I really enjoyed reading this piece about you and your early experiences 😎 "He wrote back, telling me how pleased he was but also wondering if I wanted any helpful criticism; I did not."😂
He did make a move though. A prof asking a young woman if she has read The Story of O is a move, albeit a tentative one. What I love about her piece is that he helped her as well. He did her so much good. Yet there are things she had to overlook, some of which were pretty brutal because she was a woman and he disparaged her for that. This is often the way with mentors and I'm glad she overlooked it yet also told us about it here. Gaitskill is a writer of extraordinary honesty and candour.
I wouldn't say that he was exactly making a move with that mention but it was provocative for sure and made me uncomfortable--and I blushed because I had read it. But as Divina suggests below he didn't ask the question out of nowhere, he was responding to a story I'd written with some very masochistic-themed content--you could say that was provocative too. I think he was wondering how far I wanted to go with this content and gave that as an example of something extreme. So it was actually a good thing for me to think about even if I wasn't that capable of it then. The "secretary" comment bugged me a lot more!!! But I considered it fairly minor compared to all the good stuff.
I was hoping Ms. Gaitskill had written a similar story and he was just recommending that as a reference--she didn't give us much context but Secretary has similar themes of submission so I gave him the benefit of the doubt. But only Ms. Gaitskill can clarify ofc.
This moves me so much. It’s bittersweet if I think of the teachers who encouraged my writing at a time when I felt lost and useless and unloved, but felt deep down that I could write.
You’re blessed that you made it, and Les Mayes could attend your reading. I can imagine how proud he must have felt— and even more so, how proud you must have felt especially after the Secretary comment.
All three of my first creative writing teachers were males who encouraged me to the point of pulling me aside. No sexual innuendo. I was good at this, they said, though the first warned me that I might work at it all my life and never get anywhere. Ironically I assumed that this fate would NOT be mine, however it was indeed a portent.
I only just finished my first novel decades after that conversation. I’m querying now. I’m even less inclined towards detachment because it took forever to get here.
My teacher worthy of an essay like this is James Alan McPherson at Iowa, who passed away almost ten years ago. In addition to writing wisdom, behind a recklessly closed door he gave me advice that would change my entire perspective on life. This came with something deeply personal.
Oh what I would give to thank him for that— and see him in the front row at a reading (if this novel I wrote makes it out into the world.
I'm glad you had a similar experience, such things are invaluable--maybe you can write about it? And I'm happy for you about your book and hope you can get it out there.
A January-long and quite informal seminar at Hamilton College in 1972 led by John Nichols — whose now classic, maybe even canonical, New Mexican novel The Milagro Beanfield War, had been written but not yet published — had a very strong impact on me. Even if that impact took decades to manifest itself. Nichol's concluding comment on the stories I had submitted for his critique over that month was, "You are a writer. If you want to be."
I wrote about my that seminar & my subsequent connection with Nichols, and about Cory Doctorow, another writer I know and who has had a big influence on me, in the essay "Challenged by John Nichols and Cory Doctorow."
In many superficial ways Cory & John are about dissimilar as two novelists can be: Cory's a hypergeek and he writes mostly about geekoid people in situations involving complicated technology; John Nichols didn't even own a computer or have an email address until shortly before his death. He wrote his novels — mostly about rural people living a pre-industrial lifestyle — on a manual typewriter. Much of Nichols' life was spent virtually 'off the grid.'
But in other, more important, ways I consider Cory and John to be literary brothers.
I don't know if I ever rose to the Mr. Mayes level but yes, there were a few that I provided that kind of support to. I think part of it for me and Mayes was timing; my need was great and he was very available plus we just clicked. That's happened maybe once with me (as a teacher) and a student--to a lesser degree more often, but like that, just once.
It’s an amazing thing, if we can ever be so lucky, to have a mentor . Especially at a time when all seems lost and we don’t know for sure what lays ahead. I too left home, Canada, at 16, for London. I had the fortune of encountering one such mentor who taught and encouraged me. Sadly he is no longer alive and i wish my older self now could thank him and speak with him . He taught me about songwriting, which was what i aspired to be doing. He encouraged me and he looked out for me. I really enjoyed hearing about your experience Mary. It stirs up a lot. And what a different time it was.
I loved watching Mailer and Vidal on Dick Cavett, Mailer was such a jerk! I wonder if he was on crank or just being his natural asshole self. Thanks you for a wonderful piece.
Did you watch it in the 70s or more recently? I think Mailer might've been a little drunk but I also think that was just him. Its amazing to me though that he, Vidal and also the journalist Janet Flanner (who got in some of the best lines) were all so engaged and expressive on such a high level on a talk show--I can't picture that happening now.
I watched in it real time as a kid. That's how old I am. Mailer challenged Vidal to a duel of some sort, a boxing match. He said it would be uneven so he'd box Vidal with one arm and he said that was still too uneven so he volunteered his kid to fight Vidal. Hilarious.
I was fifteen so I already knew it was the world I was entering. But at least, being a girl, I didn't feel like I had to choose between these two models of behavior.
I can't remember what I thought besides being clouded in confusion. I thought there was a lot of humor in this episode while not fully comprehending the serious nature of Mailer's mental disorder. I think this is the episode where Mailer turned 50 and I thought, man, that's old!
you were so lucky to have had a mentor like him, and we're lucky too, that with his guidance you "got better"—and how. your work has meant a lot to me, as a reader and writer. like others here, i'm glad things never got icky. i love that you told him you didn't require any more helpful criticism. and i love that he didn't hold that against you.
I know I was very lucky. Some people don't believe in luck but its obvious to me that it exists. Big luck that my dad taught at community college--if that hadn't been the case it would've been much much harder for me to go to university, in fact it might never have happened. And then to meet someone like Mr. Mayes right off the bat--that was golden. I've had some real bad luck too in life but there's definitely been a lot of key good luck. I wish it for you!
I agree that luck begins before birth, for example the health of your parents and what happens to your mother while she's carrying you, also their social position and wealth or lack of it. A lot of other more complicated things too...
Your talent and confidence must have made a big impression on Mr. Mayes. Like Divina (below), I was dreading the moment he'd make a move on you, given your proximity (such a common story), and I'm glad it didn't happen. Yeah for a story with a happy ending!
This is such a nice note I hope it reaches Mr. mayes because I bet he would like to hear how he impressed you. I didn't know that it was TAW. Thank you for this encouragement and what you shared about your years as a young adult. Personally I really benefit from substacks like yours wherr becoming a writer to share my own stories with the world I love is hard. Thank you again!
Sadly Mr. Mayes died about 20 years ago. But I do think that he knew how important he was to me. I think I wrote him that when I sent him my first book and also I'm sure he could see it in my face when we spoke after my reading at U-M
I so loved this although it now resurrects an obsession I’ve had for years. I had a teacher in 9th grade who recognized in me an urge to write and encouraged me. She would take my short stories (her assignment to the whole class) and take them home to read to her family. I was made to feel like someone who could overcome his disfavored immigrant status through writing, someone of worth. Her name was Mrs. Malloy and for years I tried tracking her down through the NYC Department of Education without success. You’re lucky to have closed the loop, to some degree at least, with Mr. Mayes.
This reminds me so much of how my cousin Laura van den Berg became a great writer. Her father, Egerton van den Berg, sat me down and told me about Laura’s life until they agreed to let her not return to high school, but take courses at Rollins College in Florida. I find these stories wonderful!
I really enjoyed reading this piece about you and your early experiences 😎 "He wrote back, telling me how pleased he was but also wondering if I wanted any helpful criticism; I did not."😂
Same—I busted up laughing!
I was so worried he was going to make a move on you--glad it didn't go that way! You were so lucky to have such a supportive mentor.
He did make a move though. A prof asking a young woman if she has read The Story of O is a move, albeit a tentative one. What I love about her piece is that he helped her as well. He did her so much good. Yet there are things she had to overlook, some of which were pretty brutal because she was a woman and he disparaged her for that. This is often the way with mentors and I'm glad she overlooked it yet also told us about it here. Gaitskill is a writer of extraordinary honesty and candour.
I wouldn't say that he was exactly making a move with that mention but it was provocative for sure and made me uncomfortable--and I blushed because I had read it. But as Divina suggests below he didn't ask the question out of nowhere, he was responding to a story I'd written with some very masochistic-themed content--you could say that was provocative too. I think he was wondering how far I wanted to go with this content and gave that as an example of something extreme. So it was actually a good thing for me to think about even if I wasn't that capable of it then. The "secretary" comment bugged me a lot more!!! But I considered it fairly minor compared to all the good stuff.
I was hoping Ms. Gaitskill had written a similar story and he was just recommending that as a reference--she didn't give us much context but Secretary has similar themes of submission so I gave him the benefit of the doubt. But only Ms. Gaitskill can clarify ofc.
You hoped correctly, see reply to Heather!
Yes, that's a good point.
This moves me so much. It’s bittersweet if I think of the teachers who encouraged my writing at a time when I felt lost and useless and unloved, but felt deep down that I could write.
You’re blessed that you made it, and Les Mayes could attend your reading. I can imagine how proud he must have felt— and even more so, how proud you must have felt especially after the Secretary comment.
All three of my first creative writing teachers were males who encouraged me to the point of pulling me aside. No sexual innuendo. I was good at this, they said, though the first warned me that I might work at it all my life and never get anywhere. Ironically I assumed that this fate would NOT be mine, however it was indeed a portent.
I only just finished my first novel decades after that conversation. I’m querying now. I’m even less inclined towards detachment because it took forever to get here.
My teacher worthy of an essay like this is James Alan McPherson at Iowa, who passed away almost ten years ago. In addition to writing wisdom, behind a recklessly closed door he gave me advice that would change my entire perspective on life. This came with something deeply personal.
Oh what I would give to thank him for that— and see him in the front row at a reading (if this novel I wrote makes it out into the world.
I'm glad you had a similar experience, such things are invaluable--maybe you can write about it? And I'm happy for you about your book and hope you can get it out there.
A January-long and quite informal seminar at Hamilton College in 1972 led by John Nichols — whose now classic, maybe even canonical, New Mexican novel The Milagro Beanfield War, had been written but not yet published — had a very strong impact on me. Even if that impact took decades to manifest itself. Nichol's concluding comment on the stories I had submitted for his critique over that month was, "You are a writer. If you want to be."
I wrote about my that seminar & my subsequent connection with Nichols, and about Cory Doctorow, another writer I know and who has had a big influence on me, in the essay "Challenged by John Nichols and Cory Doctorow."
https://open.substack.com/pub/johnsundman/p/challenged-by-john-nichols-and-cory?r=38b5x&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=false
In many superficial ways Cory & John are about dissimilar as two novelists can be: Cory's a hypergeek and he writes mostly about geekoid people in situations involving complicated technology; John Nichols didn't even own a computer or have an email address until shortly before his death. He wrote his novels — mostly about rural people living a pre-industrial lifestyle — on a manual typewriter. Much of Nichols' life was spent virtually 'off the grid.'
But in other, more important, ways I consider Cory and John to be literary brothers.
Loving it Mary. U think you’ve ever been an intimate resource to one of your students like Les Mayes was for you ?
I don't know if I ever rose to the Mr. Mayes level but yes, there were a few that I provided that kind of support to. I think part of it for me and Mayes was timing; my need was great and he was very available plus we just clicked. That's happened maybe once with me (as a teacher) and a student--to a lesser degree more often, but like that, just once.
It’s an amazing thing, if we can ever be so lucky, to have a mentor . Especially at a time when all seems lost and we don’t know for sure what lays ahead. I too left home, Canada, at 16, for London. I had the fortune of encountering one such mentor who taught and encouraged me. Sadly he is no longer alive and i wish my older self now could thank him and speak with him . He taught me about songwriting, which was what i aspired to be doing. He encouraged me and he looked out for me. I really enjoyed hearing about your experience Mary. It stirs up a lot. And what a different time it was.
Thank you! So many people left home so early during that time, sometimes with terrible results and sometimes actually good. Its amazing to consider...
I loved watching Mailer and Vidal on Dick Cavett, Mailer was such a jerk! I wonder if he was on crank or just being his natural asshole self. Thanks you for a wonderful piece.
Did you watch it in the 70s or more recently? I think Mailer might've been a little drunk but I also think that was just him. Its amazing to me though that he, Vidal and also the journalist Janet Flanner (who got in some of the best lines) were all so engaged and expressive on such a high level on a talk show--I can't picture that happening now.
I watched in it real time as a kid. That's how old I am. Mailer challenged Vidal to a duel of some sort, a boxing match. He said it would be uneven so he'd box Vidal with one arm and he said that was still too uneven so he volunteered his kid to fight Vidal. Hilarious.
I watched it then too! I was fascinated and bewildered by it. I didn't know whether I loved them or hated them.
It probably screwed me up for life. I thought, is this the world I'm entering?
I was fifteen so I already knew it was the world I was entering. But at least, being a girl, I didn't feel like I had to choose between these two models of behavior.
I can't remember what I thought besides being clouded in confusion. I thought there was a lot of humor in this episode while not fully comprehending the serious nature of Mailer's mental disorder. I think this is the episode where Mailer turned 50 and I thought, man, that's old!
vivid as usual - love the point about luck--we all could use a little more
you were so lucky to have had a mentor like him, and we're lucky too, that with his guidance you "got better"—and how. your work has meant a lot to me, as a reader and writer. like others here, i'm glad things never got icky. i love that you told him you didn't require any more helpful criticism. and i love that he didn't hold that against you.
I know I was very lucky. Some people don't believe in luck but its obvious to me that it exists. Big luck that my dad taught at community college--if that hadn't been the case it would've been much much harder for me to go to university, in fact it might never have happened. And then to meet someone like Mr. Mayes right off the bat--that was golden. I've had some real bad luck too in life but there's definitely been a lot of key good luck. I wish it for you!
Thank you!—I've had lots of it. And believe luck begins before we're even born.
I agree that luck begins before birth, for example the health of your parents and what happens to your mother while she's carrying you, also their social position and wealth or lack of it. A lot of other more complicated things too...
Your talent and confidence must have made a big impression on Mr. Mayes. Like Divina (below), I was dreading the moment he'd make a move on you, given your proximity (such a common story), and I'm glad it didn't happen. Yeah for a story with a happy ending!
This is the most tangible description of a teacher student relationship I've ever read.
This is such a nice note I hope it reaches Mr. mayes because I bet he would like to hear how he impressed you. I didn't know that it was TAW. Thank you for this encouragement and what you shared about your years as a young adult. Personally I really benefit from substacks like yours wherr becoming a writer to share my own stories with the world I love is hard. Thank you again!
Sadly Mr. Mayes died about 20 years ago. But I do think that he knew how important he was to me. I think I wrote him that when I sent him my first book and also I'm sure he could see it in my face when we spoke after my reading at U-M
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I so loved this although it now resurrects an obsession I’ve had for years. I had a teacher in 9th grade who recognized in me an urge to write and encouraged me. She would take my short stories (her assignment to the whole class) and take them home to read to her family. I was made to feel like someone who could overcome his disfavored immigrant status through writing, someone of worth. Her name was Mrs. Malloy and for years I tried tracking her down through the NYC Department of Education without success. You’re lucky to have closed the loop, to some degree at least, with Mr. Mayes.
This reminds me so much of how my cousin Laura van den Berg became a great writer. Her father, Egerton van den Berg, sat me down and told me about Laura’s life until they agreed to let her not return to high school, but take courses at Rollins College in Florida. I find these stories wonderful!