RIGHT NOW<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/05\/ML-at-desk-2023-best-300x291.jpg\")
At work, April, 2023
Photo by my son, Alexander Laser<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1994 to present<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\nLiving in Montclair, NJ, with wife Jennifer and children Helen and Alex. Most of my published books were written here (with a pen, if you\u2019re curious), mainly while sitting in the Salvation Army chair in my home office.\u00a0\u00a0Hidden Away\u00a0<\/i>(the story of a teen who disappears just as he\u2019s about to take the SAT) grew out of the dual experiences of parenthood and life in suburban New Jersey.<\/span><\/p>\n\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/69.89.31.171\/~chaellas\/wp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/02\/1-chair-223x300.jpg\" "\\"1-chair\\"")
The Chair<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/69.89.31.171\/~chaellas\/wp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/02\/2-pen-229x300.jpg\" "\\"2-pen\\"")
The Pen<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\u00a01994<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\nWe moved from NYC to New Jersey because our soon-to-be-born child wouldn\u2019t fit in our tiny apartment. For about seven years, I felt like an exile from my true home, Manhattan. As a stay-at-home father, I learned how much of a man\u2019s stature comes from his work and his earnings (see \u201cThe Education of a Stay-at-Home Father,\u201d in Room to Grow, <\/em>a collection of essays).<\/p>\n1991-1994<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nFor three years, I worked at The Fortune Society in Manhattan, a nonprofit that helps (and employs) people after they\u2019re released from prison. Among my co-workers were some amazing, admirable people, who changed my attitudes forever. (See Edmund\u2019s evolving attitude toward Careese in my novel Dark & Light.<\/em>)<\/p>\n1991<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\nOur wedding: a very happy day. (See the last page of my novel Old Buddy Old Pal.)<\/em><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/69.89.31.171\/~chaellas\/wp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/02\/9-weddingdance-204x300.jpg\" "\\"9-weddingdance\\"")
<\/p>\n
November, 1984<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nI spent this month in Nicaragua, helping to build a school in a barrio outside Managua. Our visit coincided with the height of Reagan-vs.-Sandinista tensions. Much of this experience appears, slightly altered, in The Watermelon.<\/em><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/69.89.31.171\/~chaellas\/wp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/02\/4-Chepe-300x225.jpg\" "\\"4-Chepe\\"")
Chepe and friends, residents of Barrio Bello Amanecer, Nicaragua<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1984-1991<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nTemp word processing to pay the rent, while writing fiction in my free time. Alienated labor? Yes, but I actually liked most of the people I worked with and for.<\/p>\n
1980-1983<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nPart-time secretary at the Department of Philosophy, Columbia University. The grad students here impressed me tremendously: super-smart, very funny, very appealing. During this period, I lived on $100\/week in Manhattan. Fortunately, the rent on my studio apartment was $225 a month.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/69.89.31.171\/~chaellas\/wp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/02\/8-PhilosDept-82-300x281.jpg\" "\\"8-PhilosDept-82\\"")
At work, 1982<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1977-1979<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nReal estate paralegal for Stroock & Stroock & Lavan, a law firm in downtown Manhattan. How did I fall into this line of work? Simple: someone said, \u201cBeing a paralegal is a pretty decent way to earn a living,\u201d and my college friend Roger Kalin worked at S&S&L. Why didn\u2019t I look for a job at a publishing house? Because I worried that my work would be influenced by the manuscripts I\u2019d have to read all day\u2014or, that I\u2019d be so sick of fiction by the time 5\u00a0o\u2019clock rolled around, I wouldn\u2019t want to write any of my own.<\/p>\n
1977-1988<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nSingle in Manhattan (see Old Buddy Old Pal), <\/em>living at 350 West 85th Street. Here I wrote most of my published short stories, and my first (unpublished) novel, The Memoirs of Marian Moon.<\/em><\/p>\n1976-1977<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nThe Writing Seminars at the Johns Hopkins University, Master\u2019s Program. Studying with John Barth, my college idol, I thought again and again, at that seminar table, I can\u2019t believe I\u2019m here. <\/em>Classmates included Frederick Barthelme and Mary Robison. In October, 1976, I wrote \u201cNobody Asks,\u201d the first story I would ever get published, for John Barth\u2019s class. (Tom Wolfe included an anecdote from this class in his essay, \u201cStalking the Billion-Footed Beast.\u201d When novelist Leslie Epstein took over for John Barth in the spring semester, and cited Tolstoy as a master of the novel, he \u201cwas looked upon by his young charges as rather touchingly old-fashioned.\u201d)<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/69.89.31.171\/~chaellas\/wp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/02\/10-WritingSeminars77-300x169.jpg\" "\\"10-WritingSeminars77\\"")
Writing Seminars fiction class of 1977 (leaning in from the right)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nJanuary to June, 1976<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWriting ads for a small radio station in Endicott, NY. I also served as the night watchman and weather announcer. Alone each night from 9 pm to 5 am, I biked home at dawn and discovered that every sunrise is different. I can still recite some of those old radio ads. (For a photo finishing shop offering one-day service: an old man receives his long-forgotten snapshots in the mail. \u201cIt\u2019s the wedding pictures! Look, there\u2019s me in my stovepipe hat!\u201d)<\/p>\n
Summer, 1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWhile staying at my aunt\u2019s home in the San Fernando Valley, I revised a screenplay I\u2019d written during my senior year at college, for agent-turned-producer Martin Baum. He never managed to find backers\u2026 but I\u2019ve always wondered whether Porky\u2019s <\/em>and all of the horny-teen comedies that followed were rip-offs of my script, which was awful but similar.<\/p>\n1971-1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nCollege at SUNY Binghamton: remembered with infinite nostalgia. (These are the names I google in the night.) See Old Buddy Old Pal <\/em>for an autobiographical picture of a guy looking back at college from seven years\u2019 distance. The stories have been altered, but the feelings come from life.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/michaellaser.com\/michaellaser\/wp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/02\/5-Gary-Ira-300x214.jpg\" "\\"5-Gary-Ira\\"")
<\/a>With my friends<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nSummers, 1971, 1972, 1973<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\nWorking at Mays and Alexander\u2019s, department stores in Queens, as a cashier, camera salesman and record salesman. Glamor!<\/p>\n
1971<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nGraduation from Martin Van Buren H.S. in Queens.<\/p>\n
1967<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nBar mitzvah. The party was held at our garden apartment. My friends and I ran around outside on the lawns.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/michaellaser.com\/michaellaser\/wp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/02\/3-barmitzvahsisters-211x300.jpg\" "\\"3-barmitzvahsisters\\"")
<\/a>With my beautiful sisters<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1966<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nGraduation from P.S. 186.\u00a0My sixth grade teacher, Mr. Catania, who passed away in 2012, was proud to have served as the model for Mr. Vigoritti in 6-321.<\/em><\/p>\n1955-1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWhen I was one year old, my family moved to 73-69 260th Street, in Glen Oaks, Queens. (See 6-321 <\/em>for a description of the neighborhood and its residents.) My father worked at the main branch of the post office in downtown Brooklyn at night, and also worked part-time at Muller\u2019s Religious Articles in Manhattan, making rosaries (despite our religion: it\u2019s a long story). My mother worked at various part-time jobs, including a stint as a window clerk at the neighborhood OTB, but she was very unhappy there because she hated cigarette smoke.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/michaellaser.com\/michaellaser\/wp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/02\/6-halloween1958-300x229.jpg\" "\\"6-halloween1958\\"")
<\/a>Sick on Halloween, 1958<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1954<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nBorn, in Brooklyn. Our family\u2019s home at the time was an apartment on Navy Walk, in Fort Greene. My mother wanted to name me Paris (her name was Helen), but my sisters intervened, for which I owe them more than I can ever repay.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/michaellaser.com\/michaellaser\/wp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/02\/7-ML-toddler-211x300.jpg\" "\\"7-ML-toddler\\"")
<\/a>I was better-looking then.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"\u201cALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE MYSELF\u2026\u201d Suddenly I\u2019m tongue-tied. Instead of an essay, I\u2019ll offer you a timeline, with pictures. This should answer the questions you didn\u2019t know you had. The Chronology, Backwards RIGHT NOW 1994 to present Living in Montclair, NJ, with wife Jennifer and children Helen and Alex. Most of my published books were […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":4,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":true,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":true,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":{"0":"post-164","1":"page","2":"type-page","3":"status-publish","5":"entry","6":"has-post-thumbnail"},"featured_image_src":null,"featured_image_src_square":null,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=164"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1020,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164\/revisions\/1020"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=164"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
Photo by my son, Alexander Laser<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
1994 to present<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\nLiving in Montclair, NJ, with wife Jennifer and children Helen and Alex. Most of my published books were written here (with a pen, if you\u2019re curious), mainly while sitting in the Salvation Army chair in my home office.\u00a0\u00a0Hidden Away\u00a0<\/i>(the story of a teen who disappears just as he\u2019s about to take the SAT) grew out of the dual experiences of parenthood and life in suburban New Jersey.<\/span><\/p>\n\nThe Chair<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThe Pen<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\u00a01994<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\nWe moved from NYC to New Jersey because our soon-to-be-born child wouldn\u2019t fit in our tiny apartment. For about seven years, I felt like an exile from my true home, Manhattan. As a stay-at-home father, I learned how much of a man\u2019s stature comes from his work and his earnings (see \u201cThe Education of a Stay-at-Home Father,\u201d in Room to Grow, <\/em>a collection of essays).<\/p>\n1991-1994<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nFor three years, I worked at The Fortune Society in Manhattan, a nonprofit that helps (and employs) people after they\u2019re released from prison. Among my co-workers were some amazing, admirable people, who changed my attitudes forever. (See Edmund\u2019s evolving attitude toward Careese in my novel Dark & Light.<\/em>)<\/p>\n1991<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\nOur wedding: a very happy day. (See the last page of my novel Old Buddy Old Pal.)<\/em><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
November, 1984<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nI spent this month in Nicaragua, helping to build a school in a barrio outside Managua. Our visit coincided with the height of Reagan-vs.-Sandinista tensions. Much of this experience appears, slightly altered, in The Watermelon.<\/em><\/p>\nChepe and friends, residents of Barrio Bello Amanecer, Nicaragua<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1984-1991<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nTemp word processing to pay the rent, while writing fiction in my free time. Alienated labor? Yes, but I actually liked most of the people I worked with and for.<\/p>\n
1980-1983<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nPart-time secretary at the Department of Philosophy, Columbia University. The grad students here impressed me tremendously: super-smart, very funny, very appealing. During this period, I lived on $100\/week in Manhattan. Fortunately, the rent on my studio apartment was $225 a month.<\/p>\nAt work, 1982<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1977-1979<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nReal estate paralegal for Stroock & Stroock & Lavan, a law firm in downtown Manhattan. How did I fall into this line of work? Simple: someone said, \u201cBeing a paralegal is a pretty decent way to earn a living,\u201d and my college friend Roger Kalin worked at S&S&L. Why didn\u2019t I look for a job at a publishing house? Because I worried that my work would be influenced by the manuscripts I\u2019d have to read all day\u2014or, that I\u2019d be so sick of fiction by the time 5\u00a0o\u2019clock rolled around, I wouldn\u2019t want to write any of my own.<\/p>\n
1977-1988<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nSingle in Manhattan (see Old Buddy Old Pal), <\/em>living at 350 West 85th Street. Here I wrote most of my published short stories, and my first (unpublished) novel, The Memoirs of Marian Moon.<\/em><\/p>\n1976-1977<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nThe Writing Seminars at the Johns Hopkins University, Master\u2019s Program. Studying with John Barth, my college idol, I thought again and again, at that seminar table, I can\u2019t believe I\u2019m here. <\/em>Classmates included Frederick Barthelme and Mary Robison. In October, 1976, I wrote \u201cNobody Asks,\u201d the first story I would ever get published, for John Barth\u2019s class. (Tom Wolfe included an anecdote from this class in his essay, \u201cStalking the Billion-Footed Beast.\u201d When novelist Leslie Epstein took over for John Barth in the spring semester, and cited Tolstoy as a master of the novel, he \u201cwas looked upon by his young charges as rather touchingly old-fashioned.\u201d)<\/p>\nWriting Seminars fiction class of 1977 (leaning in from the right)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nJanuary to June, 1976<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWriting ads for a small radio station in Endicott, NY. I also served as the night watchman and weather announcer. Alone each night from 9 pm to 5 am, I biked home at dawn and discovered that every sunrise is different. I can still recite some of those old radio ads. (For a photo finishing shop offering one-day service: an old man receives his long-forgotten snapshots in the mail. \u201cIt\u2019s the wedding pictures! Look, there\u2019s me in my stovepipe hat!\u201d)<\/p>\n
Summer, 1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWhile staying at my aunt\u2019s home in the San Fernando Valley, I revised a screenplay I\u2019d written during my senior year at college, for agent-turned-producer Martin Baum. He never managed to find backers\u2026 but I\u2019ve always wondered whether Porky\u2019s <\/em>and all of the horny-teen comedies that followed were rip-offs of my script, which was awful but similar.<\/p>\n1971-1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nCollege at SUNY Binghamton: remembered with infinite nostalgia. (These are the names I google in the night.) See Old Buddy Old Pal <\/em>for an autobiographical picture of a guy looking back at college from seven years\u2019 distance. The stories have been altered, but the feelings come from life.<\/p>\n<\/a>With my friends<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nSummers, 1971, 1972, 1973<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\nWorking at Mays and Alexander\u2019s, department stores in Queens, as a cashier, camera salesman and record salesman. Glamor!<\/p>\n
1971<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nGraduation from Martin Van Buren H.S. in Queens.<\/p>\n
1967<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nBar mitzvah. The party was held at our garden apartment. My friends and I ran around outside on the lawns.<\/p>\n<\/a>With my beautiful sisters<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1966<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nGraduation from P.S. 186.\u00a0My sixth grade teacher, Mr. Catania, who passed away in 2012, was proud to have served as the model for Mr. Vigoritti in 6-321.<\/em><\/p>\n1955-1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWhen I was one year old, my family moved to 73-69 260th Street, in Glen Oaks, Queens. (See 6-321 <\/em>for a description of the neighborhood and its residents.) My father worked at the main branch of the post office in downtown Brooklyn at night, and also worked part-time at Muller\u2019s Religious Articles in Manhattan, making rosaries (despite our religion: it\u2019s a long story). My mother worked at various part-time jobs, including a stint as a window clerk at the neighborhood OTB, but she was very unhappy there because she hated cigarette smoke.<\/p>\n<\/a>Sick on Halloween, 1958<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1954<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nBorn, in Brooklyn. Our family\u2019s home at the time was an apartment on Navy Walk, in Fort Greene. My mother wanted to name me Paris (her name was Helen), but my sisters intervened, for which I owe them more than I can ever repay.<\/p>\n<\/a>I was better-looking then.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"\u201cALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE MYSELF\u2026\u201d Suddenly I\u2019m tongue-tied. Instead of an essay, I\u2019ll offer you a timeline, with pictures. This should answer the questions you didn\u2019t know you had. The Chronology, Backwards RIGHT NOW 1994 to present Living in Montclair, NJ, with wife Jennifer and children Helen and Alex. Most of my published books were […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":4,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":true,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":true,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":{"0":"post-164","1":"page","2":"type-page","3":"status-publish","5":"entry","6":"has-post-thumbnail"},"featured_image_src":null,"featured_image_src_square":null,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=164"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1020,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164\/revisions\/1020"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=164"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\u00a01994<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\nWe moved from NYC to New Jersey because our soon-to-be-born child wouldn\u2019t fit in our tiny apartment. For about seven years, I felt like an exile from my true home, Manhattan. As a stay-at-home father, I learned how much of a man\u2019s stature comes from his work and his earnings (see \u201cThe Education of a Stay-at-Home Father,\u201d in Room to Grow, <\/em>a collection of essays).<\/p>\n1991-1994<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nFor three years, I worked at The Fortune Society in Manhattan, a nonprofit that helps (and employs) people after they\u2019re released from prison. Among my co-workers were some amazing, admirable people, who changed my attitudes forever. (See Edmund\u2019s evolving attitude toward Careese in my novel Dark & Light.<\/em>)<\/p>\n1991<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\nOur wedding: a very happy day. (See the last page of my novel Old Buddy Old Pal.)<\/em><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
November, 1984<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nI spent this month in Nicaragua, helping to build a school in a barrio outside Managua. Our visit coincided with the height of Reagan-vs.-Sandinista tensions. Much of this experience appears, slightly altered, in The Watermelon.<\/em><\/p>\nChepe and friends, residents of Barrio Bello Amanecer, Nicaragua<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1984-1991<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nTemp word processing to pay the rent, while writing fiction in my free time. Alienated labor? Yes, but I actually liked most of the people I worked with and for.<\/p>\n
1980-1983<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nPart-time secretary at the Department of Philosophy, Columbia University. The grad students here impressed me tremendously: super-smart, very funny, very appealing. During this period, I lived on $100\/week in Manhattan. Fortunately, the rent on my studio apartment was $225 a month.<\/p>\nAt work, 1982<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1977-1979<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nReal estate paralegal for Stroock & Stroock & Lavan, a law firm in downtown Manhattan. How did I fall into this line of work? Simple: someone said, \u201cBeing a paralegal is a pretty decent way to earn a living,\u201d and my college friend Roger Kalin worked at S&S&L. Why didn\u2019t I look for a job at a publishing house? Because I worried that my work would be influenced by the manuscripts I\u2019d have to read all day\u2014or, that I\u2019d be so sick of fiction by the time 5\u00a0o\u2019clock rolled around, I wouldn\u2019t want to write any of my own.<\/p>\n
1977-1988<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nSingle in Manhattan (see Old Buddy Old Pal), <\/em>living at 350 West 85th Street. Here I wrote most of my published short stories, and my first (unpublished) novel, The Memoirs of Marian Moon.<\/em><\/p>\n1976-1977<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nThe Writing Seminars at the Johns Hopkins University, Master\u2019s Program. Studying with John Barth, my college idol, I thought again and again, at that seminar table, I can\u2019t believe I\u2019m here. <\/em>Classmates included Frederick Barthelme and Mary Robison. In October, 1976, I wrote \u201cNobody Asks,\u201d the first story I would ever get published, for John Barth\u2019s class. (Tom Wolfe included an anecdote from this class in his essay, \u201cStalking the Billion-Footed Beast.\u201d When novelist Leslie Epstein took over for John Barth in the spring semester, and cited Tolstoy as a master of the novel, he \u201cwas looked upon by his young charges as rather touchingly old-fashioned.\u201d)<\/p>\nWriting Seminars fiction class of 1977 (leaning in from the right)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nJanuary to June, 1976<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWriting ads for a small radio station in Endicott, NY. I also served as the night watchman and weather announcer. Alone each night from 9 pm to 5 am, I biked home at dawn and discovered that every sunrise is different. I can still recite some of those old radio ads. (For a photo finishing shop offering one-day service: an old man receives his long-forgotten snapshots in the mail. \u201cIt\u2019s the wedding pictures! Look, there\u2019s me in my stovepipe hat!\u201d)<\/p>\n
Summer, 1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWhile staying at my aunt\u2019s home in the San Fernando Valley, I revised a screenplay I\u2019d written during my senior year at college, for agent-turned-producer Martin Baum. He never managed to find backers\u2026 but I\u2019ve always wondered whether Porky\u2019s <\/em>and all of the horny-teen comedies that followed were rip-offs of my script, which was awful but similar.<\/p>\n1971-1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nCollege at SUNY Binghamton: remembered with infinite nostalgia. (These are the names I google in the night.) See Old Buddy Old Pal <\/em>for an autobiographical picture of a guy looking back at college from seven years\u2019 distance. The stories have been altered, but the feelings come from life.<\/p>\n<\/a>With my friends<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nSummers, 1971, 1972, 1973<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\nWorking at Mays and Alexander\u2019s, department stores in Queens, as a cashier, camera salesman and record salesman. Glamor!<\/p>\n
1971<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nGraduation from Martin Van Buren H.S. in Queens.<\/p>\n
1967<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nBar mitzvah. The party was held at our garden apartment. My friends and I ran around outside on the lawns.<\/p>\n<\/a>With my beautiful sisters<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1966<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nGraduation from P.S. 186.\u00a0My sixth grade teacher, Mr. Catania, who passed away in 2012, was proud to have served as the model for Mr. Vigoritti in 6-321.<\/em><\/p>\n1955-1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWhen I was one year old, my family moved to 73-69 260th Street, in Glen Oaks, Queens. (See 6-321 <\/em>for a description of the neighborhood and its residents.) My father worked at the main branch of the post office in downtown Brooklyn at night, and also worked part-time at Muller\u2019s Religious Articles in Manhattan, making rosaries (despite our religion: it\u2019s a long story). My mother worked at various part-time jobs, including a stint as a window clerk at the neighborhood OTB, but she was very unhappy there because she hated cigarette smoke.<\/p>\n<\/a>Sick on Halloween, 1958<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1954<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nBorn, in Brooklyn. Our family\u2019s home at the time was an apartment on Navy Walk, in Fort Greene. My mother wanted to name me Paris (her name was Helen), but my sisters intervened, for which I owe them more than I can ever repay.<\/p>\n<\/a>I was better-looking then.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"\u201cALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE MYSELF\u2026\u201d Suddenly I\u2019m tongue-tied. Instead of an essay, I\u2019ll offer you a timeline, with pictures. This should answer the questions you didn\u2019t know you had. The Chronology, Backwards RIGHT NOW 1994 to present Living in Montclair, NJ, with wife Jennifer and children Helen and Alex. Most of my published books were […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":4,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":true,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":true,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":{"0":"post-164","1":"page","2":"type-page","3":"status-publish","5":"entry","6":"has-post-thumbnail"},"featured_image_src":null,"featured_image_src_square":null,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=164"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1020,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164\/revisions\/1020"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=164"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
1991-1994<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nFor three years, I worked at The Fortune Society in Manhattan, a nonprofit that helps (and employs) people after they\u2019re released from prison. Among my co-workers were some amazing, admirable people, who changed my attitudes forever. (See Edmund\u2019s evolving attitude toward Careese in my novel Dark & Light.<\/em>)<\/p>\n1991<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\nOur wedding: a very happy day. (See the last page of my novel Old Buddy Old Pal.)<\/em><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
November, 1984<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nI spent this month in Nicaragua, helping to build a school in a barrio outside Managua. Our visit coincided with the height of Reagan-vs.-Sandinista tensions. Much of this experience appears, slightly altered, in The Watermelon.<\/em><\/p>\nChepe and friends, residents of Barrio Bello Amanecer, Nicaragua<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1984-1991<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nTemp word processing to pay the rent, while writing fiction in my free time. Alienated labor? Yes, but I actually liked most of the people I worked with and for.<\/p>\n
1980-1983<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nPart-time secretary at the Department of Philosophy, Columbia University. The grad students here impressed me tremendously: super-smart, very funny, very appealing. During this period, I lived on $100\/week in Manhattan. Fortunately, the rent on my studio apartment was $225 a month.<\/p>\nAt work, 1982<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1977-1979<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nReal estate paralegal for Stroock & Stroock & Lavan, a law firm in downtown Manhattan. How did I fall into this line of work? Simple: someone said, \u201cBeing a paralegal is a pretty decent way to earn a living,\u201d and my college friend Roger Kalin worked at S&S&L. Why didn\u2019t I look for a job at a publishing house? Because I worried that my work would be influenced by the manuscripts I\u2019d have to read all day\u2014or, that I\u2019d be so sick of fiction by the time 5\u00a0o\u2019clock rolled around, I wouldn\u2019t want to write any of my own.<\/p>\n
1977-1988<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nSingle in Manhattan (see Old Buddy Old Pal), <\/em>living at 350 West 85th Street. Here I wrote most of my published short stories, and my first (unpublished) novel, The Memoirs of Marian Moon.<\/em><\/p>\n1976-1977<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nThe Writing Seminars at the Johns Hopkins University, Master\u2019s Program. Studying with John Barth, my college idol, I thought again and again, at that seminar table, I can\u2019t believe I\u2019m here. <\/em>Classmates included Frederick Barthelme and Mary Robison. In October, 1976, I wrote \u201cNobody Asks,\u201d the first story I would ever get published, for John Barth\u2019s class. (Tom Wolfe included an anecdote from this class in his essay, \u201cStalking the Billion-Footed Beast.\u201d When novelist Leslie Epstein took over for John Barth in the spring semester, and cited Tolstoy as a master of the novel, he \u201cwas looked upon by his young charges as rather touchingly old-fashioned.\u201d)<\/p>\nWriting Seminars fiction class of 1977 (leaning in from the right)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nJanuary to June, 1976<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWriting ads for a small radio station in Endicott, NY. I also served as the night watchman and weather announcer. Alone each night from 9 pm to 5 am, I biked home at dawn and discovered that every sunrise is different. I can still recite some of those old radio ads. (For a photo finishing shop offering one-day service: an old man receives his long-forgotten snapshots in the mail. \u201cIt\u2019s the wedding pictures! Look, there\u2019s me in my stovepipe hat!\u201d)<\/p>\n
Summer, 1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWhile staying at my aunt\u2019s home in the San Fernando Valley, I revised a screenplay I\u2019d written during my senior year at college, for agent-turned-producer Martin Baum. He never managed to find backers\u2026 but I\u2019ve always wondered whether Porky\u2019s <\/em>and all of the horny-teen comedies that followed were rip-offs of my script, which was awful but similar.<\/p>\n1971-1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nCollege at SUNY Binghamton: remembered with infinite nostalgia. (These are the names I google in the night.) See Old Buddy Old Pal <\/em>for an autobiographical picture of a guy looking back at college from seven years\u2019 distance. The stories have been altered, but the feelings come from life.<\/p>\n<\/a>With my friends<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nSummers, 1971, 1972, 1973<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\nWorking at Mays and Alexander\u2019s, department stores in Queens, as a cashier, camera salesman and record salesman. Glamor!<\/p>\n
1971<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nGraduation from Martin Van Buren H.S. in Queens.<\/p>\n
1967<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nBar mitzvah. The party was held at our garden apartment. My friends and I ran around outside on the lawns.<\/p>\n<\/a>With my beautiful sisters<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1966<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nGraduation from P.S. 186.\u00a0My sixth grade teacher, Mr. Catania, who passed away in 2012, was proud to have served as the model for Mr. Vigoritti in 6-321.<\/em><\/p>\n1955-1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWhen I was one year old, my family moved to 73-69 260th Street, in Glen Oaks, Queens. (See 6-321 <\/em>for a description of the neighborhood and its residents.) My father worked at the main branch of the post office in downtown Brooklyn at night, and also worked part-time at Muller\u2019s Religious Articles in Manhattan, making rosaries (despite our religion: it\u2019s a long story). My mother worked at various part-time jobs, including a stint as a window clerk at the neighborhood OTB, but she was very unhappy there because she hated cigarette smoke.<\/p>\n<\/a>Sick on Halloween, 1958<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1954<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nBorn, in Brooklyn. Our family\u2019s home at the time was an apartment on Navy Walk, in Fort Greene. My mother wanted to name me Paris (her name was Helen), but my sisters intervened, for which I owe them more than I can ever repay.<\/p>\n<\/a>I was better-looking then.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"\u201cALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE MYSELF\u2026\u201d Suddenly I\u2019m tongue-tied. Instead of an essay, I\u2019ll offer you a timeline, with pictures. This should answer the questions you didn\u2019t know you had. The Chronology, Backwards RIGHT NOW 1994 to present Living in Montclair, NJ, with wife Jennifer and children Helen and Alex. Most of my published books were […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":4,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":true,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":true,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":{"0":"post-164","1":"page","2":"type-page","3":"status-publish","5":"entry","6":"has-post-thumbnail"},"featured_image_src":null,"featured_image_src_square":null,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=164"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1020,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164\/revisions\/1020"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=164"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
1991<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\nOur wedding: a very happy day. (See the last page of my novel Old Buddy Old Pal.)<\/em><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
November, 1984<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nI spent this month in Nicaragua, helping to build a school in a barrio outside Managua. Our visit coincided with the height of Reagan-vs.-Sandinista tensions. Much of this experience appears, slightly altered, in The Watermelon.<\/em><\/p>\nChepe and friends, residents of Barrio Bello Amanecer, Nicaragua<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1984-1991<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nTemp word processing to pay the rent, while writing fiction in my free time. Alienated labor? Yes, but I actually liked most of the people I worked with and for.<\/p>\n
1980-1983<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nPart-time secretary at the Department of Philosophy, Columbia University. The grad students here impressed me tremendously: super-smart, very funny, very appealing. During this period, I lived on $100\/week in Manhattan. Fortunately, the rent on my studio apartment was $225 a month.<\/p>\nAt work, 1982<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1977-1979<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nReal estate paralegal for Stroock & Stroock & Lavan, a law firm in downtown Manhattan. How did I fall into this line of work? Simple: someone said, \u201cBeing a paralegal is a pretty decent way to earn a living,\u201d and my college friend Roger Kalin worked at S&S&L. Why didn\u2019t I look for a job at a publishing house? Because I worried that my work would be influenced by the manuscripts I\u2019d have to read all day\u2014or, that I\u2019d be so sick of fiction by the time 5\u00a0o\u2019clock rolled around, I wouldn\u2019t want to write any of my own.<\/p>\n
1977-1988<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nSingle in Manhattan (see Old Buddy Old Pal), <\/em>living at 350 West 85th Street. Here I wrote most of my published short stories, and my first (unpublished) novel, The Memoirs of Marian Moon.<\/em><\/p>\n1976-1977<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nThe Writing Seminars at the Johns Hopkins University, Master\u2019s Program. Studying with John Barth, my college idol, I thought again and again, at that seminar table, I can\u2019t believe I\u2019m here. <\/em>Classmates included Frederick Barthelme and Mary Robison. In October, 1976, I wrote \u201cNobody Asks,\u201d the first story I would ever get published, for John Barth\u2019s class. (Tom Wolfe included an anecdote from this class in his essay, \u201cStalking the Billion-Footed Beast.\u201d When novelist Leslie Epstein took over for John Barth in the spring semester, and cited Tolstoy as a master of the novel, he \u201cwas looked upon by his young charges as rather touchingly old-fashioned.\u201d)<\/p>\nWriting Seminars fiction class of 1977 (leaning in from the right)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nJanuary to June, 1976<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWriting ads for a small radio station in Endicott, NY. I also served as the night watchman and weather announcer. Alone each night from 9 pm to 5 am, I biked home at dawn and discovered that every sunrise is different. I can still recite some of those old radio ads. (For a photo finishing shop offering one-day service: an old man receives his long-forgotten snapshots in the mail. \u201cIt\u2019s the wedding pictures! Look, there\u2019s me in my stovepipe hat!\u201d)<\/p>\n
Summer, 1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWhile staying at my aunt\u2019s home in the San Fernando Valley, I revised a screenplay I\u2019d written during my senior year at college, for agent-turned-producer Martin Baum. He never managed to find backers\u2026 but I\u2019ve always wondered whether Porky\u2019s <\/em>and all of the horny-teen comedies that followed were rip-offs of my script, which was awful but similar.<\/p>\n1971-1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nCollege at SUNY Binghamton: remembered with infinite nostalgia. (These are the names I google in the night.) See Old Buddy Old Pal <\/em>for an autobiographical picture of a guy looking back at college from seven years\u2019 distance. The stories have been altered, but the feelings come from life.<\/p>\n<\/a>With my friends<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nSummers, 1971, 1972, 1973<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\nWorking at Mays and Alexander\u2019s, department stores in Queens, as a cashier, camera salesman and record salesman. Glamor!<\/p>\n
1971<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nGraduation from Martin Van Buren H.S. in Queens.<\/p>\n
1967<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nBar mitzvah. The party was held at our garden apartment. My friends and I ran around outside on the lawns.<\/p>\n<\/a>With my beautiful sisters<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1966<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nGraduation from P.S. 186.\u00a0My sixth grade teacher, Mr. Catania, who passed away in 2012, was proud to have served as the model for Mr. Vigoritti in 6-321.<\/em><\/p>\n1955-1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWhen I was one year old, my family moved to 73-69 260th Street, in Glen Oaks, Queens. (See 6-321 <\/em>for a description of the neighborhood and its residents.) My father worked at the main branch of the post office in downtown Brooklyn at night, and also worked part-time at Muller\u2019s Religious Articles in Manhattan, making rosaries (despite our religion: it\u2019s a long story). My mother worked at various part-time jobs, including a stint as a window clerk at the neighborhood OTB, but she was very unhappy there because she hated cigarette smoke.<\/p>\n<\/a>Sick on Halloween, 1958<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1954<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nBorn, in Brooklyn. Our family\u2019s home at the time was an apartment on Navy Walk, in Fort Greene. My mother wanted to name me Paris (her name was Helen), but my sisters intervened, for which I owe them more than I can ever repay.<\/p>\n<\/a>I was better-looking then.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"\u201cALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE MYSELF\u2026\u201d Suddenly I\u2019m tongue-tied. Instead of an essay, I\u2019ll offer you a timeline, with pictures. This should answer the questions you didn\u2019t know you had. The Chronology, Backwards RIGHT NOW 1994 to present Living in Montclair, NJ, with wife Jennifer and children Helen and Alex. Most of my published books were […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":4,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":true,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":true,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":{"0":"post-164","1":"page","2":"type-page","3":"status-publish","5":"entry","6":"has-post-thumbnail"},"featured_image_src":null,"featured_image_src_square":null,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=164"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1020,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164\/revisions\/1020"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=164"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
<\/p>\n
November, 1984<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nI spent this month in Nicaragua, helping to build a school in a barrio outside Managua. Our visit coincided with the height of Reagan-vs.-Sandinista tensions. Much of this experience appears, slightly altered, in The Watermelon.<\/em><\/p>\nChepe and friends, residents of Barrio Bello Amanecer, Nicaragua<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1984-1991<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nTemp word processing to pay the rent, while writing fiction in my free time. Alienated labor? Yes, but I actually liked most of the people I worked with and for.<\/p>\n
1980-1983<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nPart-time secretary at the Department of Philosophy, Columbia University. The grad students here impressed me tremendously: super-smart, very funny, very appealing. During this period, I lived on $100\/week in Manhattan. Fortunately, the rent on my studio apartment was $225 a month.<\/p>\nAt work, 1982<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1977-1979<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nReal estate paralegal for Stroock & Stroock & Lavan, a law firm in downtown Manhattan. How did I fall into this line of work? Simple: someone said, \u201cBeing a paralegal is a pretty decent way to earn a living,\u201d and my college friend Roger Kalin worked at S&S&L. Why didn\u2019t I look for a job at a publishing house? Because I worried that my work would be influenced by the manuscripts I\u2019d have to read all day\u2014or, that I\u2019d be so sick of fiction by the time 5\u00a0o\u2019clock rolled around, I wouldn\u2019t want to write any of my own.<\/p>\n
1977-1988<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nSingle in Manhattan (see Old Buddy Old Pal), <\/em>living at 350 West 85th Street. Here I wrote most of my published short stories, and my first (unpublished) novel, The Memoirs of Marian Moon.<\/em><\/p>\n1976-1977<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nThe Writing Seminars at the Johns Hopkins University, Master\u2019s Program. Studying with John Barth, my college idol, I thought again and again, at that seminar table, I can\u2019t believe I\u2019m here. <\/em>Classmates included Frederick Barthelme and Mary Robison. In October, 1976, I wrote \u201cNobody Asks,\u201d the first story I would ever get published, for John Barth\u2019s class. (Tom Wolfe included an anecdote from this class in his essay, \u201cStalking the Billion-Footed Beast.\u201d When novelist Leslie Epstein took over for John Barth in the spring semester, and cited Tolstoy as a master of the novel, he \u201cwas looked upon by his young charges as rather touchingly old-fashioned.\u201d)<\/p>\nWriting Seminars fiction class of 1977 (leaning in from the right)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nJanuary to June, 1976<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWriting ads for a small radio station in Endicott, NY. I also served as the night watchman and weather announcer. Alone each night from 9 pm to 5 am, I biked home at dawn and discovered that every sunrise is different. I can still recite some of those old radio ads. (For a photo finishing shop offering one-day service: an old man receives his long-forgotten snapshots in the mail. \u201cIt\u2019s the wedding pictures! Look, there\u2019s me in my stovepipe hat!\u201d)<\/p>\n
Summer, 1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWhile staying at my aunt\u2019s home in the San Fernando Valley, I revised a screenplay I\u2019d written during my senior year at college, for agent-turned-producer Martin Baum. He never managed to find backers\u2026 but I\u2019ve always wondered whether Porky\u2019s <\/em>and all of the horny-teen comedies that followed were rip-offs of my script, which was awful but similar.<\/p>\n1971-1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nCollege at SUNY Binghamton: remembered with infinite nostalgia. (These are the names I google in the night.) See Old Buddy Old Pal <\/em>for an autobiographical picture of a guy looking back at college from seven years\u2019 distance. The stories have been altered, but the feelings come from life.<\/p>\n<\/a>With my friends<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nSummers, 1971, 1972, 1973<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\nWorking at Mays and Alexander\u2019s, department stores in Queens, as a cashier, camera salesman and record salesman. Glamor!<\/p>\n
1971<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nGraduation from Martin Van Buren H.S. in Queens.<\/p>\n
1967<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nBar mitzvah. The party was held at our garden apartment. My friends and I ran around outside on the lawns.<\/p>\n<\/a>With my beautiful sisters<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1966<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nGraduation from P.S. 186.\u00a0My sixth grade teacher, Mr. Catania, who passed away in 2012, was proud to have served as the model for Mr. Vigoritti in 6-321.<\/em><\/p>\n1955-1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWhen I was one year old, my family moved to 73-69 260th Street, in Glen Oaks, Queens. (See 6-321 <\/em>for a description of the neighborhood and its residents.) My father worked at the main branch of the post office in downtown Brooklyn at night, and also worked part-time at Muller\u2019s Religious Articles in Manhattan, making rosaries (despite our religion: it\u2019s a long story). My mother worked at various part-time jobs, including a stint as a window clerk at the neighborhood OTB, but she was very unhappy there because she hated cigarette smoke.<\/p>\n<\/a>Sick on Halloween, 1958<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1954<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nBorn, in Brooklyn. Our family\u2019s home at the time was an apartment on Navy Walk, in Fort Greene. My mother wanted to name me Paris (her name was Helen), but my sisters intervened, for which I owe them more than I can ever repay.<\/p>\n<\/a>I was better-looking then.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"\u201cALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE MYSELF\u2026\u201d Suddenly I\u2019m tongue-tied. Instead of an essay, I\u2019ll offer you a timeline, with pictures. This should answer the questions you didn\u2019t know you had. The Chronology, Backwards RIGHT NOW 1994 to present Living in Montclair, NJ, with wife Jennifer and children Helen and Alex. Most of my published books were […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":4,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":true,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":true,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":{"0":"post-164","1":"page","2":"type-page","3":"status-publish","5":"entry","6":"has-post-thumbnail"},"featured_image_src":null,"featured_image_src_square":null,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=164"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1020,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164\/revisions\/1020"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=164"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
1984-1991<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nTemp word processing to pay the rent, while writing fiction in my free time. Alienated labor? Yes, but I actually liked most of the people I worked with and for.<\/p>\n
1980-1983<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nPart-time secretary at the Department of Philosophy, Columbia University. The grad students here impressed me tremendously: super-smart, very funny, very appealing. During this period, I lived on $100\/week in Manhattan. Fortunately, the rent on my studio apartment was $225 a month.<\/p>\nAt work, 1982<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1977-1979<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nReal estate paralegal for Stroock & Stroock & Lavan, a law firm in downtown Manhattan. How did I fall into this line of work? Simple: someone said, \u201cBeing a paralegal is a pretty decent way to earn a living,\u201d and my college friend Roger Kalin worked at S&S&L. Why didn\u2019t I look for a job at a publishing house? Because I worried that my work would be influenced by the manuscripts I\u2019d have to read all day\u2014or, that I\u2019d be so sick of fiction by the time 5\u00a0o\u2019clock rolled around, I wouldn\u2019t want to write any of my own.<\/p>\n
1977-1988<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nSingle in Manhattan (see Old Buddy Old Pal), <\/em>living at 350 West 85th Street. Here I wrote most of my published short stories, and my first (unpublished) novel, The Memoirs of Marian Moon.<\/em><\/p>\n1976-1977<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nThe Writing Seminars at the Johns Hopkins University, Master\u2019s Program. Studying with John Barth, my college idol, I thought again and again, at that seminar table, I can\u2019t believe I\u2019m here. <\/em>Classmates included Frederick Barthelme and Mary Robison. In October, 1976, I wrote \u201cNobody Asks,\u201d the first story I would ever get published, for John Barth\u2019s class. (Tom Wolfe included an anecdote from this class in his essay, \u201cStalking the Billion-Footed Beast.\u201d When novelist Leslie Epstein took over for John Barth in the spring semester, and cited Tolstoy as a master of the novel, he \u201cwas looked upon by his young charges as rather touchingly old-fashioned.\u201d)<\/p>\nWriting Seminars fiction class of 1977 (leaning in from the right)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nJanuary to June, 1976<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWriting ads for a small radio station in Endicott, NY. I also served as the night watchman and weather announcer. Alone each night from 9 pm to 5 am, I biked home at dawn and discovered that every sunrise is different. I can still recite some of those old radio ads. (For a photo finishing shop offering one-day service: an old man receives his long-forgotten snapshots in the mail. \u201cIt\u2019s the wedding pictures! Look, there\u2019s me in my stovepipe hat!\u201d)<\/p>\n
Summer, 1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWhile staying at my aunt\u2019s home in the San Fernando Valley, I revised a screenplay I\u2019d written during my senior year at college, for agent-turned-producer Martin Baum. He never managed to find backers\u2026 but I\u2019ve always wondered whether Porky\u2019s <\/em>and all of the horny-teen comedies that followed were rip-offs of my script, which was awful but similar.<\/p>\n1971-1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nCollege at SUNY Binghamton: remembered with infinite nostalgia. (These are the names I google in the night.) See Old Buddy Old Pal <\/em>for an autobiographical picture of a guy looking back at college from seven years\u2019 distance. The stories have been altered, but the feelings come from life.<\/p>\n<\/a>With my friends<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nSummers, 1971, 1972, 1973<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\nWorking at Mays and Alexander\u2019s, department stores in Queens, as a cashier, camera salesman and record salesman. Glamor!<\/p>\n
1971<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nGraduation from Martin Van Buren H.S. in Queens.<\/p>\n
1967<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nBar mitzvah. The party was held at our garden apartment. My friends and I ran around outside on the lawns.<\/p>\n<\/a>With my beautiful sisters<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1966<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nGraduation from P.S. 186.\u00a0My sixth grade teacher, Mr. Catania, who passed away in 2012, was proud to have served as the model for Mr. Vigoritti in 6-321.<\/em><\/p>\n1955-1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nWhen I was one year old, my family moved to 73-69 260th Street, in Glen Oaks, Queens. (See 6-321 <\/em>for a description of the neighborhood and its residents.) My father worked at the main branch of the post office in downtown Brooklyn at night, and also worked part-time at Muller\u2019s Religious Articles in Manhattan, making rosaries (despite our religion: it\u2019s a long story). My mother worked at various part-time jobs, including a stint as a window clerk at the neighborhood OTB, but she was very unhappy there because she hated cigarette smoke.<\/p>\n<\/a>Sick on Halloween, 1958<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n1954<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\nBorn, in Brooklyn. Our family\u2019s home at the time was an apartment on Navy Walk, in Fort Greene. My mother wanted to name me Paris (her name was Helen), but my sisters intervened, for which I owe them more than I can ever repay.<\/p>\n<\/a>I was better-looking then.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"\u201cALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE MYSELF\u2026\u201d Suddenly I\u2019m tongue-tied. Instead of an essay, I\u2019ll offer you a timeline, with pictures. This should answer the questions you didn\u2019t know you had. The Chronology, Backwards RIGHT NOW 1994 to present Living in Montclair, NJ, with wife Jennifer and children Helen and Alex. Most of my published books were […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":4,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":true,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":true,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":{"0":"post-164","1":"page","2":"type-page","3":"status-publish","5":"entry","6":"has-post-thumbnail"},"featured_image_src":null,"featured_image_src_square":null,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=164"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1020,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164\/revisions\/1020"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=164"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
Part-time secretary at the Department of Philosophy, Columbia University. The grad students here impressed me tremendously: super-smart, very funny, very appealing. During this period, I lived on $100\/week in Manhattan. Fortunately, the rent on my studio apartment was $225 a month.<\/p>\n Real estate paralegal for Stroock & Stroock & Lavan, a law firm in downtown Manhattan. How did I fall into this line of work? Simple: someone said, \u201cBeing a paralegal is a pretty decent way to earn a living,\u201d and my college friend Roger Kalin worked at S&S&L. Why didn\u2019t I look for a job at a publishing house? Because I worried that my work would be influenced by the manuscripts I\u2019d have to read all day\u2014or, that I\u2019d be so sick of fiction by the time 5\u00a0o\u2019clock rolled around, I wouldn\u2019t want to write any of my own.<\/p>\n Single in Manhattan (see Old Buddy Old Pal), <\/em>living at 350 West 85th Street. Here I wrote most of my published short stories, and my first (unpublished) novel, The Memoirs of Marian Moon.<\/em><\/p>\n The Writing Seminars at the Johns Hopkins University, Master\u2019s Program. Studying with John Barth, my college idol, I thought again and again, at that seminar table, I can\u2019t believe I\u2019m here. <\/em>Classmates included Frederick Barthelme and Mary Robison. In October, 1976, I wrote \u201cNobody Asks,\u201d the first story I would ever get published, for John Barth\u2019s class. (Tom Wolfe included an anecdote from this class in his essay, \u201cStalking the Billion-Footed Beast.\u201d When novelist Leslie Epstein took over for John Barth in the spring semester, and cited Tolstoy as a master of the novel, he \u201cwas looked upon by his young charges as rather touchingly old-fashioned.\u201d)<\/p>\n Writing ads for a small radio station in Endicott, NY. I also served as the night watchman and weather announcer. Alone each night from 9 pm to 5 am, I biked home at dawn and discovered that every sunrise is different. I can still recite some of those old radio ads. (For a photo finishing shop offering one-day service: an old man receives his long-forgotten snapshots in the mail. \u201cIt\u2019s the wedding pictures! Look, there\u2019s me in my stovepipe hat!\u201d)<\/p>\n While staying at my aunt\u2019s home in the San Fernando Valley, I revised a screenplay I\u2019d written during my senior year at college, for agent-turned-producer Martin Baum. He never managed to find backers\u2026 but I\u2019ve always wondered whether Porky\u2019s <\/em>and all of the horny-teen comedies that followed were rip-offs of my script, which was awful but similar.<\/p>\n College at SUNY Binghamton: remembered with infinite nostalgia. (These are the names I google in the night.) See Old Buddy Old Pal <\/em>for an autobiographical picture of a guy looking back at college from seven years\u2019 distance. The stories have been altered, but the feelings come from life.<\/p>\n Working at Mays and Alexander\u2019s, department stores in Queens, as a cashier, camera salesman and record salesman. Glamor!<\/p>\n Graduation from Martin Van Buren H.S. in Queens.<\/p>\n Bar mitzvah. The party was held at our garden apartment. My friends and I ran around outside on the lawns.<\/p>\n Graduation from P.S. 186.\u00a0My sixth grade teacher, Mr. Catania, who passed away in 2012, was proud to have served as the model for Mr. Vigoritti in 6-321.<\/em><\/p>\n When I was one year old, my family moved to 73-69 260th Street, in Glen Oaks, Queens. (See 6-321 <\/em>for a description of the neighborhood and its residents.) My father worked at the main branch of the post office in downtown Brooklyn at night, and also worked part-time at Muller\u2019s Religious Articles in Manhattan, making rosaries (despite our religion: it\u2019s a long story). My mother worked at various part-time jobs, including a stint as a window clerk at the neighborhood OTB, but she was very unhappy there because she hated cigarette smoke.<\/p>\n Born, in Brooklyn. Our family\u2019s home at the time was an apartment on Navy Walk, in Fort Greene. My mother wanted to name me Paris (her name was Helen), but my sisters intervened, for which I owe them more than I can ever repay.<\/p>\n \u201cALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE MYSELF\u2026\u201d Suddenly I\u2019m tongue-tied. Instead of an essay, I\u2019ll offer you a timeline, with pictures. This should answer the questions you didn\u2019t know you had. The Chronology, Backwards RIGHT NOW 1994 to present Living in Montclair, NJ, with wife Jennifer and children Helen and Alex. Most of my published books were […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":4,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":true,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":true,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":{"0":"post-164","1":"page","2":"type-page","3":"status-publish","5":"entry","6":"has-post-thumbnail"},"featured_image_src":null,"featured_image_src_square":null,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=164"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1020,"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/164\/revisions\/1020"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/michaellaser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=164"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}1977-1979<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n
1977-1988<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n
1976-1977<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n
January to June, 1976<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n
Summer, 1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n
1971-1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n
![\"\"](\"http:\/\/michaellaser.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/02\/5-Gary-Ira.jpg\" "\\"5-Gary-Ira\\"")
<\/a>Summers, 1971, 1972, 1973<\/span><\/em><\/h4>\n
1971<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n
1967<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n
<\/a>1966<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n
1955-1975<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n
<\/a>1954<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n
<\/a>