Jeff Nichols - Trainwreck: My Life as an Idoit

I spent years trying to get this memoir published. It is an understatement to say that this book was not originally embraced by the New York literary community. Hoping to be the toast of the town, I was basically told to go out and purchase a shredder.

I recall one literary agent suggesting that I give it an old-fashioned burial at sea. Another told a friend of mine that I should rename the book My Life as an Idoit. I loved that and immediately added it to the title.

At one point, trying to capitalize/exploit the learning-disabled industry/marketplace, I tried to make it purely a self-help book for the learning disabled called The Little Yellow Bus. In many ways I still believe this book is useful for the LD person. Granted, I am not a doctor, lawyer, or CEO of a Fortune 500 company, and, as one friend sarcastically but astutely points out, in my life I have overcome very little to accomplish nothing. While his opinion may have some merit, I disagree. I may have had a combined score of 480 on the SAT, but I did manage to pass the US Merchant Marine captains exam, which was an accomplishment, considering that many people (over 50 percent) fail it the first time they take it. I have also been paid for close to one hundred articles in various publications, including Penthouse, The Fisherman magazine, and the New York Post. Also, despite my often guttural and slurred speech, I did manage to make a modest living as a stand-up comedian for twelve years and was an opening act for many top national draws.

The problem with the self-help book angle was that I basically wrote my horrific story and then just lifted a bunch of AA slogans and stuck them at the end, suggesting, for example, that learning-disabled people take one day at a time and that they should give time time. My weak effort was obviously transparent. Since then, I believe I have given the story more thought and effort.

I went on to write it as I really saw it, as a lighthearted comedy, and some people have told me that the book is one of the funniest things they have read in a while. Others found it too episodic and disturbing. I battled so long with agents who often bit but did not commit, that I decided to publish it myself, if only for vanitys sake.

This memoir somehow, someway, made it into the hands of one of the top independent film companies in the country, This Is That Productions, which has made films such as The Savages, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, 21 Grams, and Friends with Money. Eventually a movie was made based on this book starring Seann William Scott (Stifler of the American Pie flicks), Gretchen Mol (The Notorious Bettie Page), and Jeff Garlin (Curb Your Enthusiasm).

I enjoyed many aspects of the film. Some of the scenes were powerful and insightful. Difficult subjects and themes like parental enabling (a subject that I took lightly, if not mocked, in this book) were illuminated and seriously explored in the film. I say bravo to that. I think the director and screenwriter, Tod Williams, did a fine job interpreting my work. He is a talented man and did more or less what he wanted to do. (I can only imagine how difficult it is to make a movie.) The fact of the matter is that festival audiences from Seattle to Michigan to New York liked the movie as did Variety magazine.

But I do believe that some of the, if I may, flat-out balls-to-the-wall humor and spirit in which I wrote the memoir simply did not make it into the film. So here it is. Thank you for reading it, and let me know what you think. Jeffnichols65@yahoo.com.

G rowing up, I had severe learning disabilities like dyslexia and attention deficit disorder way before they were buzzwords. I could not read or write until the seventh grade. I had a speech impediment and what was mentioned as possibly a mild case of Tourettes syndrome. Mention Tourettes and everybody has an image of a madman screaming cunt motherfucker! in a crowded movie theater. As with all learning disabilities, there is no one conclusive test that confirms Tourettes. A diagnosis of various symptoms is made over time. On one of my many doctor trips over the years one of them noticed a conspicuous shoulder tic that I had had for about a year and linked that with some involuntary hand clapping and head scratching I experienced from time to time. He wanted to know if I had ever been diagnosed with Tourettes. Of course, I was horrified at the suggestion. At the time there was no formal diagnosis, but he suggested we watch the symptoms closely. Since then there still has been no formal diagnosis of Tourettes. More on this later.

In any case, I couldnt manage to break free from the confines of special education until somehow, with help from CliffsNotes, I made it through the respected Hobart College in upstate New York. I graduated with a BA in English as well as a serious addiction to drugs and alcohol. The amount of drugs and alcohol consumed by students at Hobart in the mid-80s was massive and is probably worthy of a study of its own. Really. My own intake of cheap keg beer coupled with dangerous drugs left me virtually unemployable (classic burnout).

I come from what many would consider a privileged background. My mothers family was once a large landowner in England, and at one point my grandfathers wool company was one of the largest on the East Coast. But privileged is probably not the right word; my grandfather was certainly a wealthy man and were not starving by any means, but my sister and I did not have a lot of perks, considering our Park Avenue address. My sister, Jenny, used to profess that she was the poorest kid at Kent (a prestigious prep school in Connecticut). After all, for some time we were primarily living off my fathers modest income as a magazine editor and writer, but then, rent on Park Avenue for a three-bedroom apartment was only $500. One must remember that it was the 1970s and people were not exactly clamoring to live in Manhattan as they do now. In fact, I believe it was the opposite. While it was a cultural center and the financial capital of the world, the crime rate was simply too high to attract people who wanted to raise families.