Somewhere along the line some evil person invented computers, then laptops. And somewhere long the line, in maybe my twentieth or thirtieth move, the typewriter didn't make the cut.
I spent so many years using cheap, used laptops (all I could afford without selling one of my kids), which were always breaking down just at the worst time - for example the time I was alone at our little cottage in the woods for three days to write.
One magical day, I finally got my first novel Old City Hall, published. At last, I could afford a laptop that works. But I still miss that old portable typewriter, my silent, steady friend on this strange, solo journey for so many years.
When I first read that you were both an attorney and a writer, I admit that I visualized a corporate lawyer who's grown fat and is now dabbling in the arts. I couldn't have been more off-base. At least at the beginning, you were a reluctant practitioner of the law. Is that a fair assessment?
Cue up the song: 'I Fought The Law and The Law Won.'
After I graduated from the University of Toronto, it was pretty obvious what I was going to do. I took a year off to drive cab, hang out and write a great novel. Two out of three aint bad, nor does it a novel make.
A year later, I was in law school. My hair down to my shoulders, surrounded by all these people who wanted to make a lot of money. By the end of the first week I realized the only way I'd survive it was to head to the student legal clinic and start doing pro-bono criminal cases, which I did for three years. Once in a while, I dropped in on the other classes. The first law exam I ever wrote was in criminal law. I decided to write the whole thing as a Raymond Chandler novel, half hoping I'd be kicked out. Instead, for years after, the professor read it out to his classes first day as the only original paper he'd ever seen.
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