We need another blog about "advice" for writers like we need World War IV on roller skates. But I'd be remiss if I didn't share the concepts entrusted to me by Eddie Salinski, celebrated writer and welder. Brilliant and successful, yet modest to a fault, Eddie became a shining constellation in what for me was a bleak literary galaxy.
We met by sheer happenstance at a San Francisco bookstore signing hosted for Eric Hoffer, the one-time longshoreman who rose to become a stunningly perceptive true Man of Letters. One of the guests asked Hoffer from whence came his inspiration, his well-spring of knowldge, erudition, poise and clarity of thought.
Hoffer blushed and his eyes took on a shine.
"Everything I am I owe to Eddie here," Hoffer avowed. " He is my source for all things worth knowing."
With that, this towering literary giant tilted his head toward the figure of a slim, gnarled individual standing nearby in a corner, flicking a glowing cigaret butt into a potted palm.
That was my first glimpse of Eddie Salinski. My second glimpse came later through my rearview mirrow as Eddie rear-ended my aging rusty Taurus at a stop sign near the bookstore. We both pulled over. Damage was modest. I ended up driving Eddie to his modest quarters a few miles away. We struck up a conversation, discovering that we were both writers, albeit he was successful and I was a pathetic failure.
What started with a few questions became a torrent as I greedily realized I had struck gold and that Eddie might be able to clear the cobwebs from my literary existence.
So I started visiting Eddie. I'd drive over to his place on Sunday mornings and bring in the Chronicle to him which he would give to Mutilation, his giant Malamute, to chew on.
Thus it was that our mentor-protege' relationship began. Eddie's book sales have soared into the millions in the years since we met, while mine have remained disappointing. But some day, perhaps in the far-off future, my efforts will catch fire as well.
In the meantime, I'll pass along what I learn from my friend Eddie, in hopes that some of his success will rub off on us all.
Robert J. Wetherall
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