Accent on Living

THE swear-off article seems to be holding its own in the slick magazines, and hardly a week goes by without bringing into print a good, solid confession by a former addict of something or other.

The author has been taking aboard too much of the stuff, and it’s high time to call a halt. Those who wish to convert such an experience into marketable prose will find it helpful, therefore, to stick to the standard form and avoid untested versions, however attractive.

“I Was a — er” will be the title for the swear-off article. ”I was wrecking my home,” the editorial blurb will put it, “risking my job, and ruining my health, but I never realized that . . . I Was a — er.”

This kind of article meets all sorts of editorial requirements, giving the reader some rather racy vicarious experience and at the same time building up his character and perhaps even his reading speed. But it must be pointed out that one addiction — whether to hashish, jelly beans, applejack, Copenhagen snuff, vanilla extract, or blackstrap molasses — is much like another in the telling.

The great need is to get “I Was a — er" going in a hurry, before the reader can fully formulate the dreaded so-what ? reaction. Never mind, at the beginning, how the author ever picked up the — habit. We know from the title that he had it, and although some editors like to open up with a child angle (“Gee, Mom, will I have to be a — er like Daddy when I grow up?”), the proper start for the article is in a doctor’s office. The — er is already a medical case, but he doesn’t realize it, and the doctor’s diagnosis is a stunning shock to him. Here then is the fast opening: —

“The doctor repacked his sphygmomanometer and tossed his patellar hammer back into a drawer.

“His manner was thoughtful but casual. He sat down, leaned back, and lit a cigarette. ‘I notice that

you have said nothing about —,’he remarked idly.

“He was, of course, quite right. In my folly, which I later on came to realize was a characteristic of — ers, I had supposed that not even an experienced medical man would perceive the true situation. The doctor’s next words rudely dispelled that notion.

“‘In the course of twenty-four hours,’he demanded abruptly, ‘just how — —, roughly, are you in the habit of — ing?‘”

People like to read about what goes on in doctors’ offices, and the author can blank right along with the opening interview for a page or two. Editors are fond of using this scene for the big picture layout — the worried — er getting the story right there in the doctor’s office. The doctor tells him how he has learned to spot a — er by the telltale droop of the —, the characteristic discoloration of the —, and what the recurrent twitching in the region of the — discloses to the practiced eye. A cure? No, nothing will really cure a chronic — er. Yet there are ways, Really up to you, old man. It’s for you to say whether you are going to keep on — ing — at this rate.

The medical interview is about to end, with its standard punch line. “And if I do?” asks the author.

“In that case,”replies the doctor, “I give you — months to live. Possibly —. But no more.”

The next section of the — er’s article is even more standardized than the opening — a straight, chronological account of his experiences with — from early childhood to that fateful day in the doctor’s office. “As early as I can remember,” the — er goes on, “my parents — ed — (smoked opium, ate jelly beans, chewed snuff, etc.) but always in moderation. So did my Aunt —, who lived with us. There was always a supply of — in the house and I simply took its presence for granted.”

It was much the same when the author went away to school. Most of Ins friends in college, and later on in business life, took a similarly tolerant view of —. “I suppose it was only natural that I found enjoyment, as they did, in moderate amounts of —. But I did not realize that I am one of those unfortunate people for whom no amount of —, however small, can be truly moderate.”

Things go rapidly from had to worse. Twice the author tries to cut down on his — ing, but he’s soon in again, more deeply than ever. He loses a big contract for his firm. “I don’t like to have to do this,”the boss tells him, “but we can’t — — — — — present-day conditions. Furthermore, — — — — — — — younger men. We — — — — reputation to consider. — —!” The author’s home life inevitably goes to pieces. “My wife — — — patiently — — — courage. — — unwavering — —. ” (This can run on freely for several paragraphs.)

“What finally brought me to my senses — — — — the children. My oldest boy, —, who was then about —, — — — —. He had obviously — — — —, — — —, — — — neighbor’s boy, considerably bigger, who — — — — — his father was a —er. — — — —liar. ‘Gee, Dad,’ he said, ‘— — — — —

—, — —?‘ “When a man’s own son asks him a question like that, there can be only one answer: give up —. Forever.”

That was ten years ago. Not only did the author break himself of the — habit, but he also manages to sell an article or two every year about how he did it.