“[The writer] must essentially draw from
life as he sees it, lives it, overhears it or steals it, and the truer the
writer, perhaps the bigger the blackguard. He lives by biting the hand that
feeds him.” – Charles R. Jackson
Born
on this date in 1903, Jackson was an American author widely known for his mostly
autobiographical novels, including The Lost Weekend, published in 1944 and adapted into
an Academy Award-winning Best Picture in 1945.
The novel – his first – and subsequent film thrust Jackson into a
limelight in which he wasn’t always comfortable, although he did enjoy a fairly
distinguished lecture circuit career from the book and film successes.
A native of New Jersey, he attended
Syracuse University, studied journalism, and wrote for a number of newspapers
before gravitating over to books – both writing and selling them. He wrote several more novels with varying
success and also wrote a number of well-received short stories coupled with a
very successful stint as a scriptwriter for radio soap operas. But his career was derailed by illness and
alcohol.
Jackson
blamed his demise more from the early successes he had than from his longtime
illness. “The writer knows his own
worth,” he lamented, “and to be
overvalued can confuse and destroy him as an artist.”
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