cover. You were the fellow who helped Andre Agassi write his memoir Open. Well, let's be honest. Agassi didn't write Open at all. You did. I know that now, because the style of Sutton is so similar. Actually, it's exactly the same.
I freakin' loved Open. I recommended it to countless people. I took great pleasure when it turned into a bestseller. It should have been a bestseller. It was amazing, some of the best writing I've ever read. I read Open years ago, but I still remember it, vividly. I still remember it being a fantastic book, one I must read again soon. I couldn't wait until your next book.
So then Sutton appeared on bookstore tables. But, Mr. Moehringer, it was about Willie Sutton, someone I knew nothing about, someone I told myself I didn't want to know anything about. What did I care about the notorious Willie Sutton, who, according to the dust cover of the book, "was America's most successful bank robber"? What did I want to read about him for? I'm not even American. So, disappointed, I put the book down on the table, told myself I'd have to wait for your next book to enjoy your amazing writing style again.
Fast forward several years. Sutton appears on the discount tables at local bookstores. I pick it up, again. Read the inside flap. Think about it. Should I buy it or not? The price is only $7.99 Canadian. Not much. I've bought many discounted books before. Some of my favorite reads have been discounted books. So, what the hell. I bought it. And, once I'd taken it home, despite everything else I had to read, I started reading it, right away. It called to me. I didn't know why.
Was I in for a surprise. Sutton is one of the best books I've ever read, and I don't make that claim lightly. I was disappointed when it was over. I didn't want it to end. I never say that about a book. Most often, I can't wait for the book I'm reading to end, so I can move on to the next one, something I hope I'll enjoy more, be more engaged in.
Your writing is like a pop-up book. You use a minimum of words, but everything still pops up off the page. I see the setting. I see the characters. In fact, I'm with the characters, I'm one of them. I'm doing what they're doing, feeling what they're feeling. No writer can ask his writing to do more. No writer. That kind of writing is as good as it gets.
Nothing is an accident. I read Sutton exactly when I should have. When I'm having so much trouble editing my own novel. When I need all the inspiration I can get to help me through my writing sessions. When I need to see in front of me an exceptional example of writing. When I hope your skill with words transfers over to me.
I can't tell you how many times I've wondered how you'd write my novel, how you'd put something I'm struggling with, how you'd make my story come alive, in a way I can't seem to. The good news is, I have Sutton to refer to. I've earmarked entire sections I will return to again and again, breaking them apart, investigating how you did what you did. I'll use what I learn to edit my own novel.
There are countless books about how to write a novel. I own a good number of them. But, in my opinion, writers need only one book: Sutton. Everything we need to know about writing is right there, in every beautiful page of your extraordinary novel. Thank you, Mr. Moehringer, for the generous gift you've given us all. Thank you.
[sigh]
And thank you for being the gifted writer you are, and for showing us how it should be done.
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