Nora Ephron turned 70 today. Holy catfish! Nora Ephron is SEVENTY? That sounds about as likely as the Mariners winning the World Series…
Nora Ephron, like Maya Angelou (see April 3 post), is another of my heroes. She wears many hats, including journalist, novelist, screenwriter, producer, director and blogger. If you’re unfamiliar with her name, think “Silkwood,” “When Harry Met Sally,” “Sleepless in Seattle,” “You’ve Got Mail,” and “Julie and Julia.”
Just look at that partial list of screenwriting credits. Really look at them. Three of those screenplays gleaned her Academy Award nominations. Her name on any movie, as writer, director, or both, now commands a huge following at the box office. Me included.
I have long admired Nora’s creative talent, her spunk, and her perseverance in declaring Deep Throat’s true identity decades before anyone would listen.
Mostly though, I admire, and even covet, the way she writes such realistic dialog, tapping right into the crux of raw emotion. I want to write like that. I want to climb inside my characters and breathe life into the scene. I want to write with all the passion of heart and soul, drawing my readers in with vivid intensity.
Oh, what the hell, let’s face it—like tens of thousands of other female writers, I want to be Nora Ephron when I grow up.
But lord have mercy, I’m pretty sure neither one of us is ready to be 70 just yet!
