A Cold Email Got Me My Job—and an Afternoon with Gay Talese

I guess it's a bit like what we've done in forums over the years - writing to strangers, although in our case we don't necessarily know who they are.

Big Al

Great story. I remember I wrote to a history professor who co-authored the text we used in my high school Western European History class. After we studied some period or another I wrote to the professor with some question or theory, I think about Oliver Cromwell. To my total surprise, Professor Wolff wrote back. I remember how thrilled I was.

https://hollisarchives.lib.har...es/4/resources/11685

I think I may still have that letter stashed away. I wonder if I should donate it to the archives...

I got to meet Gay Talese about ten years ago at a fundraiser for a writer's colony. A friend of mine was on the board, I was sitting at her table, and when I saw that Talese was the featured speaker I whispered to her that his work was what got me into journalism. She said, "I'll introduce you!"

She dragged me up to the podium after Talese had finished his remarks, and he smiled quite genially as she said, "I want you to meet my friend Perri, a great admirer of yours."

I proceded to thoroughly embarrass myself gushing about how his books had so resonated with me, that I knew that what he was doing was what I wanted to do. He was very kind and gracious, and I thought I would throw up from red-faced embarrassment as we headed back to our table and my friend said I did fine, that he loved hearing that.

If I'd read this story first, I might have asked him to have coffee with me the next day! Wow, that is so accessible!

The other literary lion that I consider a role model and hero is John McPhee. I had gotten one of my very first magazine assignments to write about pre-colonial Manhattan for a travel magazine. One of my sources, the curator at the Museum of the American Indian, which was then in the Bronx, told me that I should interview McPhee, because he knew more than anyone on the subject.

So I wrote him a letter care of The New Yorker. He wrote back to say that the curator was mistaken, he knew very little about the topic, but it was a subject he himself was fascinated by, and would I please send him my article when it came out.

I was too abashed to ever send it. A great mistake. But I still have his letter, on New Yorker letterhead. A cherished possession.

The only other time I wrote to a writer I admired was an email to the author of "A Winter's Tale"--Mark Helprin. I had spent the winter I was laid up with major knee surgery reading this book (a recommendation from Grotriman, btw), and it has so enthralled me, I felt I had to reach out to him. I had never written a fan letter to an author before, and I was dismayed to find that Helprin wasn't interested in being contacted--there was no contact form on his web site. So I sent the email care of his webmaster.

To my amazement he wrote back a lovely reply, and we embarked on an extended correspondence. He also took the initiative to buy a copy of Grand Obsession, and sent me a heartfelt review. It turned out he, too, had fallen in love with a Grotrian grand piano, and had it in his writing studio!

I believe that when people resonate to the same things, it is pretty much across the board. Grotriman also got the same piano I did, which led to us meeting, which led to him recommending Helprin's book, which led to the discovery that Helprin also had "our" piano. A perfect circle if you will.

Helprin offered me a standing invitation to meet him for dinner next time I am in DC. Don't know when that will ever be, but wow!

I think what this all comes down to is, listen to those little voices inside you, follow and trust your intuition. Magic happens.

Great article, and stories from wtg and pique'!

The only cold letter I wrote was as a naive high schooler, already enthralled with modern music, to two prominent composers (Otto Leuning and Vladimir Ussachevsky) who ran the electronic tape music studio at Columbia University in the 60s (tape music was new technology then).

I gushed about the music I was doing and the odd student ensemble I had formed, which somehow included a theorbo and a jew's-harp.

I never got a reply to that letter.

But a couple of years ago, New York friends began telling me, "Hey, your letter is on exhibit at the NY Performing Arts Library." And so indeed, I went to Lincoln Center in disbelief (I'd totally forgotten what letter they might be talking about.)

And there it was, behind glass in a display case, typewritten on cheap paper. Beside it was a little card stating that it was written by Joseph Kubera, who has been "for many years a prominent pianist in the new-music world." Or some such language.

I wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed or feeling nice to be featured that way!

quote:

Originally posted by RealPlayer:
Great article, and stories from wtg and pique'!

The only cold letter I wrote was as a naive high schooler, already enthralled with modern music, to two prominent composers (Otto Leuning and Vladimir Ussachevsky) who ran the electronic tape music studio at Columbia University in the 60s (tape music was new technology then).

I gushed about the music I was doing and the odd student ensemble I had formed, which somehow included a theorbo and a jew's-harp.

I never got a reply to that letter.

But a couple of years ago, New York friends began telling me, "Hey, your letter is on exhibit at the NY Performing Arts Library." And so indeed, I went to Lincoln Center in disbelief (I'd totally forgotten what letter they might be talking about.)

And there it was, behind glass in a display case, typewritten on cheap paper. Beside it was a little card stating that it was written by Joseph Kubera, who has been "for many years a prominent pianist in the new-music world." Or some such language.

I wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed or feeling nice to be featured that way!

oh, god. they are supposed to either ask permission or wait until you are dead! i would be pissed and probably embarrassed. (and then maybe decide to be pleased.)

quote:

Originally posted by piqué:

oh, god. they are supposed to either ask permission or wait until you are dead! i would be pissed and probably embarrassed. (and then maybe decide to be pleased.)

"Ask for forgiveness, not permission" seems to be the operational phrase today.

Those are great stories. Once again I am impressed by WTFers.

When I was on the faculty of Northwest Missouri State University. (The "university label was stretching it) I wrote a cold letter to a Missouri Supreme Court judge.
Got him to drive the four hours from Jefferson City to speak to my classes. I was thrilled and my stock in the department went up.
Seriously doubt I could do that again.

When I was a junior high school I rode to school in my friend’s Mercedes 220 sedan. I was really impressed with that car, especially how quiet it was.

My friend had a business card with the dealership mechanic’s name on it and I wrote to him to tell him how much I liked the car. He sent a very nice letter back, telling me how much he enjoyed working on Mercedes cars, especially ones as nice as my friend’s. He also sent a brochure showing all of the various models and features.

Pictures from that brochure hung on my bedroom wall for years.