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Letters From Alex
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Get Thee Out

From The Tell at the Jane Hotel

I didn’t want to go. Although, I did a little bit. And I’d already said I’d be there.

These were my thoughts a few weeks ago as I prepared to leave for an event in the West Village, all the way over by the Hudson River.

Like many of us, I hadn’t been going out a whole lot over the past few years, especially to crowded venues. And I was a bit apprehensive about this event because no one was able to go with me and I was certain to be the oldest and squarest person at this gathering of the city’s coolest crowd.

It’s called The Tell—a once-a-month program (at a historic hotel where the survivors of the Titanic stayed) that combines people telling tales of strange encounters and noir-ish musical acts. The whole thing is put together by Gotham teacher Michael Leviton, and I’d been telling Michael I’d come for years.

I felt a bit off balance as I walked into the faded glamour of the hotel’s ballroom, where the show happens. I didn’t know anyone or quite belong and wasn’t sure how the seating worked. But after settling deep into a worn couch on the mezzanine level, I chatted to the heavily-tatted guy next to me and then spent a spellbinding two hours or so drinking in the stories and music. I walked home buzzing with the magic that Manhattan has to offer, when you’re lucky enough to find it.

It’s gotten easy to avoid going out, and by “out” I mean something more than wandering the mall or dining in a café. I mean something bolder, maybe even something you’ve got to push yourself to get to.

It’s good to get out—good for us as writers and as people attempting to live interesting lives. (Caution, vaccines, and masks are wise, of course.)

If you’re in the NYC area, you might get out and catch some Gotham Writers action. We will be offering free 90-minute classes every Thursday night in August in Bryant Park, which is perhaps the best spot in Manhattan: a rectangle of greenery surrounded by soaring buildings and the magnificent “lion” branch of the library.

You can check out the schedule here, and take note that I’ll be teaching a class on Character on the night of August 25. (If you come to that one, please say hi to me afterwards.)

In the words of the philosopher Søren Kierkegaard (about whom my friend Pete is creating a TV series): To dare is to momentarily lose one’s footing. But not to dare is to lose one’s self.

Alex Steele

President

Letters From Kelly
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Possible Endings

Warning: This letter contains (many!) spoilers of the J.R.R. Tolkien novel and film adaptation of The Lord of the Rings.

Have you ever had a story just humming along, when you realize your ending is like a horizon, constantly remaining just out of reach?

My crackpot hypothesis about that is it’s a sign. It’s time to start deciding how the story will end. Not the exact scene or sentence, but thematically, emotionally.

One way out is to just choose three or four possible themes and notes, and then rough them out, and see what happens.

Put another way, try Lord of the Rings-ing it.

If somehow you have not seen Peter Jackson’s 11-hour, three-film adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien’s novel, the final movie The Return of the King actually ends five—five! — times. Each with its own distinct mood.

Ending No. 1: The survivors of the Fellowship of the Ring reunite in a gauzy, sunlit room, overjoyed to find each other alive. Many stories about war or odysseys end this way, with companions reunited in victory. It’s an ending of elation, and triumph, and it infers (without showing) that the world will heal.

Apparently, inference wasn’t good enough, so onto…

Ending No 2:  Aragorn is crowned king before the Fellowship and a crowd that’s basically the United Nations for Middle Earth. Rose petals cascading around him, he talks of unity, reunites with his beloved, and kneels before the four Hobbits, prompting the entire crowd to do the same. This ending is victory and unity and honor, with a touch of romance.

But wait, there’s more!

Ending No. 3 follows the Hobbits home to the Shire, where they return to their favorite pub, and celebrate Sam-Wise’s wedding, and they realize, everything is restored, and nothing is. This ending gives the audience the satisfaction of seeing the Hobbits safely home, while also acknowledging war changes people.

Which leads us to …

Ending No 4: Four years (!) later, Frodo leaves Middle Earth, heading into the Undying Lands with the Elves, Gandalf, and his uncle Bilbo. “We set out to save the Shire,” he says, “and it has been saved — but not for me.” His Hobbit friends wave and sob as he and Gandalf sail off into a golden sunset. This takes the triumph and homecoming, and makes them bittersweet.

Still, Jackson was not done.

Sam-Wise returns to his wife and children after seeing Frodo off, gazes out at the Shire, and says, “Well, I’m back,” the last line of Tolkien’s novel.

Unless you’re Peter Jackson, you won’t get away writing a story with five endings. Unity and romance? Bittersweet homecoming? Joyful reunion? You will eventually have to choose.

But sometimes the best way to navigate your way to it is to map out several destinations, and point your sail toward the one that feels like home.

Kelly Caldwell

Dean of Faculty