Speaker 1: Pushkin, I wrote a novel. I've forgotten, I'd forgotten I
Speaker 1: wrote a novel, tells you how bad it was. What
Speaker 1: happened was Liar's Poker came out and everyone's saying, you
Speaker 1: have all of the gifts of a novelist. And the
Speaker 1: problem was maybe that was true up to a point,
Speaker 1: but the point where it wasn't true is I had
Speaker 1: no ability to make things up. And so when you
Speaker 1: can't make things up, you got problems as a novelist.
Speaker 1: The thing is is like, there's no structure when you're
Speaker 1: writing fixture, because you just could do any You just
Speaker 1: do anything I know, and then to change it, you
Speaker 1: could just make it totally different. So like, how do
Speaker 1: you know what's good and what's not. It's baffling. Here
Speaker 1: is hot my contract with Hotter and Stoton for a
Speaker 1: novel that was going to be called Tokyo Rocks, and
Speaker 1: it says it's marvelous to have this novel on board.
Speaker 1: Oh my god, I wrote one hundred couple one hundred pages.
Speaker 1: The research department felt hollow when he arrived, with everyone
Speaker 1: still in the morning meeting. The offices along the padded
Speaker 1: corridor were as dark and barren and full of the loneliness,
Speaker 1: loneliness of empty ambition, as the cleaning ladies had left
Speaker 1: them the night before. The Loneliness of Ambition could have
Speaker 1: been a title instead of Liar's Poker. I'm Michael Lewis
Speaker 1: and welcome to other People's Money. A Liar's Poker companion.
Speaker 1: This is our fifth and final episode. We're gonna call
Speaker 1: it Tokyo Rocks, the name of the novel. I think
Speaker 1: we're all a little bit relieved that I never finished.
Speaker 1: It's funny how we tend to forget about failure. We
Speaker 1: remember the successes, and we look back on our life
Speaker 1: as this chain of the things that work. But the
Speaker 1: things that didn't work are actually the things that guided
Speaker 1: you on the path it worked. In some ways, they're
Speaker 1: more important than the things that did work. They channel us,
Speaker 1: They give us the guardrails that define our career and
Speaker 1: help us to kind of move forward. I mean, that's
Speaker 1: why I wanted to talk to George Saunders. He's the
Speaker 1: author of Course Lincoln in the Bardow, for which he
Speaker 1: won the Booker Prize. He also wrote several collections of
Speaker 1: short stories, including Pastoralia and Tenth of December, his most
Speaker 1: recent book is called A Swimming a Pond in the Rain,
Speaker 1: in which four Russians give a masterclass on writing, reading,
Speaker 1: and life. George wrote the book, but the book is
Speaker 1: really the story of George learning from the Russians how
Speaker 1: to write a short story. He's an absolutely breathtakingly wonderful writer,
Speaker 1: and it's hard to imagine that he ever had trouble
Speaker 1: producing anything other people would want to read, but he did.
Speaker 1: He's someone who started with a failure and learn from it.
Speaker 1: I want you to start by telling me the story
Speaker 1: as if you've never told it about Leboda the Eduardo. Yeah,
Speaker 1: thanks for bringing up that painful subec No, No, it's
Speaker 1: really it's I think that it's something universal about Leboda
Speaker 1: the Ordoardo, and I want to hear the story about
Speaker 1: just from the beginning, like what is this thing? So
Speaker 1: a friend of mine got married in Mexico and Paula
Speaker 1: was nice enough to, you know, stay home and the
Speaker 1: baby and let me go. So I go. And it's
Speaker 1: a really fun, beautiful wedding in central Mexico, really kind
Speaker 1: of wild, and I took copious notes. I had a notebook,
Speaker 1: I had a tape recorder, and I'm just you know,
Speaker 1: recording all these sort of details. And I come back
Speaker 1: and I say to her, basically, you know, don't worry, honey,
Speaker 1: you're sitting on a gold mine. I got this. So
Speaker 1: I'm working full time and we have a baby, and
Speaker 1: it's just like Madhouse. But every night, you know, I'm
Speaker 1: a pretty hyper person anyway, but I would have a
Speaker 1: pot of coffee after she went to bed, and I
Speaker 1: would stay up for as long as I could writing
Speaker 1: this book about the wedding. And you know, sometimes only eleven,
Speaker 1: sometimes two or three. Then have to get up and
Speaker 1: go be a tech writer during the day. So at
Speaker 1: the end of some period I don't know how long
Speaker 1: it was, I had seven hundred pages and the book
Speaker 1: was called Leboda Day Eduardo, which I think is just
Speaker 1: like Ed's Wedding. Wait, let me stop you. So it's
Speaker 1: you had seven hundred pages that you generated out of
Speaker 1: this single experience of a visit to Mexico to attend
Speaker 1: a wedding. Yeah, it was like a four day to visit.
Speaker 1: I suppose, you know, everything was described her, you know,
Speaker 1: so I thought seven hundreds too much, so I cut
Speaker 1: it down, you know, in hemingway as style to whatever
Speaker 1: a very lean three hundred, and I was just like,
Speaker 1: I did it. I can't believe it. I did it,
Speaker 1: you know. And then I handed it to Paul and
Speaker 1: I did the thing that all writers do, which is,
Speaker 1: don't worry, there's no rush, just take her time, and
Speaker 1: then I hit around the corner waiting for her to start,
Speaker 1: you know. And when she did read it, I just
Speaker 1: I looked in and she couldn't have been any more
Speaker 1: than one page five or six, and she just literally
Speaker 1: had her head in her hands, like, oh my god.
Speaker 1: This is what made this last year such a misery.
Speaker 1: He was always so tired and grouchy. And it was
Speaker 1: as soon as I saw that reaction, I'm like, okay,
Speaker 1: and something just dropped, like, oh yeah, I knew that
Speaker 1: wasn't good, you know. I could feel that there was
Speaker 1: nothing in it but labor, you know. So that was
Speaker 1: Lebota de Eduardo, which I looked at a couple of
Speaker 1: years ago, and it's just as drudge inhaminated as I
Speaker 1: remembered it. But this was going to be in your
Speaker 1: mind in the beginning. This was going to be your
Speaker 1: first book, Oh my breakout. Yeah, I was gonna sell
Speaker 1: it and stopped working as a tech writer, and this
Speaker 1: was going to be it, you know. But it was
Speaker 1: so funny because literally, you know, there's I think when
Speaker 1: we aren't writing, well we kind of know it. And
Speaker 1: so in her reaction there was just no joy, There
Speaker 1: was nothing but oh and as soon as I saw
Speaker 1: her face on, yeah, I know that, I know not
Speaker 1: to dwell too long on a painful experience. But all
Speaker 1: you did was go attend to wedding. It's not like
Speaker 1: you went to war or or worked as a longshoreman
Speaker 1: or these four days and whether you thought that was
Speaker 1: going to be enough, yeah, it was no good. But
Speaker 1: but again I thought the the what I needed in
Speaker 1: my life is something unusual, you know, and that was
Speaker 1: certainly a beautiful unusual experience. You didn't trust your own self, no,
Speaker 1: and your own experience, and so what is yours? What
Speaker 1: are you doing at that moment? What is your job?
Speaker 1: I think at that point, I was working as a
Speaker 1: tech writer for a pharmaceutical company in Albany, So I
Speaker 1: was just taking these reports like these really kind of sad,
Speaker 1: these almost hideous reports of tests done on animals. And
Speaker 1: then I'd start with a big pile of those and
Speaker 1: have to summarize each one of them into a report
Speaker 1: that would go to the FDA. So it was just
Speaker 1: you know, and then the weird thing was these tests
Speaker 1: were actually being done in the basement of the building,
Speaker 1: so if you happen to take a shortcut downstairs through there,
Speaker 1: you'd see, you know, these beagles and slings and these rabbits,
Speaker 1: and I think there was monkeys and you know all that. So,
Speaker 1: I mean, all of that stuff was pretty rich, but
Speaker 1: I guess I had never seen it in literature, so
Speaker 1: I didn't. It was just stupid old life. So there
Speaker 1: was no way for me to you know, know what
Speaker 1: a pivotal moment it was in my life. I mean,
Speaker 1: had a young family, we had no money, all these things,
Speaker 1: but that didn't seem like literature. That was just life.
Speaker 1: It's funny how hard it is to figure out what's interesting. Yeah,
Speaker 1: I think, um, you know, for a young writer, I
Speaker 1: just had um, you know, kind of a thought cloud
Speaker 1: with all these Hemingway stories in it, or Isaac Bobble
Speaker 1: maybe at that point. And you know, it's hard to
Speaker 1: make that jump from I mean, you can even sense
Speaker 1: that your life is interesting, but how do you actually
Speaker 1: you know, get it and I think voice is the
Speaker 1: key to that, because this Lebota de Eduardo was very
Speaker 1: kind of stentaurion and serious and modernist, you know, and
Speaker 1: lots of admitted articles and stuff. Um, but it was
Speaker 1: there was nothing new about it. It was all me
Speaker 1: trying to do somebody else, basically, and not just even
Speaker 1: not even one writer. You're Hemingway in some places and
Speaker 1: Joyce in other places. Yeah, it rotated. It depends, you know,
Speaker 1: I'd give up on him and oh no, that's imitative,
Speaker 1: and then I go imitate Joyce or you know, there
Speaker 1: was a there was a heavy caroact thing at that point,
Speaker 1: and so that was the other thing is you know,
Speaker 1: the idea of kind of scrolling through these other voices,
Speaker 1: that's not it. I mean, when you look back on it,
Speaker 1: do you think it served? It's a purpose that imitative
Speaker 1: period when you're trying to be Hemingway or trying to
Speaker 1: be Joyce or could you have much better launched your
Speaker 1: career if you've never gone through that fave. No, I
Speaker 1: think I had to go through it. One reason is
Speaker 1: in that, you know, it's funny. It seemed to me
Speaker 1: like if you are writing in a boring voice, a
Speaker 1: voice that does, you know, favors, then you might actually
Speaker 1: get better at stuff like plot and causation, because that's
Speaker 1: kind of all you've got. Your voice isn't helping you
Speaker 1: any So I think I got better at just the
Speaker 1: sort of basic story stuff of a leading to be,
Speaker 1: leading to see. And then the other thing it does,
Speaker 1: which is really powerful, is it made me so frustrated,
Speaker 1: you know, so anxious, And so it was like a
Speaker 1: building up of frustration because I knew their writing was
Speaker 1: the only thing I had to do, really, I only
Speaker 1: I really liked. And it made me crazy. And I
Speaker 1: know you'll you'll symptize with this that I didn't sound
Speaker 1: like myself. That drove me nuts. And then this small
Speaker 1: thing happened where I was in at work transcribing a
Speaker 1: conference call. It kind of was like the note taker,
Speaker 1: and that wasn't really slow. So I just started writing
Speaker 1: these little poems kind of after a doctor SEUs. And
Speaker 1: they were real silly. They had no hemming away quality
Speaker 1: at all. They weren't serious. They were kind of scatological,
Speaker 1: and they were sci fi, you know, and they were
Speaker 1: in that kind of Susian rhyme scheme, you know. And
Speaker 1: I brought those home, and Paula just happened to read
Speaker 1: them and she really liked them. She was laughing, you know,
Speaker 1: just so that was the first pleasure anybody had gotten
Speaker 1: out of my work in many years. And that kind
Speaker 1: of you thought of it was just a throwaway thing.
Speaker 1: It was just a throwaway thing, you know. But I
Speaker 1: did it out of the same kind of energy that
Speaker 1: I used every day, Like when I was at work
Speaker 1: joking or or somebody was mad at me, I talk
Speaker 1: them down, or you know, the kind of everyday charms
Speaker 1: that I would use routinely without even thinking about it,
Speaker 1: or in that piece and way that they weren't in them,
Speaker 1: you know, the Mesco novels. So that kind of flipped
Speaker 1: a switch, coming up after a break, how George Saunders
Speaker 1: was singled out as a gifted child and I was not.
Speaker 1: It took me a while when I started reading Liar's
Speaker 1: Poker as an audiobook to figure out why it was
Speaker 1: taking me so long to do it. Why I kept
Speaker 1: stopping and interrupting myself and questioning it and wanting to
Speaker 1: rewrite a sentence here, or wondering why this character wasn't developed.
Speaker 1: And I realized after a while it was because I
Speaker 1: was reading myself going through a process very like the
Speaker 1: process George went through with his wife in private, only
Speaker 1: I was doing it on the page. In public. I
Speaker 1: was sort of learning to write a book book by
Speaker 1: writing a book, and all of it ended up in print,
Speaker 1: and I had these sensations of, Oh, I know what
Speaker 1: was happening there, And if I was just more in
Speaker 1: touch with myself as a writer, I might have done
Speaker 1: it just a little bit differently, like when I was
Speaker 1: reading the top of Chapter two, which is set in
Speaker 1: Saint James's Palace in London. First we're going to hear
Speaker 1: from the book, and then you'll hear my reaction to it.
Speaker 1: At the end of the meal, the eighty four year
Speaker 1: old Queen Mother tottered out of the room. We the
Speaker 1: eight hundred insurance salesman, the two managing directors from Solomon Brothers,
Speaker 1: their wives, and I stood in respectful silence as she
Speaker 1: crept towards what I first took to be the back door.
Speaker 1: Then I realized that it must be the front of
Speaker 1: the palace, and that we fundraiser types had been let
Speaker 1: in like delivery boys through the back. Anyway, the Queen
Speaker 1: Mother was headed our way behind her walked Jeeves straight
Speaker 1: as a broom, clad in white tie and tails and
Speaker 1: carrying a silver tray. Following Jeeves in procession was a
Speaker 1: team of small, tubular dogs called corgis that looked like
Speaker 1: large rats. The English think corgis are cute. The British royals,
Speaker 1: I was later told, never go anywhere without them. Let's
Speaker 1: tell you know, let's take a moment, just talk about
Speaker 1: this for a second. Can we do that? Yeah? So, um,
Speaker 1: I was in a Dickens phase when I was writing this.
Speaker 1: There are two things I was reading. I was reading
Speaker 1: a lot of Charles Dickens, and I was reading what
Speaker 1: I took to be brutally straightforward memoirs um education by
Speaker 1: Henry Adams Russeau's Confessions, and it reeks of Dickens. It's
Speaker 1: like I'm a young man looking for a position. But
Speaker 1: you can see you can I can see the pros
Speaker 1: in this chapter smells. I would never write anything like
Speaker 1: this now. It feels a little mannered and who is
Speaker 1: suitable for the for this setting? Maybe? But I think
Speaker 1: when I'm reading who is this little snot? And I
Speaker 1: have a feeling that there are awful lot of people
Speaker 1: who read it at the time, is it? Who is
Speaker 1: the little not? I don't know. Actually want to be
Speaker 1: too hard on myself. I mean, everybody has influences. And
Speaker 1: George Saunders and I talked about this a lot. Just
Speaker 1: rewind the tape a little bit for me and explain
Speaker 1: to me how you even get the idea that you
Speaker 1: want to be a writer? Yeah, I think, um, I mean,
Speaker 1: in retrospect, I think it was reading this book called
Speaker 1: Johnny Tremaine by Esther Forbes, and a nun gave it
Speaker 1: to me in third grade and she I was kind
Speaker 1: of in love with her, and she pulled me aside
Speaker 1: and she said, this these magic words to any Catholic kid.
Speaker 1: The nuns. Some of the other nuns and I have
Speaker 1: been talking about you in the convent. It's like, what
Speaker 1: you know, it's like and she's, I think you're reading
Speaker 1: at a higher level than your classmates. Try this, She said,
Speaker 1: it's really hard. Some of the other nuns think you
Speaker 1: can't handle it, but I think you can. You know.
Speaker 1: So that's a throw down, you know. And yeah, so
Speaker 1: I just read it and I did love it. Actually,
Speaker 1: Forbes is a great stylist, and I just noticed how
Speaker 1: she was doing weird things with syntax to kind of
Speaker 1: risky things that I felt even then, these things she
Speaker 1: was doing with the syntax made me see the world
Speaker 1: more immediately. I remember walking around the parking lot, you know,
Speaker 1: where we would have a recess, and in just thinking
Speaker 1: in Forbes's diction, you know that feeling of just like
Speaker 1: everything I saw, I would describe it the way I
Speaker 1: thought Forbes would. I had an experience with Johnny Tremaine,
Speaker 1: and my experience with Johnny Tremaine puts my character in
Speaker 1: a really unflattering juxtaposition to your character. So you read
Speaker 1: Johnny Tremaine as a precocious third grader and start thinking
Speaker 1: about syntax. I didn't get to Johnny Tremaine till my
Speaker 1: really appropriately named seventh grade English teacher, mister Downer was
Speaker 1: his name. Mister Downer handed me Johnny Tremaine along with
Speaker 1: everybody else in the class, and said we had to
Speaker 1: write a book review of it. And you have to
Speaker 1: trust me when I say everything that follows was done
Speaker 1: in total innocence. I got home with Johnny Tremaine and
Speaker 1: I looked at the back cover, and the back cover
Speaker 1: had an excellent book review of the book. It was
Speaker 1: just you know, two hundred and fifty words it described
Speaker 1: what the book was about, and so I thought, this
Speaker 1: is the efficient way to do it. I'll just copy
Speaker 1: this down and hand it in, because this is if
Speaker 1: he wants a book reporter John Tremaine, he couldn't get
Speaker 1: a better one than this. So I copied it out
Speaker 1: and I handed it in and it came back to
Speaker 1: me a few days later and the grade was an A,
Speaker 1: but it said, in big, big red ink, see me.
Speaker 1: And so I went to see mister Downer and he said,
Speaker 1: where did you get this? And I said, oh, I
Speaker 1: just copied it off the back of the book. You
Speaker 1: said you wanted a book review, and it seemed like
Speaker 1: an excellent one, so I thought that was the best
Speaker 1: way to do it. And he said, that's plagiarism. Now,
Speaker 1: I'd never heard the word plagiarism. He could have said
Speaker 1: it it's it could have been yeah, it could have
Speaker 1: been baculism, it could have been it could have been anything.
Speaker 1: I thought, like, what's plagiarism? And he said he made
Speaker 1: me go look at a dictionary and look up plagiarism
Speaker 1: in the dictionary and try to internalize what a horrible
Speaker 1: thing it was. I had done, and I still couldn't
Speaker 1: feel like I've done anything wrong, And so he made
Speaker 1: The first thing he did does is he makes me.
Speaker 1: He makes me go see the head master and the
Speaker 1: middle school head master, the principle who proceeds to throw
Speaker 1: me out of the school. Oh my god, I was
Speaker 1: expelled from the school. But then I'm readmitted, and mister Downer,
Speaker 1: then in a huff, makes me write a thousand times
Speaker 1: over and over on a piece of paper, I will
Speaker 1: never played your eyes again. I will never played your
Speaker 1: eyes again. And you didn't feel you've done anything wrong,
Speaker 1: and hand in these thousand lines. And to this day
Speaker 1: I've never read Johnny Tremaine. So it does my heart.
Speaker 1: It warms my heart to know that book had a
Speaker 1: positive influence on someone's life. So back to the subject
Speaker 1: of voice of like where this comes from. You see
Speaker 1: to be saying two things at once. One is that
Speaker 1: there's something that is essentially you on the page that
Speaker 1: you were evading when you're pretending to be Hemmingway. But
Speaker 1: at the same time, it's not as simple as just
Speaker 1: putting you on the page. That you're creating something that
Speaker 1: just isn't like other things, and that gets you to you. Yeah,
Speaker 1: And I think it's the radical preferring. For example, when
Speaker 1: I was editing that first book and writing it, I
Speaker 1: was always trying to avoid the usual constructions, so, you know,
Speaker 1: just small things like this, this is civil war lands, yeah,
Speaker 1: bad decline. Right. So just like if I found myself
Speaker 1: typing a phrase that I felt a little tepid about it,
Speaker 1: or this seemed like yet, well it has to be there,
Speaker 1: I would try to take it out. Same thing with events,
Speaker 1: like I was really trying to do that thing where
Speaker 1: I wasn't describing people coming into rooms, they were just there,
Speaker 1: you know. So it was sort of like I think
Speaker 1: efficiency was one of the watchwords. And then just unconventional juxtapositions.
Speaker 1: I mean, there are all things that I was feeling
Speaker 1: in my sort of in my chest more than thinking about.
Speaker 1: But the real thing was don't let this get lost
Speaker 1: in a pile. That was actually the way I thought
Speaker 1: about it. The funny thing is that's not unlike my psychology,
Speaker 1: because always kind of a show off and kind of
Speaker 1: a ham you know, right, And I always knew in
Speaker 1: a crowd of people how to talk in a way
Speaker 1: that the attention would come to me. So it was
Speaker 1: of inadvertent allowing to the table of that which I
Speaker 1: really was. When when you start writing in this new
Speaker 1: mode where you were self consciously not grabbing for Hemingway
Speaker 1: or Joice or someone else as a crutch, when do
Speaker 1: you get your first positive feedback apart from the Susian
Speaker 1: poems like when do you first? When do you first
Speaker 1: get the sense of like, hell, this could work? You know, honestly, Michael,
Speaker 1: it was. It was as soon as I wrote the
Speaker 1: first couple of paragraphs, I'm like, oh, and the feeling was,
Speaker 1: I know what to do with this, you know, with
Speaker 1: the Hemingway stuff, I get a draft and go, I
Speaker 1: don't know. I wish there was somebody I could ask.
Speaker 1: I wish Ernest was here, you know. But with this
Speaker 1: new mode, it was just like, I don't know how
Speaker 1: you'd say, It was like, you know, I kind of
Speaker 1: knew which way to go, you know, I knew which
Speaker 1: sentences a fit in which didn't in a way that
Speaker 1: was miles above with the Hemmingway, I just all I
Speaker 1: could do is kind of try to make it some
Speaker 1: more like him, but that's an idiots game. But with
Speaker 1: this stuff, no matter what I wrote, I knew whether
Speaker 1: it belonged or not. So that's another thing I tell
Speaker 1: my students is one of the symptoms of writing in
Speaker 1: let's call it your voice, is that you have strong
Speaker 1: opinions about it. You're not having that terrible neurotic feeling
Speaker 1: of I don't know if it's good, I don't know
Speaker 1: what to change. You actually have really fierce opinion, maybe
Speaker 1: fiercer than you would normally admit. That was a symptom
Speaker 1: of it at first. It's a good it's a very
Speaker 1: good sign. Yes, I think it is now. I mean,
Speaker 1: you know, you can have. I had some opinions about
Speaker 1: the Hemma, but this was different. And then I also
Speaker 1: had a secondary feeling, which was like I really don't
Speaker 1: care if anybody else likes it, Like I know this
Speaker 1: is what I'm supposed to be doing, and I just
Speaker 1: don't care anymore. I have a weird question for you.
Speaker 1: If I had been a fly on the wall and
Speaker 1: you didn't know I was there, and I was watching
Speaker 1: you right Leboda dead WARDO. Then I came back and
Speaker 1: I watched you write the WaveMaker Falters, would I have
Speaker 1: you think I would have detected a difference in your demeanor.
Speaker 1: I think you definitely would have you know. It was
Speaker 1: like bent over sweating and weeping versus sitting up straight
Speaker 1: hoping nobody walks into my office and bust me because
Speaker 1: I'm on a good role, you know. But I also
Speaker 1: knew I felt like, I just need fifteen minutes. If
Speaker 1: I can drop into any place on any story, I
Speaker 1: can improve it because I know what I like now
Speaker 1: and I don't. I didn't used to know what I like,
Speaker 1: but now I know. So that was a nice thing
Speaker 1: because it meant I didn't have to have a six
Speaker 1: hour block. I didn't have to be in any particular mood.
Speaker 1: I didn't feel like I felt like I could just
Speaker 1: It's sort of like if you put a shoe on,
Speaker 1: you know whether it fits or not. You don't have
Speaker 1: to be in the right mood, you know. But it's
Speaker 1: also it's play. It's play, you're playing. You know. It's
Speaker 1: funny because Tabitha, my wife, she said, do you know
Speaker 1: that when you're writing, you're laughing. You're laughing all the time. Oh,
Speaker 1: I had no idea. I had no idea, and I said, basically,
Speaker 1: then I realized, I'm basically laughing at my own jokes,
Speaker 1: which is its own thing. But nevertheless I was saying
Speaker 1: that was actually just laughing all the time. I'm wondering
Speaker 1: if you've had that experience where you thought, I wrote
Speaker 1: this story and it's about this, or it was supposed
Speaker 1: to be funny, or it was supposed to make you cry,
Speaker 1: and instead you got a completely different response from readers
Speaker 1: than you expected. Yes, And you know, when I was
Speaker 1: writing those the stories in Civil War Line, I didn't
Speaker 1: really know what anybody would feel. I didn't even know
Speaker 1: what I felt. So I kind of developed this idea
Speaker 1: that what you want to do in fiction anyway, is
Speaker 1: you want to create this space. And I always call
Speaker 1: it a black box, like a black box theater. But
Speaker 1: you want to create this space. You're gonna go in
Speaker 1: and do this thing we've been talking about, like check
Speaker 1: out every sentence, check out every transition, make it fast,
Speaker 1: make it whatever. But I'm going to try not to
Speaker 1: think about themes, and I'm I'm gonna try not think
Speaker 1: about politics or any of that. It's like I'm trying
Speaker 1: to make a roller coaster that's really intense. I mean,
Speaker 1: I don't think the roller coaster right thinks he's going
Speaker 1: to convince you of anything. He just wants to thrill
Speaker 1: you or you know out so then you can say,
Speaker 1: would admit, yes, I get your own meaning out of it,
Speaker 1: and he doesn't. He's gone, he's onto the next roller coaster.
Speaker 1: He does, you know, but he wants you to come
Speaker 1: out of it going WHOA, what the hell that was?
Speaker 1: You know, he doesn't want you to come and go,
Speaker 1: oh interesting. It's about pure you know. You know that's right,
Speaker 1: should be a little unable to speak for a few minutes.
Speaker 1: So that was kind of the my basic models. Let
Speaker 1: me just jangle somebody in here and know that when
Speaker 1: if the reader gets spit out on the other end
Speaker 1: and it's jangled, I've done my job. And there will
Speaker 1: be all kinds of things to say about it. You know.
Speaker 1: If you want to talk about it in terms of politics,
Speaker 1: we can. If we want to talk about it esthetics, sure,
Speaker 1: but the main thing is the difference between the writers
Speaker 1: we love and the writers we sort of hopeful and
Speaker 1: send us anything. Is the jangle, I would say. And
Speaker 1: then at the end, if you've done that, you've also
Speaker 1: at the same time sharpened the meaning of it. Now
Speaker 1: maybe it's not a meaning that you can articulate. Hopefully,
Speaker 1: it's not hopefully it's it's something more than could be said,
Speaker 1: you know, in one sentence. Otherwise just write that sense.
Speaker 1: But there is some weird thing where honoring the sort
Speaker 1: of internal dynamics of the story, trying to make it
Speaker 1: give off the most light, also makes it say something.
Speaker 1: And the thing that I live for is that it
Speaker 1: says stuff that I did not believe. Yes, where people
Speaker 1: come to you and they're almost enlighten you about yourself. Yeah, yeah,
Speaker 1: or you or even sometimes at Dana, I'm like, oh god, yeah,
Speaker 1: I do believe that. I just didn't. I didn't know
Speaker 1: that was a thing, you know, I didn't know this
Speaker 1: simple belief could actually have an articulation. I have this
Speaker 1: rap of being good at explaining complicated things. That's supposedly
Speaker 1: what I do, and it's so different what I think
Speaker 1: I do. I think I explain only what I need
Speaker 1: to explain to make the story work and to satisfy
Speaker 1: certain demands that the character has made, the characters have
Speaker 1: made on me, and that to deliver the characters, I
Speaker 1: need to explain this stuff. And I actually don't even
Speaker 1: think this is a horrible admission that I have a
Speaker 1: responsibility to explain the complicated thing. I think I have
Speaker 1: the responsibility to make the reader feel like it's been explained,
Speaker 1: which is different, make the reader feel like they can
Speaker 1: move on happily and they understand the situation the character
Speaker 1: is in now and we don't have to worry about
Speaker 1: that anymore, and never mind about you know, collateralized dead
Speaker 1: obligations right now. See that's beautiful. And I think what
Speaker 1: I'm hearing you say is that you're basically serving the
Speaker 1: structure of the story. And so when someone says you
Speaker 1: explain complicated things, well, you're thinking, well, no, what I
Speaker 1: actually did was I meant I explained the minimum I
Speaker 1: needed to set up the structure of a story and
Speaker 1: to make the story move ahead. And I think that's
Speaker 1: related to voice two, because when we're reading one of
Speaker 1: those sections of yours, what I'm feeling is the the
Speaker 1: courtesy and the efficiency you're writing it, saying, I know
Speaker 1: I need this for this down the road, So you're
Speaker 1: doing it efficiently, and you're doing it with an eye
Speaker 1: to my taking away from what I need to but
Speaker 1: that you know. I think efficiency is another part of
Speaker 1: voice that's really important. Is the voice serving the needs
Speaker 1: of the story, or is it serving the needs of
Speaker 1: the writer to show off a little bit like Lebota
Speaker 1: de Darda was full of flourishest that didn't no work,
Speaker 1: you know, and I think a reader you know by
Speaker 1: the time we're done there, because it'd be a massive
Speaker 1: market for Lebota the Worst. Ye so that, George, this
Speaker 1: is a fabulous talking to you and it's me too.
Speaker 1: I love it. I don't know what to say at
Speaker 1: the end of this whole series. It's been a total
Speaker 1: gas going back over my first book and being able
Speaker 1: to express in the form of five podcast episodes my
Speaker 1: responses to it and process it with writers great as
Speaker 1: Ira Glass and George Saunders. I guess I just want
Speaker 1: to thank everyone who participated in it, especially the secret
Speaker 1: characters from Liars Poker who had no reason to be exposed.
Speaker 1: Thank you so much for listening, and I'll see you
Speaker 1: again soon. When we launched season three of Against the Rules,
Speaker 1: Other People's Money was written and hosted by me Michael
Speaker 1: Lewis and produced by Lydia Jeancott. Katherine Girardo is our
Speaker 1: showrunner and sound designer, and Julia Barton edits the scripts
Speaker 1: and also serves as our chief unboxer. Matt Weineger composed
Speaker 1: the music and Beth Johnson checked facts. Mia Lobell is
Speaker 1: our executive producer. We record at Berkeley Advanced Media Studios,
Speaker 1: with engineering by Tofa Ruth Special Thanks to Brendan Francis
Speaker 1: Newnham and the rest of the book's team, including Jasmine Faustino.
Speaker 1: Thanks also to Jacob Weisberg, Heather Fain, John Snars, Carl Migliori,
Speaker 1: Christina Sullivan, Jason Gambrell, and Brant Haynes. Our marketing and
Speaker 1: operations team includes Eric Sandler, Maggie Taylor, Nicole Morano, Mary
Speaker 1: Beth Smith, Royston Breserve, Maya Kanigg, and Daniella Lacan. Brianna
Speaker 1: Brady provided research. Additional scoring by Pamela Lawrence Other People's
Speaker 1: Money as a production of Pushkin Industries. If you like
Speaker 1: the show, please remember to share, rate and review. If
Speaker 1: you don't like the show, please don't define More Pushkin
Speaker 1: podcasts listen on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever
Speaker 1: you listen to podcasts. You can buy our new Liars
Speaker 1: Poker audiobook, unabridged and read by me the author at
Speaker 1: Pushkin dot Fm, Slash Liars Poker and also at Audible.
Speaker 1: I'm gonna leave these boxes here so they can do
Speaker 1: take pictures when we want to take pictures of them,
Speaker 1: and okay, but I can leave it here still, right, okay,
Speaker 1: all right? Anything else, Julia, No, no, thanks for doing
Speaker 1: It's great. I think is there think there's stuff we
Speaker 1: can use. Yeah,