Friday, April 13
Vonnegut and Me
Entertainment Weekly checks in with the Twain comparison. I first came across Vonnegut late, I suppose (compared to every obit which seems to mention his popularity among high school students), in a college English class, "Twain and Vonnegut," at Sonoma State University in my brief three-semester attempt at graduate school while I worked nights as a sports writer. The class was taught by the same guy who taught the Shakespeare class I took that semester.
I enjoyed Twain, but I fell in love with the three or four Vonnegut books we had to read, and as soon as school ended I read the rest of 'em. I thought they were all so funny and honest and weird and strange and true and funny. Turns out I shared his humanist tendencies, but I'd never seen that philosophy in print or knew it existed. It was the truth I think, or my perception of the truth, the tell-it-like-it is feeling that captured me. The short sentences. The weirdness. I liked it. A lot. And again, the humor of course. Also, I never had to overcome the opinion that Vonnegut was slumming in sci-fi. From the start, it was great literature for me. I was a true believer. Plus, more important: his books made me feel like writing was something I could do.
And so that summer I started writing my first novel, only to realize within weeks that I was way too young to have done anything or to know anything worth writing about in long fiction. And that I wasn't very good. But still. My need to write novels really started then, that summer of '86. And it's never let up. And so I soon quit school ("Vonnegut didn't learn to write novels in a college writing program!") and moved to San Diego and started writing another novel. And later, when I learned Vonnegut had been a news writer (in Chicago) and did PR for a big corporation (GE), both things I'd done (or still do) and I had three bad novels in a drawer, he was living, visible proof that maybe, someday, with continued hard work and the right breaks, maybe I could climb out of the cubicles of corporate America. So I keep trying, and he's still an inspiration. Maybe someday, I'll get out. Maybe this current novel (my 7th) will be the one I'm happy enough with to chase down an agent and a publishers. Maybe. So it goes. Thanks Mr. Vonnegut.
Below, I share an e-mail from the one time I saw Vonnegut.
I enjoyed Twain, but I fell in love with the three or four Vonnegut books we had to read, and as soon as school ended I read the rest of 'em. I thought they were all so funny and honest and weird and strange and true and funny. Turns out I shared his humanist tendencies, but I'd never seen that philosophy in print or knew it existed. It was the truth I think, or my perception of the truth, the tell-it-like-it is feeling that captured me. The short sentences. The weirdness. I liked it. A lot. And again, the humor of course. Also, I never had to overcome the opinion that Vonnegut was slumming in sci-fi. From the start, it was great literature for me. I was a true believer. Plus, more important: his books made me feel like writing was something I could do.
And so that summer I started writing my first novel, only to realize within weeks that I was way too young to have done anything or to know anything worth writing about in long fiction. And that I wasn't very good. But still. My need to write novels really started then, that summer of '86. And it's never let up. And so I soon quit school ("Vonnegut didn't learn to write novels in a college writing program!") and moved to San Diego and started writing another novel. And later, when I learned Vonnegut had been a news writer (in Chicago) and did PR for a big corporation (GE), both things I'd done (or still do) and I had three bad novels in a drawer, he was living, visible proof that maybe, someday, with continued hard work and the right breaks, maybe I could climb out of the cubicles of corporate America. So I keep trying, and he's still an inspiration. Maybe someday, I'll get out. Maybe this current novel (my 7th) will be the one I'm happy enough with to chase down an agent and a publishers. Maybe. So it goes. Thanks Mr. Vonnegut.
Below, I share an e-mail from the one time I saw Vonnegut.
