Interiew: Erica Wright

Not too long ago, I read Erica Wright's novel The Granite Moth.  Afterwards, I asked Erica if she would be willing to participate in an interview as a feature.  She agreed and I cut down the number of questions from 21 to 10.  Her answers are very thoughtful and provide much food for thought.  I am impressed with everything she has done up to this point, and excited to see what she might be able to do in the future.

(1) When did you begin writing The Granite Moth and when was it published?  How was the experience different from writing The Red Chameleon? 

I started The Granite Moth with a three-page, single-spaced outline about underground gambling rings in New York City. When I sat down to write the first chapter, in the summer of 2013, I realized that a float was going to explode and the book would be about a possible hate crime. My outline—of which I was inordinately proud—went out the window. The book was published in November 2015. The main difference between writing this one versus The Red Chameleon was how well I knew the characters. Even though they still surprised me from time to time, I knew how they would react to certain situations.  

(2) How did you go about getting the book published?  Did you send query letters to agents or the publishing houses directly?

For The Red Chameleon, I queried agents and was lucky enough to find Penn Whaling who helped me sale that book and then The Granite Moth to the lovely folks at Pegasus. 

(3) Who are your top five authors of all time?

Wow, tough question. My answer would probably be different next week, but I’ll go with my gut . I’m also sticking with prose instead of making my favorite poets compete: Charlotte Brontë, Salman Rushdie, Jane Austen, Joan Didion, Gabriel García Márquez. Marisha Pessl would probably be on the shortlist, as well, even though she’s only published two novels. 

Note that I asked some follow-up questions in an e-mail and Erica suggested The Moor's Last Sigh by Rushdie and Night Film by Pessl.

(4) Did you write exclusively for a living at the time you wrote The Granite Moth or did you need to work a separate job too?  Is this situation still the same?

No, I balance writing with teaching. I can’t imagine not teaching at all. I would miss my students!

(5) You mentioned that you are currently working on the third novel in this series.  How far along are you in the process?  What is your writing process for completing a manuscript?  More basically, what is your daily writing process?  Do you have a title, or is there anything else you can tell us about the new one?

Thanks for asking about the third book. For now, it’s called The Blue Kingfisher, and I recently finished a pretty major rewrite, cutting a few unnecessary characters and punching up the ending. I’m not a morning person, but I write early in the day, first thing if possible. That way, I prioritize the project. I currently lead a novel writing group through OneRoom, and that’s one of tricks I emphasize—finding and sticking with a routine.

(6) Prior to The Granite Moth, I had only known you to write poetry.  For some reason, this material seems like a far cry from your poems.  What drew you to write about Kat Stone and the world of private investigators?

I was teaching English at a criminology school, and my students were all pursuing what seemed like wild careers to me. They wanted to work for the CIA or FBI. They wanted to be detectives. So I started researching these worlds, so that I could better relate to them during our conferences. I found myself fascinated with crime fighting, undercover work in particular. I wondered what would happen to someone who took on a whole other identify for years. Kat came from that question. 

(7) Has anyone approached you about obtaining film rights to the Kat Stone anthology?

No, but I’ve been watching Jane the Virgin lately and marveling at the talent of Gina Rodriguez. She’d be an amazing Kat. 

(8) Now I knew you in New York, but you live in Houston now.  Have you lived anywhere else in between, and how do they all compare?  I only ask because I'm constantly comparing Chicago to New York, and have come to the conclusion that relatively lower rent is the main thing that keeps me from thinking I will go back.

I never imagined leaving New York City, but I’ve been enjoying my new location adventures. Since 2012, I’ve lived in Atlanta, Gainesville, Nashville, and now Houston. If anybody needs moving tips, I’m available. They all have their unique advantages. The Spanish moss in Gainesville is gorgeous. And Houston is this sprawling behemoth of infinite possibilities.  

(9) I feel like I should ask something specific about The Granite Moth, a question about the story itself.  How did you come up with the idea of building the narrative around an explosion of a parade float?  The narrative seems to go a lot of pretty crazy places, but why did you feel compelled to write about things like the Pink Parrot and the Zeus Society?  And what is gayboy bunny?

I knew that I wanted to start the book at the Halloween Parade, an ideal setting for mischief since it’s a nighttime event and masks are expected. As I mentioned before, the book was original going to be about underground gambling dens in New York City, but when I started writing about the float, I knew it was going to explode. In general, our true interests—what Frank Bidart might call our radical givens—rise to the surface if we let them, and I wanted to explore the possibility of a hate crime. That’s how the Zeus Society entered into the narrative. A “gayboy bunny” is a woman who has several gay friends. It has a more positive connotation than some of the other less endearing terms.

(10) Is Magrelli a character in The Red Chameleon?  Do you think a person's appreciation for The Granite Moth would be enhanced by reading The Red Chameleon?  Do you regard the books as your children, and do you say you are equally proud, and do you have a secret favorite?

With a healthy amount of help from my editor, I tried to make sure that The Granite Moth works as its own book. Kat will be shaking the trauma of her time undercover for awhile, and Magrelli symbolizes that past. He’s a character in The Red Chameleon the same way—he haunts her. I don’t think of the books as children, though I am proud of them. I want each novel I write to be a little bit better than the previous one.

Raymond Carver: A Writer's Life - Carol Sklenicka

Go back to the year 2000 with me, if you please.  I'm in Wilmette, IL at my parent's house, home on break from school out east, getting ready to apply to college, sitting in an armchair in the living room (designated "the library") leafing through an anthology of American literature.  I'm vaguely familiar with Raymond Carver from Roger Ebert's review of Short Cuts, which I read a few years earlier, and I see the story "Cathedral."  I decide to read it, and it's beautiful, a sketch of a blind man being helped to draw a cathedral from an image in his mind of which he can have no reference.  It's a pretty quick read, but enormously moving, and I decide this might be a writer worth checking out.

Fast forward a year and I'm at NYU in a Prose Composition class and our professor gives us a xeroxed copy of Carver's poem "Fear," a list poem about things he fears.  I've seen Short Cuts at least a time or two by now (even going so far as to call my favorite movie at the time (Magnolia) a rip-off), and I go to one of those used book tables in Greenwich Village and pick up a copy of Where I'm Calling From and I read the stories sporadically throughout the course of my freshman year, all the while hearing praise of Carver from anyone the least bit connected to any creative writing class.  I pick my oldest sister for Secret Santa for Christmas that year, and though she has never really expressed an interest in so-called literary fiction, give her a copy of Where I'm Calling From, asterisking all the stories in particular that I think she should read.

So yes, I love Raymond Carver, and this biography easily makes the list of the Best Books reviewed on Flying Houses.  It's not a perfect biography, but it's very close.  It's so painstakingly researched that a reader can almost observe Carver's movements on a day-to-day basis.

Also, Carver went to the same high school as Justice Douglas.  So two of the graduates of Yakima High School would go onto lives worthy of biographies listed as Best Books on FH.  Therefore I believe my friends Byron Johnson and Erin Ecklund will be moving on to live great lives (though I think they went to a different high school).  Boarding school was a waste of money.  Families should move to Yakima to go to this school.  Then again, it would be inadvisable to base one's child's future on a career in the arts, or the law...

***

The book is subtitled "A Writer's Life" and indeed the first half of the book lays out in excruciating detail all of the obstacles that Carver had to overcome to become an author worthy of publication in The Best American Short Stories series and The New Yorker.  He marries quite young to Maryann Burk and they have their first child before he turns twenty.  Even before then, he had developed enough of an interest in creating writing that he paid $25 to the Palmer Institute of Authorship in Hollywood at the age of 16.  Sklenicka cannily observes that some of the correspondence has a ring of destiny about it--the first lesson is aimed squarely at the short story and reads:

"In becoming a Palmer student you are taking an important step in establishing yourself in a profession that enjoys the respect and esteem of all classes of people, a profession you may be proud to claim as your own...This may be the vital turning point in the course of your life...." (39)

Later, Ray goes to the Writer's Workshop at the University of Iowa, several times, in varying guises--never quite earning an MFA, but sometimes taking credit for it.  In the meanwhile, he works at sawmills and barely earns enough to support their family.  Their continual poverty is a constant theme of the biography.  However, what struck me most about their family was Maryann.  She just seems awesome.  This is a biography of Raymond Carver--but there is so much Maryann in here that it might as well be a biography of her, too.  And this was the surprisingly compelling aspect of the book to me: they have this beautiful relationship, but also an extremely difficult one, and they stick it out for so long.  He owed his early career to her.  He would not have accomplished what he accomplished without her.

His first stories were published in the late 1950's and early 1960's, but he seemed to hit his first stride in 1964 with "Will You Please Be Quiet, Please?" Eventually that would be the title story for his first collection, which would be released thirteen years later.  More than any other book I've read, this truly depicts the "writer's life" of living your life for your work and spending a considerable amount of time submitting to journals and magazines for publication.  The "second stride" probably came with the publication of "Neighbors" in Esquire, where Gordon Lish served as fiction editor.

There are several literary friendships depicted here.  First there is John Gardner as Carver's writing professor at Iowa (though he is only a few years older).  Second, there is Lish, who certainly comes across as one of the more entertaining (and ruthless) characters in the book.  Third, there is Tess Gallagher, and later Tobias Wolff and Richard Ford.  There is also an entertaining and sad section where a 61-year-old John Cheever drinks and teaches alongside Carver at Iowa in 1973 (Chapter 18 "Drowning," which is not quite rock bottom for Carver, but very close).

Alcoholism is another major theme of the book, and it is written about with such precision and empathy that I thought Sklenicka must have battled demons of her own on that score.  He would drink for three more years after the episodes with Cheever up until the publication of Will You Please Be Quiet, Please?  Roughly a year after that was published he would become sober and remain sober.  It is quite harrowing to read about his plight during these times, all in the "Celebrated and Homeless" chapter.

One quick side note:  one of his earlier stories is called "Are These Actual Miles?"  This is just an awesome title for a story:

"One of those new stories configured the rock-bottom days of the Carvers' lives in Sacramento when they were forced to sell their convertible.  'Are These Actual Miles?' is about bankruptcy, suspections of infidelity, and suicidal depression.  Ray pushed into new territory with this story, and it proved to be exactly what Lish was waiting for.  Late in November, Lish telephoned to say that Gingrich and Hayes were 'wild' about the story.  Not only that, but Lish planned to include both 'Neighbors' and 'Miles' in an anthology of fiction from Esquire that he was editing for Doubleday."  (214)

But they change to the title to "What is It?"  Worst title change ever!  Ray is upset about it and Maryann calls him a "whore" for selling out, but Esquire gives them another boost in credibility and they accept it.

I really shouldn't give away the whole story--I'll speak in generalities.  It is an impressive story.  You know, people think that writer's lives are boring.  This is anything but a boring life, but I do not think anybody in their right mind would ever want to live it.  It is filled with so much uncertainty and chaos and desperation that no one should set their sights on a literary career unless they are willing to sacrifice almost everything in favor of that pursuit.

***

This is a really hard review to write because there's so much to say.  This is a big book--not quite as big as the Ernest Hemingway biography that holds the record for longest gestation time on FH--but at 496 pages a hefty read.  I tore through it.  It took me less than 2 months.  Maybe a month and a half.  It was a little slow going in the beginning, but within the first 100 pages Carver is publishing his first stories.  It seems that the period up until say, Cathedral, is very tightly documented, and that the last five years of Carver's life, when he finally began to taste the fruits of literary success, pass a bit more quickly.

It is worth telling how I found this book, because it is quite fortuitous.  I live in a very bad apartment building, but we do have a free washer and dryer in the basement.  The machines themselves leave something to be desired.  The room is disgusting.  No one ever cleans it, except for me the one time my landlord took $40 off my rent one month when I agreed to do it.  Despite this atmosphere, it also becomes a kind of dumping ground for unwanted items that could be used for other tenants passing through.  You see, my landlord does not rent out three, 3 BR apartments--he rents out 9 rooms.  Each of them is around $600, so he is making over $5000 per month off us.  But we live in relative squalor.  Some of this is the doing of my roommates, but it is mostly the doing of the 1st and 2nd floor tenants, over the years.

Sometimes though, a treasure appears.  I had noticed a very good book collection laying on the ground.  Sometimes I would flip through the Williams S. Burroughs compilation Word Virus while waiting a few extra minutes for a garment to be dried.  But this one particular day in late October or early November, I saw the Raymond Carver biography and I thought it was such a quirky book to have that I had to seize the opportunity and read it quickly and return it in case the person that owned it moved out.  Finally I talked to two of the basement neighbors and asked whose it was and they said somebody who had moved out had left it and I could keep it.  That took the pressure off, but I read it quickly regardless.  At a certain point I read "Fires" out of Fires (which is the only Carver collection I own) and a description of a scene in a laundromat stands out as imminently moving:

"The dark heart of 'Fires' is a two-page anecdote about doing his family's wash at a laundromat in Iowa City.  The laundromat was on the corner of Burlington and Gilbert, around the corner from the writers' favorite beer joints.  Canadian writer Clark Blaise sometimes chatted with Ray while their clothes spun at this laundromat, as Blaise and his wife, the novelist Bharati Mukherjee, struggled to keep up with their baby's diapers.  But Carver is alone in the laundromat epiphany he reports.  Maryann is at work, the kids are at a birthday party, and Ray is waiting for a dryer.  It's Saturday afternoon and crowded, so he is becoming frantic. Another dryer has stopped, and Carver is moving toward it, ready to replace the other clothes with his own, when the owner of the clothing decides to let it go for another cycle:

     ....I remember thinking at that moment....that nothing could come anywhere close, could possibly be as important to me, could make as much difference, as the fact that I had two children.  And that I would always have them and always find myself in this position of unrelieved responsibility and permanent distraction.
     Like that it came to me.  Like a sharp breeze when the window is thrown open.  Up to that point in my life I'd gone along thinking...that things would work out somehow--that everything in my life I'd hoped for or wanted to do was possible.

Is Carver writing fiction here?  Could this one moment encompass so much?  The essay dramatizes a situation that had smoldered for years.  Carver admits in the essay that many writers have overcome 'far more serious impediments to their work, including imprisonment, blindness, the threat of torture or death...'" (96-97)

Later, Carver's children come to resent him for "Fires" and a few other stories and poems throughout the years.  Perhaps he should have kept his mouth shut, but you know, we all need little anecdotes about the petty frustrations involved with laundry.  Most strikingly though, Scklenicka adds that, in this scene, Carver is 25 and halfway through his life.

***

This review is getting long as it is.  There are just too many little details that I'd like to reference.  One of the cutest, for me, is Ray's favored non-alcoholic beverage:

Okay unfortunately that's not in the index so I can't find it, but at one point his children notice that he always drinks RC Cola.  He likes it because his initials are R.C.  The image of him sitting around drinking R.C. and presiding, like, "Yep, that's my cola," is hilarious.

There are several details about other writers, but the big gaping hole in this biography that we've left so far is Gordon Lish.  Lish's anecdote about J.D. Salinger is worth excerpting (as is almost any anecdote about that controversial legend).  I also wish Obama/whoever wins in 2016 cared more about people like us:

"No project Lish undertook was too humble to become a vehicle for his prodigious personality.  For the Job Corps, a Kennedy-era program for unemployed young men, he created a box set of reading folders called Why Work.  Instead of gathering already published materials, Lish sent telegrams to thirty writers he admired.  One of these telegrams went to J.D. Salinger, who had been in seclusion for more than a decade.  Lish followed his telegram with letters--numerous letters--to Salinger that show Lish inventing himself as a literary impresario.  A few months later, he received a telephone call at work from Salinger himself.  When he understood who was calling him, Lish reports, 'I was grinning so hard that my brain could not have had any room left over in it for one speck of business.'  As Lish tells it, Salinger said, 'I'm calling because I was worried about you.'  Salinger again refused to write for Why Work.  But Lish was not unhappy: 'I mean, forget that it was animating him all four months later, it worked! had worked!--because there he was, J.D. Salinger, the impeccably reclusive J.D. Salinger, calling me--.'" (151)

It is necessary to take a detour into Lish, and relate one final personal anecdote in two pieces.  First, on the day I finished this biography, the Winter 2016 edition of the The Paris Review (#215) arrived at our apartment (I don't subscribe to it; my roommate does--one of several reasons why I will be sad to see him go).  One of the interviews was of the now 82-year-old Gordon Lish, who is cantankerous as ever.  Lish donated his papers to Indiana University, and he encourages all Carver fanatics to visit this collection to see just how responsible he is for Carver's acclaim.  Now it is very true that Carver is widely imitated and extremely influential, and Lish's labors cannot be diminished.  However, Lish makes it seem like Carver is a stumbling drunk who can barely form a sentence, who spits out a couple dozen pages of gibberish, which Lish then cuts by more than 50% to emerge with a prize-winning story.  Lish is just a very heavy editor, and other writers, such as Barry Hannah, acknowledge how deeply he changed their work for the better.  Carver, on the other hand, was sheepish about this, and fought the accusations that he was really just Lish's puppet.

For Christmas, I got my mother a copy of Beginners, which is the manuscript Carver sent Lish of the stories that would comprise his second book, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love, which is certainly one of the most famous short stories he wrote.  I haven't read it yet, but it's one of those gifts where you are really getting something for yourself--though I know my mother loves literature and I was just trying to turn her on to Carver.  Maybe it will be weak, though.  I am afraid.  I looked at the opening of "What Is It?" from Will You Please Be Quiet, Please?  in the Barnes & Noble and it starts off like a rocket--"First thing, we have to sell the car," or some other such opening.  Lish would remove characters, remove names from characters, cut out whole scenes, remove neat conclusions and leave stories to end on an ambiguous or dark note.  Carver is often defined as a minimalist, but I think it is quite clear that Lish is responsible for that reputation.  Reading this biography reignited my interest in his work, and I hope to read the Lish-edited books and then perhaps Beginners once my mother is finished with it.  Really one would need to read them side-by-side--or at least focus on the story "Beginners" itself--to determine if that 2009 volume, positioned by Tess Gallagher as truer versions of the stories, is responsible in the least for Birdman, which I feel like put Carver back into the national consciousness.   To be sure, Birdman is an achievement all on its own--but would it really have been the kind of Best Picture type film it was without the Carver motif?  I'm sure plenty of people watching didn't know a thing about "WWTAWWTAL," but those that did understand why the film is such a powerful statement on artistry and fame.

Carver never became "famous" until he stopped drinking, though it was his many drunken misadventures that became the stories of "Bad Ray" which "Good Ray" would then write in his sober years.  There are so many little things in this book that are just hilarious; there are just as many that will break your heart.

A brief word on domestic violence: Ray beat Maryann, and Sklenicka does not shy away from describing it, though she does perhaps whitewash it a bit--but understandably so!  Because Maryann would beat him back, too, and often drank as much as he did.  There is one shocking incident though, where Maryann is nearly killed by a bottle of wine broken on her neck, which opens an artery.  They have a volatile, tempestuous relationship, and it nearly kills them.  One does not get the sense that Ray is the typical abuser and Maryann is the typical victim.  It never seems like she is "scared" of him, though she is remarkably loyal to him.  I will not spoil what happens when they finally divorce, and the alimony arrangement they reach, but let's just say, as I've intimated above already, that Carver owes his career to Maryann.  He owes a debt to Lish as well, but Maryann most of all--because she nourished and cared for him and supported him through the worst times most human beings are ever made to suffer.

Amidst all the messiness of life, Carver eventually succeeds.  Really, here we have someone--in the generation of the "post-Beats" or the New Journalism (or "the New Fiction" Lish curated)--who grew up wanting to be a writer, who did all the things that people still do nowadays (like go to Iowa, submit to journals, etc.) and who made it, but not without extreme difficulty.  It's just such a true story that it has to be one of the Best Books.  Even with a few weird moments--I admit that a few of Sklenicka's rare exclamation points are quirky--this is an incredibly valuable tome for anyone that wants to be a writer.  You cannot help but smile at certain passages.

Okay I had a good one to end with, but we have to keep Thomas alive, too:

"In Zurich, a friend secured them entry to Thomas Mann's archives and Mann's large study with its fine mahogany desk, parquet floor, couch, and easy chairs.  They opened Mann's books and handled his fountain pens and Asian figurines.  'Who couldn't work well with a study like this?' Ray wrote on a postcard, before grumbling that Zurich had 'more Japs than Swiss' and more gays than straight people.  Tess's journal indicates that Ray felt anxious about getting meals at specific times and taking a nap in the afternoon.  Those difficulties were somewhat offset for him by the availability of Swiss chocolate.  After making their third visit to the cemetery where James Joyce is buried and studying several funerary sculptures there, they dined at Kronenhalle, which Joyce had frequented.  Lectures and meetings with publishers in Rome and Milan closed the trip at the end of April.  Weary of media attention and foreign food and foreign languages, Ray gratefully returned to Port Angeles."  (456)

But it's a scene from Syracuse with his son, Vance, that may have touched me more than anything else:

"When Vance took Tobias Wolff's survey course in the short story, he said to Wolff, 'My dad's really good, isn't he?'  Wolff said, 'Vance, your dad is one of the greatest short story writers who ever lived!'  And that had some meaning for him because he was learning about this art form that his father pursued so single-mindedly.  He could see him in this landscape of art." (365-366)

Biographies can be tedious and disappointing.  They can also make you love their subject even more.  Raymond Carver was far from a perfect human being.  In fact, he is downright dastardly at times, but it's the humanity peaking through such moments that give this book its heart.  Not everyone will love it--it seems targeted at Carver's fans, of which there are many--and though there are many writers one might care to emulate if they hope to "make it" in short fiction (Joy Williams comes to mind as she pops up throughout the book as a sort of contemporary female counterpart to Carver), one ultimately must find greatness within themselves.  This book portrays that process beautifully.

S/M: Chapter 25

I was recently writing a journal entry today and noted that it was my half birthday--28 1/2. It reminded me of something--28 1/2 Cuts--which is the name of the student film a character in my second novel creates. The event is the subject of the 25th chapter. I figured it was time to publish an excerpt from this novel. It is too rare of an opportunity. I hope you enjoy it.

Self-mutilation starts to seem tedious when you force yourself to follow a structure, and you find yourself simply filling in the blanks, finishing something just to finish it, as if it were a paper in college that you really didn’t know how to write, so you faked your way through it as best as you could, and you handed it in, and were content getting back a C, because you could be sure that next time, you would focus in the appropriate manner and get an A. Is that the way I feel about this confession, reader? It’s average, not excellent? I wonder what separates the average book from the excellent book. Is it an economy of style or God-like knowledge of all things? Is it a page-turner of a story, or is it something that could only affect the most isolated reader in a highly personal way in their heart? I don’t know—book reviewers confound me. What do they hope to get out of a book—something that makes their critical assignment more fun? Is it more fun to write a positive review that everyone will agree with, or a negative review which displays a higher taste for art than the masses would understand? Most book reviewers are authors themselves—so is it only that they know how hard the publishing process is and all of their reviews basically attack the notion of whether or not the book should have ever been published? No—that’s outside the scope. Their reviews describe whether or not the book is a successful work of art.
I say a successful work of art is something that unites rather than divides. Of course, what unification is possible amongst the isolated spectacles of printed words? The unification is dependent upon a reader’s fine memory, a reader’s articulation, and a reader’s professed enthusiasm for a text. Who among us can remember printed words verbatim as they are read silently to ourselves in our mind, and who among us can quote films or television shows with the utmost veracity and imitation of the actors annunciating the words for us? I feel very hopeless working in this medium. And all I wanted to talk about in the 25th chapter of this confession was how nobody had the same idea of fun as me.
Am I to recount the specific experience for you? It started with Robby calling me in February or March. I had seen him over Thanksgiving and Christmas, but now he was calling to tell me he was going to take a road trip out to California as his graduation gift. His mom said he could do it so long as he devised a budget for the trip and allowed her to approve it, seeing how much money he had to his name and how responsible he could be in an independent arrangement. I told him this was great, as I would be living in L.A. for the 1st half of the summer between my freshman and sophomore year. I would continue to live in Dykstra Hall at a rent significantly lower than typical L.A. housing and I would take my first filmmaking course where our final project would be our first black & white film without sound. Robby told me he was going to leave from Highland Park on June 10 and he hoped to be in L.A. by the afternoon of the 16th. He said he would stay for only a few days—he had to be back by the 26th because his budget would not allow for any more loafing than that. I would be leaving L.A. by the end of June, and flying home, and going to Martha’s Vineyard after a day or two for the rest of the summer. My parents had no interest in staying in Northbrook, and they were not going to let me stay by myself there. Better for them to keep a close eye on my expenses.
So Robby would be there either as I was shooting my film, or immediately after. I would be busy working on it, but it was also the only class I had to worry about. I figured that Robby would be happy to see my work and help me to improve upon it. Maybe he could even be used as an extra in the film, and divert my notions of what the film would be about. Whatever the case, he was still my closest friend from whom I could never keep any secrets, and I looked forward to his company in California. Under these very different circumstances, who knew what we might accomplish?
By the way, the rest of my freshman year was decent. All in all, I was happy I had made some good friends and I was happy people were treating me normally. It was the first time in my life nobody was putting up obstacles to my success. (Only now do I realize, the problem with that was, the success I could accomplish there meant nothing to anyone). Nick and I got along alright, and he went back to the O.C. for the summer, and I stayed in our room by myself. Jake also stayed in the dorms over the summer, and we were the only two people on our floor to stay past graduation ceremonies. A few other students came in for the summer and occupied a few other rooms on the floor. I looked forward to my first filmmaking class immensely.
Samantha and I had signed up at the same time for the class. She was the only person I knew in it from before. On the first day, our new instructor Professor Wazir, who insisted we call her Jackie, explained the way the class would unfold:
“All of your equipment will be rented out from our film department, and all of the expenses for your film usage have already been included in the additional fee for the course. The first week we will learn all of the mechanics of operating the camera with real film. We will not be using digital film in this course. You will learn the basics here, and you will probably never use the basics again. For the last ten years or so, digital has become more and more popular. First there were digital camcorders and then there were DV camcorders and people started saying, the hell with film, this camera costs $700 and you can tape over and over a digital file infinitely and save it on your computer. Celluloid is for purists, and if you are going to be filmmakers, you must at least grasp the foundations of filmmaking, the history, and the techniques of all those that came before you.”
“We will not be using sound in these films because that adds a level of complication to the scenario that I do not want you to worry about. Your films will be silent, and whatever stories you decide to tell must be communicated by wordless gestures, or, if you so choose (though I must admit many find it eccentric and unseemly) by way of letter cards. Your films will have a cap set at seven minutes, so you will have to be very precise about how long each shot is held for, and exactly what image you want to capture in order to tell your story. Some of you may be saying, ‘That’s so limiting, I want to use dialogue, I want to tell an amazing story!’ and to that I am just going to say two things. Number one, seven minutes is a lot longer than it seems for a silent film. Number two, I say you go write that amazing story, with dialogue, with a long-running-time, with everything, and then you figure out a way to tell it without sound, and in seven minutes.”
“By week eight, we will begin showcasing your films. And, while silent shorts are generally ignored by the ‘industry’ at large, if any of your films turn out to be, shall we say, revelatory, I will use my connections to submit it for consideration at next year’s Sundance film festival. And regardless, all of your films will be showcased in one sitting at the end of the course, which everyone in the UCLA community this summer will be invited to attend.”
We went around the room, saying our names, where we were from, and what our favorite movie was. When they got to me I said, “My name’s Oscar, I’m from Chicago, and my favorite movie is Secretary,” which wasn’t true, but which I just wanted to say. A few people in the class who had seen it laughed appreciably. When it got to Samantha she said, “My name’s Samantha, I’m from Las Vegas, and my favorite movie is Annie Hall,” which nobody found very funny. We left class and she asked what I thought my film might be about and I told her I had already been planning it for a year and I knew exactly what its story would be. I found it amazing that I had only thought of one idea for a movie and it was going to be highly appropriate to make that idea a reality.
That night I saw Jake and asked him if he would be my lead actor for the film. He said he would love to do it and then he asked me what the film was about. Of course, I knew what the film was going to be about—the kid who ran away from home to L.A. after the SATs, before college. But, in that moment when Jake asked me, I had a brief vision of saying, “It’s about a kid who cuts himself.”
So you see, reader, the seeds of this document date back to my first significant creative exercise. I knew it was the only story worth telling, the only story not to exist in a conventional framework. It could go anywhere and it could do anything. It could be like the movie Waking Life or Slacker—not in its subject matter, but in its redefinition of what a film could be. So what if this kid just keeps cutting himself? So what if that’s not an exciting enough plot—it’s reality, man! And art, art must mimic reality if we are to find it revelatory, if we are to feel it deeply in our hearts and minds. All the other boys and girls that cut themselves would seek it out and idolize it, the same way I idolized Secretary, because no other movie could be so bold as to take up such abnormal concerns—except that film had focused on it from the female perspective, which just seems like its easier for a mass audience to swallow, for some reason. No, I couldn’t make a movie out of it—it was too dark and uncomfortable for actors. Also, I didn’t yet know how the story would end. Reader! People complain about despairing circumstances being clichéd, but despairing circumstances can often reveal the artist’s consciousness in its totality.
But I told Jake about the runaway story and he said it sounded good. We started work on it immediately the next week. I recruited Professor Diminico to play Jake’s father, and his wife agreed to play the part of the mother. We could not use dialogue, so I had to show Diminico speaking vociferously at a dinner table, Jake looking down at his plate, and Mrs. Diminico regarding the scene with a look of extreme concern. The actions were exaggerated so the meaning could not be missed. I decided not to use word cards—I wanted there to be a greater challenge.
The dinner table scene was the first, and the second was a short shot of Jake with his head in an SAT Test Prep book. The third was a short scene meant to communicate a meeting with a guidance counselor—I also recruited Professor Lang to play this part. Jake was handed a sheet of paper with a list of unimpressive schools. This was the hardest part of the film for me. I didn’t want to offend anyone by saying they were bad schools. There was a key on the sheet that said 1 = reach, 2 = 50/50, 3 = safety. Northwestern University was at the top of the list with an unprecedented 1+, Beloit College had a 1, DePaul had a 1, UIC had a 1, Loyola had a 1, Northern Illinois University had a 2, Columbia College had a 2, and Oakton Community College had a 3. There was a long shot of this sheet of paper as if it were in an old Looney Tunes cartoon and the viewer was meant to process all the information therein contained.
The next scene showed Jake at a desk in the library, taking a standardized test meant to represent the SAT. I could not recreate test-like conditions, so I did my best to gain the support of everyone in the section of the library where we were filming to re-arrange themselves four to a desk and to appear to be focusing on a test. I had roughly sixteen people in the shot and it succeeded in creating the illusion.
Next I showed Jake receiving a letter of acceptance from Northern Illinois University. Then, laying on his bed, looking up at the ceiling, pondering. Then, packing a large backpack, slipping out of the house at night (Diminico was kind enough to let me use his house as well), walking down the street, sticking out his thumb, getting picked up.
It was difficult to create the illusion that Jake was traveling from Chicago to L.A. when we were filming it in L.A. in the middle of June. Luckily, the script had him leaving in May, so the weather was not the problem. It was the rolling hills of California and the flat plains of Illinois. We went beyond the valley, up and around the most distant suburbs of L.A. County, finding roads far from the freeway, far from the insane crowds, giving the illusion that we were in the desolate Middle West. We did not worry about showing the different rides Jake found while hitchhiking—a few different shots of him in the passenger side with changing scenery in the window was more than enough to suffice.
Finally we showed him arriving in Hollywood, of course utilizing that famous sign, and shot a couple L.A. landmarks, which our tour (documented in the “24” chapter) had inspired in us. He had to get a room at the YMCA, so we showed one of those facilities, which the owners were very kind in letting us film. We showed him going into the Cold Stone Creamery with a Help Wanted sign on the front—the one in the mall on Hollywood Blvd, right by the Chinese theaters. We showed him in uniform, scooping out the cake batter flavor into a cup. Finally, we had to intimate that he moved out of the YMCA and into an apartment, so we showed him moving his stuff into an apartment with one of his co-workers as a new roommate. Then, to complete the film, we used the unifying shot of him collapsing onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling, pondering.
I was so happy with this movie! Jake also found my vision very precise—he was very impressed that I had such a clear notion for my first film. How economically we had told such an epic story. The only thing left was to come up with a good title.
Robby had arrived in L.A. the day we were filming the final scene in Jake’s new apartment. He had driven the same teal Toyota Camry he always drove the two thousand miles to California. It occurred to me that I should have asked him to take some footage, which I could have spliced into the film—but I was using real film, not digital, and Robby did not have a camcorder that I knew of anyways. After the last shot, we went back to Dykstra Hall, and Robby put his stuff down in Nick’s old place. I told him I had to go into the editing room tonight to work on the film, and Robby asked if he could come along. I said of course, but it would be boring. He said he didn’t care because he was really interested to see my movie.
We ordered Domino’s after we had been holed up in the editing room for two hours. Robby was assisting me with artistic decisions. It was a very epic story that had to be told in a very short time, and some three or four minutes had to be cut to make the seven-minute restriction. Robby said to cut back on the L.A. landmarks montage—Jake was only going to be working at Cold Stone Creamery—he was not going to be living the stereotypical L.A. lifestyle as traditionally depicted in American cinema. Just that section of Hollywood Blvd. should have been emphasized, Robby said, because that was Jake’s world.
Sometime around 1 AM, we left the editing room and went back to the dorm. Robby said he had a surprise for me. I could guess what it was. The drug box. He took it out of his suitcase. It had been transferred to a shoe box. Inside were twenty-five pills of ecstasy, twenty-five tabs of LSD, five grams of coke, a half ounce of shrooms, an ounce of weed, and two grams of heroin. Robby had kept it almost perfectly halved. To be honest, I felt it was something of a burden, but I also knew I could make a lot of money off it. I thanked Robby at least ten times, showed him the bong I had bought in Venice Beach, we smoked some of the weed from the ounce bag, and we played XBOX 360 until we couldn’t keep our eyes opened. We went to bed sometime after 4:30, because it was one of those rare occasions that we were able to smoke at 4:20 AM.
Robby was going to be in town for the UCLA screening of all the student shorts, which was going to be happening in just a couple days. My film had been finished, and all that was left was to publicize its screening. And title it.
I thought about it for a while, and decided 28½ Cuts would be the best possible title. There were many different variations on why this worked. It had manifold associations. Namely:
-It was in many ways an updated version of Les Quatre Cents Coups, only with Jake being a few years older than Antoine Doinel, and in him never ending up in a detention center, and in it being in English, not French, and translated more appropriately by the word for the purposes of its creator.
-At 7 minutes, it was roughly 1/14th the length of that aforementioned film. Thus, if the number four hundred were to be divided by that total in order to concentrate the essence of the film into a more action-packed short, it would be twenty-eight and a half cuts.
-I edited the film to exactly twenty-eight and a half cuts after I decided on the title. It was not very hard. That was pretty much what I had. How did I accomplish the ½ cut—isn’t, isn’t that impossible? Perhaps, but I freeze-framed the final shot as an homage, to make it even more apparent if anybody couldn’t have caught the more obvious references. The freeze frame may actually be a full shot, but its finality contains an abruptness that gives the illusion of an abbreviated cut (not unlike the final image in Fight Club).
-It ended on 8 ½ which probably made people think it was going to be a Fellini homage. Actually there was really nothing reminiscent of that masterpiece. It was merely a mathematical truth that coincidentally leant itself to multiple film homage interpretations.
And the night before the premiere, when Robby was playing XBOX 360 in my dorm room and I was taking a shower, I cut a film canister right below the surfboard, using the pocket knife. It was a circular shape with three circular triangular shapes cut out. Rather intricate compared to many previously, but this cut had meaning. My first film had inadvertently become named after a number not far from how many times I had marked down a blade upon my skin. I wanted to get closer to that number. 28½. Could I devise an homage to myself when I reached that point, a la my “golden” cut? I didn’t want to think too much about it. The natural course of events often led to the basic conditions necessary for complicated psychic gestures. The film canister was an easy one, like a photograph or journal entry, to remember a time when I was very excited because I had created something that was now going to be let forth into the public, for everyone to dismiss or praise. The film was an integral part of my life—all I had claimed to be studying for had led up to it, and I had finally proven that all was not a waste. So this was actually more of a “tattoo” cut, not necessarily done in a time of great stress or depression or sadness, but when I was actually feeling good (was really high, actually), and I thought it would be cool to see what it felt like then.

Special Comment - Scamblogs

This post required a large amount of painful research. One could ignore it, or take it with a grain of salt. One could also take it seriously and induce a nervous breakdown. It depends on whether one sees themselves in their posts.

I am talking about scamblogs, of course. These are blogs that focus on law school. One wishes there were more blogs like Flying Houses that can help you with 10 different case briefs written in a creative way. However, most blogs about law school focus on the detriment it is causing to individuals. These blogs are united in a common cause for law schools to be more transparent in the information they present to prospective students. They focus intensely on the employment rate of the class 9 months after graduation. They suggest that it does not show what percentage of that number (which is almost always between 90-99%) is employed outside the legal profession. They suggest that it is a voluntary survey that does not take into account the students that don't respond. They suggest that there are too many law schools and too many law school students and not enough legal positions to go around. And also that law school is too expensive and not worth going into debt over unless maybe you are going to one of the top 15 schools in the nation. Sometimes debt goes from $100,000 - $200,000. Mine is $60,000, plus whatever interest accrues by then. This is assuming my parents are able to support me for the next two years (and time to study for the Bar, and $3,000 for the Barbri course, and however long it takes me to find a job in NYC, plus rent). What happens when I go broke and I need to start paying off my loans? The only positive thing I have heard about loans is that you can defer their payment because of "hardship" (i.e. lack of employment). No matter what, I do not want to go into any greater debt than $60,000--that scares me enough as it is. And here I may not qualify for my merit scholarship renewal (grades are released in a week...perhaps grades will be released before this post is actually posted) and I could lose all of my funding, or at least a significant amount. If my grades aren't that great, and if I'm not at a top 15 school (or not even a top 50 school), and it's getting expensive for everyone involved, is it really worth it to go on? Will I ever get a job? Who knows. Impossible to know until you are faced with the situation. But it appears the odds are against us.

If I were to write a letter seeking advice from someone writing or posting on one of these sites, it is clear they would tell me to drop out. Who knows if I will get the same response from a person affiliated with my institution--a career counselor, a faculty member--if I reveal the same facts. My guess is that they will say, "Do what you really want to do--if your heart is set on being an attorney, then don't give up because eventually things will work out." I know that if I try to bring it up to my Dad, he will say, "There are so many other jobs you can get with your degree if you finish it out." Or if I tell him I want to quit he says, "What are you going to do then--work at a restaurant for the rest of your life?" And I say, "I don't know, I'll figure something out."

It appears to me this post might be most powerful if written entirely as a hypothetical dialogue--one of the few skills I have developed as a creative writer, the ability to present two sides to an issue--but no, this is a statement about scamblogs, and as such, it must go into an analysis of several websites, and attempt to answer the question, "How bad is it out there, really?"

We begin with the most popular of all sites, previously mentioned here in a couple posts, but most prominently back in my first post since Flying Houses went on "academic hiatus"--here is a link: http://flyinghouses.blogspot.com/2010/11/special-comment-on-using-movie.html

This website is of course ABOVE THE LAW.com (hereinafter "ATL"). It is worth noting that I read this blog somewhat frequently--every couple of days, whenever I become sufficiently bored, or run out of other interesting websites/blogs/news to read. I will admit that this blog is sometimes entertaining. It has made me laugh on more than one occasion. Its information is presented in a very reader-friendly way. The articles are never absurdly long (though I will argue that the longer the article, the closer it gets to truth) and are often about sex, or drugs, or lawyers behaving badly, or judges "benchslapping" them, or celebrities' legal affairs, or gossip about all of the nearly 200 law schools accredited by the ABA. It seems written by people who went to Harvard or Yale and are basically elitist, and proud of it (or at least exhibiting shades of ironic shame for blogging about law rather than practicing it). I will admit: this site has tons of ads, and is probably a very successful blog in the monetary sense, which seems like an oxymoron. It has many readers--but many of the readers are repeat visitors who leave stupid comments after every article. Still, it can be exciting to know your school has been written about--that everyone in the country/world who goes to this site (because I do think it is the most popular website for people seeking legal gossip) will know that yes, your school invites clothing companies to hold photo shoots of people in their underwear simulating sex in the cellar portion of the library (my "office," as it were, that I perhaps adopted in the hopes of living out such fantasies). Fortunately, we did not report our public service grant situation, as had been suggested at a couple meetings of students fighting it--that was one of my proudest moments as a member of this student body this year. I told people to fight the administration, and they all said no, it's hopeless, nothing will change, and guess what, it did change. Of course, next summer it will not be the same, and one wonders whether we will fight again. But I digress. ATL loves to make fun of our school because it is ranked #67. ATL loves to make fun of law school in general though, and it is leading the charge of the scamblogs, since it is the most visible online presence of this movement. Note the recent article on the lawsuit undertaken against Thomas Jefferson School of Law. Yeah, I wish there were a way for me to sue my school for punitive damages. I'm sure that's going to work out for them.

Scamblogs basically aver that students will not get jobs when they graduate, and who knows when this pattern will end. I know that people graduating right now (Class of 2011) have told me they have basically been ignored. I do not know many graduating 3Ls, but I did not know any who were "living the dream" of a law student--that is, working as a summer associate after 2L, being offered a position to start in the August or September after graduating, with a stipend for June and July to study for the Bar, and all BarBri tuition paid for--perhaps that is the norm at the higher-ranked schools, but that is not the norm where I go, and you need to be at the top of your class. So if you do well--maybe the 1 in 4 students who will graduate in the top 25%--it really doesn't seem so bad. Yet if you do that well, and can't find work, it's certainly frustrating. People in this position have the greatest cause for complaint. And our class is over 400 students. So 300 people in our class will not be in such an ideal position. We have to get creative.

Scamblogs do not talk about this issue very much. They focus on the "average" student at whatever school they are mentioning. ATL is the "super-scamblog" because it has adopted the philosophy that law school is basically a bad idea. There was a recent article about how prospective students will not be swayed by scamblogs, and this is also an intelligent observation. Am I the only one who, in the years (yes, from 2008 - 2010 I studied for the LSAT and took it twice, and could not get the 170+ necessary to become an "elite" future member of the legal profession) leading up to application, acceptance, and enrollment heard the all-too frequent rallying cry, "Don't go to law school?" I remember sitting in on a class at Loyola Law School, with a professor whose greatness was impressed upon me in those 90 minutes (Laurie Levenson), who called on the five or six of us who were visiting to ask about various points of Criminal Procedure, and then at one point said, "Well class, do you think they should do it?" And they all said aloud, in unison, "Don't go to law school!" Those five words have become such a buzz phrase. It was a remarkable experience that I could not take to heart, because I had spent all this money applying, and flying down to L.A. and renting a convertible, and this was my plan. One cannot shelf their plan before they have even started, particularly when they spent so much time getting ready for it. Prospective students think the hiring patterns will turn around by the time they finish, and they also think they will do well enough that they will not have to worry.

One could write much more about ATL, but there are more egregious websites for comment. One of the problems with scamblogs is that they are tasteless. They use foul language, and whatever intelligence they display is marred by the slip-shod nature of their writing, which leads to the direct inference that, if they are hosting a scamblog, they went to law school, and did not get a job, and want to take it out on the world. The inference is that they may not have been one of the best students--they may have been exactly the type of sucker they write about--doesn't know what they want to do with their lives, not necessarily sure they want to be an attorney from birth on, see that a J.D. is a relatively quick degree to get that doesn't require mathematical/scientific/technical college major background, think that law school is a ticket on the gravy train. They're not crazy--really, they're not--there are too many unemployed law students out there for them to be crazy--but their quest for transparency is, shall we say, compromised by their presentation.

But there is one blog that ATL frequently links to, and it is generally of a higher literary quality than the others that will be mentioned later. It is called THE PEOPLE'S THERAPIST (hereinafter "TPT") and it is written by a guy who went to a top law school, then worked at a large private law firm for several years then went to med school to become a psychiatrist because he hated the legal profession so much. This is a very personal blog--and in a certain sense I appreciate the brute force honesty and personal history that is offered by its author--but man does it hit you over the head! Many people will frequently mention that many attorneys have drinking and drug problems, and that it is a miserable profession. TPT is specifically dedicated to spreading this idea. Most of the posts that ATL links to are about why students should drop out. TPT's author seems to think that his ideas hold true for everyone. In a sense, this is how great writers become successful. They forge a connection with their readers by showing that they share the same feelings and have felt the same way when faced with a particular situation. But there is a difference between persuasive, enjoyable writing, and the rhetoric of brainwashing. This author may be happy now, but he is not a great writer. He is a better writer than most bloggers out there, but he does not affect me. He does not say every potential lawyer should become a psychiatrist (and there are obvious similarities between these two "counseling" professions) but he does say that law school can be a huge waste of time and money and that you should be focusing on doing what you love. (I will reserve my personal comment on this issue until the end of this post.) Basically, if you want to be a lawyer then you should not read this blog because he will try to convince you that you are making a big mistake because he didn't like working in the atmosphere that most law students dream about (where you are worked to death and make enough money to subsidize a fairly lavish lifestyle). Most law students don't have a reasonable shot at this kind of work, and this blog seems to stand for the idea that, if they did have a 3.9, journal, and top 15 school, and they could work at Skadden, etc., they would hate it anyways, so they should just quit. If you don't want this kind of work the blog is basically inapplicable and does not comment on the poverty aspect that other scamblogs are so effective at presenting. Reading all of these blogs makes me hate my life, but reading this one in particular upsets me because the author needs to point out how great his credentials are in order to appear persuasive. I do not advertise my academic credentials on Flying Houses (but you can probably figure out my history if you read the posts). My hope is that my writing speaks for itself.

But now unfortunately, we must move into darker territory. Our first stop on this tour of Hell is "Temporary Attorney." I first became aware of this site when trying to figure out who our President was, and what she did, and why there was so much antipathy for her. This is what I found:
http://temporaryattorney.blogspot.com/2010/07/joan-wexler-of-crooklyn-law-school.html
I think some of my fellow students used this information when we fought for the public service grant. This is a really upsetting story in no small part because of the picture. Why not use a real picture? The writing is flanked with urban dictionary prose, and may justifiably be deemed "alarmist," but is not totally devoid of persuasive qualities. Yeah, I totally agree she should take a paycut--but many of these sites just point to a salary and never say what should be a reasonable one. Of course, any compensation over $500k is too much, but people in this world dream of "big money" and for some 500k is not enough. Once you are used to making it, a pay cut is painful. I used to make $36,000/year + bonuses. That was straight out of college. Now six years later I am making $12/hour through a public service grant, and I hope that I can get more than that once I pass the Bar. There is no way for me to support myself (in NYC) on these wages. One can support oneself on $500,000/year, but if one has expensive mortgages, and all of the other accoutrements to a high-class lifestyle (if you go out for every meal, and they all cost $300-$1,000), it is difficult to go back to that previous life. But this does not mean I am sympathetic. Our President's salary is unconscionable, and should be scaled back by at least 50%. If she makes more than the President of the U.S., it does not seem fair. Our school is not as complicated a venture as our country.

Mainly, Temporary Attorney focuses on the jobs available for unemployed/underemployed J.D.'s, i.e. Robert Half, which was responsible for supporting and killing my L.A. dream. I am scared that I will have to resort to their services five years after my last position worked through them, but I digress. Temporary Attorney also focuses on people like our President, who make too much money, and who lead to the further inference that law school is indeed a scam where professors and administrators get paid very well to delude students into thinking they are making a brilliant life decision, when in fact they are basically killing themselves in a much less fun way than going on a Chris Farley-esque bender (which has always been my personal plan). It is not the most offensive of scamblogs. But it has been useful as a link for me to find the more egregious ones.

There are too many scamblogs out there to try and review so I will focus on the links that have been updated most recently. One of the blogs, "The Jobless Juris Doctor," has stopped writing about the issue after 18 months. I agree that is long enough to run one of these blogs. You can only repeat variations on the same theme so many times. "Esquire Painting" is an affecting blog written by a person who was 300K in student debt. It is a very creative blog, one of which I would usually approve. But as personal as Flying Houses gets, I do not venture into such sheer autobiography--that is reserved for literature--and am not sure what I can get out of reading such a blog as that. "First Tier Toilet!" boasts a well-placed exclamation point, but seems to want to post many pictures of roaches and other bugs. There was one post decrying ATL, which was nice, and in general this site sometimes puts together an intelligent argument. It is not unpleasant to look at, except for the bugs. "Legal Nihilist"'s last post talks about how scamblogging and surfing these different blogs is unhealthy and a waste of time and how it is time to get over the injustice of what was done to them. This is perhaps the most uplifting thing I have read on the topic. "Tales of a Fourth-Tier Nothing" gets my vote for best blog name and is not all that offensive. There are many others that are in this category--fairly well-written, not offensive to the senses--but in general, reading these blogs will make you depressed.

There are two more I want to focus on: the first is the worst--"Third Tier Reality." This is an extremely offensive blog because it posts a picture of fecal matter with each new article. It is noteworthy for its narrow focus--it only profiles schools, and individuals, who are supposedly contributing to this scam. I must admit, I am impressed by the number of posts--but I am not impressed by the writing quality. Of special note is the profile on our school: http://thirdtierreality.blogspot.com/2010/07/deconstructing-crooklyn-aka-brooklyn.html

This post will make you sick if you go here. The entering class profile is right on the money. We have too many students. They should cut it down to about 200. But I don't think they can without majorly re-organizing the infrastructure of the school. It is designed to be this big. I have mentioned before the claustrophobia at this school, the feeling that sometimes you cannot breathe because you are surrounded by too many other students in the halls. But I am not here to criticize, I am here to point out the unoriginality. The Jessica Alba line under "intangibles" is similarly repeated in other school profiles. Our tuition is ridiculous, but this blog will point to any school's tuition, even if it is $10,000 less (like DePaul's is), and say it is too high. The blog also does not take scholarships into account. Neither do most scamblogs. The semi-recent article in the NY TIMES about this issue points out this is other "scam-like" behavior, but in general, when your load is $28,000 less, it at least appears that the school is not out to get you and actually doesn't want their school to put you into a lifetime of debt servitude. This fact is frequently glossed over. The comments on this site (like many others I presume) are where the real zingers fly. Over and over again it is just terribly depressing. At least one person in the comments says they are an intern and it can't be so hard to get a job as everyone says it is--nervous energy and overanalysis.

"Shilling Me Softly" also has an impressive number of posts but appears to be similar to a few other blogs in that they are basically a Jr. version of ATL (the same goes for "But I Did Everything Right!"). The last one I want to mention is "S*** Law Jobs" which posts ads from craigslist from across the country that pay terrible wages. This site is mainly good for a perverse version of comic relief. But I really can't write anymore about this. I envisioned this post as something great, but I see now it is futile to take these actual bloggers to task about specific things they have written, and it is more important to present my personal feelings on the matter as a person who has just finished their first year at a much-maligned institution:

My feelings change on a day-to-day basis. There is no consistency to my internal sense of happiness. To work with an impending sense of doom is nearly impossible, but I have done it all year long. People tell me I worry too much. Maybe I am just too gullible a person. Maybe I would be better off if I had never discovered any of this information. As a person who has complained about their life all along, and who has joked about suicide for approximately 18 years, and who has already gone broke once, I still have never been in debt until now, and the feeling is a bit overwhelming, even when it is only 20K at this point and I would be able to pay off at least a little bit of it pretty soon. But I would go back to that life I had before, where my market value was $13/hour. Cynical scambloggers will say, "$13 is better than the $10 you'll be making in s*** law!" Plus there's no extra debt. However, most will make more than $10. Actually, it seems not totally unlikely that I would be qualified with this degree to receive a salary in the 50-60K range. And I know it is hard to find a job now, but I want to ask everyone--have you ever tried to be published?

Which is worse--the legal industry or the publishing industry? You tell me. I'd love to be a literary agent. I won't stop writing. I came into this school knowing that. Some people say that work as an attorney is too time-consuming and you will never find the time to write. Whatever. All the jobs I could find were boring, and legal work may be boring at times, but at least it deals with semi-interesting subject matter and real issues that figure imporantly in other people's lives. It is a profession where you can "make a difference." The difficult thing to do is balance the terrible financial situation it may end in with the possible benefits of personal fulfillment and more lucrative job opportunities. If I said I hated it, I hated it because of all of this bad news flying around. It was yet another time in my life when I made a decision that seemed like my destiny but I was slapped into the reality that I am indeed a superfluous human being.

I don't give up on writing because it is a form of therapy. Law school is not a form of therapy. But I do think it is harder to make it as a "writer" than it is to make it as a "lawyer" and that is pretty much the last reason I have for not feeling totally demoralized. So thanks for all the great information. I have really appreciated becoming depressed. At least I am not wearing horse-blinders (unless the information has actually been blown out of proportion, in which case I was brainwashed--but I felt uneasy enough about my personal finances 10 months ago to know otherwise). Mission accomplished, law schools know they need to be more transparent and maybe they will actually be regulated more closely. I come to no thesis in this post. I cannot ascertain veracity until I am in the situation myself. Apparently, it is a hopeless one.

Edwards v. Sims (Kentucky, 1929)

At the beginning of the academic year, it was suggested to me that I should write reviews of cases on this blog in the same way I wrote reviews of books. Now, I did not think I had the time to do this (indeed, writing about every single case would become unbearably time-consuming, and while my next post may be a milestone (#150), had I done this I might be approaching #1000, seriously diluting the quality I have endeavored to achieve on Flying Houses), but I promised myself that I would call attention to this single case from my Property class. I promised myself that when I covered it in my outline, I would transcribe a good portion of its dissent.

Now, our professor in this class did not seem to like this dissent very much. He claimed it "goes on...and on....and on...." True, when it goes on, it does not discuss legal principles. However, there are plenty of opinions that go on, and on, and on, and make one positively drowsy. I have mentioned many times on this blog that "normal people" in 2011 think reading novels is "boring." If you think that is boring, do not go to law school (more on this later).

Whatever the legal utility of the dissent, it was the single-most transcendent reading experience of the year for me. I showed it to my roommate one night, and tried to read it aloud. I could not. I could not stop laughing. He read it aloud instead and agreed that it was fantastic. Perhaps it is unintentionally hilarious, but it is also striking in its beautiful quality.

Some discussion of the facts may be necessary. This is a case about a cave that was discovered underneath a person's land. Edwards discovered the cave, and he improved its conditions, and opened it up as a tourist destination in Kentucky. (This reminded me greatly of "The Lost Sea," an underwater lake in a cave in Sweetwater, TN, which I had planned to visit with a friend, but which unfortunately never came to pass). His neighbor brought an action claiming the ad coelum doctrine, which posits that a person owns everything above or below his land. The cave was beneath his land, and he claimed a right to it. The court held in favor of the neighbor.

The dissenting judge, Logan, found this incredibly unfair (and I agree with him). For the first two pages, Logan mostly keeps to legal principles, while still affecting a somewhat poetic manner. However, by page 3, he completely shifts his focus to a comparison of this cave (The Great Onyx Cave) to Hades, extolling the virtues of the brave workers who excavated it. The best possible explanation I can make is that he smoked a lot of weed and then wrote the part that begins here:

"...Edwards owns this cave through right of discovery, exploration, development, advertising, exhibition, and conquest. Men fought their way through the eternal darkness, into the mysterious and abysmal depths of the bowels of a groaning world to discover the theretofore unseen splendors of unknown natural scenic wonders. They were conquerors of fear, although now and then one of them, as did Floyd Collins, paid with his life, for his hardihood in adventuring into the regions where Charon with his boat had never before seen any but the spirits of the departed. They let themselves down by flimsy ropes into pits that seemed bottomless; they clung to scanty handholds as they skirted the brinks of precipices while the flickering flare of their flaming flambeaux disclosed no bottom to the yawning gulf beneath them; they waded through rushing torrents, not knowing what awaited them on the farther side; they climbed slippery steeps to find other levels; they wounded their bodies on stalagmites and stalactites and other curious and weird formations; they found chambers, star-studded and filled with scintillating light reflected by a phantasmagoria revealing fancied phantoms, and tapestry woven by the toiling gods in the dominion of Erebus; hunger and thirst, danger and deprivation could not stop them. Through days, weeks, months, and years--ever linking chamber with chamber, disclosing an underground land of enchantment, they continued their explorations; through the years they toiled connecting these wonders with the outside world through the entrance on the land of Edwards which he had discovered; through the years they toiled finding safe ways for those who might come to view what they had found and placed their seal upon. They knew nothing, and cared less, of who owned the surface above; they were in another world where no law forbade their footsteps. They created an underground kingdom where Gulliver's people may have lived or where Ayesha may have found the revolving column of fire in which to bathe meant eternal youth."

"When the wonders were unfolded and the ways were made safe, then Edwards patiently, and again through the years, commenced the advertisement of his cave. First came one to see, then another, then two together, then small groups, then small crowds, then large crowds, and then the multitudes. Edwards had seen his faith justified. The cave was his because he had made it what it was, and without what he had done it was nothing of value. The value is not in the black vacuum that the uninitiated call a cave. That which Edwards owns is something intangible and indefinable. It is his vision translated into a reality."

"Then came the horse leach's daughters crying: 'Give me,' 'give me.' Then came the 'surface men' crying, 'I think this cave may run under my lands.' They do not know they only 'guess,' but they seek to discover the secrets of Edwards so that they may harass him and take from him that which he had made his own. They have come to a court of equity and have asked that Edwards be forced to open his doors and his ways to them so that they may go in and despoil him; that they may lay his secrets bare so that others may follow their example and dig into the wonders which Edwards has made his own. What may be the result if they stop his ways? They destroy the cave, because those who visit it are they who give it value, and none will visit it when the ways are barred so that it may not be exhibited as a whole."

"It may be that the law is stated in the majority opinion of the court, but equity, according to my judgment, should not destroy that which belongs to one man when he at whose behest the destruction is visited, although with some legal right, is not benefited thereby. Any ruling by a court which brings great and irreparable injury to a party is erroneous."

All judges should write like this. True, applications of legal rules to facts of whatever the present case may be are not always conflated by such poetic subject matter, but they really should make more of an effort. There should be a certain pleasure in reading judicial opinions. Sometimes, they are pleasurable. Many law professors speak of Cardozo as the be-all, end-all of linguistic masters. Holmes is similarly held up on a pedestal. As much as I may disagree with much of what he has to say, one cannot deny that Scalia sometimes strings together an entertaining phrase or two. One of the first dissents I read, by Justice Black in Goldberg v. Kelly, I found similarly great. I should state that I am a huge fan of Posner, and that if I were a much better student, had a background in economics or engineering, and had gone to say, Northwestern or U Chicago, it would be my "dream job" to be his clerk or intern. Kozinski has also written more than his fair share of very humorous opinions.

Yet these moments of literary epiphany in law are rare. 95% of the opinions I read are boring, tiresome, and as dry as a math textbook, despite the usually incredible circumstances they are called upon to adjudicate. I would love to be on a journal next year, and write a "note" on this topic, but unfortunately I doubt it would be supported by the staff. You are supposed to write about novel legal issues that have not been addressed by anyone before. I would love to write a biographical note on Logan, to see what his other opinions looked like, and to gauge his legal philosophy, or to write about the phenomena of poetic or humorous judicial opinions in general, but I am afraid this would not be allowed. Note that this is one of the reasons I hate law school. There, I said it.

What legal issue is important to me, that is novel, that no one has addressed? Something in intellectual property law perhaps, copyright, whether posting large sections of text from novels is legal (I hope so). But this is not something I care particularly deeply about. My 4 "followers" (and I cherish each and every one of them) may know that the only thing I care particularly deeply about is literature, and creating my own, in a search for perfection or transcendence. It is a shame that there is so little money associated with such a venture. It is what led me to think a position within the legal profession was the next best thing. It is not. I do not think it will (would?) be the worst job in the world, but what you have to go through in order to get it is certainly one of the worst things in the world. Oh, I know it must be very hard to get a PHD or an MBA or CPA certification, and probably MD too. However, I think psychologically, there is nothing more difficult or painful, particularly going through it from 2010-2013 at a "2nd tier" school in New York City.

It is time to draw this post to a close. The next post I write will be after May 13th. It will be a reflection upon the entire year. The post to follow that will be a commentary on the phenomena of "scamblogs." That post will be dedicated to every one who is considering going to law school, or who has already sent in their seat deposit for the class of 2014. I now must return to my outlining. Good night, and good luck.

On Writing - Stephen King

There is a literary agent named Nathan Bransford who runs his own blog and asks questions of his readers. I have read his blog for the last several years and often attempted to follow his advice, concerning query letters usually. I sent him one query letter, received a message of zero interest (but thanks for reading the blog!), and now I only read it when I'm super-bored.

Last time I was super-bored, he asked the question, "What is the one book a person must read in order to make them into a better writer?" There were over 200 comments. The comments on Flying Houses are usually porn links.

Many of the comments suggested Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, a book I read my senior year in high school that I remember very little about beyond the practice of using index cards and beyond the advice that no one ever makes a living off their writing, ever. So I suggested Ulysses for fiction and Bird by Bird for non-fiction. And nobody cared.

The reason I mention this question is that Stephen King's On Writing appeared more on that list than any other volume, and by a longshot. So I thought, it must be something really special, I must check it out. SO, I did that, and while it is a perfectly decent manual on the way to "start taking writing seriously" which includes other interesting variations (memories of growing up, memories of nearly dying after being hit by a car, commentary on The Elements of Style) of course it contains plenty of the sad realities I always hate to associate with the "art" of writing--the commercial aspect, the "less pretentious" aspect.

Oeuvre rule: what I have read by Stephen King, I read thirteen years ago. The best thing I ever read by him was The Long Walk, which merits mention in one sentence of On Writing (King does say it was "pretty good"). I did not like The Shining as much as the movie. In general though, I never really got into him. Of course I've seen a bunch of the movies that his writing has spawned (1408 deserves special mention as it occurs near the end and is one of his most recent adaptations) but I am not a huge fan of his writing for one reason: not that he's a "hack," but he can do pretty much whatever he wants, he has to be one of the most fabulously-well-to-do writers ever to exist, and he chooses to write stories and novels of the supernatural---which he claims, at base, are about reality---but I'm sorry, as a "realist," his work bores me. I want to read about real people making real decisions about their real lives, not how best to outthink a madman in a snow-covered hedge maze.

And not that his writing is "low-brow," but, I don't think he's going to compete for the Nobel anytime soon. I will mention that in the last five years it seems like, I don't know, King has moved into more elite company as far as "serious" writers like Richard Ford/Don DeLillo/Philip Roth go. He had his own interview in The Paris Review and more "highbrow" writers pay attention to his redoubtable success. But I'm still going to say King's success shouldn't mean much to people of my generation. None of us are ever going to be published except on our blogs and we should all rent out a private island for a writer's retreat, make some purple kool-aid, print out everything we've ever written, start a giant bonfire and drink the stuff. One of us may have an idea like Carrie, but no one is ever going to buy that novel, again. Even though "bullying" seems like quite the hot topic now.

But what did I think of this book? I liked parts of it. And I didn't like most of it--because I've heard it all before. Since it comes from King, one is apt to put more stock in it, I suppose. There are several quotes I would like to comment upon.

#1: Passive Voice
"Messrs. Strunk and White don't speculate as to why so many writers are attracted to passive verbs, but I'm willing to; I think timid writers like them for the same reason timid lovers like passive partners. The passive voice is safe. There is no troublesome action to contend with; the subject just has to close its eyes and think of England, to paraphrase Queen Victoria. I think unsure writers also feel the passive voice somehow lends their work authority, perhaps even a quality of majesty. If you find instruction manuals and lawyers' torts majestic, I guess it does." (116--he then goes on to discuss why "The meeting will be held at 7," should be changed to "The meeting's at 7.")

This is just dumb. I use the passive voice more than I should. If anything I consider it dangerous, not safe, because every single teacher I've ever had has said "don't use the passive voice" (and don't use "to be" verbs--which I particularly hate). I don't think it lends my writing a sense of majesty. I do it when the "active" voice sounds awkward. Writing teachers will tell you that active voice is never awkward. That is my complaint about the majority of this text: King does have special advice to give, but instead he falls back on filling his book with the trite suggestions of writing manuals everywhere--and while I am more apt to believe it, coming from him, it makes me sad. The only thing that doesn't make me sad is when King says, "I know, I know. Damn." (note: that is the exact text of an e-mail Roger Ebert once sent to me on the subject of not being able to see Requiem for a Dream as a 17-year-old)

The next comment comes on the subject of daily routine:
"As with physical exercise, it would be best to set this goal low at first, to avoid discouragement. I suggest a thousand words a day, and because I'm feeling magnanimous, I'll also suggest that you can take one day a week off, at least to begin with."

First of all---how come he never mentions the thing about ending sentences with prepositions?--and second of all, he says he reads four to six hours every day on top of the 2,000 words he sets as a limit for himself. I do not disagree with setting a word limit. If one is doing NaNoWriMo, one must do at least 1,200 words every day. No days off! I did NaNoWriMo and I could do 1,000 words a day, when I wrote that third book in November of 2008, my life was not especially painful, just boring in the extreme when I was not actively engaged in creating the text. Because I knew I had to set aside two hours every day to do it. Putting a deadline on it put everything in perspective, and while I finished the majority of the rough draft by December, I did not finish the entire rough draft until April or May of 2009. That is what urgency can do for you.

But I want to ask you: don't you think King finds it easier to spend 90% of his life writing when he has been paid so much for it? I have been paid zero dollars, so why should I think the next twenty-seven years will be any different? As I've said, things are getting worse in the publishing industry. It's difficult to commit yourself to something that may be as fruitless as seeking the Fountain of Youth. That said, I wouldn't trade my four unpublished babies for anything else. Even if they never make me money, they exist as proof that I am not an empty shell of a human being. I'll write, but I'll never write the way King recommends until I have the time for it, and the patience.

Around page 163, King discusses how he came up with the idea for Misery. Earlier in the text, he talks about Carrie and connecting the idea of telekinetic powers with menstruation (which some girls had reported near the time of their first period) and bullying and on this point, I found him quite salient. There was the origin of a story, clearly defined. I am surprised that he does not mention the irony of his car accident with Misery--I think it was too obvious for a joke. When discussing his own work, King makes his most intelligent points. The same can be said for most Paris Review interviews: when a writer discusses generalities, I am apt to dismiss; when they discuss specifics, I am apt to listen.

The most incredible aspect of King's career is his ability to mass-produce literature, and he gives insight into that process in one telling detail:

"A strong enough situation renders the whole question of plot moot, which is fine with me. The more interesting situations can usually be expressed by a What-if question:
What if vampires invaded a small New England village? (Salem's Lot)
What if a policeman in a remote Nevada town went berserk and started killing everyone in sight? (Desperation)
What if a cleaning woman suspected of a murder she got away with (her husband) fell under suspicion for a murder she did not commit (her employer)? (Dolores Claiborne)
What if a young mother and her son became trapped in their stalled car by a rabid dog? (Cujo)

He later talks about characters "doing things on their own" and how it can be weird, but exciting, and how it can make things easier on a writer. I have experienced that phenomenon a couple times and so I do not disagree with King there. I don't disagree with his notions of plot, either, nor detail, nor sticking to "he said/she said,"--but I do disagree about his hatred of adverbs. Pick your battles. I always use adverbs and people tell me they're ugly. Well guess what, you're ugly. I mean that facetiously, of course. There's a reason why they exist in grammar textbooks.

The part I like best about On Writing comes near the end, near page 240 where King discusses his friend "Frank," who is an amalgamation of three writer friends he has known, who all had some decent success in college with writing, published a couple stories in their early-to-mid twenties, and eventually published novels as they neared thirty. This is the single best part of the book for anyone looking to "make it" and I would imagine that it is the part so many were thinking of when they commented on Nathan Bransford's blog question.

Obviously it's not easy to "make it" unless you put in the kind of effort that King dictates, and it's well and good that there won't be dilettantes who make it on luck rather than work (though you'll never stop me from believing they exist), but King still makes it look too easy. Just getting a story published is hard enough these days, forget about ever getting to the point where an agent will care about your query. King states like many before him that all a writer needs is some talent, pluck, determination, and a copy of Writer's Market.

I'd rather say that a person needs to be depressed, possibly suicidal, traumatized by some early life experience, very shy, lonely, and guilty in some way to be a writer. Those are the sort of stipulations I prefer. You can be lazy and still consider yourself a writer. You have the personality of one, right? All you need to do is put in the practice. Not so hard. Until you realize that practice ends nowhere. Like shooting free throws endlessly. You make 70 in a row, and no one witnesses it but yourself. You're a better free throw shooter than Lebron James, but only when no one is looking. You will never be Lebron James because he is 6'8'', 240 and he is paid hundreds of millions of dollars to put in his practice every day and you are paid $13/hour to push paper and what small leisure time you have, you'd rather put in to relax than suffer more frustration. I can't wait until I am rich and famous and can write my own book about writing.