As Good As It Gets: Voice, Persona, Personality

In the movie, As Good As It Gets, Marvin Udahl, the main character played by Jack Nicholson, has a persona (grumpy, difficult, eccentric, OCD) that is very different from his voice (think more Nicholas Sparks.)

Asked by an emotional woman how he writes women so well, he said something akin to "taking away all reason." Grumpy guy who has figured out how to write for an emotional market, that's all.

When I first read one of Nicholas Sparks' books (after seeing two of his movies) I cynically concluded here was a guy who had figured out how to make millions by making people cry. Book after book.

However, after reading Nicholas Sparks' autobiographical piece, Three Weeks With My Brother, and seeing how acutely affected he was by a very difficult upbringing and through life challenges presented to him as an adult (which I completely understand) I do get how his work seems to be written with every raw nerve exposed. I have since concluded he is definitely an emotional kind of guy who feels things deeply -- or at least his persona is of that kind of person.

The persona he presents autobiographically is very like his voice. He comes across as just as empathetic and emotional and heart-on-his-sleeve as his writing.

I don't know him personally, so I don't know if his persona is really what his personality is like when he is alone or with his family -- but I have no reason to think it's different than he presents in his autobiography.

There's a debate on Mediabistro.com about the difference between persona and voice. http://mediabistro.com/bbs/cache/t38812_1.asp There can be a difference -- or they can be very closely related.

How important is persona for a writer?

Asked recently how important persona is for a writer, I gave the question some thought.

There are the writing eccentrics, those larger-than-life people. Hemingway, the brawling, safari-clad, hard-drinking Papa. Dashiell Hammett, the guy who knew life's seedy underbelly: I picture him in a fedora, for some reason. The wistful, reclusive, gifted poet -- that's Emily Dickinson, and a host of others like her. Anne LaMott is the snappy, sassy, brilliant, earth mother. Truman Capote -- kind of fey, a little ruthless, hugely committed to his own work, probably a hoot at parties. Dorothy Parker -- luminous in her vicious circle, tart-tongued always.

These are all writers I consider to have personas. By them, I'm a bore.

However, in my small fishbowl world of regional/community journalism, my personality has become completely enmeshed with what I do. Some love it, some don't. C'est la vie. C'est moi!

And no, my persona isn't French ... I start from a place of genuinely liking almost everybody, and let them prove me wrong from there.

It's how I approach my work, and how I get so many people to talk to me, to call me, to let me get their picture. And if you haven't guessed, it's not that of a hard-bitten cynic -- but I know some hard-bitten cynics who that approach works for.

I will say that while you're honing skills and getting experience, persona is not necessarily non grata, but it's no substitute for hard work and competence. If those things don't come first, then you're pretty much a buffoon with "a deplorable excess of personality." (Quick, what movie did that come from?)

Albert Einstein could get away with never brushing his hair because his work was brilliant.

I'm not having such a great hair day myself. I think I'll wear my fedora.