A Writer’s Mission Accomplished

The following review appeared in the Sept./Oct. issue of Virginia Golfer (2021) under the heading “A Writer’s Mission Accomplished” by Jim Ducibella.

Michael J. Stott’s recently released book is titled Too Much Loft, certainly appropriate for a three-novella exercise chronicling a young man’s journey from country-club caddie to grounds crew member to the pro shop in the early 1960s.

However, given the story behind the story, an equally appropriate title might have been Perseverance. That virtue was essential in Stott bringing his story into your reading room.

(But first, some housekeeping. Stott asked me to edit his manuscript, which I did on the condition that it would be for spelling, punctuation, and grammar only. We agreed that plot and character development were off-limits.)

Stott began writing the odyssey of “Looper” Litton in 1990, never knowing when or where the next shard of inspiration would come. Once, he grabbed some napkins at a Richmond restaurant where he and his family were dining and began scribbling dialogue that descended on him between the salad and the entrée.

In somewhat quick order, Stott finished the first two novellas.

“There are pieces of the book that reflect experiences I had,” he said. “Some of the characters are drawn from people I either knew or worked with.” Take “Mrs. Peck,” the story of a 60-something-year-old former club champion who, 40 years after giving up the game, seeks to win the title again. It’s true. Stott did caddie for Mrs. Peck at the suburban Chicago club where Peck was a member.

What seems like a contrived subplot – that Mrs. Peck carried all numbered woods, 1 through 11 – is also a fact.

“I caddied for a lot of people, but never anyone who had a set of clubs like hers,” Stott said.

In “Mr. O.,” Looper spends his first day as a grunt on a grounds crew overseen by a cantankerous, sexist, unyielding superintendent hand-weeding beds of overgrown Phlox in a driving storm.

“Yeah, to me,” Stott says, when asked if that really happened.

“Unlike Looper, I wasn’t lent a Jaguar by a member, I didn’t have a mentor at the club. I attended no big social events – and I had no romantic nights with the beautiful daughter of a club member,” Stott said, laughing. “I had no country club social life at all. I would have liked Looper’s life.”

Then, early into the third novella, second thoughts and real life got between pen and paper. There was a second marriage, two more children, a corporate career, and another passion, coaching and writing about swimming. He shelved the project for 24 years.

“As I was finishing the second one, I didn’t know if there was a third story there,” he said. “I knew Looper had to move to the pro shop, but I didn’t know where it would go.”

Pointing him to the finish line was Stott’s son, David. Every New Year’s Eve he and his dad would have the same conversation.

“He’d say, ‘Let’s finish Too Much Loft this year,’” Stott said. “It was like an annual New Year’s resolution.”

After retiring from his position as swim coach at a Richmond prep school in 2017, Stott started anew. Remarkably, when he reviewed his work from a quarter-century before, it held up.

There’s little about Stott’s family life in the book. He grew up distinctly middle class, about five minutes from the club. Getting to work meant walking past ritzy homes and people of a more exclusive social standing. Stott’s dad traveled continuously for work. They rarely saw each other. Their interests were radically different. The elder Stott was proficient at working with his hands; the son not so much.

But in fifth grade, young Stott penned a series of short stories. Stott’s father, who died in 1989, couldn’t praise him enough.

“It’s occurs to me that he’d be very proud of me for writing this book,” Stott said. “It would be validation that I had the talent to follow my passion.”

Stott’s name should be familiar to you. His work graces these pages on a regular basis, and he still pens four pieces a month for a swimming magazine. But something was missing.

“It’s not like I’m not writing,” he said. “I know this is old- school, but I always felt that if you called yourself a writer, you needed a book.” After Too Much Loft, he can finally say “mission accomplished.”