Riffing with TC Boyle

Every time I meet up with Tom, it invariably becomes this dope riff session on writing, culture, and music.  We end up talking about our favorite writers, our MFA days, our different views on craft, SoCal cultural mythology, East Coast/Midwest nostalgia, famous writers we've worked with who changed our life, a short bitch session on literary agents, random Rock'n'Roll references, followed by a short Q and A where I ask him questions about reading for the New Yorker Festival and going on tour in Europe and his revision process.  Today, more than ever, I felt like we were two friends in two very different stages of our literary career, just kicking it for a half an hour.  Some of the highlights of this convo included:

1.  Tom gave me some love for "The Invisible Dress," a chapter from my debut novel, The Amnesia of Junebugs, that he read as part of the Writer-in-Residence deal at USC.  He said it was one of the best things he's read of mine in a while, but then he stopped himself and said, "but you've written a lot of great stuff, so . . . "  I laughed when he said that

2.  After he said that sometimes he likes to "rewrite" classic short stories like The Overcoat, we began crooning about the Russian masters like Gogol, Tolstoy, and Dostoevsky, all of whom I read voraciously in college.  Diary of a Madmen, The Nose, Crime and Punishment, The Brothers Karamazov, The Possessed, Notes from Underground, The Idiot, War and Peace, The Kreutzer Sonata, and The Death of Ivan Ilyich, were some of my most treasured novels back then.  And for Tom too, a connection I didn't even know we had

3.  Tom told about his experience being an editor for the Best American Stories 2015, which honestly, sounds totally fucking exhausting.  It was especially interesting to hear him talk about how he picked thetwenty stories for the collection

4.  Tom talked about switching from Viking to Ecco, his sadness about leaving one editor and his happiness about working with another

5.  Tom said he thought this was gonna be my year.  I told him I hope he's right.

6.  Tom asked me how things were going at UCI (very good).  Then, he asked me if I was applying to tenure track jobs this year, which I am.  I explained that I'm applying to every decent, great, and awesome, tenure track job out there located in or near a major metropolitan area, even jobs out of my league, because you've got to.  Someone will get those jobs, why not me?  He replied, "Now, you just need a book contract and everything else will fall in line for you with your PhD."  In his own sweet but indirect way, Tom implied that he's waiting to write a blurb for me and honestly, I can't wait for that.  In fact, sending him, Aimee, Percival, Valerie Sayers, Frances Sherwood, and Steve Tomasula emails for blurbs will be one of the sweetest parts of finally getting a contract because I'll get to thank them for all of their support, advice, and insight over the years

7.  Tom talked about his days as the fiction editor at the Iowa Review where he basically picked the stories he liked the most, and then sent his recommendations to Robert Coover who picked from Tom's shortlist all the way from London

8.  Tom talked about how fucking slow McSweeney's is, even with marquee writers like him.  They bought one of his stories a million years ago and still hadn't published it yet, which eventually made his agent, Georges Borchardt, badger them a little bit.  "I really don't care," Tom explained, "because they already bought the story."  Must be nice to have such an illustrious publishing career that you actually don't give a shit when McSweeney's gets around to publishing your short story.

9.  Tom and I agree that Tobias Wolf's Bullet in the Brain is one of the gold standards by which other short stories should be judged

10.  I feel like now, more than ever, Tom is waiting for me to make it big.  I feel like my time is coming.  He feels like my time is coming.  I know he believes in me as a writer with talent and stubborness to burn, which is an amazing source of confidence and support for me, but now I have to go out and slay this dragon myself.  I'm the only one who can do it.  I know he'll be cheering me from the sidelines, which I feel blessed about

Disappointing Form(ish) Rejection from Georges Borchardt

Dear Jackson,

Thank you for sending in the complete " . . . ". Several of us here have now read your manuscript and I'm afraid we are just not quite passionate enough about this project. This is, of course, completely subjective and I'm sure you'll find the right home for this soon.

Best of luck,

Georges

I don't know what makes me sadder, the fact that Georges rejected my novel or that he sent me a fucking form rejection. Fuck, man. This hurts inside. I'm not gonna lie. But, after I get my shit together--and I will, make no mistake about that--I'm gonna pick myself back up + send my novel to some more agents. My novel has a place in this world + I need to figure out where that is. For now, I'm gonna listen to Arcade Fire, get my snack on + send out some submissions to journals.

I don't give up. I just don't. I can't.

Well, Here Goes Nothing

So I finally did it, I sent my complete, fully revised manuscript + sophomore novel, The Ninjas of My Greater Self, to agent extraordinaire, Georges Borchardt, agent of Elie Wiesel, Ian McEwan, Robert Coover, TC Boyle, who is also in charge of the estates of Tennessee Williams, Aldous Huxley + John Gardner, this is the man who first introduced America to Lacan, Barthes, Bourdieu, Fanon, Duras, Foucault, Ionesco + Sartre. Yes, this dude is a big fucking deal, representing over 8 Pulitzer Prize winners + 2 Noble Prize winners, in fact, he may be the biggest fucking deal I've submitted to in my entire life. And while sending him my novel (which he asked for in its entirety last year after I'd sent him the first 145 pages + an outline) honestly scares the shit out of me because it puts me on the chopping block, at the same time, I kinda want to get this over with, one way or another. Does that sound bleak? I guess it does. But Ninjas is the best thing I've ever written yet. It's a fucking awesome novel, it really is.

And at this point, while nothing would make me happier in the whole fucking world than for Georges to pick me up as a client, if he doesn't, I guess at this point, I want to know that, accept that + go on with my life + stop pining for something that's not gonna happen. It's just the realist in me. Of course I'd be bummed if he didn't give me a shot, but I'd find a way to soldier on. Hopefully, though, he loves this novel enough to say yes. God knows how that would totally transform my writing career . . . I hope he sees what I see. It could be the beginning of something massive if he did.

When TC Boyle Treats Your Success as a Fiction Writer as if It's Inevitable when It's Not but You Really Want it to Be

A few weeks ago, I was chatting with my Turkish friend Marve(y) on campus. It was one of those perfect, idyllic LA days + I was laughing about, fuck I dunno, something, when Tom walked up to me + said: --I recognize that laugh a mile away.
--Hey Tom, I said. Oh Tom, this is my friend Marve(y)
--Hello, she said, blushing.
--Hi, nice to meet you, he said. Then, turning to me: Jackson, he said, stop by my office sometime. Let's talk.
--Okay, cool, I said.

The moral of the story is: When TC Boyle goes out of his way to say hi to you + tells you to stop by his office, you fucking stop by his office.

The next week, I did just that + went to his office.

--So, he said, what did Georges say?
--He said that he was impressed with my writing but also had some concerns that I had too many narrative strands in Ninjas, but he didn't want to prejudge, so he told me to send him the whole manuscript once I was done.
--Good, he said, smiling.
--Of course, it won't be ready for a year until I have a definitive draft. I'm only to page 200.
--Me too, but anyways, that's good that he wants to read the whole thing.
--Yeah, I guess so. How fast do you crank out a novel?
--Pretty fast. I'm working on a historical novel right now about the San Juan islands. I think we already talked about this.
I nodded.
--Listen, I was talking to Sandra Dijkstra. Are you familiar with her?
The truth is, I was trying to figure out whether my friend from Glenn Loomis Elementary School, Greta Dijkstra, had changed her first name + was friends with Tom for some bizarre reason. Finally, I decided that didn't make any sense, because, truthfully, it doesn't. I shook my head.
--She's a good agent. Tough, but very good. She asked me if I had any writers I could recommend to her. So maybe if it doesn't work out with Georges. . . Anyway, check out her website.
--Wow, awesome. Thanks Tom.
--Sure.
--The crazy thing is, I said, on the same day I got Georges's response, I also got a solicited email from the Irene Goodman Literary Agency.
Tom gave me a blank face.
--They do commercial, literary, genre + literary non-fiction.
--Oh, that's normal. Even Georges did a workout book with Jane Fonda.
--Really? I said, incredulously.
--Sure, why not? Some things just fall on your lap like that.
--Crazy.
He nodded.
--They asked for the whole manuscript of BLANK + also an outline of Ninjas.
--They're going to pick you up, he said.
--Really?
--Definitely.
--I dunno Tom, I'm playing it cautiously.
--Well, this is great. Maybe it'll work out with Georges. But if not, this might just be perfect for you. Or you can send something to Sandra.
--I also sent my story collection to Greywolf.
--Oh, he said, great press. I think that's a great idea: publish your stories with Graywolf + then get one of your novels out there. That's the way to go.

I love Tom, I really do + I especially appreciate how he talks about my own success as a fiction writer as if it's inevitable. It's a beautiful, wonderful thing to have someone like him giving you that kind of encouragement. But right now, at least for right now, it doesn't feel inevitable. I'm not being pessimistic (it's not my thing at all). I'm just being cautious. A secret part of me feels that it will happen--all of it--but admitting that out loud makes you sound arrogant + cocky + when it comes to this industry, I'm neither. Still, you have to believe things are going to work out. Otherwise, you stop hoping. And when you do that, you start writing solipsistically (or you stop writing--something I could never do), which means, you ignore everything that's flawed + amazing + impossible + heartbreaking about this world. Then you're really fucked.

Georges Borchardt Responds

Georges responds at last. And I'm still in agent limbo. . .

Dear Jackson Bliss,

It took me a little longer than I thought to get to THE NINJAS OF MY GREATER SELF, which you sent in. I’m very impressed with your writing and particularly liked the section called “Girls…”. I’m concerned, however, about the novel moving off in too many different directions, but I probably should not pre-judge before seeing the whole manuscript (which I’d be happy to read when it is ready).

Best,
Georges

Georges Borchardt Reads Half of the Ninjas of My Greater Self + Outline

I will not read into this whatsoever. I won't expect anything to come from it. I won't let myself indulge in daydreaming (well, not any more than usual). I won't let this fuck with my mind or raise my hopes because the fall will be too precipitous, the ground is too rugged + bony, + while my backbone is really strong, stronger than it's ever been, my skin is still soft. I'm hoppa after all.

Even so, even so, I wrote Georges Borchardt after TC Boyle sent him an email telling him about me (+ mentioning some of my publications--I only know that because Tom asked me in his office to repeat some of my pubs to him so he could tell his agent). I wrote Georges + asked him what he wanted from me + this was his reply:

Dear Jackson,

Yes, three chapters would be fine, or better still all the finished portions; and an outline of the as yet unwritten or unfinished portions would be helpful.

Best,


Georges

So, for the past three days, I've been polishing chapters, figuring out which ones were too rough to be sent + which ones showed promise. Then I wrote an outline of the entire novel (both the finished + unfinished chapters), which has helped me a lot in figuring out the endgame of this novel, how characters will intersect, shit like that. The exact same thing happened to me with Lynn Nesbit, who asked for the same thing, giving me the perfect excuse to work on + work out the plot of BLANK. And while obviously, she didn't pick up BLANK (her daughter, Priscilla Gilman, did seem to respect it though), Lynn Nesbit's request became the perfect excuse to figure out what the fuck was going on with my novel. This time, I have some pubs, I have the support of a famous writer, I have a small but direct contact inside the publishing world with someone who actually publishes authors with whom I share some aesthetic, literary, intellectual, socially-conscious + creative kinship. More than anything, I've got a--miniscule, but nevertheless tiny little--chance now.

I have no fucking idea, on the other hand, what's going to happen. But at least I've got hope. At least something's happening.

Anyway, stay tuned for more details.

Playing the Referral Game + Junot Diaz Comparisons

Yesterday, TC Boyle admitted to me in his office that he made all of us in workshop read Junot Diaz (+ 3 other authors from Doubletakes), in part because he wanted the class to see some of the stylistic similarities between Brief Wondrous Life + yours truly.

--You know, I called that, I said. I actually told someone that I wondered whether you had us read Junot Diaz because it was similar in some ways to my own writing.
--No, it's true, he said.
--But I didn't wanna be egocentric, so I dismissed it as stylistic coincidence.
--No, you were right.

Fuck, how flattering is that shit?

::

Last year back when were just getting acquainted in our roles as writer-mentor, I asked TC Boyle one day in his office--because I'm ambitious like that--if he would give me a referral to four agents I was particularly in love with (Nicole Aragi, who I send a query letter to pretty much every year, Mary Evans + Eric Simonoff, both of whom have never responded to me, + Georges Borchardt, Tom's own agent). His response was fair: Let's work together in workshop in the fall + then I'll be happy to. Well, I never forget a promise, especially one involving my own writing career. So after we talked about the last two chapters I'd recently workshopped from The Ninjas of My Greater Self (my second novel), I asked him again + he was good to his word. It's an easier sell now I think because he has a much better idea of my aesthetic. And also, because he was especially impressed with the first chapter I submitted to workshop, "Girls: A Four-Movement Symphony by the Beastie Boys," the good thing is that he won't have to lie about my skillz. I could be wrong, but I don't think Tom goes out on a limb for his students unless:

1. He thinks they're talented
2. They initiate it themselves

So, I think it's a good sign he was still willing to give me a referral, but it's just a small step, one that promises nothing but opens up a new, dreamy--and very unlikely--possibility. But now, the real work begins. Getting a referral doesn't necessarily mean shit in this industry unless:

1. The agent has room in her/his client list, and most importantly:
2. They love the shit out of your novel. And just as importantly:
3. They know they can sell it

And of course, even in the best case scenario that all 4 agents ask to take a look at BLANK or Love + Porn--which won't happen--it's still very possible that I'm exactly where I was before I asked him.

And yet, yet, what other choice do I have? I have to risk the possibility of rejection in order to get my writing out there + create a readership. I have to do it for me + I have to do it for my art. I don't know another way except to keep pushing. Eventually, something breaks down, right? Eventually, someone pushes through. Why not me? Why not me? I ask you.