I decided I wanted to be a writer my second year of college. I was in the engineering school and engineering is not usually a path to literature, but, I entered the Hopwood Awards, which is a literary prize at the University of Michigan. Arthur Miller is one of the more famous recipients of that award, and I thought: Hey, I’ll be the engineering student that is also a wunderkind writer.
But I didn’t win.
I have no idea why the Hopwood committee thought my story about a drunk at a bar who meets a talking rat wasn’t worthy of honor, but whatever. I was, obviously, discouraged.
Hemingway, Obviously
At Michigan, they required us to take some history and literature classes. I suppose because they wanted us to understand something of the humanities before we applied our skills to make weapons of war or whatever, but those were my favorite classes.
My literature class was on Hemingway, and I loved Hemingway. The class was taught by Professor R.P. Weeks, who was a Hemingway scholar. I thought: he loves Hemingway and I love Hemingway…this is my chance to get a little boost in my writing career from old Professor Weeks. Near the end of the semester I worked up the courage to ask Professor Weeks to read my story and he summoned me to his office to give me feedback.
Now Professor Weeks, I found out, was 79 years old. His office was overflowing with books. Each wall had book shelves, but the books were stacked on the desk, or on the floor, stacks of books up to my chest.
It turned out he was retiring. This was his last semester teaching after, like, fifty some years, and these books, this great personal library he’d amassed over the decades was going. He didn’t have a place for them in retirement, and he was a little heartbroken because he couldn’t find a home for them. They were being sold off to a dealer for a penny a pound. That’s it: a lifetime of scholarship turned into a penny a pound.
He didn’t want to discuss my story directly, but he’d typed up some notes for me. He also gave me two volumes of short stories from his library. And he sent me on my way.
There’s good news, and bad news…
Obviously, I was expecting more bad news, and I was regretting my decision to get feedback. Like I could pretend the Hopwood snub never happened, but here this guy wrote me a letter.
He wrote: “Mickey, your story is not good. Writing a good story is one of the most difficult things to do in literature, and writers spend years, maybe decades working on their craft before they figure it out. It’s not impossible for you to do, but I don’t want to encourage your efforts. Take a look at the stories I’ve given you, and pay particular attention to Kafka’s The Hunger Artist.”
Well I was devastated and embarrassed, but I looked at the story. If you’re not familiar, The Hunger Artist is about a man who makes his living as a circus attraction, sitting in a cage, slowly starving to death. And he’s grown discouraged because no one cares about starving artists anymore. They want to see the big tent attractions, not these side shows. At the end, he dies alone, and no one notices.
Later on, I looked back at the note, and noticed something about what Professor Weeks said: “It’s not impossible.” That meant it was possible.
So I wrote. And over the next two decades, I amassed a fine collection of rejections from some of the finest literary magazines in America: “We’re not interested in this type of story,” from the North American Review. “Thanks, but doesn’t quite work for us,” from The Kenyon Review. “Interesting, but afraid it’s a pass,” from The Paris Review. I could go on.
Professor Weeks was right about how difficult it was. But Hemingway scholar or not, he never predicted how darned stubborn I’d be. The past 11 years, especially, my writing has improved a lot by seeking out workshops and lessons on craft.
Meanwhile, at My Writing Desk…
I’ve focused my writing this past week on a Christmas-themed humor piece that is out for consideration.
That reminds me: 25 years ago, I was in the habit of submitting humor to Shouts and Murmurs of The New Yorker. Always, the rejection was a form letter. But finally, I got some direct feedback. The editor wrote: “Submissions for Shouts and Murmurs need to be humorous.”
Ouch. That set me back a bit.
But trust me: I’m way funnier now.
Maybe You’d Like
MYSTERY | SUSPENSE | CRIME | MURDER | MAYHEM
I joined this giveaway, so if you enjoy reading any of the above, click here and see what tickles your fancy. You’ll find two of my books in there, so take look!
Next Picayune
Next time, I’m hoping to share some good news about the humor piece that’s out. Or some bad news. That’s just how things are these days.
Thanks for reading the Mickey Picayune
All the best,
–mickey