ONE FOR THE RECORDS

New Zealand Listener, Volume 25, Issue 634, 24 August 1951, Page 24

ONE FOR THE RECORDS

by

O. E.

Middleton

went smoothly enough through the NAME? ADDRESS? routine, then we came to OCCUPATION? "WRITER," 1 said, ‘and he looked. up’ sharply. "What kind of a writer?" he queried. "A signwriter?" & "Just a writer," I said. Why did this difficulty always crop up in this country, I wondered. You could say you were a street photographer, an insurance. tout, a sly-grog merchant, or a bookmaker, and no one would turn a hair. But tell anyone you were a writer and you were sunk. "But what do you write?" he wanted to know. "Words," I said. "You’re a journalist," he said, starting to scribble it on the form: "No," I said. He put down his pen and clasped his fingers. "Then what. DO you write?" (His voice was becoming. high-pitched.) "Stories, essays, poems, books," I said. "Then you're a short-story writer!" he said, trying to clinch things. "Just a writer," I said. I thought he was going to reach across ‘the counter and grab me, but he must ‘have been well drilled. in the routine of interviewing the idiotic..public. "Mere WRITER is not explicit enough for our records. We must have something more precise. You must be either a journalist, a.short-story ‘writer or a novelist." ; "Or a signwriter,’ I said. He didn’t like that, but he covered up well and retreated still further behind the fortress of his impregnable REGULATIONS. "Head Office is very particular about these matters," he piped. "So am I," I said. oF "Well, you say you're not a shortstory writer?" "That's right," I said. He was beginning to look strained. "Essays... Essays..." he muttered peevishly. "That would make you an essayist." And he thumbed hopefully | through a Reference of Classified Occu-

_pations. But essayist | wasn’t listed. : | "Er... you say you've written poems?" he said. "Yes," I said. |. "How many?" (with his eyes pleading and his ) pen hovering). I thought of all: the unimportent work I had churned out over the years. Could hardly admit to having sired all of it. But there was that one small thing which never seemed to lose its purity and its meanot ae ae "One." I said. "ONE!" he echoed, dully. "That’s right," I said. "But we can’t put you down as a poet if you’ve written only one poem in your lifetime." "Why not?" I said. "It’s not justifiable," he said. "And you don’t

mean to say you got enough MONEY from it to last you all your life." "It brought me five shillings,’ I said. People in the queue at my back were beginning to cough and shuffle. "Well, THERE you are!" he said firmly. "You have to earn your living somehow-we all do-" (he was appealing to me, man to man, as a fellow toiler), "so just tell me how you do it." "It would be too complicated," I said. "And besides, there isn’t enough space on your form." "But one poem doesn’t make a poet," he babbled: © «6 © wy? -. "Hew about Piers Plownian?" I asked, but he didn’t know about that. ’ So I said, "How about some of the painters who turn out only one good job in twenty years? Or how about the architects who. design. only one or two ‘worthwhile buildings in their lives?" "That's quite different," he said. "How?" I asked. "Well..." and he floundered a while ‘until: something floated by which seemed solid. "It’s their livelihood. Their profession," he said. "And think of all the time they devote to it." "It was like that with my poem," I said, He was breathing hard, and the people in the queue were starting to mutter. "Yes," he said sarcastically. "Bring it along sometime and let’s hear it." "Are you a critic?" I said politely. .? He was almost at breaking point. » "Look," he yelled. "You can see what I am!" "You're not a critic?" "No!" he screeched. -. "Then what are you?" I asked, above the shuffling and the coughing. "If it's any of your business," he shouted, "I’m a clerk here." "What kind of a clerk?" I asked. "JUST A PLAIN C-L-E-R-K!" (He very nearly broke one of his own regulations!) ap 1 took the paper from his nerveless hands and scribbled rapidly. "Like me,"’ I said. "Just 2 PLAIN writer."