Wildcat

Tell the truth.

Chain the devil.

In the battle between good and evil,

the devil's territory is growing.

Home again, home again, chickity-chee.

-(Door closing) -Thomas?

-Yes? -This is Star.

Star's gonna be staying with us for a few days.

Oh, no, don't worry. I don't mind you. Come in.

She says she's an atheist.

Only God's an atheist.

And when sin and seduction are set free...

-Get off! -(Laughing)

Get... away! Evil woman!

I know this game.

She's a nymphomaniac.

That's just another way she's unfortunate.

It was the filthy, dirty, criminal slut who stole my gun.

-Oh, Thomas don't you-- -You believe me, don't you, Mom?

-(All arguing) You believe me Shut up!

Fleas come with the dog.

-(Gunshot) -(Woman screaming)

Mystery, thrills.

Scandal

with today's most electric stars.

FLANNERY (Narrating): The sky was underpinned

with long silver streaks that looked like scaffolding.

And behind it were thousands of stars still moving slowly,

as if they were about some vast construction work

that involved the whole order of the universe

and would take all of time to complete.

But no one was paying any attention to the sky.

Damn.

The world was made for the dead.

Think of all the dead that are there,

so many more dead than there are living.

And the dead are dead much longer than the living

are alive.

And they don't seem to mind.

-(Gunshot) -(Thudding)

Dear God, I am so discouraged about my work.

I want to write a novel.

A good novel.

I want to do this for a good feeling and for a bad one.

The bad one is uppermost.

Please, help me get down under things, where you are.

WOMAN (Whispering): Obadiah Elihue.

Obadiah, Obadiah, Obadiah Elihue.

Obadiah Elihue.

What, Obadiah Elihue?

Obadiah Elihue.

O-- Obadiah Elihue.

What does that name mean?

Servant of God.

Miss O'Connor, I...

I respect you, so I'm gonna be honest.

Sometimes, I feel like you're trying to stick pins in your readers.

I don't think you need to make them suffer

in order to introduce them to the unusual way your mind works.

It feels a little like you're

trying to pick a fight with your reader,

when all they ever did was open the front cover of your book.

I'm also not sure

if all the rewriting that you're doing is helping.

I mean, I only say that because the book, as it was on the whole, is very strong.

I'm wondering if you want to get into some specifics.

I'm amenable to criticism.

Okay.

Well, these are just

some of our initial thoughts and reservations about your book so far.

You can take it home with you.

I do think... an outline would be useful at this point,

just to give us a sense of what the final chapters will look like.

I'm amenable to criticism, but only within the sphere of what I'm trying to do.

All right, the real question is,

do you want me to be specific and work with you

the way that I work with all the writers on the payroll,

or do you prefer to go it alone?

Think about it.

Take some time, and I'll follow up with Miss McKee.

Um...

it was really, really nice to meet you in person, Miss O'Connor.

-Uh-- -Safe travels.

-Thank you. -Take care.

Oh, you're back.

Before I go,

I think my position on the novel

and on your criticism should be made plain.

I don't outline.

I-- I have to write to discover what I'm doing,

and I don't know so well what I think until I see what I say.

Then I have to say it over again.

I feel that whatever virtues the novel may have

are very much connected with the limitations you mentioned.

To develop at all as a writer,

I-- I think I have to develop in my own way.

I will not be persuaded to do otherwise.

The objections you raised suggest that you would like to rescue the book at this point,

and train it into a conventional novel.

But I'm not writing a conventional novel.

Wise Blood, when finished,

will be hopefully less angular, but just as odd, if not odder,

than the nine chapters you have now.

So, the question is...

Is Rinehart interested in publishing

a new kind of novel?

He says to me, "Miss O'Connor, you seem like a straight shooter,

"but I'm disturbed by the hardening of the arteries of your cooperative sense.

"It is most unbecoming in a woman writer so young."

-A straight shooter? -Yes.

You know, I think I'd rather throw myself

in front of the Dixie Limited than write an outline.

I know.

If they don't think I'm worth giving more money to

and just leaving alone, then they should let me go.

He is an idiot.

I don't know.

He and I came up with the expression that I was "prematurely arrogant."

I had to supply him with the phrase.

Of course. That's good.

It's edit-proof.

If he has any sense, he'll publish it.

Thanks, Cal.

I try to turn the other cheek, but my tongue is always in it.

I do need that advance, though.

I need cigarettes.

Oh, all right.

Will you get me a New York Times, please?

Two of 'em.

Two? -Two.

-(Crow cawing) -(Spitting)

FLANNERY (Narrating): The tramp swung both his whole

and his short arm up slowly

so that they indicated an expanse of sky, and his figure formed a crooked cross.

Although the old woman lived in this desolate spot

with only her daughter, Lucynell,

and had never seen the one-armed man before,

she could tell, even from a distance,

he was a tramp and no one to be afraid of.

I'd pay a fortune

to live in a spot as pretty as this one.

I'll bet that sunset...

is something to see.

Happens every evening.

Yeah.

Well...

You ladies drive?

Oh, that car ain't run in years.

Well, nothing's like it used to be.

World is almost rotten.

Where are you from, mister?

Well...

Well, I could tell you anything.

I could tell you that I'm Tom T. Shiftlet from Tarwater, Tennessee,

but how would you know I ain't lying, hmm?

I could be Aaron Sparks from...

Singleton, Georgia. You don't know.

I don't know nothing about you.

Maybe... the best I can tell you is that I'm a man.

Well, not a whole man, but...

... but what is a man, you know?

Well, you could hang around here,

work.

I'll pay you in food, you don't mind sleeping in the car yonder.

The monks of old slept in their coffins.

They wasn't as advanced as we are.

Yeah.

Oh, hey, I-- I have something for you.

-Oh? -Mm-hmm. Here it is.

What is this?

This is courtesy of Bob Giroux at Harcourt.

I showed him your story in the Partisan Review.

His exact quote was, "That young Catholic writer is an astonishing talent."

He wants to meet you.

-Thanks, Cal. -Mm-hmm.

Hey, we can go together. You-- you're back next week?

I'll be back, if it wasn't for my mother, I'd never see Georgia ever again.

Now boarding on Track 7,

- Crescent Line to New Orleans, now boarding. -Oh.

I should come down and visit it sometime.