Award-Winning Author Reveals Her Writing Process (Susan Orlean Interview)

Susan Orleene writes non-fiction books that read like fiction. Sort of working in the style of Joan Ddian or a Tom Wolf. But what makes her [music] different is how intentional she is about her writing process. She's very intentional about the research, the writing, the editing phases, all of it. And if you're thinking about your own process, how can you structure your life in order to lead to good writing? Well, you're going to love this episode.

You know, the first thing that I wanted to ask you about was about stories and thinking through the structure of a story before you begin it. I want to hear how you work through that problem. In practical terms, I for many many years and now for the third or fourth book, uh I've used a system of index cards transferring all of my material or at least the material that I know is really kind of instrumental in what I'm writing onto these 5 by8 index cards.

so that I really have all the material in front of me and that can be lots of cards. Um on the last two books of mine before this memoir um rent and the library book I had about 700 of these index cards. So you know I'm really breaking out the material into these digestible chunks. Then I take the cards and I move them around physically. >> That sounds fun. >> It's fun. You need a lot of space, right? That's the only challenge. You need a big open space that your dog isn't going to walk through, which >> I've learned the hard way. Happens all the time. I use those cards though to move around and begin seeing a structure. How is this going to what pieces of information fit with other pieces of information or what are the themes that I see coming through in the book? And it really is uh a matter of like literally picking up the cards and moving them physically. I think it's a really important part of it for me to

keep reacquainting myself with the information, keep sort of remembering, oh, this anecdote I, you know, this is important. This goes here and refreshing my memory. What's on a card? Like, is it story about dog or is it, you know, the dog was this name from this place? This is what it was. How much information is on it? How do you think about, okay, this card is complete? >> It really varies. In some cases, it can be something very small. The dog's name is I mean, that's probably too small, but it can be something very specific like that. In some cases, it can refer to an additional document. If I've done for instance if if I've used for research a legal document rather than breaking the legal document into a million pieces I'll have card number 35 legal document you know and I know okay go fish that legal document out of my file but it's a reminder to me so that I can say oh so the legal document and all

the stuff that I'm drawing from the legal document fits in this section. If I were telling somebody here's my system, I think it's a intuitive kind of sense of >> what is a chunk of thought. A chunk of thought can be something very small or it can be something significantly

bigger. And then how do you go from 700 cards to then like a specific story in a book that you're writing? >> I'll give you an example using the library book because it's very fresh in my mind. I had all of this material. I knew the book wouldn't be strictly chronological. So that was partly why the structure was so important. I always had to regground myself in the time frame. But I I began seeing information kind of fitting into themes like fire, you know, all of the information about fire and arson, all the information about the uh history of the LA library itself, just that specific history, the story of Harry Peak, the guy who confessed to the arson. So, as I began sort of organizing these thematically, they began having within them the story that I was going to tell. Now, I still had to connect them. You can't just do all right, here's a story about arson.

Here's a story about this guy. But I then could begin building the connective tissue between each of those thematic chunks. Yeah, I like what you said about there's a difference between a writer who can write a good sentence and then there's something else. Sort of like the professional leagues of writing is when you can actually tell a good story and then all the sentences kind of make up that story. It's like the parts that then lead to the sum, but the sum is so much bigger than the parts or something.

>> Absolutely. The nature of non-fiction writing, of course, is that you have to at least to begin with be a good researcher, a good reporter, gathering interesting information. But the difference between me saying, "All right, now I'm just going to read you bullet points of information versus >> That's a snoozefest." >> Yeah. Let me tell you this amazing story. Sit back. I'm going to spin a mood. I'm going to engage you in the characters. I'm going to very importantly but subtly explain to you why this is a story that you really should listen to. And that those different elements subtly have to come together to lift a story out of just being an assemblage of information into being a story. a yarn, you know, a story where if you're sitting across from me at dinner, you're going to listen maybe for an hour as I tell you this incredible story about the biggest library fire in American history. A

story that you maybe didn't think you would have any particular interest in.

>> How do you think about leads at the beginning? The importance of yanking someone in, hooking them in. >> The most important. >> The most important. Yeah, it's always important, but in a universe of competition for people's attention, um there's an argument to be made that all of us have lost some capacity to focus. >> Some like a like a sidewalk pigeon sometimes. >> Yeah. And that we've all gotten unfortunately very used to things quick change, bite of information, next bite of information. So, the very importance of a lead has never been greater. And that depending on the story you're telling, in my case, I would say 90% of the time, I'm telling you a story that you don't necessarily think you need to know.

>> Mhm. >> How can I get you to give me your attention? It's all in that lead. It's let me hook you in. Let me give you a little bit of information that's going to be intriguing enough that you go, "Oh, wait a minute. What's this about?" >> Let me read this from The Orchid Thief. Actually, why don't you read it right here? >> Okay. John Lar Ro is a tall guy, skinny as a stick, paleeyed, slouchshouldered, and sharply handsome in spite of the fact that he is missing all his front teeth. [laughter] And there you have it. Um, and I spent a lot of time thinking about that lead.

On paper, nobody necessarily could care about this incident, which was this very kooky guy and his crew of seinal Indians were arrested with wild orchids that they had taken out of a swamp in Florida. You know, there are some people who are interested in orchids who might be curious about reading it, but overall the general reader might have thought I I don't need to read this and I'm not interested in any of the elements in this subject, but people are very interested in people. And I was counting on the fact that somebody would read that description of John Lar Ro and go, "What? Tell me a little more." I mean, whoa.

>> Yeah, cuz the last sentence kind of it it sends you for a loop. You're like, "What?" I mean, I laughed when I heard that just now. And this morning, you notice I was reading it. I was like, "Wait, what?" Okay, explain this to me. And by the way, I think a very good reaction to a good lead is wait what you know that in a way is almost the ideal because when we're saying wait what you're saying wait I'm going to read a little more cuz I am completely confused the juosition of saying that he's this handsome guy with the very jarring detail that he's missing his teeth. Um, I knew would make people stop and say, "Wait, I've got to tell me more.

>> Tell me more about this people being interested in people thing." Because yeah, you're choosing stories. Fire in Los Angeles, orchids in Florida, like you're choosing stories. It's not like a presidential election or like the Yankees game that like a bunch of people are interested in. And there's kind of a social into itness that people have. You're kind of looking for stories that are the spotlight hasn't been shined on. You're like, "Hey, look over here." You know, if you're writing about a celebrity, a news story, war, murder, those are things that people instantly easily have a curiosity about. Yeah. and they're they may not stay to read the whole story, but they're at the very least going to read the the kind of first couple of paragraphs. Choosing stories that are not urgently necessary requires um that you are extremely seductive as a writer that you say give me a minute here. This is you're

going to be I I there's a payoff if you'll read this. This is really an interesting story. It relies on the fact that I genuinely think it's an interesting story and I don't do things unless I think they're absolutely fascinating and that I'm dying to tell people about them. I know though that I have to overcome their initial sense of I don't need to read this. It's not my hobby or my curiosity or I don't live in Florida. I don't need to read a story about Florida. You know, all of these reasons you might not read it.

>> Do you feel like there's a balance or you need both between, hey, hey, hey, hey, I'm Susan. I really need to tell the story like this story of just I just feel called to tell the story. How much do you feel that versus like, hey, David, you're the reader, dude. You got to know this story. So, it's like how much of it is about you and your excitement versus the reader and their need to know? >> It's a great question. I think it's a balance.

The the thing is I think the reader in all of these instances doesn't isn't sure they need to know. So, what I've got to convey to them is I didn't need to know it either, but I became fascinated and the payoff was this amazing story. So, I'm actually sympathetic with the reader. I'm not a person who collects orchids. I don't even like Florida. I you know so I it's not that I write about things that I've already naturally had an interest in.

I'm really in the same position as the reader. I'm just a little ahead of them. So I can turn back and say, "Oh my god, keep coming because wow, you're not going to believe what I found." with

where you are now. If you were to go back to you as a early writer and look at your stories and let's just suppose that your stories back then kind of stunk if you're reading them now. You're like, "Ah, you could have done so much better. Come on." Like, what would you tell early you to be like, "These are the lessons that I've learned that I wish you would have known back then because your stories would have been so much better."

I think as a young writer, I was very seduced by the um kind of gimmick of clever writing. The, you know, just making things clever and snappy and funny. Not that any of those are bad in and of themselves, but I think the more powerful writing is writing where you pull your punches a little. You have a tone that's got a little more confidence and is a little less like, hey, look at me. >> Yeah. >> And then when you have something really punchy, it hits.

>> Yes. Yeah, I was reading a piece over the weekend. It was a Substack piece and I was just like, "Oh, this is so overwritten." It's like you're trying so hard to write this lush and impressive pros. It's like, "Stop trying to impress your ninth grade English teacher. I can feel you trying to do that. You have some idea in your head of like what good writing equals flowery writing and just if you can just cut that out and just be plain with me, you know, fine. Go for a little bit of style." But it was so overwritten that I I read like a hundred words and I just I had to close it.

>> And I think it's a classic >> it was so annoying >> young writer error is that overwriting. And even now I just it raises my hackles and I know that I did it when I was starting out. I think you you hit the nail on the head. you're when you're in ninth grade, if you write something flowery that shows that you've sort of thought about the writing, you are very likely to have your ninth grade teacher say, "Wonderful job." The confidence of planer sort of subtler writing is something you have to grow into.

>> Yeah, I read this from a YouTuber named Casey Neistat many years ago. Really popular YouTube. kind of like the guy who invented the vlog and he was talking about the simplicity of his video of his videos. He only uses very simple cuts and he only uses Helvetica fonts and somebody texted him and said, "Hey Casey, why do you do that?" And he said, "It's kind of like a steakhouse." Like the very best steakous serve their steak all a cart. It's just steak, maybe a little bit of pepperc corn, maybe one little thing on top, but it's the crappy steak that then you douse and sauce and whatnot. But like a great steak is served simply and that's what I want to do with my videos. I like the challenge of not being able to add all the bits and bobs and and just drench it in sauce.

>> It's a perfect comparison. The especially because the meat is what ends up really hitting with readers. And that is the amazing m information you've learned, the great quotes you've gathered. And in addition, of course, it matters to have the great descriptions and the tone and the mood. But overwriting, working so hard that you're falling all over yourself, you can't say a simple sentence. It's exhausting as a reader.

It's exhausting. How was it different

going from writing about other people to writing about yourself in the memoir? >> A big challenge. Um, >> in the beginning, uh, when I decided to work on a memoir, I felt actually a little baffled and thought, well, how how do I how do I do this? I I know how to do a story. I know that I come up with an idea. I begin researching. I figure out who to talk to. I go see what there is to see. How do I do that about myself?

So, number one, I literally didn't know how to do it. And number two, I found myself um having to really convince myself that it was a story worth telling >> that I I'm so accustomed to saying, "Here's a world you've never heard of. You don't know anything about it. I'm going to kind of lead you." Well, also you've had the revelation yourself, so I would guess that there's a felt sense of I know what it's going to be like for somebody else once they discover what I've discovered. But maybe this you didn't have that almost by definition.

Right. >> Right. And that's exactly right. When I'm writing a story about a new world that I've stumbled into, a lot of what I go through as a writer is what the reader will go through as a reader. So, I'm I'm experiencing it and I can write through that experience. That's very much that's very central to how I write and frankly why I write. It's like I'm going to experience this then I'm going to tell you and you'll experience it sort of as with me as your proxy.

In the case of writing about myself, I couldn't have that discovery. I I didn't have that period of time that's very typical for me with the story where I'm thinking, okay, who's who here? Who are the characters? What's the story? What's the narrative? I I didn't know how to replicate that experience because I wasn't discovering myself. I wasn't having that adventure of going into a new world. I had to try as much as I could to create some version of that. What I did initially is I hired a friend of mine who's a wonderful journalist.

I had her interview me. >> Oh wow. >> And to me that helped me have that experience of hearing the hearing myself tell my story as if I were a new strange interesting person that I was meeting. While I didn't use a lot of those transcripts verbatim, I think it unlocked that feeling for me of saying, "Oh god, I hadn't really thought about my self that way." How did you sort of identify what stories were worth telling? I would guess that as you're telling stories, there's there's things that you only remember after thinking about it for a few months. You know, >> I in the case of this series of interviews that I did with uh with my friend, I didn't tell her what to ask me. I said, "Here I am.

>> What are you interested in? >> What are you interested in?" In part because it helped me kind of sense like what might people be interested in in my story. >> That surprise you what she asked? um a little bit. Okay. Yeah. I I mean it was certainly >> enlivening it. It there was nothing where I thought, whoa, I never imagined anyone would be interested in that, but rather I thought, "Oh, I I really should remember to write about that and talk about that because I I think we all have a sort of abbreviated life history that we keep in our head." And I was trying to go beyond that. And I it was really helpful to have her zero in on parts of my life that I had thought, "Oh, that's not so interesting or that I just wasn't thinking about."

>> Is there a specific story from the book that you really enjoyed writing about? >> There were a lot. I I have to admit I really enjoyed writing about the process of getting my first book contract. >> Oo, tell me about that. >> I I came up with the idea which I don't recommend. And that was I thought it's about time that I write a book. It's it wasn't that I thought I have a book idea and here it is and I'm dying to do it. I thought I'm I'm kind of at that point in my career where I should be writing a book.

I met with an agent. He said, um, you know, if you have an idea, bring it to me. And I came to the meeting with 12 book ideas. So, you can imagine 11 and a half were not good. It's just that I I was sort of in this mode of first of all, I didn't really understand what a good book idea was. I'm still not sure I understand, but I definitely didn't understand then. Secondly, I was just sort of bubbling over. I want to do a book. Here are a bunch of ideas I have. And I really needed somebody to say this will not work. this one and this one maybe, you know, and and kind of help me understand what made a good book idea. And as I recount in the book, he encouraged me on one of the ideas that um was a good kind of marketable idea. So I wrote a proposal.

The thing that was interesting to me looking back on it is I thought I can see why this would work as a good book idea. I didn't really want to do it, but I thought, well, but it's time for me to write a book. So, if I can sell this as an idea, then I should do it, which is really not a good way to go about writing a book. But when you're young and you're you're not particularly experienced, you just move. You you sort of have other people say do XYZ and you do it. So I wrote this proposal, circulated it, and I had never written a book. I mean, Publishers are already a little bit wary when you've never written a book. I got lots of incredibly enthusiastic rejections.

She seems terrific. We'd be really interested in seeing what other ideas she has. um you know, all of these responses which were actually very encouraging and and positive, but nobody was biting on the idea except for one publisher who said, you know, we really want to do a book with you. Then she said, is this the book you really want to do? And for better or worse, I said, "No, I don't really want to do this idea." And she said, "Well, what do you want to do?" And I just blurted out this other book idea that I had. I said, "I want to do a book about Saturday night in America. I want to travel around the country, spend Saturday night in a whole bunch of different kinds of places, and write a book about it."

>> Oh, that's such a good premise. >> And she said, "Great. Done." >> Why? because she liked the premise or because she liked your passion. >> I think it was a combination. >> Like do you think you had the same enthusiasm that you just said that with? Cuz like if I if I was a publisher, you know, big suit and tie, 47th floor, Midtown Manhattan, and someone walked in and the idea didn't feel crappy, at least for me as like a agent or a publisher, if someone came in with that kind of enthusiasm, I I feel like I'd be very tempted to greenlight that.

>> So I think that she was responding the enthusiasm. this other idea and I'll just tell you so that I can you know it's a little more concrete. I had done a story about um for the Boston Globe following two different people who were preparing for the Iron Man triathlon and this was in the 80s triathlons were very new. The Iron Man had just been established. So there was a lot of novelty and I found two people from very different worlds who were both training for the triathlon.

So I thought I can expand this into a book. I'll follow three people instead of two in the course of a there, you know, really is like a year to get ready to do the Iron Man. And you know, fitness was just becoming a sort of American obsession and and there was a lot that recommended it as a good idea. But somehow or another, all of these publishers just must have sensed that either they thought it's too much like a magazine piece and just doesn't have the breadth to be a book or maybe they were picking up on me not being fully invested. I don't know.

>> I don't know. There's a stench of inauthenticity that is very easy to smell on people. >> Absolutely. And it wasn't that I was somehow trying to pull a fast one by any means, but I feel like somehow that little spark of saying, "I'm dying to do this," was missing. With a young writer who's never done a book before, I think it's pretty essential that they are literally burning with the desire to do the book. So in the case of Joanie Evans, who was then the head of an imprint at Simon and Schustster, I think she thought, I really like you. I I like your writing. I feel like I want to do a book with you, but what do you really want to do? So she somehow sensed that this triathlon book was not where my heart was. And when I said, uh, I want to do this book about Saturday night, she said, great, done. I'll call your agent tomorrow. We'll get the paperwork.

>> You've said that over the years as well, you uh you sort of adopted the mantra of be brutal, like a little bit harder on yourself. How do you think you went about that? >> In the beginning, I like a lot of young writers, a lot of inexperienced writers, I felt like every word I wrote was pure gold. I did not, you know, I would cringe everything every time something was cut or something was rearranged. >> Cringe like get angry or be like, "Oh, are you doing this to me?" Or what was that?

>> I wouldn't say angry, but I certainly was a little indignant. Like >> that was a great sentence. I don't see why you have to remove that sentence or those words or that description. And I actually feel like switching to writing on a computer from, you know, when I started, I wrote on a typewriter, those oldfashioned machines. >> Yeah. >> But working on a computer made a huge difference because if you've written something, typewritten something or handwritten something, editing is messy, inconvenient.

You know, it's just easier to leave things as they are. A computer makes editing really fluid. You can move something and then say, "No, no, I liked it the way it was." And put it back. It It makes it encourages a lot more experimentation where you think, you know, I thought this was good, but let me try it without this sentence. So I became a lot more comfortable editing and then I I started refining that so that I I began to feel like I was a very good editor of my own work that I could go back and really lean pretty hard on myself and clean up work and make sense is better and remove extra flab.

>> Did you develop tricks to do that or did you just kind of become more comfortable and confident with yourself as a writer?

>> A little bit of both. I would say my biggest trick was reading my work out loud and discovering that it's an almost foolproof way to hear a sentence that doesn't work, to hear something that's repetition. to hear things that are not quite clicking. And it became something I did very very regularly is just read it out loud. Sometimes when you're reading out loud and you get a little bored, that's a sign that it's maybe a little boring.

>> Totally. >> So I began using that as my first line of editing. That's probably the only trick per se that I can think of. But other than that, it was just reading each sentence very closely, assessing if it worked rhythmically, if it worked logically, if it served a purpose. Um, and then you know after I write the next day before I continue I go back and read what I read wrote the day before and edit it pretty intensely.

And I wouldn't say it ever becomes something where I literally can't move ahead cuz that can happen. But I feel like when it's fresh in your mind, but you've had a night to sleep on it is a great time to edit. >> One of the things that I feel when I write is I'll get to the editing and there's times, not always, but there's times where h it just feels like kind of a drag. I I find especially the early stages of the editing once you've gotten stuff on paper, but like the structure isn't working or the flow isn't working.

like there's, you know, some big moles in the piece, for lack of a better word. I get a little frustrated. And one of the things that I noticed as I was prepping for this is you seem to have just developed a capital L love for editing. You seem to just love it. [laughter] >> I do. I do. In fact, sometimes I think maybe I missed my calling. Maybe I should have been an editor. It is very satisfying to take something, say you wrote it on Monday and you think, "Oh my god, I nailed it. This is fantastic." Tuesday, you come back and read it and think, "Yeah, it's pretty good, but I think it could be better." and tweaking. And it's such a good feeling to see something just dialing it up a little more and hitting just a little bit of a higher level of polish. Um, I think it was Enzo Ferrari. He was once asked, "How did you make such a good car?" And he said, "I just looked at everything in a normal

car and I just made it better and better and better and better. And the reason I made a great car is I just did that for every single part of the car." It might have been him. It might have been somebody else, but it really hit me. And the difference between you and me is you seem to really love that process. I love the results of the process, but man, the actual process, I just I'm not a patient person, and patience is core to that.

>> It is. It can feel like drudgery, >> laborious. >> Yeah. But I've gotten so that I I I really enjoy it. I love catching stuff and thinking, I'm so glad that I can take this out because now I see it and I don't like it or it's redundant or it's there's something wrong. I'm so pleased to think I'm making it better that I don't mind the tedium. For instance, with Joyide, my memoir, I God, I don't know how many times I read the entire book. And each time I kept feeling like I can turn the dial a little higher, I can get it a little better. Whether it was noticing my bad habits, and that's not always that easy to do on the first or second or third read, but on the fourth, >> like your bad habits as a writer.

>> Yes. Got it. >> Yeah. Where you go, O, >> what are your bad habits as a writer? >> Um, well, I'll give you an example, which is a very common bad habit. I think many of us do. I don't know why, but instead of saying I went to the store, we very often will say I would go to the store and buy candy. And it's a way of sort of referring to the past. Is that the subjunctive? I'm not going to get my grammatical terms right.

>> I'm so bad at it. So even if you get it wrong, I'm just going to nod and pretend you nailed it. >> Pretend it's right. [laughter] It's a habit that's very common. I see it now all the time when I'm reading. And it was an editor at the New Yorker who one day pointed it out to me and said, "It's much more powerful to not use the word would, but just say I went to the store." Now, there are times when you specifically want to use the word would because of the tone and the fact that you're referring to something in the deep past.

And there are times, but we often use it when we don't mean it that way. It's it's like a placeholder or something. It's a It's just a habit that I certainly have and I see it all the time. Maybe it's a little passive. Instead of saying, "I told my mother I was leaving home." You say, "I would tell my mom I was leaving home." It It's sort of passive in a way. And when you remove it, it's really striking and you realize um that very often you write a much stronger sentence without it. So that's what I mean when I say bad habits. I think uh it's easy to develop these little grammatical crutches, ways of writing, using too many adjectives.

um all of those things that are very easy to do, but if you edit yourself kind of ruthlessly, you can pluck those things out and have a much better piece of writing. >> What's the problem with using too many adjectives? I I think description is very important and you should have each description you use be a real punch, a really strong punch of visual imagery, something so vivid, something so strong. So if you use too many and they get sort of mushy, it's just not as potent as if you pick one really strong image and hit it hard.

>> Yeah. >> This isn't to say there's a meter running that uhoh, you've used too many adjectives, but rather than stringing a million adjectives together. For instance, um, in the instance of describing John Lar Ro from the section I just read, >> tall guy, skinny as a stick, pale eyed, slouch shouldered, sharply handsome. >> Look, I'm contradicting myself. That's a lot of adjectives or phrases that are adjective like, but they are clean and mean. Yeah.

>> And each each one describes one specific quality of his kind of physical presence. >> Yeah. When I was I've done so much public speaking throughout my life and one of the principles that I developed over the years was what I call the pick one principle. And this had to do not with adjectives with examples. Like sometimes I'd be trying to make a point and I'd be like there's this this this. It'd be like six points people like dude like this way too much. And over the years I've gotten more and more confident, develop conviction in the idea of just find one really good example and just make the point vividly may just boom punch them in the face.

Then they can remember that you can speak way slower during that point and then just move on to the next thing. It's interesting because rather than um diluting your own language, you're choosing to consolidate all the power of what you're writing or saying into one really strong vivid, you know, takeaway for the reader, the listener. It's true if uh people can only absorb a certain amount. So flooding them with description often has the effect of kind of canceling it all out. Ultimately, >> I like the idea always that a reader is listening sort of passively and then you really hit them with something very strong where they're going to go, whoa.

[laughter] and then they're listening again and they're comfortable and then again it's like wow that that really got me. It's hard to do that if you're like boom boom boom boom boom. It's just too much.

Yeah. You were talking earlier about learning how to choose topics and picking books and I feel like we didn't get to the end of that point. >> How to choose a book subject. >> Yeah. Like what have you learned about choosing a frame, choosing a topic? What book are you going to write about? What's too much width versus not enough width in a topic? >> I'm not sure that you can be absolutely prescriptive. Um certainly >> if I think about my books, um one could make a strong argument that none of them made sense as books, and I'm okay with that.

Um, the single most essential piece of this is, are you in love with the subject? Are you deeply, intensely, genuinely curious? There's nothing that can replace that. That's really at the heart of it. Secondly, I think you have to see the subject as being three-dimensional. It's one thing to say, well, the story starts here and ends here. That's okay. But a book really needs more dimension. It has to resonate. I mean, to sustain someone's interest for 300 pages is a a a pretty significant undertaking.

So, the story has to really have this dimensionality and depth. So, width is one thing, but really it's the depth. How many layers down does this go? How how complex is this subject? How can you was very funny the other night and I'll tell you this was really funny. I was giving a talk and this woman raised her hand when I was taking questions and she said, "You know, I really like the library book. I really like The Orchid Thief. why on earth did you write a book about rentin and you know it was sort of challenging and I said well what's your knowledge of rent she said well it's just a TV show from the 50s and I said well that's what I thought too and then I discovered that Rentin was a puppy of German war dogs found on a battlefield in World War I who was brought to the United States by an American and GI who fantasized about getting him into movies and he became the largest silent film star of that

era. And in fact, the only reason Warner Brothers exists today was that Rinton made them so much money in the 1920s as a silent film star and spawned an entire generation of German shepherds starring in silent films. There were something like 60 different German Shepherd dog stars in the 20s. But then [laughter] Takis came along and Rinton went on the vaudeville circuit and he was on the vaudeville circuit through the United States. And then he became a television star in the 50s and 60s. And of course the show was one of the highrated shows of that era. And so at this point I thought I'm really getting this woman to being able to say to her, "Yeah, I know it seems like a nothing subject." But in fact, it was this incredibly rich, fascinating story that became so many levels and in a sense it sort of traced the entire development of modern Hollywood.

It also traced this very interesting story of the German Shepherd breed and its various ups and downs in this culture. It was a lot about World War I and how the Germans used millions of animals in the war and what that was all about. I think I convinced her, but it was it was very, you know, it was made perfect sense to me that someone having not read the book would think, what what a funny subject for a book, a TV show.

>> Yeah. You're talking about dimensionality and I got the image of just a prism that can this topic that you're about to explore, can it be a good prism to talk about a lot of different things? We talked about World War I, German Shepherds, TV, Hollywood, whatever it is, and Renent was that prism. >> Exactly. In fact, that I I like the use of that word prism because it is something that ideally you can take it and turn it in many different directions and go, "Oh, I'm now seeing it from this direction. Oh, now I see it from this direction." And yet they're all part of the same story.

>> Yeah. >> And to me, that's how a book really um holds you in its thr. It has that richness. Some books are very much a narrative. They are the story of Amelia Erheart's last flight. They're, you know, they they have a very specific focus. But even then a good book will be deeper than that. It will give you that context, that opportunity to look at it from a few different directions. Otherwise, it can be a fantastic magazine piece that's 10,000 words long, but a book is a 100,000 words long or more, and that's a lot of Amelia Heheart. Similarly, it's a lot of rent and tin. I almost felt like I didn't have enough room because there

was so much there. right now as you go about as you go about writing a book sometimes takes you 6 8 years. How do you keep yourself disciplined through that time? I know you love order and structure and all that. Know you're very intentional about this. So what do you do on a day-to-day basis? Like what would day number 734 be? You know what I mean? So the first phase is the research and the reporting. So those days look like me with a phone, me traveling, me at the library, me digging through archives. I don't have a um a metric for measuring, you know, is it 9 to5? Is it but rather it's sort of taskbased.

I really need to read uh the material on the you know how arson's are investigated for the library book. You know I've got to go interview the head of the arson unit of the LA fire department. So that's on my agenda for today. So those days look really different then. And I haven't written a word. No intention of writing. >> Yeah. Because you do all the research before you even start the writing. Huh. It feels very natural to me to work that way, which is I can't write yet. I don't know what I'm writing about. [laughter] So those days in the early phase, you know, I'll look at my computer now and again and think, "Oh my god, I haven't written a word." But I know that I'm in the learning phase.

>> How long is that phase? That first phase? >> It really depends. It can be a couple of years. Wow. I know, but there's just a lot to learn. Um, certainly with the library book, it was probably three or four years of research. There's just so much there was so much to learn. [snorts] And I'm not the world's fastest researcher, but I'm not slow. It it was just there's a lot to learn. I mean, just learning about how arson is investigated probably took six or eight weeks, you know, and that's just answering one question.

Interviewing arson investigators, reading about arson. I feel like when you read the book, you're not going to go, "Boy, I bet that was eight weeks of research, but I need to really understand the subject before I can write that portion of it, the tip of the iceberg, because I've done all of the underlying research." Then there's a phase where it's all about thinking and that doesn't look productive but once you've gathered all this material which is quite overwhelming you need to kind of process it. What did I learn? What what does it all amount to? What that will look like in terms of what I'm actually doing daytoday is in many cases it's typing up all my notes. It's transferring the notes onto the index cards. It's moving my index cards around. Starting to think what's the structure here?

Again, no words on the page. But also in the back of my mind, I'm thinking where do I start? What's my lead? How what's the tone here? And I think we underestimate the amount of time we need to just digest. >> I mean, it's hard to go from like reporting to boom, sit down and write. Really need that time to go, what did it mean? Why did I do this? What what really did I learn? [snorts] Finally, phase three. writing >> finally [laughter] with writing um the lead will take its own time but then I have a very mechanical approach which is I have a daily word quota I try to hit that word quotota every day >> seven days a week >> uh no let's say five um yeah five and if I'm really running behind I'll do six but I feel like you do need to kind kind of live your life a little bit.

>> I look at it as a task. My task today is to tell you a thousand words of the story. I don't think of that as being um in any way demystifying of the artistic process. I think it's very helpful and comforting to feel there are certain uh parameters that you know it's very intense to have a book that you're writing >> and if you sit down every day feeling defeated because you know you won't finish the book that day it doesn't help you.

>> On the other hand if you can say I'm trying to write a thousand words today and if I write a thousand words then I did it I accomplished it. It's just a a relief to think, okay, I this I'm going to do this in a methodical way and within that methodology, I can be as creative as I possibly can, but there is a certain logical process that's underway.

>> How do you think that that structure informs the quality of your work? even more. Do you feel like that there's certain tradeoffs that you make by being so disciplined and rigorous? I'll throw something out there as an example. Like you take the craziness, the hoopla of Carowax work, you know, burn, burn, burn, like fabulous Roman candle is so so passionate, over the top, and you can just feel like the energy, the hutbah, like the vibe. And he just wrote that really fast kind of as legend has that big scroll and whatever. you sort of it's sort of delightfully sloppy at certain points but in a way that's very passionate and heart ccentric and all of that. So do you think that the with that structure be harder to get to a place? Do you feel like there's trade-offs that you make with a structure in terms of how that informs what you can and can't do when you're writing?

>> I think that's fair to wonder. I've never felt it. I feel like it's very liberating to have a daily deadline. I feel like I can write the best thousand words I can possibly write and and at the end of the day it's okay for me to take a deep breath and walk away from the computer. You know, as am I temperamentally similar to Jack Carowak? Probably not. I mean, I'm not >> after spending an hour with you so far, I would say probably not.

>> Yeah. At the same time, I am not um a super kind of Phil like color by number person, but it was immensely liberating to give myself these deadlines. It's weird. It's instead of looking at the void and feeling like this is overwhelming. And to be honest with you, my response to feeling overwhelmed is to think, I think I'm going to go organize my knife drawer. I'm going to go do laundry. I'm going to go for a walk. I mean, it's like it's too much. I can't begin to be begin.

Instead, it's just, oh, I've got a thousand words to write. I feel like you should write how you find works for you, >> whatever rhythm works for you. So I again I I try not to say this is what works. >> It's funny though because the person who introduced me to the idea of a daily quota was my New Yorker editor. You know, in the beginning when I was writing my first book, I just felt like I don't know how to do this. I've never written something this long.

I just don't know how to do it. [snorts] And he his approach was take all the mystery out of it. Turn it into something very practical and you can tackle and you can you can sort of manage it instead of feeling like I'm just overwhelmed. I don't even know where to begin. All right. Well, maybe I won't begin. Maybe I'll go screw off. And yet it does not feel to me that it removes the poetry from the process. It enhances my ability to feel relaxed and to sit there and work on a sentence and play with that sentence and get it really right.

>> Yeah, I was amazed. I learned that Eminem worked from like 9 to5 every day or some sort of very standard hours and one of the greatest lyricists of all time. when it was the end of the day, clock hit whatever, five o'clock. All right. >> It's like giving someone a budget. >> Yeah. >> For some people, that feels very restrictive and suffocating. I think for a lot of people, it's oddly liberating to think, okay, I've got a hundred bucks now. I get to pick how I want to spend it. And it instead of just I'm spending and spending and spending and is it did I spend too much? Did I spend too little? I think you would find perhaps more people than you think have a very >> regimented >> Yes. Uh particularly because it it keeps you from staring into the void. And I think that's where it's got this enormous comfort. It gives you a a manageable goal. You know, they always say you should have a have a goal that

you train for that you know you're going to make and then have a goal that you can really reach that little extra. It made all the difference in the world. I'm not sure that I would have been able to train for a marathon if I didn't have that that system of thinking, okay, like I'm not going to run the pace of a Kenyon superstar, but I can have a goal for me and with and then I can try to get a little beyond that what what makes sense for me. The weird thing is I ended up running it ex almost exactly at to the time that I trained for >> which I thought was really interesting.

Has more to do with running than writing. But um it's interesting how if you say to yourself, I'm going to write a thousand words a day, that you may actually find that you're writing a thousand words a day. >> I mean, running is so psychological. We know this. Look at the 4-minute mile. I mean, wolves at Banister did it and then all of a sudden, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom. It's crazy. Also, if you look at marathon times, >> there's a huge spike in the number of people who finish a marathon right before the top of the hour. So, like right before hour three, right before hour four. Like, if you look at the numbers, it's not like a linear increase.

>> That I mean, it's mind over matter. And I talk about running the marathon in the book because I think it is not an accident. They are very similar. You can't really look at the finish line or you'll get freaked out. Before I ran the New York City Marathon, someone said to me, "Do you want to drive the route?" And I said, "But are you kidding? >> 100% I do not want to do that. I don't want to look and be suddenly thinking I'm going to run something that takes like a half hour to drive. Like [laughter] no way. [snorts] But I >> probably more than that by the way.

Probably more than half hour with New York City traffic. >> Probably longer than the actual marathon with traffic. >> Actually with traffic and all those bridges. Yeah, for sure. But at the same time, I thought I know the pace that I'm can run comfortably and if I do that for a mile and then I do it for the next mile and then I do it for the next mile, lo and behold, I'm going to be at the end.

>> Talk to me about memory and permanence like in the context of libraries. This was very much the underlying theme of the library book. As I mentioned, the largest library fire in American history. 400,000 books burned, 700,000 books damaged. What does that mean? The awareness um that really came to light for me was the the way books are our our system of making permanent memory. And memory by definition can't be permanent. We all pass away and our internal thoughts and memories go with us. But books are this perfect vehicle for, you know, preserving the output of of what's in our minds. Whether it's technical knowledge, it's some fictional creation of our minds, whatever it is, books represent that.

>> So the destruction of a library hits us really hard. Even even if in this era books are more replaceable than they were in the time of the library of Alexandria where those books we'll never know what we lost because books tended to exist in one copy >> of course >> and that's it. So a library burned you'll never know what got lost. In our current era books are created in multiple copies. it's not as immediate of instant pure absolute loss. Although in the case of um most libraries, they have collections that have been built over decades. And so those books aren't necessarily replaceable.

What's more important and what really resonated for me through the writing of the book was that libraries have a an outsized emotional presence that has to do with them keeping safe this collection of our shared knowledge and storytelling. So they they have a way of being immortal um more than any individual can be. >> What do you make of the kind of decline of libraries in so many cities? You know, one of the things that is really cool about New York is the New York Public Library at Brian Park on 42nd Street and then also the Jefferson Market Library down kind of in Greenwich Village. They're so beautiful and people go work there and there's this sense of gravitas of what a library is. You know, you walk in, you want to kind of take off your hat, kind of make sure your tie's in a good spot because it's almost feels like a sacred place. You know, it has kind of the undertones of stepping

into a cathedral or something. But man, it's so many in so many places, the library has just become not that. You know what I mean? >> I would sort of push back against that. I I'm not a I'm not sure that I agree that they are in decline. I I would say libraries are afflicted with all of the woes that cities are afflicted with. Um they are not immune and because of their unique uh openness, I mean they are one of the few places that anyone can go. It means that everyone who passes through a city is welcome at the library. And that has a lot of complicated um friction involved.

But libraries to their credit have evolved with the times. the the way we consume the written word has changed a lot. But libraries have changed with that. They loan out ebooks. They uh loan out videos, they loan audiobooks. >> Actually, just a tip for people, if you join the public library, you can get ebooks and take them out whenever you want and save so much money that you don't have to spend on Kindle books. Oh, right. like people to I didn't know this for years.

>> Yeah. And the only thing is you might be on a waiting list. The book is popular because the library buys X number of ebooks, >> right? >> X number of audio books. And so they don't just like give them out endlessly. They have a very specific relationship with publishers controlling that. But if you're willing to get on a list for a popular book, you can borrow it from the library. If you don't have a computer, you can borrow one from the library.

They they have become these public portals to information and libraries just have evolved with each change in the culture admirably. They aren't a bunch of old people running them saying we won't change. We we're going to do things the way we some >> Yeah. Many libraries that I've encountered in the LA system as a perfect example have young really dynamic people running them who look at the future who look as books having many different forms. They're not just saying it's either the Shakespeare folio or it's nothing. I mean, they're they see them as kind of community centers for knowledge.

However, that may be uh conveyed to the public. So, I see them absolutely as still really vital and healthy. >> Wow, that was so fun. It was great to meet you. >> Thank you. This was awesome.