Unplanned Departure: A Writer's Unexpected Turn

If you really want to know more about my life, I would tell you, but I don’t really feel like getting into it. Besides, there are people who have hell of a story to tell unlike me. I’ll just tell you about this surprising call I got one day and how I decided to leave Columbia University. Columbia University is one of those Ivy League schools. It’s in New York City, in case you never heard of it.

Anyway, I’m trying to get my writing degree. I just want to become a famous writer in the future. I mean, this is what I told Doris, and she’s my older sister and all.

1. Professor Whit Burnett was the professor for the short stories class I signed up for.
2. He was about the best teacher I’ve ever had. He was pretty much the same age as my dad. He was quite old, but smart as hell. He had a good sense of humor too.
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   He didn’t give a damn about whether you showed up to his class or not, but I went to every single class anyway. I didn’t use to when I was still a student at New York University.

3. He taught pretty well. He also got a lot of dough too. I mean being a professor and all. Anyway, he knew I had some sort of talent for writing short stories, because he used to be a writer. I mean that was what he said.
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   He said if I want to, I could write some short stories for his publication company, Story.

4. He was an editor there.
5. You’ve probably heard of it if you lived near New York City. Well at least, you probably seen its magazines being sold at the streets. It was pretty damn famous. I turned in my short story to Story a while back. I named my work, The Young Folks.
6. I worked pretty hard on it.

It was one thing to do an assignment for lousy subjects like calculus or like US history, but it was another to work on a writing assignment. It had more freedom. You could write whatever. Anyway, I talked about these two partygoers and pretty much about how shallow college parties were. I got my inspiration just being at Columbia. Most people around here are just bunch of crooks. I mean quite of few of them came from wealthy families. Attending an expensive school like Columbia, you start to notice how there are so many crooks in this world - I’m not joking. Anyway, it was January and all, and it was right after my twenty-first birthday.7 I’ve been waiting for what’s going to happen to my short story. I mean I was standing in front of the phone booth, which was right around the corner of my school. I’ve been waiting all day for a call.

Then the phone rang. It just rang. Boy, was I scared, but I had to pick it up sooner or later. “Hello?” I slowed down when I spoke so that she wouldn’t be able to tell I was nervous. “This is the Story magazine publishing company,” she asked. “Is this Mr. Salinger?” “Yes, that is me. How are you doing?” “I’m doing pretty well. Thanks for asking,” she had a pleasant voice. “I just want to let you know that your short story have been selected to be published in the March to April issue of the Story magazine. Take care now,” she hanged up abruptly. Very big deal. This killed me. I mean this was pretty much my first step to the world of writing. I sure damn had to tell someone about my good news. I thought of calling Doris, but then I realized my professor would be a better option. He was perfect. I mean it was pretty late to call my professor up, but I didn’t care. I just had to tell someone. I grabbed the phone and dialed his number. I probably woke he and his wife up, because it took them some time to answer the phone. “Who’s this?” he yelled. “For God’s sake! Do you know what time it is?” “Sir, this is Jerome-” “Salinger? I mean for chrissake, it’s already past midnight. Do you need something, boy? If not, I would suggest you to hNo ang up so that both of us can get a good night sleep,” he was definitely not in a good mood. I mean I don’t blame him. “Yes, I know. The thing is, I just got a phone call from the Story magazine, and they’d agreed to publish my short story. I mean I think it’s gonna be huge.” “Wow! That’s great news. My wife and I are trying to get some sleep though. Anyway, we can talk about it more tomorrow. It’s late. Take care willya?” “I will. Goodnight now,” I hanged up.

Well, I didn’t expect any of this to happen. I always wanted to become a writer. Like a famous writer, if you know what I mean. I felt like this was a perfect opportunity for me to start gaining some fame. I couldn’t stay in school. All of the sudden, I thought of getting the hell out of Columbia.8 I mean, why the hell not? I ran back into my dorm room. I dumped my clothes in my bags. I tried to not wake up my roommate and stepped out of the room. I then headed toward the nearest train station. As soon as I got to the station, I bought a ticket. Then, I got on the train. I was the only passenger in the train. I sat down, dropped off my bags, and I looked out the glass window. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I know I was going to figure something out, and I was sure as hell that I was not going to regret anything.