for DeShawn

In 2000, when FINDING FORRESTER came out in the theaters, I took a student named DeShawn to see it. He dropped out of Brown, but we still stayed in touch as writers and thinkers. He went to trucking school and then drove buses for the district. We often went to University of Louisville games together - he was a stupendous ball player, but his grades wouldn't allow him to play. He was also extremely gifted and I was in awe of his writing talents. The night we saw this film we both thought it was rather weird. Neither of us knew what it was about, but we both suggested it and went. When we saw it, we grew quiet.

What is quirky is he and I began writing a novel together and would mail it to one another. Then, the novel disappeared in the mail and so did he (not in the mail, but in life). We lost touch and I hate that. He was a comrade in this great universe of whatever and the two of us connected via words.

Yesterday, we showed clips of DEAD POETS SOCIETY to students becoming English teachers. In watching it, I realized how white, upper-middle class, ivy and ridiculously detached from the American experience that film actually is. It is brilliant - don't get me wrong - but it is the tale of a privileged (yet pressured) white boy, prep school. As inspiring as John Keating is in the film, too, he still teaches dead, white men. The paradigms have changed.

And so I think of FINDING FORRESTER - in particular, this scene. It's odd that this film didn't win awards. Or maybe it isn't.
We live in a tricky country. I love some of the advice Forrester gives Jamal: "No thinking - that comes later. You must write your first draft with your heart. You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is... to write, not to think!"

I also love when Forrester says, "Let me ask you a question... those two foul shots at the end of the game... did you miss them, or did you *miss* them," and Jamal responds, "Not exactly a soup question, now is it?"