Heigh Ho, Steve-arino

Sometimes it's very difficult for me to accept compliments about my work.

It could be for a number of reasons, I suppose.

Since I don't earn a living at writing, perhaps I feel in some way that if my work is in fact "good" that I get a little ashamed of myself for never being able to make it my full-time occupation.

Or if a work was written in a short amount of time, maybe I feel guilty about being complimented because it came too easily and therefore isn't worthy of the praise because I didn't sweat and toil over it for weeks or months.

Or maybe I'm just nuts.

One of the best compliments I've ever received was from a long-time friend of mine. We're not particularly close on a daily basis, but have known and liked each other for almost 40 years.

She said I reminded her a lot of Steve Allen.

Most of my peers will know who Steve Allen was. For you younger people, he was:

• the very first host of The Tonight Show and set the format for late night television.
• smart, quick, incredibly funny, and a busy television star, writer and producer from the 50's through the 90's
• an accomplished musician
• a proflic composer/lyricist (4000 songs, it's rumored)
• a incredibly successful novelist
• a very popular guest on game shows and talk shows
• generally one of the best liked guys in show business
• married to a talented woman with phenomenal legs.

Nice compliment, eh?

While there's no way I could ever truly be mistaken for such an entertainment Renaissance Man, this particular compliment made me extremely happy, and does even as I write this.

Steve's general personality was always effervescent. On talk shows and game shows he was never at a loss for a smart and funny comeback or comment (but never mean-spirited). He wouldn't hesitate to make fun of himself if it made the audience laugh. And he was amazing at word play. Maybe even better than Neil Simon.

And he, like me, actually got a little crankier the older he got.

So this was one compliment I was happy to accept, regardless of its accuracy.

When you're a writer, people liking your material is nice. It's very nice. But if the person who likes it is in a position to buy it or produce it yet doesn't buy it or produce it, the compliment somehow feels a wee bit hollow. Think the classic overweight, middle-aged guy sitting behind his cluttered desk and chomping on a cigar: "We love your stuff, kid, but we just can't use it. Next!"

(Actually, these days, it would be more like an overly groomed twentysomething kid with his ears plugged into a phone headset taking a moment from a phone call which apparently is more important than your in-progress in-person pitch to say, "Ehhhhh, I don't get it. But thanks for coming in.")

I'm not talking about friends or family. It's always great having people you care about being entertained by what you write and compose. It's probably one of the main reasons I'm still writing these days. Getting out there and making tens of people happy.

And I'm always incredibly honored and humbled when they actually perform my work. They go out there on stage and perform something I wrote. Now, come on, regardless of financial success as a writer, how cool is that?

If, in what years I have left I could still manage to be remotely like Steve Allen in any of those ways, it would be great.

Composer, comedian, novelist, game show panelist, in-demand talk show guest. Any one of those achievements would be a dream goal.

But these days, I'd just settle for a talented woman with phenomenal legs.

Next: Writing Is Cheaper than Therapy