In Her Defense--Breaking Up Is Hard to Do!

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Right now, I am doing two things at once. One, I am worrying about the snow. (Are you all okay?)

Two, I am singing “come-a come-a down, doobie doo down down,” over and over, in my head. Thank you, Amy Impellizzeri.

(If you don’t know that song, lucky you, because the people who do have the ear worm now. Sorry, Reds and readers. (Look up Breaking Up Hard to Do by Neil Sedaka. Described in 1962 by AllMusic as “Two minutes and sixteen seconds of pure pop magic.”) Anyway.)

Amy Impellizzeri? Is one of the most amazingly innovative and energetic and talented people I know. She moves at a non-stop pace, writing best-selling fiction and non-fiction, being a leader at the Tall Poppies, doing TV book reviews on network TV, and generally being a fabulous person. You can see more in her bio, below.

Question for you: if you have a job that identifies who you are, what happens when you leave it? The fabulous Amy has been there, done that…and succeeded wildly. And she’s here to tell us how.

AND: a copy of her brand new IN HER DEFENSE (notice the shoes!) to one lucky commenter!


Breaking Up
    by Amy Impellizzeri


“I took a one year sabbatical from my New York City law career over a decade ago. And I’m still on it.”

I often start conversations with new friends this way. It’s my way of making light of a big transition, the after-effects of which continue to flare up on me even now.

I started out my professional life with only one goal: to be a lawyer. And then I continued my professional life with one more goal: make it to the top. When I got an offer to join the Mass Torts Litigation Department at Skadden Arps - one of the biggest law firms in the country, working on some of the most high-profile litigation at that time, well, I felt pretty good. 

I marched into the partner’s office at the smaller firm where I was cutting my litigation teeth at the time to give him the news. That partner looked at me sadly and said, “You’ll never be happy there.”

I was sort of shocked and very indignant. Of course I would be happy. It was more money. More prestige. I would be a Skadden lawyer. Just saying the words out loud gave me a kind of clout I felt certain would make up for any negatives. 

Ten years later, however, I was burned out from regularly working 80-90 hours a week, sleeping on the office floor, and evading the advances of, and sexual harrassment by, male counsel and partners. It wasn’t any fun to be a Skadden lawyer anymore. It wasn’t even fun to say I was one.

Just as my former mentor had predicted, I was not, it turns out, happy there.

But still, it wasn’t easy to leave. I didn’t run out the door. Instead, I applied for a one-year sabbatical and made plans for a temporary leave only. I didn’t pack up my office or take my degrees off the wall. I just turned off the lights and said: See you in a year. 

Leaving the law was, for me, in many ways, like leaving a relationship (albeit an abusive one). There was sadness, poignancy, emotional trauma, financial implications, and other practical considerations. I wasn’t prepared to break up with the law completely at that time.

I took the year to re-group. I was intentional, taking on projects that would help me decide what to do next. I did some pro bono work, some advocacy work. I worked with a start-up company that helped female entrepreneurs tell their stories and I attended Board meetings for a local non-profit. In a decision that would have some lasting effects, I reclaimed my voice and started writing again.

At the end of the year, I had started writing what would become my first novel and I had an offer to join the executive team of that start-up company. I was, in a word, happy. But still, I couldn’t quite cut ties with my lawyer identity and I asked Skadden if I could extend my sabbatical with a leave of absence. We decided a 3 year leave made sense.

By the time my three years was up, I had 2 book contracts, a new lease on life, and a new opening line when I’d meet new friends: “I’m still on my one-year sabbatical from Skadden. That I took 4 years ago.”

Each year, I’d change the line slightly, but not the message.

The message was and is: It’s a lot for me to admit I gave up my identity. My ability to say I’m a Skadden lawyer. Please be gentle with this information. Please be gentle with me. I’m not quite ready to break up with the law entirely yet.

This year, I have two books coming out with Wyatt-MacKenzie Publishing that will make that message even more clear. Or confusing. Depending on how you look at it.

How To Leave The Law, is a non-fiction book co-authored with a friend of mine, Liz Brown, a Harvard Law grad-turned-Law-Partner-turned-Professor and will help aspiring and current lawyers learn how to turn their law degrees into tools for good.

In Her Defense, releasing May 3, 2022, is my first legal drama - residing at the intersection of courtroom drama and psychological suspense. It’s the first of a new series called the Riversedge Law Club Series, in which each book will have an unlikely heroine exposing the corruption and back door politics of her small town outside Manhattan (and Manhattan law culture itself).

It seems that more than a decade after I left the law, I’m not quite ready to break up with the law entirely. And maybe I never will be. But the law and my slow going transition from the law have both provided inspiration for storytelling and from that place, I finally can say to my earliest mentors: Don’t worry. I’m happy here.

What about you, Jungle Red Writers? Do you have a story of breaking up - with a job, a lover, or a best friend - that ended up inspiring you creatively in some way? Please share!


HANK: Oh, what a good question! (And I have certainly done that. Several long and eventually wonderful stories. But we’d rather hear yours!) And remember--a copy of IN HER DEFENSE to one lucky commenter!


Amy Impellizzeri is a reformed corporate litigator, former start-up executive, and award-winning author of fiction and non-fiction. Amy’s upcoming novel, IN HER DEFENSE ("a brilliantly crafted and fascinatingly insightful morality tale" - Hank Phillippi Ryan, USA Today Bestselling Author) releases May 3, 2022. She is a Tall Poppy Writer, past President of the Women’s Fiction Writer’s Association, a faculty member in Drexel University’s MFA in Creative Writing Program, and a frequently invited speaker at legal conferences and writing workshops. Connect with Amy at www.amyimpellizzeri.com.

About IN HER DEFENSE

Ingrid DiLaurio lives in Riversedge, New York, four express train stops from Manhattan. Don't be fooled: With its tree-lined Main Street, and quaint ambiance, Riversedge is only impersonating a small town. While it's a place small enough for everyone to know each other's secrets, few do. The town revolves around the prestigious Riversedge Law Club, where deals are made and cases are resolved and where Ingrid DiLaurio -- a former lawyer turned nationally recognized podcast host - has never once been made to feel welcome.

When Ingrid's husband, Peter, is found dead, and Ingrid's former friend, Opal, is arrested as the prime suspect, the press quickly seizes on Opal's past as a single mom and stripper. Ingrid's first priority is protecting herself and her son, Drake, along with her business, from salacious gossip. But when Opal finds herself in desperate need of a defense lawyer, she tells Ingrid she wants to call in a "favor," and Ingrid reluctantly returns to the law for one last case.

As the trial unfolds, Ingrid realizes quickly that she has taken on more than she bargained for, including Opal's dark past, a corrupt judge, a blackmailing prosecutor, another dead body, and a black tinted car that follows her everywhere. In the end, it's clear that both women know more than they are letting on about Peter's death, but who will tell the truth first?

And is the truth what anyone really wants to hear?

 

 

She Thinks She's Pretty Clever; a guest blog by Amy Impellizzeri

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: There are a lot of lawyers in crime fiction. Yes, they appear as the characters, but almost as frequently, they're the authors. There are lawyers who are known primarily for being members of the bar, like Scott Turow and John Grisham, Michael Connelly and Lisa Scottolini. Closer to home, we have Kate Flora and Brenda Buchanan, a frequent commenter here. There's yours truly, University of Maine School of Law '90. And our guest today, Amy Impellizzeri.

A lot of ink has been spilled over the question as to why so many attorneys become writers. I always figured it was because smart, wordy people who love reading and writing go to law school. (If we were good at math or science, we would have become engineers or doctors.) 

While thinking over what inspired her first thriller, THE TRUTH ABOUT THEA, Amy had an insight into what really drives  advocates to become authors - and she shares it with us today.

You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you, young lady? Well, we’ll see.

When I heard these words, I was a 28-year old ambitious corporate litigator who had just finished cross-examining the other side’s expert witness – Dr. L - during a trial that had been dragging on for nearly two weeks. The judge called for a short recess after my questioning, and while I stretched my legs in the aisle of the courtroom, Dr. L brushed up alongside me on the way out. He whispered in my ear - his hot breath and hissed words were definitely intended to intimidate me.

I simply smiled up at him in response. 

I had just helped Dr. L look incompetent, unqualified and money hungry with my questioning. He wasn’t too happy about the way his side of the story had been portrayed. I took that as a good sign. 

For thirteen-plus years, I told my clients’ stories. I took the jumbled messes they brought to me – usually in the form of rooms full of non-indexed documents and files, and I pieced them together to tell a story for a judge and jury. I always say that I loved being a lawyer. Until I didn’t. And then I got out. 

I left the law in 2009, and never really looked back. After spending so long telling only my clients’ stories, I remembered something again – I had a different story to tell.

When I found my voice again after leaving the law, my first novel centered around a woman at a crossroad in her life – a woman suddenly questioning everything she had thought she’d known about life and love. Not an entirely surprising theme given that I wrote the novel (Lemongrass Hope) during the first four years of my transition away from corporate law. 

My second novel was about loss and redemption. Reinvention and survival. Secrets of Worry Dolls unraveled the long-held secrets of a 9/11 widow and her estranged daughter following a tragedy in their New York City neighborhood. 

I had the good fortune to have book clubs and other readers discover my first two novels. And a common question emerged – 

Why don’t you write legal fiction? Why don’t you write stories inspired by your lawyer days?

 

I answered honestly. Mostly, I didn’t think my corporate law experience was all that … you know, sexy. It wasn’t the stuff of novels. In fact, for thirteen years, I had spent thousands of hours – tens of thousands of hours– searching through evidence and researching and writing briefs that made brilliant doorstops when they were finished and bound. Sure, I had told stories for a living, but they weren’t my stories. 

And then one day, I remembered Dr. L again. And other similar run-ins with various expert witnesses during my career. If I was a storyteller during my legal career, then those expert witnesses were certainly some colorful characters, and definitely provided more than a few twists and turns in the plots. Maybe there was something there – in all of those dances with expert witnesses throughout my legal career – that would provide meat for a story – for my story.

Thus, the idea for The Truth About Thea – my first legal thriller – was born. Because it felt like such a full circle novel for me following my transition from the law, I decided to open the novel with a trial set in the Philadelphia Court of Common Pleas - the site of my first jury trial 20 years ago. In The Truth About Thea, Thea Brown is on trial for a high profile crime involving her company, Alibis, which helps create false social media identities for clients with suspect pasts. An expert witness is located who testifies that Thea Brown is actually addicted to social media, and that because of her addiction, she should go to rehab, not jail. The expert witness, along with Thea Brown’s lawyer, sets the stage for a story with plenty of twists and turns. 

And to think, I owe it all to that dishonest, unqualified, money hungry expert witness who brushed up against me in that courtroom many years ago.

You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you, young lady? Well, we’ll see.

I won that trial after cross-examining Dr. L, by the way. I didn’t let him intimidate me and I thought about him often as I built my legal career, and now as I build my career as novelist. And sometimes I wonder if Dr. L still remembers me. I wonder if he’ll pick up a copy of The Truth About Thea one day. I have to admit, I’m tempted to look him up and tell him that yes, I do actually think I’m pretty clever sometimes. And I really don’t care at all if he agrees.

So tell me, Red Readers. Is there someone from your past who is influencing you and motivating you in ways they probably don’t even realize? For good or for bad? Share with me! (By the way, I’ll be selecting two random commenters to win signed copies of The Truth About Thea).

You can find out more on Amy Impellizzeri, her novels and her acclaimed non-fiction at her website. You can chat with her on Twitter as @AmyImpellizzeri, talk books with her on Goodreads, and participate in her online writers community, Tall Poppy Writers.