James Franco, the exceptionally accomplished and admired star of "Milk," "Pineapple Express," and "Howl," among other films, has just published his first story collection, "Palo Alto." It's a poignant work, set in the suburb where he grew up, and centered around the theme of teen angst. Franco has long written in private, but the first time he showed his work to anyone was five years ago, when he began taking creative-writing classes in Los Angeles. He studied there and in New York over the next several years (sometimes with the paparazzi: remember this photo of him sleeping in class?). The guidance was just what he needed: “Once I started enrolling in writing workshops and had people reading my work, it immediately gave me a new perspective,” Franco told me. “I was suddenly writing to communicate with others, which made all the difference. I no longer cut corners. I could no longer judge my work by its potential. Instead, I had to listen to how it was being perceived by others. I could no longer fool myself in isolation.”
I talked to Franco about his collection, why work is so important to him, and how to enjoy life. (Full disclosure: before coming to The New Yorker, I was at Scribner, Franco's publisher, and was there when his book was acquired but never worked on it.) An edited version of our conversation appears below.
Our culture is full of stories of teen angst that have become classics: “Portnoy’s Complaint,” “The Catcher in the Rye,”“The Breakfast Club,” “Heathers,” “My So-Called Life.” What do you think it is about this theme that’s so intriguing?
It’s intriguing because everyone goes through this period. All the projects you cited more or less deal with school, at least in the background. There are many formative experiences at this age, and people can relate to this period of discovery very easily. The great thing about writing about teen-agers is that you get to deal with the big issues in simple terms. Teen-agers have feelings as deep as adults but they don't always know how to express them or deal with them. Actually, when you are a teen-ager it often seems like you feel more; your emotions go to extremes that you never reach again as you get older. Of course, these heightened emotions are often triggered by puberty or by new experiences or by ignorance of everything that life has to offer. If all you know is the city you grew up in, and the people in that city, it can seem like those people are the whole world, and if something goes awry or goes well in that world it seems like a huge event.
_Your stories, and the characters that inhabit them, are quite brooding, but that doesn’t stop a reader from being pulled in. Where, or with whom, do you think the reader’s sympathies lie?
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They’re not the happiest characters, but they’re not supposed to be examples of soulless youth. They’re misguided, or lost. They have been short-changed in a lot of ways, even though they’re in one of the nicest suburbs in the country. The books and movies that they have been given to read are not the best, but some of them wouldn’t appreciate the best even if it was given to them. I guess what I mean is that I don’t want this to be a sociological exposé of lost youth. I know that many of the stories are dark, with a focus on disaffected youth, and I know that there are tons of teen-agers that are not like these characters and plenty of experiences in high school that I didn’t touch on. But I narrowed my focus to create a suffocating atmosphere. Even if all these events might not happen to everyone in high school, I think that the accumulation of the stories creates a tone that approximates the intensity of being in high school. I think we all feel that intensity, even after we have grown, but we learn to ignore it or avoid it. I think readers can sympathize with most of the feelings in the book even if they can’t sympathize with all of the characters or everything they do.
In the story “Killing Animals,” you write, “Nicole broke my heart....It was 4th grade, but it was still a big deal. I mean, when are things supposed to start mattering?” Some of the pain of being an adolescent certainly comes from the sense of not being taken seriously. At what point in life do you think this eases somewhat?
The sad thing, at least for me, is that I have had to stop caring about some things, at least so intensely. One of the reasons I work so hard is that it is something that I can control. It’s hard for me to control how other people feel about me, or my work, but I can control how devoted I am to my work and the people in my life. Part of relaxing in life is letting go of expectations. When I was younger I dreamed big, about everything, and I was often disappointed. I learned that I had to just love what I did and let that be enough. I also learned that if I work with people I look up to it would make the work process even more enjoyable.
I think people start enjoying life more when they are engaged with activities that they love. When we’re young, we’re put through so many paces and pushed to do things that we don’t have any passion for. Once you get older, there is often more of a choice to pursue what you love. That usually makes things a little better.
Judd Apatow recently told the Book Bench that you read Freud on the set of “Freaks & Geeks.” How would you make the transition from Freud’s world to Daniel Desario’s, your character on that show?
If I know a character, like Daniel, then I can read during lighting set-ups without worrying about losing him. Apatow and Seth Rogen go for a more relaxed approach anyway. If I hadn’t been reading on set, I would have been telling jokes with them. There is so much downtime on TV and film sets, so actors need to figure out something to do with their time—we’re talking about hours every day. I’ve taught myself to read in noisy places. I find it more productive than playing video games in my trailer. But sometimes I do that too.
Of all the roles you’ve played, which helped you the most in writing “Palo Alto”?
I guess you could say “Freaks and Geeks” helped because it took place in high school, but not really. These characters are different, the tone is different. I think I approach writing as an actor, but not through any single role I’ve played. I try to get into the heads of the characters, especially when I’m writing dialogue; I’m used to doing this as an actor and I use it in my writing.
_What was the first book you read that affected you in a big way?
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“As I Lay Dying,” no doubt. My father gave it to me when I was about fourteen or fifteen. I read it twice in a row. I love the structure, the different voices, and the contrast between the characters’ inner voices and when they speak out loud.
_You’ve surrounded yourself with wonderful teachers and mentors, including your mother, who’s a children’s book writer. What’s the best writing/publishing advice you’ve acquired?
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Hmmm. I suppose it’s finding good mentors and good readers; people who will give you a good sense of what you’ve written, because you can’t always assess it on your own. This is especially true for newer writers.
_Susan Orlean recently wrote about the “quirks”—specific writing utensils, rooms, workspaces, and clothing—that writers rely on. Have you found yourself with any such fixations?
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I write on a laptop. I like music, all types. I can’t have friends around because I’ll want to talk to them. I can write in public, but not if there is a big distraction. Cafés and libraries are perfect. I can wear any kind of clothing.
_What’s next? Do you think you’ll ever write a memoir?
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I’m working on a couple new books. I don’t think I can write a memoir. I’ve found that it’s easier to write fiction about subjects that I am familiar with rather than tell my life story as non-fiction. I suppose one of the reasons I became an actor was to avoid being me all the time. But maybe when I’m older.
(Photograph: Mark Abrahams)
