Seth Kupchick's Blog: Bet on the Beaten, page 5
October 4, 2016
A Publishing Home
Publishing was always my goal but felt unattainable for most of my life, or something that only a select few got to do, like winning an award. In a world, where only the best writing is published this may have been an acceptable if disheartening fate to me, but that wasn't the world I was living in. Instead, I was told that I'd have to write a self help book, a cookbook, or a Stephen King like piece of horror, to even be considered for publishing, since the big houses didn't even read literary fiction anymore, my genre. The authors of these 'How to get Published' books would ultimately put the blame on the writer, in a backward attempt to give him/her hope, by saying that if the manuscript was of a high enough quality then eventually it would find a home, or more specifically an agent who'd direct it to its home, or the proper publishing house. So, right off the bat, the book was a child looking for a home, but only the most worthy would ever find it, even though it seemed only the most unworthy were finding homes, an inherent contradiction.
I wanted to believe that somewhere in America there was someone who'd publish my masterpiece that I'd spent a decade working up to, and that I'd pulled my hair out deliberating over for another decade. Surely, "If So Carried by the Wind" was worthy of publication even if it wasn't a book to change the face of publishing forever, a wish of mine, and would one day find a home, but that was looking increasingly difficult. For starters, there was the length which defied even the most hopeful of "How To" books because it wasn't a novel, the only length worth publishing until the ebook era. I didn't really want to make "If So Carried" longer just to get published, especially since there was next to no guarantee that this would vaunt my literary gem to anything more publishable then it was before, save that it would be meeting one basic requirement that all unpublishable books had to meet before they could be officially rejected.
I'm not against rejection in the grander scheme of things since I'm one of the most critical people I've ever met, full of rejection, but rejection without eventual acceptance if it's earned is a cruel hoax. The basic rule I learned about the New York City publishing world of the '90's and early millennium was that publishing was impossible without an agent because only he/she could get a manuscript read by a publishing house, like a baby that needs a sponsor to even get it considered for a home. I was raised on Hollywood fantasies that a manuscript (the baby) need only be sent via mail and magically as if by talent and wit it would find a home if it was a pretty enough, smart enough, little manuscript, full of potential in the real world of readers, who'd judge the baby outside of the house, or family, who had accepted it and given it life. The publishing house was a vehicle for the greater acceptance of the child, and the child would pay the house or family back by making money for it, or offering it prestige, or somehow vaunting its significance. I was told that in the '70's or '80's publishers would accept books into the home not only for the financial potential, but that they'd boost the reputation of the house, and help sell some of its more lucrative children.
I'm a self publisher on Amazon so I don't know exactly how or why this dynamic changed in my lifetime, but by the '90's the megahit was the new normal, and publishers stopped worrying about how their house was perceived outside of its most financially successful children. I'm sure this mirrors society in a way, since it was the same era where greed triumphed over spirit, and Ayn Rand's "virtue of selfishness" became a popularly coined phrase. America was going through a spiritual crisis that is being fully revealed in Trump vs. Hillary about twenty years later but it takes time for the smoke to clear and see a family for what it is, or a publishing house for what it has become.
The big 5 were all about the bottom line just like Wall St. demanded daily reports to gauge significance instead of anything to do with long term growth, or quality, and I'm afraid traditional publishing has killed itself. The big 5 would argue (I think) that there just wasn't a reading public out there for literary gems, since no one read anymore, but this was a cynical short term bet on the American people, since the houses themselves had a moral responsibility to create a culture with many different children, or books. We stopped betting on our own talent as a society and gave it up to the talent agent over the artist.
Self Publishing on KDP and Create Space has its ups and downs, but the ups far outweigh the downs, since writers now have a home for their children. I haven't sold many copies of "If So Carried by the Wind" yet but that could change, and even if it doesn't I've already reached more people with my short novel than I ever would have without self publishing, and that alone is a victory that the traditional publishing world doesn't want the independent author to think about. The big 5 weren't happy with smattering sales in the name of art because I'd imagine they'd been subsumed by bigger corporations taking their profit margin to Wall St. in a world of day traders, but they couldn't keep art down forever. I know there are too many books on KDP to sort through right now, but I have faith that overtime that will sort itself out and with a little luck the worthiest children will find their way into a world of readers who'll always need stories, and the books will always exist in a digital age.
I wanted to believe that somewhere in America there was someone who'd publish my masterpiece that I'd spent a decade working up to, and that I'd pulled my hair out deliberating over for another decade. Surely, "If So Carried by the Wind" was worthy of publication even if it wasn't a book to change the face of publishing forever, a wish of mine, and would one day find a home, but that was looking increasingly difficult. For starters, there was the length which defied even the most hopeful of "How To" books because it wasn't a novel, the only length worth publishing until the ebook era. I didn't really want to make "If So Carried" longer just to get published, especially since there was next to no guarantee that this would vaunt my literary gem to anything more publishable then it was before, save that it would be meeting one basic requirement that all unpublishable books had to meet before they could be officially rejected.
I'm not against rejection in the grander scheme of things since I'm one of the most critical people I've ever met, full of rejection, but rejection without eventual acceptance if it's earned is a cruel hoax. The basic rule I learned about the New York City publishing world of the '90's and early millennium was that publishing was impossible without an agent because only he/she could get a manuscript read by a publishing house, like a baby that needs a sponsor to even get it considered for a home. I was raised on Hollywood fantasies that a manuscript (the baby) need only be sent via mail and magically as if by talent and wit it would find a home if it was a pretty enough, smart enough, little manuscript, full of potential in the real world of readers, who'd judge the baby outside of the house, or family, who had accepted it and given it life. The publishing house was a vehicle for the greater acceptance of the child, and the child would pay the house or family back by making money for it, or offering it prestige, or somehow vaunting its significance. I was told that in the '70's or '80's publishers would accept books into the home not only for the financial potential, but that they'd boost the reputation of the house, and help sell some of its more lucrative children.
I'm a self publisher on Amazon so I don't know exactly how or why this dynamic changed in my lifetime, but by the '90's the megahit was the new normal, and publishers stopped worrying about how their house was perceived outside of its most financially successful children. I'm sure this mirrors society in a way, since it was the same era where greed triumphed over spirit, and Ayn Rand's "virtue of selfishness" became a popularly coined phrase. America was going through a spiritual crisis that is being fully revealed in Trump vs. Hillary about twenty years later but it takes time for the smoke to clear and see a family for what it is, or a publishing house for what it has become.
The big 5 were all about the bottom line just like Wall St. demanded daily reports to gauge significance instead of anything to do with long term growth, or quality, and I'm afraid traditional publishing has killed itself. The big 5 would argue (I think) that there just wasn't a reading public out there for literary gems, since no one read anymore, but this was a cynical short term bet on the American people, since the houses themselves had a moral responsibility to create a culture with many different children, or books. We stopped betting on our own talent as a society and gave it up to the talent agent over the artist.
Self Publishing on KDP and Create Space has its ups and downs, but the ups far outweigh the downs, since writers now have a home for their children. I haven't sold many copies of "If So Carried by the Wind" yet but that could change, and even if it doesn't I've already reached more people with my short novel than I ever would have without self publishing, and that alone is a victory that the traditional publishing world doesn't want the independent author to think about. The big 5 weren't happy with smattering sales in the name of art because I'd imagine they'd been subsumed by bigger corporations taking their profit margin to Wall St. in a world of day traders, but they couldn't keep art down forever. I know there are too many books on KDP to sort through right now, but I have faith that overtime that will sort itself out and with a little luck the worthiest children will find their way into a world of readers who'll always need stories, and the books will always exist in a digital age.
October 3, 2016
No More M's on the Radio
The baseball season ended Sunday, and now I'll have nothing to listen to when I go to work flyin' pies, no games on the radio. I'd like to think it's for the best and I'll supplement my time with music, but this might not be the case, and that scares me. I loathe the idea of listening to NPR all night, a fate worse than death, but some news trickles in and it's a voice in the background. I'm not enjoying the pop music station so much anymore, and don't imagine losing myself in Justin Bieber, Taylor Swift, or the Weeknd, though it sounds nice, and at least contemporary. A lecture on CD, or an audiobook, never worked for me and I'm not sure if it's the nature of the job but I get too distracted to pay enough attention.
This leaves me with old CD's to fill the gaps of time between orders, and this sounds sad. Most of my CD's are old, and I haven't bought a new one for many years, so that I have them all memorized many times over. I could employ silence as a sort of listening device and fill my head with literary thoughts, or astrological dreams, and while this sounds lovely, it takes a mentally impacted consciousness, but right now I feel empty. I could take this emptiness and make it meaningful, but that would take an act of creation that may be forced out of me by boredom.
The beauty of a baseball game is that it's boredom incarnate and forces meaning on the listener. It's live so that you can lose yourself in the drama on many levels... the opposing team, the pitching match up, a new line up, a subtle change, and get lost in the tradition of the Country, the national pastime. Games on the radio are almost like symphonies to me that have their own internal rhythms over 9 long innings and 27 outs. The announcers are like poets with their own language, and the long drawn out nature of the season really feels like reading a novel. Sure, the Mariners are maybe the worst franchise in baseball history, so the seasons tend to end early up here in the Great Northwest, but even then there are enough games into July to make the season interesting, and this wasn't a boring season.
Now I'm stuck with no entertainment for months on end, no postseason bluster to look forward to, only a few more dismal Presidential debates to pass the time between runs, and to contemplate the Country. No dream fantasy of a baseball park where all reality takes place on a diamond with no greater consequence than a metaphorical act.. a swing of the bat, a wild pitch, a home run... on which all life hinges, like a work of art.
This leaves me with old CD's to fill the gaps of time between orders, and this sounds sad. Most of my CD's are old, and I haven't bought a new one for many years, so that I have them all memorized many times over. I could employ silence as a sort of listening device and fill my head with literary thoughts, or astrological dreams, and while this sounds lovely, it takes a mentally impacted consciousness, but right now I feel empty. I could take this emptiness and make it meaningful, but that would take an act of creation that may be forced out of me by boredom.
The beauty of a baseball game is that it's boredom incarnate and forces meaning on the listener. It's live so that you can lose yourself in the drama on many levels... the opposing team, the pitching match up, a new line up, a subtle change, and get lost in the tradition of the Country, the national pastime. Games on the radio are almost like symphonies to me that have their own internal rhythms over 9 long innings and 27 outs. The announcers are like poets with their own language, and the long drawn out nature of the season really feels like reading a novel. Sure, the Mariners are maybe the worst franchise in baseball history, so the seasons tend to end early up here in the Great Northwest, but even then there are enough games into July to make the season interesting, and this wasn't a boring season.
Now I'm stuck with no entertainment for months on end, no postseason bluster to look forward to, only a few more dismal Presidential debates to pass the time between runs, and to contemplate the Country. No dream fantasy of a baseball park where all reality takes place on a diamond with no greater consequence than a metaphorical act.. a swing of the bat, a wild pitch, a home run... on which all life hinges, like a work of art.
October 1, 2016
Political Epiphany
I had an epiphany tonight listening to the Diane Rehm show about my place in the political world, a rare epiphany since I don't feel to have much of a place at all. It was almost one in the morning and Diane was gone, which loosened up the show, and they got to talking about the Democratic Party. They observed the obvious given that only Baby Boomers even bothered running for President in the party that once spoke to the youth of America, and that there is not much young talent in the Democratic Party. Now I'm not the most talented political thinker/activist in the world, and yet at one time fancied myself being a Senator and running for office, so I had political dreams at a young age that could've been fulfilled. I was once the young talent they were talking about, but had left the Party around 1988 and really never came back.
It's funny but I always saw my story of leaving Cal Pirg in purely personal terms as a defining point in my life, but didn't imagine it was being played out by my whole generation, not just one or two stray birds. My reasons for leaving the public interest research group boiled down to me thinking that us banging on doors collecting a hundred dollars a night amounted to nothing more than a pat on the back, a paycheck, and the money to give jobs to political science graduates landing their first job in the big city. I'd walk neighborhoods collecting money so that environmental groups could hire a lobbyist to go to Sacramento and fight for legislation, an abstract goal. Ralph Nader may have been integral to the PIRG's, but I saw them as useless in the revolutionary struggle, and had a big talk with my field manager. She wanted me to stay because of my spirit but my social ideals were too pure for politics, and I left to start reading literature.
Tonight, I realized that the reason the Democratic Party didn't have any young talent was because a whole generation of people like me in 1988 were disillusioned by the political process and couldn't carry on the socialist/environmentalist struggle through the Democratic Party, the only open channel, since the Party had abandoned the dreams they raised us on. It was comforting to know I wasn't alone, but sad because the political talent of an entire generation was wasted, but hopefully went into art, or some other direction, but it's through politics that people really have a voice, since that's where policy is crafted. The art is a reflection of the time, not the active principle.
I don't blame me for what happened but I've drifted so far from the idealistic boy who thought he could change the world for the better that I have to let my mind walk back in time to even remember who I may have been, and what I was. The radio tonight made me remember that I was one of many living through the institutionalization of a dream that died on the doorsteps of America when the Kennedy's, King, and X, were killed... the refuse of a troubled time.
It's funny but I always saw my story of leaving Cal Pirg in purely personal terms as a defining point in my life, but didn't imagine it was being played out by my whole generation, not just one or two stray birds. My reasons for leaving the public interest research group boiled down to me thinking that us banging on doors collecting a hundred dollars a night amounted to nothing more than a pat on the back, a paycheck, and the money to give jobs to political science graduates landing their first job in the big city. I'd walk neighborhoods collecting money so that environmental groups could hire a lobbyist to go to Sacramento and fight for legislation, an abstract goal. Ralph Nader may have been integral to the PIRG's, but I saw them as useless in the revolutionary struggle, and had a big talk with my field manager. She wanted me to stay because of my spirit but my social ideals were too pure for politics, and I left to start reading literature.
Tonight, I realized that the reason the Democratic Party didn't have any young talent was because a whole generation of people like me in 1988 were disillusioned by the political process and couldn't carry on the socialist/environmentalist struggle through the Democratic Party, the only open channel, since the Party had abandoned the dreams they raised us on. It was comforting to know I wasn't alone, but sad because the political talent of an entire generation was wasted, but hopefully went into art, or some other direction, but it's through politics that people really have a voice, since that's where policy is crafted. The art is a reflection of the time, not the active principle.
I don't blame me for what happened but I've drifted so far from the idealistic boy who thought he could change the world for the better that I have to let my mind walk back in time to even remember who I may have been, and what I was. The radio tonight made me remember that I was one of many living through the institutionalization of a dream that died on the doorsteps of America when the Kennedy's, King, and X, were killed... the refuse of a troubled time.
September 18, 2016
The Mid-September M's
The Mariners don't usually make it to what Rick Rizzs calls "September baseball." Usually, they are out of the race for the playoffs by this time and beaten down by a mediocre season without the whiff of a pennant run, or a wild card run, so only the most devoted fans show up to the park. The M's have had an up and down season that started off like gang busters but went pretty flat through most of the summer, only to briefly come alive in August, but also swoon, leaving most experts to think they were out of the running come Labor Day.
I wrote my first blog about the '16 M's in early August and broke the season down into three acts: The 1st act was the spring, the second act the summer, and the third act the fall. I didn't really think they'd make it to the playoffs but had hope they'd at least be viable in the 3rd act and give the fans something to root for, and they've done that so in some ways the season has been a success. You can sort of see it as a movie that wasn't the best, and certainly looked shaky at times, but somehow worked so that when you leave the theater at least you don't think you wasted two hours of your life.
The purist in me doesn't like the wild card. I think back to my childhood when the National League and the American League, the Senior Circuit and the Junior Circuit, only had two divisions with the sole winners making the playoffs. The M's post season hopes would've been doubtful through most of the summer and done by late August, when they inexplicably melted down, and there would've been no September baseball. But at the same time the World Series would most certainly be between the truly best teams, without an also ran sneaking in, and muddying the waters.
Rick Rizzs, the voice of the Mariners, say's the wild card race all but creates a new division, where four or five teams line up in contention through the month of September. The most likely scenario is that one wild card spot will pretty much be up for grabs going into the final weekend, and this is exciting for the game and fans like me straddled with middling clubs, who'll never see a pennant. Suddenly, not only are the Mariners alive but such far away clubs as the Tigers and the Orioles have gained an identity that they wouldn't otherwise have since they are also in the running for the spot. The wild card is good for baseball especially since the sport has become largely regional without much of a national audience.
The downside to the wild card race aside from pure traditionalism is that it distorts the three act structure of the season that sets baseball apart from the other major American sports. Take the M's for example: they had a very good first act, making for a promising season, but never really found their footing in the second act, and when they did in early August they all but swooned before the month was over. Without the wild card, the M's third act would promise good if not great things for next season but not for this one because a season like a movie just can't be successful without a strong 2nd act, building a bridge between the 1st act and the 3rd act. By dint of their weak performance through most of June and July, they would've been out of the running for playoff contention, the major league's equivalent of the Oscars
The M's have a pivotal series coming up with the Blue Jays and it couldn't come at a better time for either club, so the schedule makers had some real forethought. The Jays are holding tight to the second wild card spot, and the M's are trailing them and the Orioles. The Jays are a game behind the Orioles, and two games ahead of the M's (three ahead of Houston). The series takes place between September 19-21, from Monday to Wednesday, and it always sells out in Seattle because of a flood of baseball fans from Canada. It's rare for the series to have this much actual significance in the standings, and this may be the most critical it has ever been for both clubs, taking swings at each other.
The Possibilites, or the Known Knowns:
1. The M's win two out of three, and go one game behind the Blue Jays in the hunt for the wild card. This would be a very good outcome for the Mariners and I'd guess put the last ten games of the season in contention, but the Twins or Astros could always sweep them (especially the Astros). It would be a big boost for the Mariners, and really make the Blue Jays tighten up.
2. The Blue Jays take two out of three from the M's, putting them three ahead in the hunt for the wild card. This wouldn't exactly be a death blow to the Mariners, but it would hurt very badly, and psychically put the wild card out of reach. I don't think the M's could rebound from this even though it would be mathematically possible, but they'd be three behind with nine to play, and those aren't good odds.
3. The M's sweep the Blue Jays. This would put the Mariners a game ahead of the Jays in the hunt for the wild card, and would be an incredible boost for the final week and a half of the season. As they like to say in baseball, the Mariners would control their destiny, albeit only slightly, but they could streak to the end with the coveted second wild card spot in hand.
4. The Blue Jays sweep the M's. This would effectively end the Mariners season on September 21st, and would leave the Mariner's faithful scratching their head. They'd be five games out of the second coveted wild card spot, and with only ten games to play too far behind to make much of a difference. The Blue Jays would literally have to collapse, and the Mariners would have to streak to turn this around, and I doubt such an outcome would provoke either club to do this.
I wrote my first blog about the '16 M's in early August and broke the season down into three acts: The 1st act was the spring, the second act the summer, and the third act the fall. I didn't really think they'd make it to the playoffs but had hope they'd at least be viable in the 3rd act and give the fans something to root for, and they've done that so in some ways the season has been a success. You can sort of see it as a movie that wasn't the best, and certainly looked shaky at times, but somehow worked so that when you leave the theater at least you don't think you wasted two hours of your life.
The purist in me doesn't like the wild card. I think back to my childhood when the National League and the American League, the Senior Circuit and the Junior Circuit, only had two divisions with the sole winners making the playoffs. The M's post season hopes would've been doubtful through most of the summer and done by late August, when they inexplicably melted down, and there would've been no September baseball. But at the same time the World Series would most certainly be between the truly best teams, without an also ran sneaking in, and muddying the waters.
Rick Rizzs, the voice of the Mariners, say's the wild card race all but creates a new division, where four or five teams line up in contention through the month of September. The most likely scenario is that one wild card spot will pretty much be up for grabs going into the final weekend, and this is exciting for the game and fans like me straddled with middling clubs, who'll never see a pennant. Suddenly, not only are the Mariners alive but such far away clubs as the Tigers and the Orioles have gained an identity that they wouldn't otherwise have since they are also in the running for the spot. The wild card is good for baseball especially since the sport has become largely regional without much of a national audience.
The downside to the wild card race aside from pure traditionalism is that it distorts the three act structure of the season that sets baseball apart from the other major American sports. Take the M's for example: they had a very good first act, making for a promising season, but never really found their footing in the second act, and when they did in early August they all but swooned before the month was over. Without the wild card, the M's third act would promise good if not great things for next season but not for this one because a season like a movie just can't be successful without a strong 2nd act, building a bridge between the 1st act and the 3rd act. By dint of their weak performance through most of June and July, they would've been out of the running for playoff contention, the major league's equivalent of the Oscars
The M's have a pivotal series coming up with the Blue Jays and it couldn't come at a better time for either club, so the schedule makers had some real forethought. The Jays are holding tight to the second wild card spot, and the M's are trailing them and the Orioles. The Jays are a game behind the Orioles, and two games ahead of the M's (three ahead of Houston). The series takes place between September 19-21, from Monday to Wednesday, and it always sells out in Seattle because of a flood of baseball fans from Canada. It's rare for the series to have this much actual significance in the standings, and this may be the most critical it has ever been for both clubs, taking swings at each other.
The Possibilites, or the Known Knowns:
1. The M's win two out of three, and go one game behind the Blue Jays in the hunt for the wild card. This would be a very good outcome for the Mariners and I'd guess put the last ten games of the season in contention, but the Twins or Astros could always sweep them (especially the Astros). It would be a big boost for the Mariners, and really make the Blue Jays tighten up.
2. The Blue Jays take two out of three from the M's, putting them three ahead in the hunt for the wild card. This wouldn't exactly be a death blow to the Mariners, but it would hurt very badly, and psychically put the wild card out of reach. I don't think the M's could rebound from this even though it would be mathematically possible, but they'd be three behind with nine to play, and those aren't good odds.
3. The M's sweep the Blue Jays. This would put the Mariners a game ahead of the Jays in the hunt for the wild card, and would be an incredible boost for the final week and a half of the season. As they like to say in baseball, the Mariners would control their destiny, albeit only slightly, but they could streak to the end with the coveted second wild card spot in hand.
4. The Blue Jays sweep the M's. This would effectively end the Mariners season on September 21st, and would leave the Mariner's faithful scratching their head. They'd be five games out of the second coveted wild card spot, and with only ten games to play too far behind to make much of a difference. The Blue Jays would literally have to collapse, and the Mariners would have to streak to turn this around, and I doubt such an outcome would provoke either club to do this.
August 28, 2016
The White Shadow Revisited
Scientific Experiment:
1.Decades is running a weekend long "White Shadow" binge.
2. I'm writing this to the marathon in the wee hours of the morning, after immersing in the show for the day. (I also watched four episodes from season four of House of Cards).
Rewatching the "White Shadow" reveals its faults, but more than this reminds me of who I was when I was watching it, and what the show said to me. I loved basketball, so it appealed to that part of me right off the bat, and I grew up in L.A. where fictional "Carver" High is located, so the inner city story must've also appealed to me, even if I was living an upper middle class life in private school, making the characters on the show the flip side of my potentiality. I didn't so much want to be Goldstein, or Salami, (the white kids) let alone Thorpe, or Coolidge, but they were me in spirit, since they were living a life that seemed in my view, the life of high school basketball player finding meaning through his team and his friends.
It's a beautiful feeling to be very young and to find a movie, book, or show, that you actually feel speaks to your visions and hopes of a future that you can see yourself living, and though we're always living one step away from the future, the number of years before us dims as we get older, and I'm not so sure art/entertainment/reflection functions on this level so much, and I miss that. I miss being 11 years old and thinking that my high school experience was going to be like the White Shadow, and that I was allowed a rare glimpse into how I imagined things were going to be for me, with the show predicting the future. James at 15 did this too, and Family, but neither of those had basketball as a theme, so the reflection was internal.
The White Shadow must've tapped into a communal background for white kids, like the Bad News Bears movies, and promised a kind of dysfunctional life in sports, but "The White Shadow" was about more than sports, and much of its greatness lie in it being able to navigate the fine line between jockdom and depth. The players on the team weren't the jocks of the '80's obsessed with money and professionalism, but a breed not unlike me and my friends, or the Bad News Bears - misfits who needed a little guidance, and like in the Bad News Bears it came from a quasi old school kind of guy who never intended to lead anyone, but fate threw him into L.A.
The episodes aren't necessarily as good as I remember, even though I considered them a high level mark in TV, but there was always a sense this was between me and my friends, more than our parents, or the society in general. "The White Shadow" was no "Mary Tyler Moore," or "Mash," or any show that I could tell was just of the highest quality for TV, with unforgettable ensemble casts and writing. The "Shadow" was always a little rough around the edges like Ken Howard as Ken Reeves, the coach from Chicago, who comes to L.A. with a chip on his shoulder, but an open attitude and a desire to learn, even if he is from a gruff old school way of thinking. He lives a bachelor lifestyle, and this might've contributed to his coolness, but it was also his willingness to understand his players and their plight, off and on the basketball court.
"The White Shadow" has some cheap sets, and though I can't speak for the authenticity of life in South Central in the late '70's there is both the sense that the show is tackling the real life of the streets, but in a Hollywood manner. The Hollywood part didn't feel bad because the show was put down for being too real and in comparison to everything else on at the time it may as well have been season one of "Friday Night Lights," a show I was quoted as saying "If Lars Von Trier did a drama about America it would probably look like this."
"The White Shadow" doesn't feel as gritty anymore, but right now there is an episode of Hayward looking at his friend at a morgue, so who am I to say? It was a pre-rap world and a lot of the songs about 'fucking the police' hadn't been written yet, so in some ways the ghetto it's portraying is almost nostalgic. Bad things happen, but the Carver high basketball team has each other, and the support of Ken Reeves, their coach. No matter how sad the kids lives seem on the show, there is hope in the team, which could be equated as a hope in America.
There really wasn't the sense that the kids were never leaving the ghetto, because they were receiving real guidance from their school, and that alone could help them crawl out from their relative poverty. I can't imagine a show today about the perils of inner city life and basketball having a redemptive message of any kind unless it was about the one or two bona fide basketball stars who got out and made it to the NBA. No one on Carver high is even thinking of the NBA, or a scholarship to UCLA, and yet none of them feel stuck in the circumstances they were born into, but there is nothing but my intuition sensing this. They were children of the '60's and their positive groovy attitude had yet to be obliterated by the Reagan years, and the denial that there was any problem in the inner city, or if there was one it could be solved with tanks.
I forgot how much of a school drama the show was, and remember more the communal feeling of the team, that found the true nature of Carver in sports, because that was my dream for myself. Structurally, the show is actually quite nerdy, and a lot of the episodes have an almost Room 222 feel. There are a lot of moral/intellectual/ethical debates going on between Coach Reeves, the players, and the pretty black intellectual Vice Principal, who serves as a counterpoint to Reeves's instinctual reasoning that wasn't reared in the administrative body of public school. In some ways, these little moral plays work well to show the coach's evolution, but there is not enough of a dynamic between Reeves and her, nor is there any love story, or even a hint of one, which would've really blown the top off the show and introduced a mixed couple.
Maybe that's the dated feel of the "White Shadow." It does have a lot of episodes about heavy issues, but they are not brought up easily in the context of the show. The episodes mostly feel like WW II era movies that had to teach everyone a clear cut lesson at the end. The show itself may have been loose for the time but there is something more uptight about it than I remember, even if the funky intro song is awesome! The players are loose around each other, but not loose enough, and the heavy themes are presented rather clumsily, and lacking the subtlety someone other than an 11 year old might find particularly deep, but the show should be given credit for tackling heavy themes.
It's weird, but I wish the "White Shadow" was looser, and yet the reason me and my friends liked it was for how loose it was and how it reflected our life. Maybe the times were just more serious back in the '70's, or the way people addressed them, but now it would be hard to imagine anyone from an inner city school getting caught up in clunky but necessary morality tales fit for a white audience week after week even if we thought we were watching 'bro's. The situations intellectually feel real, but not literally.
It might be that the lessons of the White Shadow were never meant for an adult audience, and that the show was primarily for teenagers, except the main character is the coach, and this might be why it was never a big hit. I read on wikipedia that part of the reason it was never a hit was that the episodes didn't resolve the heavy questions it awkwardly asked and left the show ambiguous, neither white or black, but it doesn't seem that way now.
The "White Shadow" doesn't always know what it wants to be, although what it's striving for is rather unique. It wants to be a sensitive post flower power drama about a white coach learning from black kids, and vice versa, and on this note it does a very good job, because one never feels that the coach and the kids have nothing to say to each other, or learn from each other, and if I had an ex Chicago Bull for a coach I'd feel like hot shit! If anything, what they learn from each other is almost too intimate, because the coach is dangerously close to the players and while this was a romanticized idea from the '60's it didn't pan out too much in reality, and now feels like an impossible dream.
It's the political minefield the characters walk through week after week that feels forced and out of place, and the focus of the "Shadow" is never very clear. Most are about one of the kids on the team, and something they are going through, intermingling with a story about Reeves and the Vice Principal, or some inner conflict he's going through, but sometimes it's more about Reeves and the school establishment, while other times about the team and the establishment they belong to and abhor, but it doesn't balance this well. It wants to be tough and soft at the same time, a teleplay about rebels and keeping rebels in line, without taking sides except to say that we all need structure whether it comes through school, basketball, or family, and for this it's wise.
I think we must've liked how much the show would never speak to our parents, even if it was made for them. It was bad, but in a way that was very good, and cult figures are made on such aesthetic attributes. We knew it wasn't the best show, nor could it ever be, and yet it was the best show, or so we thought, making our love for it tribal like "Bugsy Malone."
1.Decades is running a weekend long "White Shadow" binge.
2. I'm writing this to the marathon in the wee hours of the morning, after immersing in the show for the day. (I also watched four episodes from season four of House of Cards).
Rewatching the "White Shadow" reveals its faults, but more than this reminds me of who I was when I was watching it, and what the show said to me. I loved basketball, so it appealed to that part of me right off the bat, and I grew up in L.A. where fictional "Carver" High is located, so the inner city story must've also appealed to me, even if I was living an upper middle class life in private school, making the characters on the show the flip side of my potentiality. I didn't so much want to be Goldstein, or Salami, (the white kids) let alone Thorpe, or Coolidge, but they were me in spirit, since they were living a life that seemed in my view, the life of high school basketball player finding meaning through his team and his friends.
It's a beautiful feeling to be very young and to find a movie, book, or show, that you actually feel speaks to your visions and hopes of a future that you can see yourself living, and though we're always living one step away from the future, the number of years before us dims as we get older, and I'm not so sure art/entertainment/reflection functions on this level so much, and I miss that. I miss being 11 years old and thinking that my high school experience was going to be like the White Shadow, and that I was allowed a rare glimpse into how I imagined things were going to be for me, with the show predicting the future. James at 15 did this too, and Family, but neither of those had basketball as a theme, so the reflection was internal.
The White Shadow must've tapped into a communal background for white kids, like the Bad News Bears movies, and promised a kind of dysfunctional life in sports, but "The White Shadow" was about more than sports, and much of its greatness lie in it being able to navigate the fine line between jockdom and depth. The players on the team weren't the jocks of the '80's obsessed with money and professionalism, but a breed not unlike me and my friends, or the Bad News Bears - misfits who needed a little guidance, and like in the Bad News Bears it came from a quasi old school kind of guy who never intended to lead anyone, but fate threw him into L.A.
The episodes aren't necessarily as good as I remember, even though I considered them a high level mark in TV, but there was always a sense this was between me and my friends, more than our parents, or the society in general. "The White Shadow" was no "Mary Tyler Moore," or "Mash," or any show that I could tell was just of the highest quality for TV, with unforgettable ensemble casts and writing. The "Shadow" was always a little rough around the edges like Ken Howard as Ken Reeves, the coach from Chicago, who comes to L.A. with a chip on his shoulder, but an open attitude and a desire to learn, even if he is from a gruff old school way of thinking. He lives a bachelor lifestyle, and this might've contributed to his coolness, but it was also his willingness to understand his players and their plight, off and on the basketball court.
"The White Shadow" has some cheap sets, and though I can't speak for the authenticity of life in South Central in the late '70's there is both the sense that the show is tackling the real life of the streets, but in a Hollywood manner. The Hollywood part didn't feel bad because the show was put down for being too real and in comparison to everything else on at the time it may as well have been season one of "Friday Night Lights," a show I was quoted as saying "If Lars Von Trier did a drama about America it would probably look like this."
"The White Shadow" doesn't feel as gritty anymore, but right now there is an episode of Hayward looking at his friend at a morgue, so who am I to say? It was a pre-rap world and a lot of the songs about 'fucking the police' hadn't been written yet, so in some ways the ghetto it's portraying is almost nostalgic. Bad things happen, but the Carver high basketball team has each other, and the support of Ken Reeves, their coach. No matter how sad the kids lives seem on the show, there is hope in the team, which could be equated as a hope in America.
There really wasn't the sense that the kids were never leaving the ghetto, because they were receiving real guidance from their school, and that alone could help them crawl out from their relative poverty. I can't imagine a show today about the perils of inner city life and basketball having a redemptive message of any kind unless it was about the one or two bona fide basketball stars who got out and made it to the NBA. No one on Carver high is even thinking of the NBA, or a scholarship to UCLA, and yet none of them feel stuck in the circumstances they were born into, but there is nothing but my intuition sensing this. They were children of the '60's and their positive groovy attitude had yet to be obliterated by the Reagan years, and the denial that there was any problem in the inner city, or if there was one it could be solved with tanks.
I forgot how much of a school drama the show was, and remember more the communal feeling of the team, that found the true nature of Carver in sports, because that was my dream for myself. Structurally, the show is actually quite nerdy, and a lot of the episodes have an almost Room 222 feel. There are a lot of moral/intellectual/ethical debates going on between Coach Reeves, the players, and the pretty black intellectual Vice Principal, who serves as a counterpoint to Reeves's instinctual reasoning that wasn't reared in the administrative body of public school. In some ways, these little moral plays work well to show the coach's evolution, but there is not enough of a dynamic between Reeves and her, nor is there any love story, or even a hint of one, which would've really blown the top off the show and introduced a mixed couple.
Maybe that's the dated feel of the "White Shadow." It does have a lot of episodes about heavy issues, but they are not brought up easily in the context of the show. The episodes mostly feel like WW II era movies that had to teach everyone a clear cut lesson at the end. The show itself may have been loose for the time but there is something more uptight about it than I remember, even if the funky intro song is awesome! The players are loose around each other, but not loose enough, and the heavy themes are presented rather clumsily, and lacking the subtlety someone other than an 11 year old might find particularly deep, but the show should be given credit for tackling heavy themes.
It's weird, but I wish the "White Shadow" was looser, and yet the reason me and my friends liked it was for how loose it was and how it reflected our life. Maybe the times were just more serious back in the '70's, or the way people addressed them, but now it would be hard to imagine anyone from an inner city school getting caught up in clunky but necessary morality tales fit for a white audience week after week even if we thought we were watching 'bro's. The situations intellectually feel real, but not literally.
It might be that the lessons of the White Shadow were never meant for an adult audience, and that the show was primarily for teenagers, except the main character is the coach, and this might be why it was never a big hit. I read on wikipedia that part of the reason it was never a hit was that the episodes didn't resolve the heavy questions it awkwardly asked and left the show ambiguous, neither white or black, but it doesn't seem that way now.
The "White Shadow" doesn't always know what it wants to be, although what it's striving for is rather unique. It wants to be a sensitive post flower power drama about a white coach learning from black kids, and vice versa, and on this note it does a very good job, because one never feels that the coach and the kids have nothing to say to each other, or learn from each other, and if I had an ex Chicago Bull for a coach I'd feel like hot shit! If anything, what they learn from each other is almost too intimate, because the coach is dangerously close to the players and while this was a romanticized idea from the '60's it didn't pan out too much in reality, and now feels like an impossible dream.
It's the political minefield the characters walk through week after week that feels forced and out of place, and the focus of the "Shadow" is never very clear. Most are about one of the kids on the team, and something they are going through, intermingling with a story about Reeves and the Vice Principal, or some inner conflict he's going through, but sometimes it's more about Reeves and the school establishment, while other times about the team and the establishment they belong to and abhor, but it doesn't balance this well. It wants to be tough and soft at the same time, a teleplay about rebels and keeping rebels in line, without taking sides except to say that we all need structure whether it comes through school, basketball, or family, and for this it's wise.
I think we must've liked how much the show would never speak to our parents, even if it was made for them. It was bad, but in a way that was very good, and cult figures are made on such aesthetic attributes. We knew it wasn't the best show, nor could it ever be, and yet it was the best show, or so we thought, making our love for it tribal like "Bugsy Malone."
August 19, 2016
The Know How, not "I Know Nuthink," charm of Hogan's Heroes
Hogan's Heroes was never my favorite sitcom but no show better portrayed the NATO alliance, and the whole post war peace that the Americans fought to secure, even though the show was ostensibly about a POW camp. Hogan's Heroes was really about WW II men and who they were, and having a Grandpa that was a war hero made the show very relatable. My Grandpa had a Bob Crane "Hogan"esque charm, even though he may have lacked Hogan's cunning, but he had his confidence and swagger. Every episode was pretty much the same and all about the prisoners of war putting one over on the self obsessed and stupid Nazi's, nor did Hogan's Heroes ever fail at their mission. The show was painfully predictable but hammered home the message that the Americans and their European allies (France and England), were smarter than the entire German army and couldn't help but defeat them in the war, a fact borne out by history.
I probably wouldn't be watching Hogan's Heroes circa 2016 except it comes on every night, and there just is no denying the comic grandeur of Colonel Klink, or Schultz, two of the funniest most bumbling idiotic characters ever put on TV, and an insult to every German. They were self-obsessed 'yes' men with Klink's vainglorious obsession at a promotion within the Nazi ranks, and Schultz's blind obedience. I'm not sure the show would've ever been remembered the way it has if it wasn't for Schultz's endlessly quotable line, "I know nuthink," which sometimes got turned around to, "I saw nuthink," and "I heard nuthink." These blanket excuses became a common touchstone for my entire generation, and actually managed to link an entire era of TV fans, something no one but Schultz may have been able to do. There have been other great quotable lines on TV shows but none with the same political/philosophical grandeur.
What I'm most struck with when I watch "Hogan's Heroes" today is how much the American character has changed from the WW II man of the Kennedy years to the "Silver Spoon" Reagan years, where the star's father wanted to be a child with a toy train. The plot lines of "Hogan's Hero's" are almost indistinguishable, but in each one Hogan and his unit would devise a way to trip up the Nazis and either foil one of their war plans, or simply embarrass Schultz and Klink. They did it to such perfection that neither Schultz nor Klink had any idea they'd been hoodwinked by Hogan, but rather ended up congratulating him on a job well done when he'd report to them that he'd found the culprit, even though it had been Hogan the whole time. The Americans and their allies had cunning, charisma, and quick wits on their side, all attributes that defined the Greatest Generation.
Ironically, I fear that the "I know nuthink," stance of Schultz that came to define my generation hit a chord not only for its humor, but how Schultz was all but defining the new American character blooming and blossoming. The movie that comes to mind that most symbolizes the new American character is "Idiocracy," a land where all intelligence is gone, and only the most craven desires exist, kind of like Clink's world of wanting only to rise in the Nazi ranks out of sheer ambition, but at least he had this. The new American character as epitomized by "Idiocracy" doesn't even have something as shallow as raw ambition, but rather seem motivated by sheer ecstasy and sensation. "Ouch, my balls," is the line that comes to mind, even as the story eludes me, but if nothing else it's a prediction of Trump, and this entire election.
We just aren't a Know How Nation anymore, and though there are definitely glimmers of it in the IPhone and Steve Jobs, there isn't in the general population. We almost pride ourselves on not being able to figure out anything and look to super heroes to solve our problems now instead of the common man, or anyone from the people. We are in love with the pomp and circumstance much like Klink, and both candidates for President represent that in spades, with poor Bernie Sanders being put to the back of the bench. We're a society who came to pride itself on the idea of specialization, an idea that would've been anemic to Hogan's Heroes, who weren't so much specialists in any one thing, but rather schemers with vivid imaginations. The American was a Mercurial character with a quick mind, and no desire to be defined, save by his innocence. The whole efficacy of the Heroe's and why they were able to outsmart the Nazi's every week was that they were all selfless, and acting for the greater good.
I never would've thought to compare "Hogan's Heroe's" with "The Beverly Hillbillies" but they were both on in the '60's and something comes quickly to mind: they were F.D.R.'s America. Both shows all but obliterated the divide between rich and poor, high status and low status, and in that way were a direct attack on the whole class system that is created out of economic inequality, and what F.D.R. was battling in The New Deal. In the case of "Hogan's Heroes," they outwit the Nazi's every week through cunning, and in the case of the "Hillbillies" they outwit the banking class with sheer innocence, all but laughing Mr. Drysdale right off their property! So, you could say the F.D.R. American through the filter of these two sitcoms was a mixture of intelligence and innocence, a rare combination. The intelligence enabled the American character to not only survive but to thrive, something we were doing as a Nation in the immediate aftermath of WW II, while the innocence of the "Hillbillies" was our purity of soul that could never be tempted by bankers or evil Nazi's.
I probably wouldn't be watching Hogan's Heroes circa 2016 except it comes on every night, and there just is no denying the comic grandeur of Colonel Klink, or Schultz, two of the funniest most bumbling idiotic characters ever put on TV, and an insult to every German. They were self-obsessed 'yes' men with Klink's vainglorious obsession at a promotion within the Nazi ranks, and Schultz's blind obedience. I'm not sure the show would've ever been remembered the way it has if it wasn't for Schultz's endlessly quotable line, "I know nuthink," which sometimes got turned around to, "I saw nuthink," and "I heard nuthink." These blanket excuses became a common touchstone for my entire generation, and actually managed to link an entire era of TV fans, something no one but Schultz may have been able to do. There have been other great quotable lines on TV shows but none with the same political/philosophical grandeur.
What I'm most struck with when I watch "Hogan's Heroes" today is how much the American character has changed from the WW II man of the Kennedy years to the "Silver Spoon" Reagan years, where the star's father wanted to be a child with a toy train. The plot lines of "Hogan's Hero's" are almost indistinguishable, but in each one Hogan and his unit would devise a way to trip up the Nazis and either foil one of their war plans, or simply embarrass Schultz and Klink. They did it to such perfection that neither Schultz nor Klink had any idea they'd been hoodwinked by Hogan, but rather ended up congratulating him on a job well done when he'd report to them that he'd found the culprit, even though it had been Hogan the whole time. The Americans and their allies had cunning, charisma, and quick wits on their side, all attributes that defined the Greatest Generation.
Ironically, I fear that the "I know nuthink," stance of Schultz that came to define my generation hit a chord not only for its humor, but how Schultz was all but defining the new American character blooming and blossoming. The movie that comes to mind that most symbolizes the new American character is "Idiocracy," a land where all intelligence is gone, and only the most craven desires exist, kind of like Clink's world of wanting only to rise in the Nazi ranks out of sheer ambition, but at least he had this. The new American character as epitomized by "Idiocracy" doesn't even have something as shallow as raw ambition, but rather seem motivated by sheer ecstasy and sensation. "Ouch, my balls," is the line that comes to mind, even as the story eludes me, but if nothing else it's a prediction of Trump, and this entire election.
We just aren't a Know How Nation anymore, and though there are definitely glimmers of it in the IPhone and Steve Jobs, there isn't in the general population. We almost pride ourselves on not being able to figure out anything and look to super heroes to solve our problems now instead of the common man, or anyone from the people. We are in love with the pomp and circumstance much like Klink, and both candidates for President represent that in spades, with poor Bernie Sanders being put to the back of the bench. We're a society who came to pride itself on the idea of specialization, an idea that would've been anemic to Hogan's Heroes, who weren't so much specialists in any one thing, but rather schemers with vivid imaginations. The American was a Mercurial character with a quick mind, and no desire to be defined, save by his innocence. The whole efficacy of the Heroe's and why they were able to outsmart the Nazi's every week was that they were all selfless, and acting for the greater good.
I never would've thought to compare "Hogan's Heroe's" with "The Beverly Hillbillies" but they were both on in the '60's and something comes quickly to mind: they were F.D.R.'s America. Both shows all but obliterated the divide between rich and poor, high status and low status, and in that way were a direct attack on the whole class system that is created out of economic inequality, and what F.D.R. was battling in The New Deal. In the case of "Hogan's Heroes," they outwit the Nazi's every week through cunning, and in the case of the "Hillbillies" they outwit the banking class with sheer innocence, all but laughing Mr. Drysdale right off their property! So, you could say the F.D.R. American through the filter of these two sitcoms was a mixture of intelligence and innocence, a rare combination. The intelligence enabled the American character to not only survive but to thrive, something we were doing as a Nation in the immediate aftermath of WW II, while the innocence of the "Hillbillies" was our purity of soul that could never be tempted by bankers or evil Nazi's.
August 16, 2016
quality vs. quantity
The quality vs. quantity debate haunts every artist of every discipline. It's safe to say that any work of art that achieves any lasting quality was built up on a pyramid of failure, so that the debate itself is a bit of a red herring. The artist who is remembered for one great song, or one great book, or one great movie, had a world of defeat before ever reaching the pinnacle. The debate should really be framed solely in terms of output to the public, otherwise there is no debate.
I'm hung up on this because I see myself as an artist who has chosen to believe in quality over quantity, since I just don't have that big an output. Sure, you could read these blogs for a couple of days and say I've written plenty, but these are all sketches, with only the best making it to a level of publishability.
Bet on the Beaten is an exercise that hopefully has some interest, but even so it wouldn't contribute that much to my output. It would almost be like a minor work from an artist renowned for something else. Architecturally, it would be like examining a room in a house, and ignoring the foundation, even though the room couldn't really exist without it.
I've been told on social media sites that the key to being a successful self-publisher, and a legitimately published author, is to pump out a new book every six months or so, so that you are a brand to be understood and digested by the reading public. They can see that you have some real publishable quality, and once they get hooked on one of your books, most assuredly they'll buy the rest for a paltry $0.99, and I guess this is true. Readers want to read and the whole argument of quality vs. quantity almost has more to do with a historical view of art, rather than for its sheer enjoyment.
My goal in publishing "If So Carried by the Wind" was for literary historical redemption, but less loftily it was to give a reader a good day, and hopefully I've achieved this. I do think it takes an awful lot of work to give a reader a good day, and what I used to call "a good flick," or what I think they call a "good read." :) I was never really a book fan in the traditional sense not that I didn't love the classics, but reading took so much time that I usually put a mediocre book down pretty quickly, and turned on the tube.
The debate may have more to do with the authors who publish year after year, so that they have a big audience who likes their style, but not necessarily a great book, or even a particularly good one. Framed this way, the whole debate sort of shrinks into one of entertainment vs. art, and the two have very little to do with each other, even if they feed each other.
Art can be inaccessible, but entertainment can never be this, while entertainment can have a healthy dose of art, while art can have no entertainment. The best art has some entertainment, and the best entertainment has some art, but the goals of the two aren't the same.
Entertainment is meant to be forgotten pretty quickly if only because it's not intended to excite the mind too much, unless it's the best kind of entertainment like a thoughtful sitcom. Likewise, the goal of art is not necessarily to entertain anyone right off the bat, since most good art doesn't do this, and why it's so hard for an Indie book to find an audience. Gertrude Stein self published too.
The truth may be something someone wrote me on Kboards in the last couple of months, a community forum I go to less and less as I immerse further in self publishing and/or trying to figure out how to get people to read my book. He told me I needed at least three or four published books before I could even imagine making a sales/audience breakthrough.
The artist in me finds this ridiculous and wants to scream bloody murder since one good book should be enough, but from a marketing perspective it makes complete sense, nor does it infringe on the quality vs. quality debate. I don't believe that a plethora of mediocre works diminish the good except in the public imagination while you are still alive, but it's your name that gets diminished not the work that stands the test of time, or doesn't.
I'm not sure what I think of producing just to produce. An artist has to work, but that's different than publishing every trite bit of trash that flows out of you, and I think this attitude has made a general mockery of the self published author. I can't complain since the whole process has given me a whole new angle on my career, but most self published work available for quick kindle reads is from the fantasy or romance genre, ostensible entertainments.
I do plan to publish "Toy Children" later this year, or at the beginning of next year, or so go the best laid plans of mice and men. I'm not sure if it's better or worse than "If So Carried" but it's not up to the author to make these decisions, and so I shouldn't worry about it. Some readers will probably like it more and some less, but there may not be many readers.
In the old days, it wasn't up to the author what to publish, but all of that has changed
in the kindle/amazon world, so now the author is the publisher, and basically a player/coach. I can't see pumping out sheer quantity to fatten the Christmas stocking, but it's equally insane to publish only to break new ground and change the course of literature.
I'm hung up on this because I see myself as an artist who has chosen to believe in quality over quantity, since I just don't have that big an output. Sure, you could read these blogs for a couple of days and say I've written plenty, but these are all sketches, with only the best making it to a level of publishability.
Bet on the Beaten is an exercise that hopefully has some interest, but even so it wouldn't contribute that much to my output. It would almost be like a minor work from an artist renowned for something else. Architecturally, it would be like examining a room in a house, and ignoring the foundation, even though the room couldn't really exist without it.
I've been told on social media sites that the key to being a successful self-publisher, and a legitimately published author, is to pump out a new book every six months or so, so that you are a brand to be understood and digested by the reading public. They can see that you have some real publishable quality, and once they get hooked on one of your books, most assuredly they'll buy the rest for a paltry $0.99, and I guess this is true. Readers want to read and the whole argument of quality vs. quantity almost has more to do with a historical view of art, rather than for its sheer enjoyment.
My goal in publishing "If So Carried by the Wind" was for literary historical redemption, but less loftily it was to give a reader a good day, and hopefully I've achieved this. I do think it takes an awful lot of work to give a reader a good day, and what I used to call "a good flick," or what I think they call a "good read." :) I was never really a book fan in the traditional sense not that I didn't love the classics, but reading took so much time that I usually put a mediocre book down pretty quickly, and turned on the tube.
The debate may have more to do with the authors who publish year after year, so that they have a big audience who likes their style, but not necessarily a great book, or even a particularly good one. Framed this way, the whole debate sort of shrinks into one of entertainment vs. art, and the two have very little to do with each other, even if they feed each other.
Art can be inaccessible, but entertainment can never be this, while entertainment can have a healthy dose of art, while art can have no entertainment. The best art has some entertainment, and the best entertainment has some art, but the goals of the two aren't the same.
Entertainment is meant to be forgotten pretty quickly if only because it's not intended to excite the mind too much, unless it's the best kind of entertainment like a thoughtful sitcom. Likewise, the goal of art is not necessarily to entertain anyone right off the bat, since most good art doesn't do this, and why it's so hard for an Indie book to find an audience. Gertrude Stein self published too.
The truth may be something someone wrote me on Kboards in the last couple of months, a community forum I go to less and less as I immerse further in self publishing and/or trying to figure out how to get people to read my book. He told me I needed at least three or four published books before I could even imagine making a sales/audience breakthrough.
The artist in me finds this ridiculous and wants to scream bloody murder since one good book should be enough, but from a marketing perspective it makes complete sense, nor does it infringe on the quality vs. quality debate. I don't believe that a plethora of mediocre works diminish the good except in the public imagination while you are still alive, but it's your name that gets diminished not the work that stands the test of time, or doesn't.
I'm not sure what I think of producing just to produce. An artist has to work, but that's different than publishing every trite bit of trash that flows out of you, and I think this attitude has made a general mockery of the self published author. I can't complain since the whole process has given me a whole new angle on my career, but most self published work available for quick kindle reads is from the fantasy or romance genre, ostensible entertainments.
I do plan to publish "Toy Children" later this year, or at the beginning of next year, or so go the best laid plans of mice and men. I'm not sure if it's better or worse than "If So Carried" but it's not up to the author to make these decisions, and so I shouldn't worry about it. Some readers will probably like it more and some less, but there may not be many readers.
In the old days, it wasn't up to the author what to publish, but all of that has changed
in the kindle/amazon world, so now the author is the publisher, and basically a player/coach. I can't see pumping out sheer quantity to fatten the Christmas stocking, but it's equally insane to publish only to break new ground and change the course of literature.
August 7, 2016
The M's analysis
Here's to my first baseball blog late in the season!
I spent a lot of the last couple of years blogging about baseball, but ran out of anything to say this year, until now. The M's might be in wild card contention and it's with one of those teams you really want to see win, and that's nice. They are better than anyone predicted at the beginning of the season, but not as good as they promised in April and May, when they were in first place for a day or two.
The M's collapsed in June, or what I called the beginning of the second act in one of my blogs last year.
1st Act of the Season = Conceit (April and May)
2nd Act of the Season = Conflict (June, July, and August)
3rd Act of the Season = Resolution (September, October)
The M's are late in the 2nd act and that's really do (due) or die time in baseball, or a three act play or film. The story either picks up steam here propelling the team into a competitive, or memorable, 3rd act, or everything falls apart, and there is no coming back. A bad 1st act can be forgotten if it is followed by a strong second and 3rd act, but likewise a strong first act will be quickly forgotten if the rest of the season goes flat, and that's what the M's were in danger of, until this week, when they seem to have a little life breathed into them. It doesn't feel exactly like the team at the beginning of the season, when they were winning series after series, and yet it feels like they could almost be there again, after a slew of injuries and line up changes.
It's still early August and their fortunes seem to be looking up for a do or die third act, where they'll have to light the puget sound on fire. Can they do this? I'm not so sure, but at least it looks like they are making it to the 3rd act of the Season, with their integrity intact. The M's haven't seen the playoffs since the early 2000's, nor have they ever seen the World Series, so even being in the running for a wild card spot in mid September is quite an accomplishment. Historically, they must be the worst team in baseball.
So, what makes these M's hum? They had a miracle victory against the Red Sox the other night that felt like one of those pivotal games in the season that can change a team's fortune for a two or three week run, and the fans are feeling it. I think they've won three out of four since then, and a winning streak will make them competitive in the 3rd act on the strength of their performance in the 1st act, but the 2nd act saw them go through a string of injuries.
It also saw the organization go through a rather heavy revelation that King Felix might be on the downward slope of his career. Ace pitcher Felix Hernandez has all but been the one shining star in a rather dreary decade, and a fan favorite with the King's Court held in his honor, where everyone dresses in yellow K shirts. His reign isn't ending tomorrow, but he missed much of the 2nd act, and doesn't quite seem the same, and yet is still effective. I was never a big Felix fan, but there is something sad about realizing a pitcher's greatness is behind him, and he never made it to his big game. I think a dream ending for Felix's career would be to imagine him going on like he is for a few more years, and then finally making it to that playoff game, or world series contest, and giving it his all one last time, in the face of demise! But that would take the M's making it to the postseason, late in the 3rd act, after most of the other teams have been killed off, and that's quite an expectation.
I spent a lot of the last couple of years blogging about baseball, but ran out of anything to say this year, until now. The M's might be in wild card contention and it's with one of those teams you really want to see win, and that's nice. They are better than anyone predicted at the beginning of the season, but not as good as they promised in April and May, when they were in first place for a day or two.
The M's collapsed in June, or what I called the beginning of the second act in one of my blogs last year.
1st Act of the Season = Conceit (April and May)
2nd Act of the Season = Conflict (June, July, and August)
3rd Act of the Season = Resolution (September, October)
The M's are late in the 2nd act and that's really do (due) or die time in baseball, or a three act play or film. The story either picks up steam here propelling the team into a competitive, or memorable, 3rd act, or everything falls apart, and there is no coming back. A bad 1st act can be forgotten if it is followed by a strong second and 3rd act, but likewise a strong first act will be quickly forgotten if the rest of the season goes flat, and that's what the M's were in danger of, until this week, when they seem to have a little life breathed into them. It doesn't feel exactly like the team at the beginning of the season, when they were winning series after series, and yet it feels like they could almost be there again, after a slew of injuries and line up changes.
It's still early August and their fortunes seem to be looking up for a do or die third act, where they'll have to light the puget sound on fire. Can they do this? I'm not so sure, but at least it looks like they are making it to the 3rd act of the Season, with their integrity intact. The M's haven't seen the playoffs since the early 2000's, nor have they ever seen the World Series, so even being in the running for a wild card spot in mid September is quite an accomplishment. Historically, they must be the worst team in baseball.
So, what makes these M's hum? They had a miracle victory against the Red Sox the other night that felt like one of those pivotal games in the season that can change a team's fortune for a two or three week run, and the fans are feeling it. I think they've won three out of four since then, and a winning streak will make them competitive in the 3rd act on the strength of their performance in the 1st act, but the 2nd act saw them go through a string of injuries.
It also saw the organization go through a rather heavy revelation that King Felix might be on the downward slope of his career. Ace pitcher Felix Hernandez has all but been the one shining star in a rather dreary decade, and a fan favorite with the King's Court held in his honor, where everyone dresses in yellow K shirts. His reign isn't ending tomorrow, but he missed much of the 2nd act, and doesn't quite seem the same, and yet is still effective. I was never a big Felix fan, but there is something sad about realizing a pitcher's greatness is behind him, and he never made it to his big game. I think a dream ending for Felix's career would be to imagine him going on like he is for a few more years, and then finally making it to that playoff game, or world series contest, and giving it his all one last time, in the face of demise! But that would take the M's making it to the postseason, late in the 3rd act, after most of the other teams have been killed off, and that's quite an expectation.
July 7, 2016
Pot Shops in Seattle
At first, no one knew whether to be embarrassed or open going into Seattle's legal pot shops, that now litter the city. There weren't many at first, and they were opening slowly. No one knew had to sell marijuana legally, and everyone was confused.
I felt like a criminal going in and that the cops were waiting for me outside, even though I knew this was illogical. The pot is all lined up under glass cases like rings, and it's hard to figure out exactly what they are selling, not to mention they try to shoo you out pretty quick, like a real drug deal, so in a way it replicates reality.
The pot shops only take cash, because they are not allowed to have bank accounts. The pot was really expensive at first, but not so much now, and people are getting more used to it being legal. The budtenders have little tip jars but this seems crazy since they are generally very unhelpful.
They are open 7 days a week which is more than the State run liquor stores used to be open for most of my life here, but now the supermarkets sell hard alcohol like in California, proving Seattle has made it to the big time, with million dollar homes sprouting up everywhere.
I felt like a criminal going in and that the cops were waiting for me outside, even though I knew this was illogical. The pot is all lined up under glass cases like rings, and it's hard to figure out exactly what they are selling, not to mention they try to shoo you out pretty quick, like a real drug deal, so in a way it replicates reality.
The pot shops only take cash, because they are not allowed to have bank accounts. The pot was really expensive at first, but not so much now, and people are getting more used to it being legal. The budtenders have little tip jars but this seems crazy since they are generally very unhelpful.
They are open 7 days a week which is more than the State run liquor stores used to be open for most of my life here, but now the supermarkets sell hard alcohol like in California, proving Seattle has made it to the big time, with million dollar homes sprouting up everywhere.
June 22, 2016
Pools of Readers
I'm running an FB ad right now that I theoretically paid $5.00 for but I wonder if I didn't buy more ad space than I originally intended since FB makes it confusing, and might end up spending $30.00, or so. Thankfully, this wouldn't bankrupt me, but it was making me angry today, and probably why I'm writing this blog, but my goals were pure. I thought I could get people to my page and show them what I'd done so maybe they'd buy the book, but buying a book is a spiritual act like voting, and few people will do it on a whim, even if it's practically free. Part of the problem is there are so many awful books/bands out there that people have become suspect that what they are buying is going to be worth their time, which is the ultimate investment, and impossible to recover. Years of seeing movies taught me in the end that it wasn't wasting my money that was the most troubling thing about sitting through a boring shitty movie, but the time wasted, since that could never be made up.
My Dad, whose probably surreptitiously reading this was an ad man, and all I got from that was to hate advertising. The whole process is going to take a lot of money, and I'm cheap. I've only spent about $20.00 so far, and I'm going for small little purchases, like a guy buying lottery tickets, so I'm trying to look at it as fun, like low level gambling in Vegas, and that is what it is so far, except I'm gambling on myself, and this feels better than throwing chips into a well of my own gluttony. I'm getting word of my book out there, but I'm not receiving much feedback yet. I've got some reviews and sales, but most of those haven't been through paid advertisements, and those feel like real victories. If the ads were turning people onto my book who were looking for it in a mysterious almost religious way this would feel good but I don't know how to simulate a religious feeling through advertising.
My friend Josh Mills wrote me recently that marketing is all trial and error, and I'm trying to remember that with my little throws of the dice. I'm like Sisyphus rolling the boulder slowly up the hill only to have it crash down on him, but I won't stop rolling it. I didn't start advertising until June, and at first I expected way too much, but I'm not doing that so much anymore, unless I was spending hundreds of dollars, but I'm not sure what that would get you (I'm really not). I get that the essence of the new media world has to do with independent contractors having email lists that they claim reach "readers" and those are where the sales start. The FB ads aren't so much about "readers" as just reaching people in general though even then I'd imagine they try to target "groups" where "readers" reside, but the whole process is done in the dark, and there's no way for the purchaser of the ads (me), to know exactly what these anonymous forces of the digital age are up to, and this is frustrating. The days of one to one contact are over unless you have a lot of money, but even then I'm not sure about the internet magic.
The Hollywood Blockbuster era has taught me that if you throw enough money behind a project it will make money for the first weekend of its premiere, because the excitement, buzz, and sheer availability of the product (the number of screens the picture is on) will overwhelm all common sense and make the picture money. How much, of course, is a question, but the picture gets a push, that it wouldn't otherwise, but I'm talking about millions of dollars here and I'm loathe to go to three digits! But the model is the same: I'm getting at least the title and the blurb of my book out there to people that would have never seen it and this is "buzz," or "internet presence," or any kind of word that symbolizes existence.
My Dad, whose probably surreptitiously reading this was an ad man, and all I got from that was to hate advertising. The whole process is going to take a lot of money, and I'm cheap. I've only spent about $20.00 so far, and I'm going for small little purchases, like a guy buying lottery tickets, so I'm trying to look at it as fun, like low level gambling in Vegas, and that is what it is so far, except I'm gambling on myself, and this feels better than throwing chips into a well of my own gluttony. I'm getting word of my book out there, but I'm not receiving much feedback yet. I've got some reviews and sales, but most of those haven't been through paid advertisements, and those feel like real victories. If the ads were turning people onto my book who were looking for it in a mysterious almost religious way this would feel good but I don't know how to simulate a religious feeling through advertising.
My friend Josh Mills wrote me recently that marketing is all trial and error, and I'm trying to remember that with my little throws of the dice. I'm like Sisyphus rolling the boulder slowly up the hill only to have it crash down on him, but I won't stop rolling it. I didn't start advertising until June, and at first I expected way too much, but I'm not doing that so much anymore, unless I was spending hundreds of dollars, but I'm not sure what that would get you (I'm really not). I get that the essence of the new media world has to do with independent contractors having email lists that they claim reach "readers" and those are where the sales start. The FB ads aren't so much about "readers" as just reaching people in general though even then I'd imagine they try to target "groups" where "readers" reside, but the whole process is done in the dark, and there's no way for the purchaser of the ads (me), to know exactly what these anonymous forces of the digital age are up to, and this is frustrating. The days of one to one contact are over unless you have a lot of money, but even then I'm not sure about the internet magic.
The Hollywood Blockbuster era has taught me that if you throw enough money behind a project it will make money for the first weekend of its premiere, because the excitement, buzz, and sheer availability of the product (the number of screens the picture is on) will overwhelm all common sense and make the picture money. How much, of course, is a question, but the picture gets a push, that it wouldn't otherwise, but I'm talking about millions of dollars here and I'm loathe to go to three digits! But the model is the same: I'm getting at least the title and the blurb of my book out there to people that would have never seen it and this is "buzz," or "internet presence," or any kind of word that symbolizes existence.
Bet on the Beaten
Blogs are as useless as art, and mean nothing, so enjoy!
- Seth Kupchick's profile
- 36 followers
