The Boyfriend Sweater by Jenn McKinlay

 JENN MCKINLAY: It was 1989 in New Haven, CT. I was at university and doing the typical on again off again with the rugby playing college boyfriend. We both had apartments with friends, but my stuff mingled with his and vice versa. Neither of us minded as it was an unspoken way to leave the door open for the next session of "let's get back together" after we inevitably broke up again. This lasted until senior year when we went through our final unentanglement-disengagement-whatever-you-want-to-call-it in those glorious pre-Internet days when saying good-bye actually meant "I'm never speaking to this person again". 

Love in the 80's was complicated!

Several relationships, five moves, one marriage (still going strong) and two children later, and I decided this empty nest needed a powerful decluttering. So long beloved broken action figures, preschool artwork (I took pictures), and essays written on the SparkNotes versions of books the Hooligans should have read but likely didn't :) 

While doing this excavation, what should I find in an old box that had been carted through every move and never opened? You guessed it! The boyfriend sweater--which in my case was/is a rag wool sweater that I wore during every winter in my drafty dorm rooms and freezing first apartments where the steam radiator was situated directly under the shoddy single pane window, causing my windows to fog up every time the heat came on from the months of November through February. I loved that sweater, potentially a bit more than the on again off again boyfriend from whom I filched it during our freshman year. I hadn't seen the beloved cardigan in years, and it felt like meeting an old friend while on vacation in an exotic foreign land.

The Boyfriend Sweater!

Now I live in Arizona and have for thirty years. I don't have much use for an overly large rag wool sweater. And yet, I could not toss it into the trash or the Goodwill bag. This sweater had been worn to scores of keg parties, midnight diner runs, girl's nights out when I didn't want to be pestered (it was clearly a boyfriend sweater, acting as an off-the-market protective shield), and it had comforted me through our many breakups.

So, what did I do with it? I washed it and blocked it (a knitting thing), returning it to its former shape. Then I put it on and felt like I was nineteen again. I suppose I should mail it back to the ex-boyfriend. He lives in Colorado and could use it more than me. Yes, we are in touch (thanks, Facebook) and friends again. It's actually really nice to know that we've both found happiness. Maybe I will send it if he sees this post and asks for it back, but I'm rather attached to it as a reminder of the Jenn back then :) 

So, Reds and Readers, have you ever had a "boyfriend sweater"? What artifacts from former relationships have popped up in your life? Would you return them or keep them--asking for a friend? Okay, yes, it's me. It's always me.

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?