This is Steve Epstein's seventh guest post on Extreme Punishment: The Chilling True Story of Acclaimed Law Professor Dan Markel’s Murder.
The following is an excerpt from Chapter 8, Ivory Tower:
Apart from Ben and Lincoln, there was nothing Dan found more enthralling than thinking through his ideas and expressing them in writing, a craft he honed like a finely tuned instrument. Yet the process of transforming those ideas into polished articles was tedious, hard work. Dan would save his drafts like versions of a computer program, his first always version 1.0, his tenth 2.0, and so on. By his own admission in a PrawfsBlawg post, his first fifty or so drafts were “typically drenched with shame and marinated in self-disgust.” It wasn’t uncommon for his articles to reach version 10.0 or higher—meaning one hundred or more drafts—before he considered them worthy of serious scholarly attention.
In addition to posting his “shitty first drafts” on PrawfsBlawg, Dan would send more mature versions to numerous faculty friends—Prawfs and non-Prawfs alike—seeking their input and suggestions. His emails would always end with an affectionate, over-the-top closing, “Love and kisses” and “xoxo” the most common. If he didn’t hear back after a week or so, he’d send an email reminder, bluntly explaining that he expected a response. And if a reply still wasn’t forthcoming, he’d email again—and again and again—badgering his colleagues until they finally offered their written feedback, if only to get him off their backs.
Though some found Dan’s relentless hounding annoying and overbearing, his friends were well aware of his eagerness to return the favor with their drafts. Dan relished the opportunity to improve his colleagues’ written work, a task he took on more often, and with greater thoroughness, than just about any member of the academy.
His incessant back-and-forth with other professors over their respective writing led to an epiphany, that a live forum was needed for emerging scholars—particularly those looking to lateral their way to more elite schools—at which they could critique one another’s drafts and work collectively to improve them. Which is how Prawfsfest! was born. The in-person PrawfsBlawg spinoff, spearheaded exclusively by Dan, was a twice-per-year, two-day workshop that took place at host law schools, restricted to about a dozen Prawfs at each, with specialties running the gamut from constitutional law to tax law. The group would discuss each participant’s draft article for about an hour, the professors working their way around the table until each had provided input. Though the cast of characters—and legal topics—would change from one “P-fest” to the next, Dan was the one constant.
What transpired during these intimate gatherings is what Dan referred to as his “cocaine”—a potent cocktail of intellectual stimulation and pure, unadulterated joy he’d experience while the group worked in common purpose to improve each other’s analysis and exposition. Each day would conclude with dinner at a swanky restaurant—paid for by the host school—where the libations flowed freely. The social connections forged through the workshops were nearly as important as the scholarly mission bringing the professors together.
Dan established several rules for Prawfsfest! he expected participants to follow. The first was that each needed to thoroughly read the ten or so drafts up for discussion before arriving at the host school. Another was that authors weren’t permitted to say a word about their own drafts—as the primary goal was for them to absorb their colleagues’ feedback, not regurgitate their arguments or defend their reasoning. A third rule was that Dan would provide his feedback last, as it was always extensive, and as P-fest’s founder, he felt entitled to have the last word.
The final and most important rule was one Dan labeled with sexual terminology: “no foreplay.” By which he meant that comments weren’t to be watered down with prefatory statements such as “this isn’t my area of expertise” or “this may seem trivial.” And also, that idle praise for the author’s arguments, analysis, or writing style—which Dan considered an utter waste of time—was strictly prohibited. After all, the goal wasn’t to make love to the authors, but rather, to help them improve what they had to say.
Above all else, Dan Markel was about community—which was the genesis of PrawfsBlawg in the first place. Important as it was, however, an electronic, virtual community hardly substituted for the in-person, social connection Dan craved. Though time with his boys was more important to him than anything, Prawfsfest! was truly Dan’s happy place, and what he looked forward to more than any other days on his calendar.
Comments