Someone With a Pen: Richard Grayson’s Diary

Friday, January 14, 2000

9 PM. After two nights of poor sleep, last night was the inevitable feast of dreaming and snoozing. It made a real difference in my mental and physical state, and yet today seemed to rush by at the speed of light. Perhaps it’s merely the phenomenon of time seeming to speed up the older a person gets.

I again left the house at 7:30 AM to go to the office and get online for a while after I recorded the abominable grades on my quiz.

I wrote to Tom about a dream I had about a triumphant poetry reading he gave while wearing a bike racer’s outfit and performing gymnastics.

Tom has decided to have John Travis use Portals Press to publish the third Encyclopedia Mouse novel, the one he recently wrote, “mostly so I can give copies to friends.” He’s going to Salisbury in less than two weeks; Apparently he flies into BWI and takes a 30-seater over to the Eastern Shore.

Annette is busy with three programming classes. Using a Web search engine, she found the story was taken for a webzine that Tom wasn’t aware of and a nice quote about “In the Restrooms of Europe” from a review in the Sonoma County independent of The Book of Eros, the anthology where the story was published.

The big news on email was a photo sent by Josh of a red-faced infant, David. I wrote back a mushy congratulatory note – the one time Josh can’t take my sunny cheerfulness and grind it into dust with a cynical reply.

I’m not sure if Gabrielle and the child are still in Germany or if they are in New York with Josh. But I said it was nice he could name the baby after his father.

 I hope having a baby will make Josh less negative and more open and warmer. He’s not a guy I can see ever being “cuddly,” but babies can change their parents.

Yesterday Teresa wrote that she was preparing a party (“You know the drill”) on West 83rd Street and that everyone was anticipating the first snowfall of the winter even though only a light dusting was predicted.

Teresa wrote in detail about all the work contractors are doing in the house: repairing the roof, fixing the downstairs bathroom, and working on a major overhaul of the kitchen “which will always be too small to be ideal.”

Alice surprised me by displaying envy towards Zoë Heller, the hot young British novelist and journalist who married Larry, Alice’s “millionaire screenwriter” cousin. I never thought Alice cared about things like a great notice in the New York Times Book Review or the prestige of publication by Knopf.

“Not that I’d exchange places with her,” Alice wrote – this is apparently an exercise Alice’s therapist used to give her when she expressed envy – “but it always amazes me to understand how people like Zoe and me you can create fiction when I can’t do so at all.”

Well, the Zoë Hellers of the literary world live on a different plane than people like me (and Alice). I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I’m not as talented or sophisticated as the glitterati.

On the other hand, I outshine most people in the world who want to write fiction. I have always known my place in the literary food chain – or the academic one.

After returning home at 8:30 AM, I exercised and prepared for class before heading back to Nova at 11:30 AM.

Class was good except for an annoying girl filing her nails and the fact that half the students didn’t do the reading – which showed on their first quizzes, which had a mean grade of 55%.

(Alva, the little blonde overachiever who probably spends three hours reading every five pages, had a cow when she saw her 70% grade, not realizing how little I am counting these quizzes.)

We discussed ethics and the law, and since the first case was the 1976 capital punishment case Gregg v. Georgia, I got to listen to my students’ rabid pro-death penalty views.

Only after class did two African American students talk to me about the unfairness and barbarity of capital punishment. I’m sure most of my white students lump me in with the crazy leftist radicals they despise – that is, if they ever think about politics at all.

Yesterday Charles Zelden expressed amazement that I had 27 students in my Introduction to Law class when he has never gotten more than 17. I suspect that I get more non-Legal Studies majors than Charles does because of my reputation as an easy grader. Or maybe I actually have a reputation as a good teacher.

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Tuesday, January 18, 2000

11 AM. I am so upset that I am literally shaking. Kate Gale emailed me, saying she wants to drop the “The” in my title “because Silicon Valley Diet rolls better off the tongue.”

I wrote her three increasingly hysterical emails, saying that I will not give her permission to do this and trying to explain that the The Silicon Valley Diet Is the book that the protagonist of the title story is writing and that it’s supposed to be evocative of books like The Beverly Hills Diet and The Scarsdale Diet. I said that the title makes no sense without the initial “The.” It astonishes me that as a poet – never mind as a publisher – Kate cannot see this.

I’m so disgusted with myself for even signing with Valentine Publishing Group. It’s obviously not a coincidence that what has been the worst book publishing experience I’ve ever had occurred when I subsidized the book.

What a mistake it was to go with a publisher who’s totally out of sync and sympathy with me. This book is not going to be a good experience, and all the ground work I’ve been doing is in vain. I’m crushed. But I don’t blame Kate. I blame myself, and I have learned an important, very expensive lesson.

Since Kate asked my permission to change the title, I assume she won’t do it if I feel so strongly about this. I’d almost think she was playing head games with me, knowing how important this is, trying to rattle me. Am I being paranoid?

I don’t think I’m the problem, as I’ve had experience with several other book publishers. While I may have been unhappy with some of their decisions, I always felt they were doing the best that they could.

Kate said she hopes to get the galleys to me in three to four weeks, but instead of looking forward to it, I almost dread it, imagining that they’ve altered my work in some horrible way.

Anyway, I need to concentrate on my preparation for tonight’s class. I confirmed by phone that we’re scheduled for a library tour at the law school at 6:30 PM.

So actually there won’t be much time to go over a lot of material. But we’re getting so far behind in what I plan to do this semester. Well, I’ll just do the best I can.

I had email from Alice and Teresa, but once I read Kate’s email, I could barely come apprehend my friend’s words.

I’m sure Kate will only be confirmed in her opinion that I’m a nut, but I don’t care what she thinks; My own opinion of her gets lower and lower. I don’t like to forget about the $2500 I gave them and tell them to forget about publishing the book.

If they’re going to do such a bad job, it’s not worth doing. I really am bummed out about this.

*

3 PM. It’s bad for me to get stressed out. For one thing, it exacerbates somatic problems. Last night I had dental pain, seemingly originating from the temporary cap, and now it hurts again, but I think because I’ve been unconsciously grinding my teeth. And my ear and foot hurt.

I understand that I need to watch out when my primitive lizard brain takes over, as when I become so angry and upset that I’m almost shaking. A holdover from paleolithic days, this mechanism means that I’ve perceived someone attacking me in a vital place, and I respond with rage or fear or both.

I’m certain Kate Gale thinks I’m a hysteric. Her tone in contrast, is always measured. And yes, I suppose I could have simply said, No, I prefer the current title and I don’t give you permission to change it.

I suspect that after my three emails, she just won’t respond – but I also think she won’t change the title.

Perhaps, if they’re as unhappy as I am with the way publication is working out, they’ll want to cancel the contract and negotiate a settlement that will let us walk away from the deal.

I can sense that I’m going to have to fight them every step of the way regarding all kinds of stuff, like review copies. Whether it’s because they’re incompetent or hostile, I don’t know, and it doesn’t really matter.

Maybe I just need to cut my losses and let them do what they want with the book, forget about publicizing it the way I’d hoped, and get on with my life.

I got too emotionally involved with this book. What happened to my “It’s only a book” philosophy? If there’s a next time, I can self-publish my work; Look at what a great experience Eating at Arby’s was.

It’s not as if I didn’t realize Red Hen Press was somewhat incompetent – or at least not In sync with my ideas about publishing.

If I could cede control and react less emotionally, I’d be better off. This book isn’t worth getting sick over.

I feel like a recording artist tied to a horrible contract with a hostile record company or a visual artist whose patron has altered her work or displayed it in an unreasonable manner.

Kate Gale hasn’t made it easy for me to trust her. She could have tried to talk on the phone, for example. We just seem to be working with completely different mindsets – and that is my fault because I failed to investigate Valentine Publishing Group thoroughly last June.

I need to chalk this book up as a learning experience and forget about it.

*

10 PM. After standing on my feet for three and a half hours and walking back and forth from the middle school to the law school, my foot is killing me. But I’m relieved that another night class is over, and that it seems to have worked out all right.

Because we’re getting behind, I wanted to simplify things for my students. I eliminated the second legal memo, making it a revised version of the first, and I moved the due date back two weeks.

The law librarian, Carol, did an incredible job despite a cold. I really didn’t expect her to go into such detail, and while she may have overwhelmed some of my students with her comprehensiveness, I greatly appreciated it. I’ll have to send Carol a note of thanks.

Speaking of notes, I never heard back from Kate, so I assume I gave her a conniption fit but accomplished my goal of not having the title change. She must think I’m difficult and nearly insane.

I did get a nice note from Jenafer, thanking me for the bio, saying they were hard at work on my book, and saying I could send the database on a word processing file at my convenience. The intern is, as Dad would say, “a person”: cold friendly, sweet and personable, unlike her boss.

Sheesh.

My lecture to the class after we got back from the law library went okay, and I was pretty happy with tonight’s class.

Earlier today I read a study showing that incompetent people usually never realize they’re incompetent – probably because they don’t have the skills to discern it.

Highly competent people, in contrast, may underestimate their performance because they assume other people are at their level.

Of course, as a teacher, I get student evaluations, and as an author, I get reviews and rejections. (Today an anthology tentatively accepted an old story to be reprinted.)

Do I discount bad reviews and evaluations as the product of weirdos? Not usually. I’m more likely to discount praise, feeling that I fooled someone.

Alice, my parents and a few other people tell me I’m too self-deprecating. But I know I’m not a good stylist.

Jaimy Gordon and Tom Whalen are perceptive, but I’ve always been able to see the difference between my own writing and that of more graceful writers. I lack their sophistication.

But I do have some unique qualities, and my prose isn’t totally tortured or barbaric. Seeing my flaws doesn’t necessarily mean I can correct them, though.

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Wednesday, January 19, 2000

7 PM. In my inbox this morning at 7 AM, I found three emails from Kate, replying to each of mine.

I must have freaked her out and the last one was from her partner Mark Cull, addressing me as “Mr. Grayson” and saying I spent a lot of energy attacking what was only a suggestion.

He “humbly apologized” on behalf of Kate for making this suggestion, and of course I immediately felt guilty and emailed back an apology of my own for “going over the top.”

I feel bad, and in retrospect, I see that I overreacted. The problem, I think, is caused by trying to communicate by email. If Kate had phoned me with this suggestion – or called to discuss the publication date – I could have replied in a much more measured manner. But that doesn’t excuse my acting like a lunatic.

On the other hand, after my email performance, I think they’re now a little wary of me and won’t change a word of my manuscript – though of course I might be better off if they did.

I never think of myself as a diva or a prima donna or someone difficult to work with, but perhaps I am.

Alice, who just returned from a wonderful trip to London, told me that in all her years as an agent or author, she’d never won a single title battle with a publisher. The publishing house’s sales department usually decides on the title, Alice reported.

So maybe I’m lucky. I did reply to Jenafer, the intern at Valentine Publishing Group, who has always been friendly and who I see as my own ally there.

She said I could send the mailing list whenever, and I decided I should send them most of the names on my “movers and shakers” list.

I’ll avoid sending this celebrity names that they’d recognize immediately or anybody I want to reach myself.

This evening I began taking up the file in my laptop from my regular address books and gradually I’ll add the other names.

Teresa said that when the temperature reached a low of 7° yesterday, she thought, “I’m glad Richie isn’t visiting.”

She went into great detail about all the renovations to the house and said it will probably look a lot better (not that it wasn’t great to begin with) when I see it next time.

Sat Darshan wrote that Kiran’s arm didn’t seem quite right, and the doctor’s latest x-ray didn’t see any cartilage, so next week Kiran has to have either an MRI or a CT scan. (I forget which.) If that turns up a problem, she’ll need surgery.

Sat Darshan feels so put-upon. “I need like a housewife to help me with lots of little errands and chores,” she wrote. “Why is life so complicated?”

She never talks about Ravinder, but it’s clear to me that he doesn’t help her much even when he is in town. I don’t quite understand their marriage, but it’s something I know not to question.

Today’s noon Intro to Law class went okay, though the students are so conservative that they seem to think that the job of criminal defense attorneys is to turn in their guilty clients to prosecutors.

I’m tired now and hope I’m not coming down with something.

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Friday, January 21, 2000

10 PM. I just got in, and it’s a chilly night again. It’s going down to about 50° here. I’ve been wearing my heavier jacket this evening, as I did when I first went out at 9 AM.

Of course, it’s really frigid up north. Denise Duhamel emailed that in Pittsburgh a dog actually froze to death when it was taken out to pee. (I had written Denise to ask for her snail mail address so I could send an article on Nick’s reading from the Nova student newspaper.)

Earlier I had written Patrick to see how he was doing, and while he still seemed in a funk, Patrick mentioned that he’d be going to school for a Marvin Bell poetry reading at 7:30 PM.

So I decided to go to BCC-South tonight, mostly to see Patrick. But he never showed up. Instead, the usual suspects were there: Lenny, Gary, Vicki, Elisa, Magi and Barbara, who served as the evening’s emcee.

When Barbara introduced me to Marvin Bell, I told him that the last time I heard him read was when I was a Bread Loaf Scholar in August 1977.

Now Marvin is balding with a gray beard and a little more flesh on his bones. The last time I saw him, he was probably younger than I am now.

Marvin has a pleasant personality and is still a good reader. I especially liked some of his new Dead Man poems.

But after the reading I felt tired and a little like I’m coming down with a cold (of course I feel that way every other day) and reluctantly decided not to join Marvin, his wife Dorothy, Barbara and the others at a bar afterwards.

On the way home, I stopped at Publix for a few items, including the cat food I’ve been meaning to buy to feed that scrawny bluish-gray cat that hangs out by the Parker Building. Now when I see him, I can at least give him something to eat.

Last evening I fell asleep after 10 PM and had a good night and I felt pretty frisky today.

After morning ablutions and exercise, I went into the office for an hour, emailing Teresa to thank her for her support in my dispute with Red Hen Press.

I also wrote to Denise, Patrick and a couple of other people, read some articles on Lexis and got a few names and addresses to add to the mailing list I’ve got on Microsoft Word on the office computer.

Emails on the Polaris system (now available via the Web) have been running fast and furious on the issues of salary increases, which may be nonexistent this year for Farquhar Center faculty.

With all the budget cuts, I can’t see how the university is going to let the Liberal Arts division hire any new professors, including for the permanent Legal Studies position.

The truth is that a permanent faculty member replacing me has got to be paid more than the paltry $35,000 I’m getting. I really am a tremendous bargain.

But I don’t ask anyone around the progress of the search and just go about my business.

At home by 10:20 AM, I reviewed my material for the noon class, which went well. After collecting the students’ case briefs, I finished Chapter 3 on the judicial system.

It’s funny that I remember to use stuff that Amy Mashburn said in Civil Procedure. For example, I described a rule 12(b)(6) motion – failing to state a claim for which relief can be granted – as saying, “So what?”

And in trying to get students to remember the distinction between venue and jurisdiction, I told them, “Venue is like real estate: it’s location, location, location.”

Again, I chatted after class with some students who seem really interested in different aspects of the law. Of course, I’m always happy to talk about this subject.

FAMU’s registrar sent me their monthly card that now says all I’m missing is departmental approval to be admitted. I know that I have that, so I’m going to Tallahassee in the fall.

But I would not be shocked if Ben came to me in two months and ask if I’d stay for another year at Nova.

However, I need to base my decisions about the future on the assumption that I’ll be gone from the university – and South Florida – after the academic year is over in four months.