USC Writing Program

Just before last little bear was born, I had started taking night classes at the USC Master of Professional Writing Program. I wasn't sure exactly why, other than I thought maybe I might finish it and.or someone might hook me up to an agent or a publisher. Herbert Selby was teaching then, and I thought it would cool to take a class with him, but I could never get in. Had a play writing class with a guy (who's name I can't remember) who had made an entire career out of being in the Actor's Studio at the same time that de Niro and Pacino and Hoffman were there. They were friends, so he wrote screenplays for them and the producers bought them. What this guy knew about stage writing, I don't know. I can't remember if any of his plays were put on. Anyway, I wrote a
soliloquy in the opening of mine and everyone in the class copies me.The teacher kept looking at me each time one popped up.

There was also a asshole who assigned you his books so you had to buy them and it was soon apparent that he wrote with his dick. A friend in the "business" told me he was known among TV writers as the machine. He typed, endlessly. He had nothing to teach because he didn't think. I was also dinged on my perfect 4.0 because I had to miss one of his classes.

And then I had Mr. Rechy (above) for a couple of classes. The first one was on campus. The second was at his apartment over by Griffith Park. He was intelligent and had things to say. He would not let you into his apartment until the exact time, so you couldn't come early. He had a coffee table full of crystal vases, and would put out a heavy fold out cover on his dining room table before we would sit down to work. I soon discovered that I had to edit my critiques and do them after him, because we were repeating each other. (And he was the teacher.) I had made casual comment about having a nice antique copy of The Temptation of Saint Anthony by Flaubert and he disappeared for a good ten minutes to check if the novel really existed because it was one he had never heard of. I think he thought I was bullshitting him. He did turn me on to an agent, but when I went to meet her, she was a real downer. I think because she thought I was too old. Rechy also made it very clear to all of us that he had a "Special" Writer's Group that only published writers were allowed in- which excluded all of us.
I got an autographed copy of one of his books.

The littlest bear was born and the issue of driving downtown for a couple of evenings a week was becoming impossible. The teachers weren't all that hot, to be honest with you. They were just doing it for extra income. But if you are an idiot, I'd suggest a class with Rechy. You could learn a lot.

He also had a story about meeting Faulkner in the NYC Central Park when he was young.