How About a Federal Word Bank for Writers?

The trouble began when stock prices started falling-as did the traders jumping out of windows.

Today, the economic crash of the late 1920s and throughout the 1930s is known as the Great Depression, though people who lived through it say it was not all that great.

But from a writer's standpoint, at least one good thing came of those hard times: The Federal Writers Project. A program of the Works Progress Administration, the WPA in 1935 began hiring unemployed writers, from laid off newspaper men and women to down-on-their-luck novelists, to use their skills to preserve American history and culture.

Writers ventured to rural areas and interviewed former slaves. In Texas and Oklahoma, they talked to old Indian fighters and old Indians. The treasure trove of information they collected is in the National Archives, available to our and future generations of researchers and writers.

Federally-funded wordsmiths also wrote a series of guidebooks that remain valuable references to this day. While the "WPA Guide to Texas," first published in 1940, no longer is the best place to consult for places to stay or eat, it provides a fly-in-amber view of Texas in the late 1930s. City guides produced during this period offer still-useful histories. In all, the WPA produced 276 books.

While lack of money sent many Americans to soup kitchens, drought played havoc with the nation's bread basket. Wind and erosion peeled away fertile land. Towering dust storms as big and dark as thunderstorms roared across the Texas Panhandle.

Another federal project born of the Dust Bowl days was the soil bank concept. Rake away the bureaucratese and what it amounted to was this: to save soil, the federal government paid farmers not to farm. Many rural Americans soon found that endorsing a federal check beat picking cotton or thrashing wheat.

Now times are tough again. Stock prices are falling. People are being laid off. New jobs are hard to find. Advertising revenues are down and word-related businesses from newspapers to book publishers are scaling back, dropping features, putting projects on back burners and paying writers less.

Politicians perennially promise tax cuts, but for struggling writers -- the people who help preserve our past, enlighten our present and ponder our future -- the federal government can do even more.

Congress should draft and speedily pass a Federal Word Bank Act. As with all government programs, the necessary administrative apparatus would have to be put into place to oversee such a program, from applicant screeners to program evaluators to bean counters, but the bottom line would be a law that provides for writers to be paid by the government not to write. The federal government and its Government Printing Office, of course, would be exempt.

With an incentive not to produce, think of all the precious words that could be saved, not to mention the reams of paper, by writers now endeavoring to make a buck at their craft.

Given that we all have only a finite supply of words, how long can Stephen King continue to make his books interesting? Just how many scary words does he have left? What about the prolific John Grisham? How many more words are available to make practicing law sound interesting? How many more words are left for Tom Clancy to wage and win war with? How many wisecracking words remain available for Kinky Friedman's mysteries?

What if someday no more scary words are left? No descriptive words. No adventurous words. No romantic words. No more funny words. No more mysterious words.

I can foresee long lines of writers at public library reference shelves, awaiting their turn at the dictionaries, desperately hoping for some unused, available words. Word rationing would not be far behind, possibly even unannounced rolling word blackouts. Imagine walking outside on a Sunday morning to pick up your New York Times only to find a small printed card in a plastic sleeve: "We're sorry, but due to the ongoing word shortage, The New York Times was unable to publish today."

Scenes like this would happen all over America:

"How was school today, Hallie?"

"Great!"

"What did you do?"

"Well, we couldn't practice our writing because we've used up our word allotment, but we had recess all afternoon!"

But all this can be prevented. A word crisis can be avoided. As with most issues in the world, from health to morality to national defense, all it takes is legislation. The Federal Word Bank would pay writers, just like farmers, NOT to write.

The act would provide a sliding scale of conservation plans, from the occasional user, who might qualify for a couple of hundred dollars a month in return for not producing 2,000 words up to someone with a pending book contract, who could receive up to $15,000 -- an average non-fiction advance -- to withhold the words necessary to complete the project.

A Word Conservation Commission would oversee the program. In addition to dispersing tax dollars appropriated from existing federal funds, the commission could partially pay for the word bank project through the sale of special use permits. Texas Monthly publisher Mike Levy, for instance, could be charged $5,000 a month by the commission for a permit to cover the word usage of his daily emails across Texas and the nation.

The benefits of this act would be tremendous: With freelance writers actually making money, the nation's economy would be stimulated. A writer receiving as little as $1000 a month in FWB money would have more time to devote to family, friends, hobbies and public service. Retirees, now struggling to get by on pensions, Social Security and 401(k) plans would be able to afford their prescriptions. They would be able to buy birthday presents for their grandchildren.

And, best of all, words -- the precious natural resource upon which all writers depend -- would begin to be replenished. Unlike fossil fuel, words, given time, will come back to life, like a drought-starved landscape after a soaking rain.

What can you do? Write your Congressman today in support of the Word Bank Act. And until they are federally protected, please use your words sparingly.