Class is over for three weeks. Thursday night Fiction I let out and a group of us went around the block to a bar, where we continued to be until 3AM. It was one of the most fun evenings I've had in this city. Five of us went, along with the teacher, and we picked up Fiction Dept. stragglers once we were inside. We talked about writing and our stories, and about music (Frank was willing to take anyone outside who had a bad word to say about Elton John. Frank is an anachronism, the kid who doesn't have a computer, cuts his hair when it gets too long {and otherwise it just feathers around his ears} and talks in a Brooklyn accent even though he's lived in Chicago his whole life. He likes Hemingway and Faulkner and Mailer. He's really excited about the class on Nabokov's novels next semester, and I am too.), and about jobs.
Well, the film majors talked about jobs. The Fiction majors knew better. It's the sort of thing we'd just rather not discuss, because we know we'll just be working day jobs until we can figure out something better. I kind of like it like that, that having this degree doesn't really do anything for me, but the getting-the-degree does. It's old-timey, and it's the way things should be. Whether I can make a living with words or not is totally dependent on what I do with them, and whether or not I can get my ass working and sending things our or not.
We talked about meeting people who say, "I'm a writer." Are they really? Usually not. Usually they're the kids who say they don't have time to write. But seriously, why not? It's all about the choices you make and what you do with your time. Writing is solitary most of the time, and most folks don't like making the choice to stay home and get the work done. Or they don't mind the staying home, but actually making something of their time is what's hard. They watch television or play video games or they read or they look at naked girls on the internet. Which are all fine activities, and I do them too, but that's the extra stuff, you know? That's what you do when you're eating or when you're taking a 30 minute breather from getting anything done.
This started as a recollection, but wound up going its own way. I like it when things do that too. Moral: Fiction I, Thursday night, you rock my socks. I'll talk to some of you soon. And yeah, I'm going to call that girl. It's just like what we said about Papa--once the idea is out there, you can't make it go away.
Well, the film majors talked about jobs. The Fiction majors knew better. It's the sort of thing we'd just rather not discuss, because we know we'll just be working day jobs until we can figure out something better. I kind of like it like that, that having this degree doesn't really do anything for me, but the getting-the-degree does. It's old-timey, and it's the way things should be. Whether I can make a living with words or not is totally dependent on what I do with them, and whether or not I can get my ass working and sending things our or not.
We talked about meeting people who say, "I'm a writer." Are they really? Usually not. Usually they're the kids who say they don't have time to write. But seriously, why not? It's all about the choices you make and what you do with your time. Writing is solitary most of the time, and most folks don't like making the choice to stay home and get the work done. Or they don't mind the staying home, but actually making something of their time is what's hard. They watch television or play video games or they read or they look at naked girls on the internet. Which are all fine activities, and I do them too, but that's the extra stuff, you know? That's what you do when you're eating or when you're taking a 30 minute breather from getting anything done.
This started as a recollection, but wound up going its own way. I like it when things do that too. Moral: Fiction I, Thursday night, you rock my socks. I'll talk to some of you soon. And yeah, I'm going to call that girl. It's just like what we said about Papa--once the idea is out there, you can't make it go away.
He asked the class that when do they think their actors, when they know thier actors, as a question; students cam eup wiht various answer, maybe in monologue, soemitmes on stage, more in reheasal than in that actual play, etc.
he loooked at them broadly and siad "Your an actor when you say your an actor, now if you good or not, is a whole other story"
And you good writor so i guess you have your conquest of all that man know in front of you.
Evah.
So is this the proverbial line in the sand? El Swoo and his Motion Picture dept vs Rex Phantom and his wordy-word cronies?
So be it. So be it.
S