a note and a novel from Dan Paisner

I majored in Alan. I took his Hemingway & Mailer course, his Hawthorne & Melville course, his 20th Century American Literature course, and perhaps another survey course as well. Also, I took his wonderful creative writing course -- four times, for credit! If he offered a course in writing out a shopping list, I would have signed on for that as well, and some of my fondest Jumbo memories are rooted in his living room, around that great coffee table he had set out in front of a fireplace (yes?). Alan usually sat on the floor, and it was a special thrill to read from a new piece and look up to catch his eyes dancing with delight, with a smile so wide I sometimes worried it would reach all the way around. It didn't happen that way all the time, but when you got it right Alan let you know. Yes, that was his great strong suit, the delight he would find in his students' work, every here and there. And it was infectious. His students followed his lead and became great champions of each other's work, and gentle critics free to offer valid note and comment. To this day, when I write something I really, really like, I catch myself longing for one of Alan's workshops, so I can bounce it off a group of like-minded someones, so I can read Alan's face and tell whether my stuff is any good.

A grateful tip of the pen, Alan, for laying such a strong foundation, and for being the first one to introduce me to the simple joy to be found in a turn of phrase. You might recall your note to me after I sent you a copy of my latest novel. You said, "Write another one." Same to you, my friend. Good luck and good cheer and all that... Dan Paisner

What If?
I expected nothing, and everything, all at once.

I worked the equation in my head. Nothing plus everything equals anything. Anything… There was no cap on my imagination, no end to where things might lead. It smelled more than a little like buying one of those scratch-off lottery tickets at the newsstand. When the notion hits, and the loose change in your pocket makes the argument against long odds and rational thought, there is no holding back, and in the tug and pull between impulse and reason there is a small, sweet voice...What if? That’s all I ever need to hear. What if? What if the ticket I am meant to buy, the one at the top of the pile, or the one at the in-use end of the roll, or however it is they dispense these things... what if that’s thee one? What if the road not taken turns out to have been the path to glory? Yes, absolutely, the next one could always be mine. It’s always someone’s, and it might as well be mine. Anyway, you never know, right? You never expect the stars to truly align and smile on your affairs, but you are ever mindful that they might, they just might, and you don’t want to be caught not believing. What if? Stay open, or keep closed. One day, and soon, your number will be called, and you will be pulled from the not-so-swift currents of your existence and set down upon the unbelievably treacherous whitewaters of uncertainty. Or, not... but that's not the point. That's never the point. The point, always, is to step to the plate and take your cuts. Roll the dice. Expect nothing, and everything, all at once. Believe.

Anything can happen.

-- "Sure Shot" (novel in progress)
Daniel Paisner