Legacy
When writing, try to leave out the parts that most readers skip. ~ Elmore Leonard
It was a year ago this past November that Elliot, a member of the writer’s workshop I belong to, died. Although he’s no longer in this world, his writer’s counsel goes on. I frequently look at the poetry I’m working on through Elliot’s eyes, or hear his voice in my head when I’m in jeopardy of becoming too wordy, trite, or sentimental. “Elliot would hate that line,” I hear myself say.
I think everyone in our group would agree that Elliot was a curmudgeon, maybe because of the chronic pain he dealt with, but most likely because it was in his nature to be that way. It wasn’t always easy to hear his feedback in the moment, and sometimes our workshops would get contentious. At least one member wanted to “vote Elliot off the island,” and once Elliot quit. But he came back.
His poetry was good, often disturbing. He liked to shock and was blunt, in a New York Bronx sort of way, which is where he was originally from. He prided himself in naming real places and using graphic realistic words and didn’t have much patience for poetry that shied away from that. At least once he got my ire up enough that I considered quitting the group, but then we would play Scrabble together, time would pass, and tensions would ease.
He was slow at playing Scrabble and slow at getting critiqued writing back to its authors, so much so that I didn’t receive some of mine until after he died. A mutual friend came across a folder of old work-shopped pieces while she was helping to clean out Elliot’s house and returned mine to me. She also came across a writer’s biography that Elliot was working on for our group. Apparently, Elliot thought he was a rakish cut-up critic, a dancer, poet, artist, and photographer, according to his notes.
I always knew that, for the most part, Elliot’s feedback to my writing was valuable, but sometimes it was hard to hear because of the manner in which it was delivered. As I browse through old pages of prose and poetry that I’ve long moved on from, reading the comments that Elliot left in the margins, I realize that I value his suggestions more now than I did when he was here.
Post notes: Elliot was suspicious of the internet and adamant that I not use his name or post his photo on my blog, so I referred to him as “the bearded man” and used description in lieu of pictures. After he died, I googled his name, Elliot Dabninsky, and was shocked to discover that his photo was already posted. Look HERE, 3rd photo on the page, Elliot is revealed. You can read about the memorial Open Mic for Elliot HERE.
January 20th, 2007 4:56 pm
Dropping by to say hi, via Michele’s.
it’s often that most curmudgeony types that give the best feedback 🙂
January 20th, 2007 5:04 pm
Sometimes what we say gets lost in how we say it. As you say, you cherish his advise more now that you can read it.
January 20th, 2007 6:16 pm
everyone needs one good curmudgeon in their life….it can remind us how NOT to communicate with others…and adds flavor…
January 21st, 2007 12:18 am
I have to think he’d have enjoyed hearing you say how much you value the comments now. A great tribute. Makes me wonder how much our comments stay with people long after we’ve left the room.
~S 🙂
January 21st, 2007 2:53 am
Curmudgeons are valuable because they don’t mince words. They may not be the most tactful, but often they are among the most honest.
January 21st, 2007 4:48 am
I remember you writing about Elliot when he died, Colleen…He sounds like he was a particularly difficult person…but obviously had much to say that was worthwhile…How interesting that you say you value the things he said to you now, more than wqhen he was alive…
January 21st, 2007 10:19 am
That’s a pithy and useful quote.
Guess his concern was grounded in protecting your safety but he felt he could defend himself from whatever internet harms come?
January 21st, 2007 12:32 pm
“Leave out the parts most people skip.” hehe That Elliot was a character!
Susan
January 21st, 2007 12:35 pm
Sounds like he was a bit of an enigma and a very memorable person. You were fortunate that he crossed your path.
January 21st, 2007 1:17 pm
He looks and sounds like a really defined character, one you’d remember…a little like Canadian Farley Mowat.
He must have had a profound effect on many.
January 21st, 2007 3:26 pm
It says a lot about you that you were able to appreciate his critique even though he got on you bad side fairly often.
January 21st, 2007 3:38 pm
Your description of Elliot makes me want to know more about him. I find people of all types fascinating.
January 21st, 2007 3:54 pm
I agree, he sounds like someone who somehow nudged people on in their writing journey. How special! Your tribute is a beautiful one.
🙂 Susan
January 21st, 2007 5:26 pm
He seemed to have a lot of self portraits done. What was wrong with his leg? He really didn’t look too happy having his picture taken……..I think it was very honorable of you to respect his wishes and to write about him today.
January 21st, 2007 7:25 pm
He was a model for the Floyd Figures art group and they all did the potraits of him. I forget the technical stuff that Elliot was dealing with, but he did use a cane to get around, was slightly hunched over, and had chronic pain, some of which was from birth and some from an accident I believe.