I'm going to take some liberties and say Mark Knopfler. He is, after all, a talented wordsmith as well as an incredible musician. I'm in the middle of writing him a fan letter, the first since I wrote to Edd ‘Kookie’ Byrnes, of the TV show ‘77 Sunset Strip’, fifty-odd years ago. ('Kookie, Kookie, lend me your comb', anybody remember that? Oh, forget it.) Okay, I had the impulse to write to Don Novello (Father Guido Sarducci/Find the popes in the pizza) back in the seventies, but never followed through. (Anybody remember the seventies? Oh, forget it.)*

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Dear Mark, I so admire the way you use words, from insightful comments on the fuss and muss of life to your plaintive storytelling. Your melodies, anyone can see they are beyond glorious, but it takes a writer to appreciate your gift for turning throwaway phrases into poetry of depth, grace, and freshness of vision. Straw into gold, that’s your forte. **

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*   Just trying to bolster my claim to being the biggest nut on the site, this new guy Nobody notwithstanding. Carl, how'm I doin'? 

** Straight up, I do adore MK. His street-talk/on-the-money phrasing frequently stops me in my tracks. Before Dire Straits hit, he taught English at the University of Leeds. And it shows.

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--edited by Mimi Speike on 9/5/2014, 8:20 AM--

I’m going to go even further out on a limb. I would think he’d written something by now. He hasn’t, that I can find. But he will eventually, I’m sure. In anticipation of that, I'll sneak this in, while Lucy isn't looking  . . . she may throw this out come Monday . . . until then . . . Bill Murray! 

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I love the guy! Read what he’s up to, below, excerpted from a piece on Daily Beast:

If you asked me to describe my happy place, I would tell you it’s Bill Murray slumped over in a green lawn chair, wasted, mumbling Bob Dylan songs to himself. Credit Murray’s new film St. Vincent for showing me such a moment.

In the movie, Murray portrays Vincent McKenna, a brash, loud, foul-mouthed man who drinks and chain-smokes. His day mostly consists of sex with a pregnant Russian prostitute named Daka (played confidently by the always wonderful Naomi Watts) along with taking trips to the race track and his local watering hole, where he gets blasted and drunkenly dances to Jefferson Airplane.

Overall, Murray’s role is another addition to his long list of droll, touching character performances. The script was so strong he decided to take a chance on a first-time writer and director. Before St. Vincent, Melfi had only produced a handful of shorts. With St. Vincent he was able to bring on one of the most sought-after and impossible-to-reach actors in history.

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Murray delivered by bringing Melfi’s character to light in a way only Murray can––with brilliant timing, sarcasm, and that thing no one else in movie history has: Bill Murray Charm. 

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Last movie I went to was Sicko. I may drag my husband to this one. No, that would be cruel and unusual punishment. He'd put up with a Top Gun style thing, (he's a former fighter pilot) not this. I'll wait for it to turn up on Netflix, or in Walmart.

--edited by Mimi Speike on 9/6/2014, 4:19 PM--

Lucy, you know I'm trying to resist saying Thomas Pynchon. Screw it.

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Thomas Pynchon. 

Somebody, jump in here. Or I'll go on and on. I do that. Just look at my book. Here's my full letter to Mark Knopfler:

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Dear Mark,

I swear to God, this is the first fan letter I’ve written since I wrote to Edd ‘Kookie’ Byrnes, of the TV show 77 Sunset Strip, fifty-odd years ago. I’m aware that you may not see it, but I’ve got something to say, and I’m gonna say it.

I so admire the way you use words, from insightful comments on the fuss and muss of life to your plaintive storytelling. Your melodies, anyone can see they are beyond glorious, but it takes a writer to appreciate your gift for weaving catch-phrases and pop culture references into poetry of depth, grace, and freshness of vision. Straw into gold, that’s your forte.

I rediscovered you only months ago, on YouTube. My husband is a nut for bagpipe music and I listen with him quite often. One evening we migrated, by chance, from bagpipes to you.

I always loved Dire Straits, but never understood that you were the heart and soul of that extraordinary band. Your solo work is equally thrilling. (I have a hard time talking about your music without using superlatives.) I particularly enjoy your playfulness. When you sing ‘But I used to could’, I can’t help smiling. Many of us used to could, or like to think so.

I free-load your stuff on YouTube, I’m afraid. My husband and I watch our pennies. But I have put the word out, for Christmas I want CDs by Mark Knopfler.

The last music I bought was by Memphis Minnie, years ago. Bewitched by Maria Muldaur’s cover of one of her laments, I had to hear the real thing. Yikes! Her blues rants, a little of that goes a long way. Your blues, terrific. Your anything, terrific. And your performances are a pure delight. Years back you had electrifying energy. The infectious rock-out hijinks of old have settled (I know how that goes. I’m right there with you) into an equally captivating but more sedate intensity. Pensive. You’re pensive. We’re all pensive these days, aren’t we? Except for The High Kings. (Just found them: Wild Theme>Scottish Music>High Kings.) They’re not too pensive. One song, maybe. Hard to tell. It’s in Gaelic. I think.

I intend to dedicate my monster WIP, a quasi-historical screwball-adventure, to you. You’ve held my hand musically though a painful revision. The title will be Sly! - after my harem-scarem wheeler-dealer, Sylvester Boots.

I hope you understand what joy your music gives. I hope you understand how cherished you are. You dear, dear man, I wish you every good thing. 

--edited by Mimi Speike on 9/8/2014, 12:33 AM--

I'm loving these responses! So interesting and fun. Keep 'em coming!

Also, Mimi, your open letter and plan to dedicate your book to Mark Knopfler are too great. Both really made me smile!

Lucy

One more that I forgot, who wrote some of the darkest supernatural/paranormal stories I have ever read is H.P. Lovecraft. The man was a master with words. I first read his stories when I was around 12 and, although I had to have a dictionary close by, his stories gave me  nightmares.

He hooked me on the paranormal, primarily because we lived in New England then and one of the stories mentioned a river that was only a quarter mile from where we lived, near Rutland Vermont. I've been a buff on ghosts and that genre ever since.

--edited by ChuckB on 9/8/2014, 2:47 PM--

Oh, God. You want to smile for the rest of the weekend? Read this article on Elmore Leonard on Daily Beast: 

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http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2014/09/13/elmore-leonard-s-rocky-road-to-fame-and-fortune.html