Rebel in the Rye Page #2

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what you talked about

in class.

You know, my voice

overwhelming the story.

I always thought my voice

is what defines me

as a writer.

Absolutely.

Your voice is what makes

your story unique.

But when that voice

overwhelms the story

as it did in your

admissions essay

then it becomes

an expression

more of your ego

than of the emotional

experience of the reader.

Does that make sense?

Kind of.

Kind of..

No.

I'd apologize

for being late, but since

I'm going to be late

for every single class

this semester

I'm going to instead

save my strength

for the reading

of your pages

and heavy drinking.

Now, today

I want to focus on

the writer's voice.

And to illustrate this,

I'm going to read

a passage to you

from William Faulkner.

Alright, now I want you

to listen carefully.

In fact,

close your eyes.

"The jailer cut her down

"and then, revived her.

"Then he beat her

"and whipped her.

"She had hung herself

with her dress."

Alright, so,

what happened?

A woman in jail

tried to commit suicide

and after the jailer

saved her, he beat her.

Exactly. This is why

I let women

audit my classes.

Hopefully, the rest

of the university

will soon follow suit.

Alright, now,

I read this passage

in as dull a voice

as I could possibly muster

and yet you were

still all engaged

by the passage. Why?

Because the events

of the story

were compelling

thematically layered,

and dramatic.

Now, of course,

Faulkner is famous

for his voice,

with its unique,

regional style.

And so therefore,

even the non-writer thinks

that they love Faulkner

but in fact it is

the events of the story

the attempted suicide,

the beating

that draws us in.

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And then Faulkner

uses his voice

to make the story

uniquely his own.

[whispering]

Does that make sense?

For our next class,

I want you all to write

a five-page story.

Ask yourselves,

if I were to read

this in a monotone

would I still keep

the class' attention?

Okay, well, I'm really

not going to do any better

than that today.

So, that's it, you can use

the rest of the time

to write your story,

or masturbate.

Just try not to confuse

the former

with the latter.

God knows,

there is many an author

who has failed

at that very task.

Have a good weekend.

See you later, children.

The one good thing

about being stuck

in a nut house

is everyone here

is in the same

lousy shape as I am.

Truth be told, I never

really fit in anywhere

in the whole

goddamned world.

Uptown, I was a Jew.

Downtown, I was a square.

But on occasion,

I could fool the girls

into thinking

I was

Clark Gable's cousin.

Bravo! Bravo!

Keep giving 'em hell,

Ernie!

You know what,

I actually think

'cause I love how much

it pisses my father off.

That's hilarious.

You need to go with that.

You should write

your story about that.

Nah.

- You got your watch on?

- Yes. Why?

Because you need to give

that girl the time.

Yes, I do.

- Hi.

- Hi.

- So, you like jazz?

- What do you think?

So, um, what do you do

most of the time

on weekends?

I don't know. What do you

do most of the time

on weekends?

This and that.

This and that?

I know that's code

for sowing your wild oats.

[laughing]

"Sow your wild oats?"

I'm sorry.

I don't follow.

Oh, please.

Chase around.

Joe College.

Sow the wild oats?

"I don't think

I get your drift."

"You know, chase around.

Joe College."

Suddenly, from the

other side of the room

a small blond

shrieked with laughter.

Yes. It was very good.

Your voice was present

and entertaining

but it helped

tell the story,

it didn't become it.

I -- I felt it,

you know, I could tell

when something I wrote

was too clever.

- Was it true?

- Hmm, some of it.

Some, I made up.

Well, you know

what we call that?

- What?

- Writing.

So, how do I

get it published?

Well, that's

a bit ambitious

for your first outing,

don't you think?

Well, a real writer

publishes, right?

That's the only way

to make a living at it.

Oh, wait, let me guess,

your father told you that.

Well, why don't you try

"The New Yorker?"

I'm sure

that would impress him.

I was actually thinking

"Story Magazine."

I love their pieces.

Do you know who the editor

of "Story" is?

Well, yeah. You.

And on behalf of "Story,"

I would like to thank you

for your submission.

Unfortunately, we're going

to decline at this time.

But we do look forward

to reading your

future submissions.

Mr. Salinger, you're about

to learn the second most

important lesson

on having a career

as a writer.

Learning to deal

with rejection.

Well, I'm going straight

to "The New Yorker"

and they're going to

publish it, and you're

going to be sorry!

I already am!

- Hi, I'm here to --

- Submit a short story.

Fill this out.

Leave your story.

We'll get back to you

in four to six weeks.

This is the...first story

I've ever submitted.

Well, that's

a historic day for us all.

What's the J.D.

stand for?

It's juvenile

delinquent.

Don't write that.

And I want

those re-writes

before next week.

And do not get used

to the idea of me

staying for each class

my dinner

plans canceled.

Oh, it's your first

rejection letter.

You have to

get that framed!

- So, what do I do now?

- You're a writer.

What do you think

you do now?

Write another story?

Yes. And then write

another one after that.

And then another one

after that.

And then another one

after that.

- Okay.

- And then another one

after that!

Perhaps my dreams

of literary triumph

were the delusions

of an egotistical

and overly-ambitious

boy who should

have listened

when he was offered

the chance to be

the king of the bacon.

I could've been

a king, Whit.

I don't know

if I'm cut out for this.

Yeah. Maybe you're not.

- You -- you don't

think I am?

- Well..

Let me ask you

a question.

Why do you want

to do this?

Publish?

No.

Be a writer.

Why do you

want to write?

Because I..

I get angry about

a lot of things.

When I'm writing,

I feel like I'm doing

something about it.

Like I'm finally getting

to speak my mind.

You see, Jerry, this is

what you need to be doing

in your writing.

Explore what it is

that makes you angry

and then put that

into a story.

- But --

- No, no, no,

but here's the catch.

You still may

never publish.

- Never?

- Nope.

You may spend

the rest of your life

being rejected.

And now, you have to

ask yourself a question.

Are you willing

to devote your life

to telling stories

knowing that you may get

nothing in return?

And if the answer

to that question is no

well, then, you should

go out there

and find yourself

something else to do

with your life

because you're not

a true writer.

Good day.

Thank you very much.

No, no, no, no.

Take your rejections

with you.

Would you look

at this place,

it's beautiful.

You -- you'll find

something else

you like to do,

sonny. You'll see.

And it'll be something

you can actually

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