divine angst

I think style is one of the most nebulous factors of anyone’s writing. It’s difficult to pin down, harder to articulate, and nearly impossible to teach. But all good writers unquestionably display a distinct style. Here’s a discussion of style that seems to capture some of the elusiveness of it.

[Style] emerges when writers are comfortable and proficient with their tools. Style is expressed unconsciously, but shaped consciously, in revision. It is a whispering, not a shouting voice; whether readers discern it depends on their familiarity with the writer and their own skill as readers. The writer himself or herself is aware of it; identifying, developing, and shaping it is one of the main pleasures of the craft.

If you are interested in style, Strunk and White should be on your shelf. But so, too, should be Writing with Style. Yagoda doesn’t mention it, but he should have.

….but at least this time, he said that if the particular piece of writing I shared today did nothing else, it proved at least that I can really write. That’s good to know—I just can’t write an effective personal statement.

Never fear, though, I have plenty of time, and am really only on draft number two. Well, now I’m on draft number three, since draft number two is garbage. Or at least, not personal-statement-worthy writing.

A big part of my problem in writing a statement is that I still feel that I need to explain myself. I’m still mentally excusing myself for the last five years spent “finding myself” when, in reality, I don’t need to say anything at all about them. OK, perhaps I need to acknowledge them, but I don’t need to take more than fifty to one hundred words to detail my disillusionment with what I thought was my chosen career, right? Admissions committees just want to know why I will make a good lawyer—and why I’ll do so now.

So, the five years I’ve been out of school are of no importance except as a learning experience. I don’t need to make excuses for the jobs I’ve held. (Although, I might want to make the titles sounds nicer; it sort of stinks when you work for an employer that considers anyone without several technical certifications to be an “administrative associate.” Seriously. There are pretty much no other titles, even if you do nothing remotely “administrative.”)

What I do need to talk about is why, in particular, law. After all, if I were just bored with my current job, I could take some community college courses and try and do something else. (I’ve done that before, why not again?) And if I just want to get an advanced degree, why a law degree? Surely there are other graduate programs that would be satisfying, right?

But deep down inside me, I really feel drawn to law. I don’t think I’d be fulfilled in an MFA Writing program; I’m almost positive the people in any theatre graduate program would drive me batty. I don’t want to have to learn any languages or take any remedial undergraduate coursework—I want to move forward and learn new things, rather than looking backwards or sideways and playing catch-up.

Why law? I keep coming back to this question, and I think I’m finally starting to articulate it with some success.

Thusly, my reasons for law are twofold:

1. Learning the law, legal practice, and legal scholarship all serve the greater good. Yes, yes, there are slick, shady lawyers who are only out to make the money, but law, as a discipline, inherently serves the public. You can serve the public by being someone’s attorney and writing out contracts, wills, estates, and other defining documents; you can serve the public by representing an accused person; you can represent the public by prosecuting criminals. You can serve the public by simply practicing law and helping society to refine the fabric of our lives. (I don’t mean cotton, of course.) So, I am drawn to law because I like that it is a discipline that actually matters—it has an effect on everyone.
2. The study of law, and law as a discipline, is intellectual. It requires a brain. You need to be able to read critically, write clearly, edit precisely, and argue effectively. While I am sure there are law practices where you really can just phone it in, I suspect most lawyers do a lot of learning for the rest of their lives. (I know for a fact that most must complete continuing legal education classes yearly.) To be a good lawyer, you really should possess a mature intellect, and be interested in continuing to expand your knowledge. Law is a constant education, and requires a willingness to constantly be educated.

So. There are my reasons for law. On to the personal statement.

I had my wisdom teeth out today. I had an eye exam last week. I am fully prepared to have any other major medical and dental work needed done within the next twelve months while I still have good insurance. My medical insurance is so good that they covered my wisdom teeth, since they were “complete bony impactions.” This rocks. Unfortunately, I had to get a special referral for it, so I have to wait for a reimbursement for at least a portion of the cost from the oral surgeon, once his office submits the claim. Hopefully it will be quick.

Meanwhile, my husband has discovered a really excellent grad program for him in Boston. I planned to apply to Harvard anyway, just for a lark, but now I’ll probably consider BU, BC, and Northeastern as a sort-of safety, also. Likewise, NC State seems to have a good program for him, so add UNC and Duke to that list. The Research Triangle could be a good location, since my in-laws are there, and we could have lots of good, free meals, as well as the possibility of child care at some point. Husband isn’t so jazzed about the Triangle for that very reason—his parents moved there, and since then, his brother and his wife have also. Husband seems to think moving there would be a sort of capitulation. It confuses me sometimes, but I’m pretty willing to go anywhere as long as there’s a good law school nearby, so I don’t let it get to me.

My list of eight has now grown to thirteen. I’m going to have to wait to decide on some of these until I get my LSAT back and can see if I qualify for any fee waivers. I’m not sure I can afford to apply out of pocket to thirteen law schools. I’m also not sure that applying to thirteen isn’t bad luck, which means I might need to add another just to get a better total. (After all, fourteen is twice seven, and seven is a very mystical number, as well as being a prime. Just go read the Bible if you don’t believe the first assertion. Seven is HUGE in Revelation. And we all remember that movie, Se7en. Creepy.)

For instance, the whole discussion below about children in law school. After all, it’s a bit premature to consider what will happen when I’m in law school when I am not yet accepted anywhere. I think where I get accepted will have as much influence on what decision is made on that front as my biological clock will. (Ref. the discussion of commuting issues. If either I or my husband has to commute a great distance because our campuses are not close, kids may not happen when I want them to.)

Anyway, this post was supposed to be about how excited I am getting about the prospect of not only being in school, but also how excited I am that I discovered law. “Discovered”—like I made it up or something. What I mean is that in all of my searching for something that I ‘d really enjoy as a profession, I can’t help but wonder how I missed law all along.

One of my majors in college was religion, and probably my absolute favorite class was Philosophy of Religion. Now, this had at least something to do with my prof—we were all pretty sure he grew pot in his backyard, and he had a side business weaving shawls and throws and other pieces of fabric (lovely, actually). He used to sit in the lotus position on the table at the front of the classroom. He was a trip—and also completely brilliant, of course.

The real reason I loved that class, though, was because it was such a marvelous mental exercise. I never really enjoyed pure philosophy but, then, I never really had a good prof. Maybe I would have been a great philosopher. There’s something sort of thrilling about reading something and then letting your mind take it on an imaginative tangent, searching for deeper meanings. This is also why I really enjoy Jewish parables—same deal. (I also really like the concept that, in Judaism, arguing with God is almost a mandate. That’s the kind of God I can get behind.)

Anyway, the more I delve into “law” as a subject of study, as well as the process of law, the study of law, the writing of law, the more excited I get. And that’s as clear a sign to me as any that this is the path for me. It’s nice, after two years of experiencing a growing anomie, to finally see a light at the end of the tunnel. It’s also even more thrilling to realize it’s not all that odd for me to be attracted to law—it actually makes a lot of sense. If only I’d known what the study of law was all about before my mid-to-late twenties.

“What good are lawyers if they can’t jump through hoops for you?”

With all my questions about having kids in law school, it seems I forgot that my own (single) mother not only worked full time while raising my brother and I, but also completed bachelor’s and master’s degrees. It only took her an extra two or so years than if she’d gone daytime and not worked, which means she never took fewer than 9 hours a semester. And you know what? I never felt neglected. I respect my mother so much for doing what was important and necessary for her happiness, rather than doing what was easy.

So I’ve been reading lots of discussion boards where non-parents talk about how impossible it must be to have a child while in school, and how anyone who considers it is nuts. There’s a sort of blanket denial that having kids while in school is possible, or desireable. When I come across these opinions (and I mean the obstinate, “no way” ones, not the reasonable, “consider the implications” ones) I try to remember my mom and how strong she was. And then I remind myself that there will never be a “right time” to have kids. After all, if we try now, for instance, we’ll have a newborn when we start and my 1L year will go down the toilet; if we try while we’re in school, well, we’ll be in school; if we try after we’re both out, we’ll have to deal with the implications to my career. None of these options sound great!

I think the reason the middle option seems most desirable is that, at least while we’re in school, we’ll have more “flexible” time than when we are working. Our scheduled time will be minimal—classtime, essentially. The rest of the day is flexible—we can fit study time into slots between childcare and family time, meals, naps, and errands. We can schedule our classes to be offset, so one of us is always home. Not only will we not have to put our child in daycare as an infant, but also we’ll both get to really dive into being new parents. I don’t want to be the only parent that experiences all the baby firsts—I want my husband to have that, too.

The woman I had lunch with yesterday had her child right before finals, first semester of 3L. She found out early enough that she took a full course load that summer and only had a few credits to complete in her final semester. She said she felt almost like a stay-at-home mom at times. And then she encouraged me not to close the door on starting a family while in school. It can be done.

I know there are lots of other law students who are or have been in this situation—Harvard even has a student organization for parents and would-be parents. So I want to hear from more people who have done it or know people who have done it, and how it affected their grades and personal life.

One of my big concerns about going to law school involves children. I’ll admit it, my biological clock is ticking. I’ve never really thought of myself as the kind of person to be a stay-at-home mom, but I do want kids. And I’d honestly rather have them sooner than later.

So my hairbrained law school urge sort of throws a big monkey wrench into the whole idea of having kids. Is it wise to have a child while in law school? I can only imagine the impact on my career if I try to have a child as a first-year associate, at any firm. How long will we have put off having a family?

It’s not that I mind waiting until the time is right, it’s that I’m afraid of waiting too long. I’m afraid if we keep saying, “oh no, next year,” that we’ll look up and find ourselves approaching forty, without ever deciding to just go for it.

This is part of the reason I find transmogriflaw so interesting. And that lunch I had today? She also had a child while in law school. Obviously people are taking the plunge—but how scary it must be! I have all sorts of other questions that relate, too. For instance, I guess it’s not so difficult to be a student and have a child, since your time is a little freer, but what about after school? If you don’t live near family, who takes care of the children? I really hate the idea of day care—too many bad memories—but how else can both parents have careers? With student loans to pay off, how can you not work for several years? These are all the questions that plague me, even as I start to become more and more certain we’ll probably start our family while we’re in school.

I know there aren’t any easy answers, and I know that the answers vary for each person. Still, I’m curious and interested to know what other people think, what they’d do or have done.

In order to satisfy that inner beast of mine, I have established a lovely Excel spreadsheet schedule of LSAT study. In doing so, I discovered that my frugal resistance to buying all three sets of previously administered LSATs is a problem. I bought two. I really need the third one to have enough tests to study.

I have exactly (from today!) two months to beat Logic Games into submission, and relearn what I thought was an innate ability to be stress-free during timed, standardized exams.

Many thanks to engilaw and janine for their criticisms of the LGBible. I have tried to ignore the timing warnings—much like I’ve refused to learn their handy trademarked names for game categories—but apparently some of it seeped into the gray matter. It’s time to begin a course of innoculation.

This week, I begin working logic games sections, untimed. My husband will time me only to see how long it takes me to get through one without any pressure. Next week, if I feel up to it, I start working backwards towards the 35 minute mark. I plan to break the monotony of games by also reviewing logical reasoning, which I have no real problem with, but no point in not trying to increase my performance there, and reading comprehension, which I have no problem with, unless the passage is absolutely nonsensical (as was one in last weekend’s test, urgh).

And I am working on my personal statement. Having lunch tomorrow with a lawyer my writing prof had as a student many years ago—he thinks we have similar sensibilities, and that I could gain much from chatting with her. Maybe I’ll gain some profound insight from speaking with her. Maybe I’ll just stop fretting about things so much.