Life — December 1, 1927 — page 58: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

< tenes we pt . — A Piece About ¢(Gtisemas By Dorothy Parker I ought to be [fete Ure be sitting here. working. I've got to do a piece about Christmas. I've got to write. I've got to produce. Pro- duce, produce, produce, for the night cometh. Or Carlyle said that. a tree, Carlyle ever know the difference. Up or Fun Among the Redwoods. Carlyle wouldn't be sitting here like this. He'd be producing. Produce, produce, produce. Oh, produce, produce, produce, yourself! It’s nice sitting here. Whenever you're up said it. Nobody will Tree with Carlyle: something. you can say It's nice and quiet. It's good for your nerves. You've got to think of your nerves, once in a while. There's nothing worse for your nerves than the clattering of a typewriter. It plays hell with them. If I were working now, I'd be starting right off on the road to ervous break- down, I shouldn't have to work; I should be dowed. Want to hear me use “endowed” in a sen- tence? Go in endowed the window, That's pretty terrible. I must be losing my grip. en- Oh, that’s great. Here I have to ¢ about Christ- THat S nice. write a p anyway? It's all been said. Dickens said it all in “A Christmas Carol.” Marley was dead. There's all Christmas, right there. I'd be a fine sight, try- ing to do a Christmas piece, after Dickens did it all. I'd be a figure of fun. It would be an insult to Dickens's memory to try to write a piece about Christmas after what he did. I won't go near that typewriter. I wouldn't do a thing like that to Dickens. I'm going to keep right on sitting here, just out of respect to Dickens. They've got a lot to do, asking people to write pieces about Christmas. It’s getting so you can’t go out on the street any more, without somebody ask- ing you where's that piece about Christmas. Here I am, practically a prisoner in my own home, just because I won't insult the memory of Dickens. ‘It’s no wonder I've lost my grip. 7OU'LL never get your grip back with a type- writer going off in your ear. Suppose I did write a piece about Christmas. Suppose I even got paid for it. What good would that money do me won't heal shattered nerves, will it? If they think they're going to ruin my health mas, and I've lost my grip. That's just the thing to have appen to you on a day like this. t write a piece Christmas if you haven't’ any grip. I'm better off sitting here resting my my grip’s gone. What makes them think I can do a piece about Christmas, any- Even if I had my grip, I couldn't do it. I’m not the type. Why didn’t they ask somebody else? ‘They could asked anybody. They could have asked James Branch Cabell or H. C. Witwer or Mary Roberts Rinehart or Peter B. Kyne. Oh, sweet and lovely Peter B. Kyne, nerves, as long as have oh, Peter B. Kyne to me. But oh, no, they had to ask me. Look here, Mrs. Parker, how about doing a pic about Christmas? Oh, I'd love to; I don’t know whether I can or not, but I'd simply love to try: Yeah. I'd love to do a piec about Christmas. Ten cents a word, and see what the boys in the back room will have. Yeah, I be doing pieces about making me write pieces about Christmas, they're full of red ants, I'm not even going to jeopardize my health by writing and telling them I can’t write it. If they get a piece about Christ- mas out of me, it will be thumous. I’m going to give up writing. Writing’s the worst job pos- in the world. I'd rather catch dogs; I'd rather repair dra I'd rather clean out speci: trains after football games. I wouldn't write another word if they paid me pretty. HEY'LL just have to guess why I didn’t do the about Christmas. They construe it any way th to. I wonder if any future for “construe” in a sen- tence? Some day, when my dream construe. Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear. There goes that grip again. I guess it's gone foreve Maybe if I got something to read, it would take my mind off things. That's what I'll do. I'll just sit here and read some- thing that will rest my nerves, na piece an just y want PASMAOVELLE Christmasses at my age. And = — — something nice and quiet and me with my grip gone. What SHE (to reluctant boy-friend): Tell me, cheerful. Something about can you say about Christmas, am T the first girl you never kissed? Christmas... PERSE y z Ss wy COREE Fa LARS ——— $6 om se = mS LEP = Se = Pr yiast FRAIL Pom 7S comicbooks.com