Because it costs the same to write an intergalactic adventure and a scene in a diner
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Summer Nostalgia
As we get into the swing of summer, I’m struck by a strong sense of nostalgia. The heat, the smell of fireworks, and for me summer movies bring me straight back to childhood. This week on Review Everything, my cohost Conor and I each brought an item that evokes a strong sense of summer nostalgia. For me, it was the beauty of riding my bike to the local movie theater, and it ended up connecting me to my writing in an unexpected way.
I’ve always had a thing for the movies. Some of my earliest memories are connected to the silver screen. I can vividly remember watching E.T. for its theatrical re-release in the early nineties and having my mind blown. As I got older, I saw everything I could. Genre didn’t matter, critic score didn’t matter (I’ve gotten pickier these days); if I had $6.50—yes kids, and ice cream was a nickel—I was going to the movies.
The summer of 2006, I saw nearly 20 movies, some of them twice. It was the first time I realized I could ride my bike up the long hill (in traffic and heat) and get to the movie theater in under an hour. It was a banner summer with Cars, Tokyo Drift (the best Fast and the Furious movie), Pirates of the Caribbean 2 (I saw it 4 times), and many others. I was so amped coming out of Tokyo Drift, I tried to drift my bike and ate shit in the parking lot. Somehow, that’s a positive memory.
For the longest time, I thought I was going to be a filmmaker. With how many movies I watched and my love for the industry, it made sense. My friends and I would make short films on weekends, and I would dream of the day when I was going to have a bigger budget. When I was 16, I was lucky enough to study for a few weeks in Seattle with filmmakers, script writers, and actors to learn the trade. While I can’t remember all my teachers, Stewart Stern and Tom Skerrit stand out in my memory as leaving their marks.
I left that summer class sure I was going to be a director. By the time I was applying to colleges, I had a half tuition scholarship to The Art Institute of Seattle. It left me with a choice: Follow film or opt for a more traditional route. In the end, I did the math, saw that becoming a filmmaker was the longest of longshots and played it safe.
As I got into the swing of college, it was harder to find people willing to take the time to make dumb little movies on portable camcorders. The startup cost was too high, the time commitment from others was too much to ask, and college was full of other distractions. My dream of filmmaking died with a splat.
Luckily, the year before I started school, I discovered writing in earnest. My senior year writing teacher told me that if I completed a novel in a month, she would let me skip the rest of the assignments for the year. It was a clever trick. Suddenly, I was hooked.
Writing was and is a beautiful thing for me. I can go on an intergalactic adventure with a five-foot tall talking shrimp, and it costs me the same amount as writing dialogue in a diner. It opened worlds that would never have been possible outside the highest echelons of movie making. Still, I credit those summers at the movies for why I write what I write and how I write it.
Unintentionally, at first, my writing style mirrored the movies that shaped me. My prose was breezy, quick, and entirely plot driven. My first books were so full of tropes it’s a miracle my hard drive didn’t explode in a comical shower of sparks. As I kept writing, I became more intentional about what I included and now wear my influences as a badge of honor.
When I write, I try to capture that same spirit of a big summer blockbuster, complete with popcorn and a cold theater to watch it in. My goal is to make books that are accessible to those who might not normally read. I’ve been told by few kind readers that I’ve succeeded. I may never make a film—In fact I’ve warned my wife not to let me when I hit my midlife crisis—but I can at least try to capture the feeling.
What brings you a sense of summer nostalgia? Let’s talk about it in the comments! It will be fun, and also please the algorithmic gods who might see fit to bless this post with their undying light.
Ashton Macaulay 