Jacke Wilson's Blog, page 74

Amazon v. Hachette (or Whatever v. Whatever)

By “whatever v. whatever” I don’t mean to imply indifference. I know people care passionately about this. And they’re right to! It’s their livelihood, their passion, their art that’s at stake.

No, by “whatever v. whatever” I mean “traditional v. indie” or “print v. ebook” or “established v. new” or however else you view the transformations in publishing.

I’m not taking sides (except to say I’m on the side of readers and writers). And I’m not an expert in this debate. Frankly I find that most of the commentary reveals more about the person making the argument than it does about the issues. (Hello, Laura Miller!)

But I wanted to point out something I mentioned a year ago, when the debate was about gatekeepers and independent authors. It’s a story with a point, even a moral, but I’m not going to be so heavy-handed as to explain it. It’s offered here for you to take or leave, as you wish.

Here’s the post, in all its glory. Onward and upward, people!

*

This is a true story:

So the author writes a 30,000-word story and finds himself in literary limbo. Even though he’s achieved some success with his previous books, magazines aren’t willing to publish a story this long. They only have so many pages, after all, and adding extra paper will be expensive to print and ship. For traditional book publishing it’s too short. Asking readers to pay hardcover prices for such a slim novel does not seem viable.

What can he do? The story is what it is. It’s the length it needs to be. The author doesn’t want his readers to get a version that’s been chopped down or padded out. The other alternative is to leave it in the drawer. The readers get nothing.

Fortunately the author has access to a new publishing and distribution model that will enable him to sell the book for the more reasonable price of $6.95. It’s a model more typically used by genre fiction (sci fi, fantasy, mysteries) but the author has no qualms about that. Who cares if it’s not the exact means preferred by the typical dispensers of literary fiction? Readers – and the integrity of the work, if you want to be high-minded about it – should come first! Besides, what’s a little stigma? He’s built his brand. He’s successful enough to welcome a little danger.

Who is this brave author, blazing trails on the publishing frontier? Jonathan Franzen, waking up and embracing changes to publishing in 2013? Scott Turow, finally recognizing that an author owes allegiance to readers and not established business models?

Nope.

The author was Saul Bellow. The year was 1988.

Writers Laughing: Anita Desai and Kiran Desai

Has there been a more successful mother-daughter writing duo than the Desais? I can’t think of one! And here they are, laughing together!

Look, this photo is just extraordinary. Quick quiz. Which of the following relationships is most likely to be fraught with tension?

A. Father-daughter

B. Mother-son

C. Father-son

D. Mother-daughter

Second quiz. Which pair is most likely to be competitive with one another and jealous of each other’s success?

A. Two doctors

B. Two computer programmers

C. Two accountants

D. Two writers

Did you say D for both? And yet here we have two writers, a mother and a daughter, obviously taking delight in one another.

Oh sure, like all relatives, they probably have their moments. But they also had this moment, the one in the photo, which is enough to make my day.

Photo Credit: Graziano Arici (eyevine), courtesy of theguardian.com

Writers Laughing: Pablo Neruda

Some big projects in the works, people. But in the meantime, let’s enjoy the great Chilean poet Pablo Neruda. Laughing. As anyone would, if a bird should happen to land on your head:

And this one. Handsome, gallant, brilliant poet…what a great man. And of course, he’s one of the patron saints of the writers laughing series, for no other reason than the marvelous line, “Laughter is the language of the soul.”

 

Indeed it is, Pablo. Indeed it is.

Writers Laughing: Georges Simenon

Simenon! The creator of Maigret! (How I love those little books.)  And…perhaps the most dedicated pipe-smoker of all time. Here’s the problem with pipe smoking for the Writers Laughing series. There are millions of pictures of Simenon posing for the camera thoughtfully with his pipe. And even when the pose is natural, it tends to be of other people laughing, and Simenon merely chuckles so his pipe doesn’t fall out of his mouth. You know he’s laughing. But he’s not really laughing.

So what to do? How about finding him with a baby? That’s always good! Babies make people laugh!

D’oh! There’s that pipe again. Baby smoking a pipe? Sure, it’s a little funny, if we go back a half-century. But it’s not exactly right for our series. Let’s try another baby:

There we go! Of course! And if the baby failed, there’s always the superstar to help us out:

Yes, that’s Josephine Baker. Simply awesome.

Image Credits: L’Illustré via trussel.com (first three); happyphoton.de (Baker)

Back to School Day 4 – Friday Night Fail

Our back to school week concludes with a special Friday evening post. A testament to those nights behind the school, under the lights, on a hundred-yard stretch of grass carved out of the cornfields. And the pluck and fight of a group of boys who just cannot win. And their coaches, who cannot be the heroes. High school success is easy to deal with. (What comes after might be harder.)

But what about failure? What about knowing that this is as good as it gets – and you and everyone around you is lousy at it? And what if the grownups in charge are as hopeless and doomed as you are?

That’s right. It’s Object #1 – The Padlock:

I looked around. It was raining hard now. Everyone else was gone, headed back to the locker room. It was only me, and Coach Ditka, and a desperate man engaged in the struggle of his life.

“Let’s go, Cold Ones,” Coach Ditka said. “Get it done.”

We’ll get back to some writers laughing and other assorted content now. But first, good luck to all those students out there. Hope you have a fantastic academic year!

Today’s Comment of the Week: A Former Student Weighs In

Wonderful Reader L writes:

I never thought I’d peruse a blog & “cry”. This piece is brilliantly & pleasantly descriptive, literally reaching out to the reader…and perhaps this is a sign I should make my mother proud and practice on the piano she gave me so many years ago…thank you.

What can I say? You’re welcome doesn’t begin to cover it.

Running this blog has been an amazing experience. I spent so many years writing and writing and writing – all for no one. I met with rejection at every turn. And throughout it all I thought there just had to be readers out there. Maybe not a billion, or a million, or a thousand, or a hundred.

Maybe there were not even ten. Maybe there was just one.

I kept going. Doing my best. Hoping to connect.

And now, when I hear that I have, I’m nearly overwhelmed with appreciation. Maybe I wouldn’t have felt this had I had an audience at the beginning, I don’t know. Maybe I’d be jaded, and take readerly appreciation as my rightful due. Maybe there was a reason why this all took so long. Maybe I wouldn’t feel anything this powerful. All I know is I sure as hell feel it now.

Here’s the story that the reader responded to. And yes, as many of you have probably guessed (and may have already read and commented upon yourself), it’s Object #7 – The Keyboard. Definitely among the top three or four in terms of reader feedback, I think, right up there with #3 – The Blood Cake and #10 – The Burger Car. But I love all my children. (Except maybe #9 – The Intersection. That one was too hard – I revised it too much and lost something in the process. I overparented. But I guess parents can be disappointed and still love.)

This Object also had the special followup post, which is not to be missed.

None of this would have been possible without the blog. I’m tempted to retire. It’s hard to imagine I’ll have more fun than I’ve had these past twelve months or so.

But fear not, loyal readers! I’ve saved a few ringers for the next 25. I’m hoping to get some illustrations going too. And the plan is to bring these Objects out in different formats to make them easier for people to read (in print and e-versions). And to revamp the website. So many projects! But that’s what autumn is for…

My thanks to all my readers and generous commenters who have made this experience so enjoyable. And of course, to reader L, who moved me more than I can express. Onward and upward, people!

Back to School Day 3 – The Real World, The Real World, and The Real World

Here’s where we are in Back to School Week:

Teachers were celebrated last week in one megapost. Plenty of good links there.
Day One of Celebrating Students: Young Bartleby generates a spiritual crisis in the halls of Cadbridge High…
Day Two of Celebrating Students: The girl who joined the all-boys league…

Today’s post is a tribute to all those summer jobs. The ones you have to put behind you to get back to the business of school. It’s a story of being pulled in two directions…the “real world,” and the “real world,” and the “real world.”

What does that mean?

Well, the “real world” is the one you work at your summer job. I worked for a farmer picking rocks out of a field, hurling them onto a giant flat-bed trailer, and driving to the edge of the field, where we hurled them all into the grass. I hauled typewriters. Sold Cokes at concerts. Painted houses. Washed clothes. What could be more “real world” than those jobs?

And yet…it wasn’t my real world, exactly. I was a student – if I had a full-time job, or career, or occupation, it was that. I may have worked in the “real world,” and it may have been the actual real world for my colleagues, but that wasn’t really my world. High school, college – that was my “real world.”

And then there was the other “real world” that was looming: the one I would get to after college. I had no idea what that one would be like. But somehow I knew that I would get there. That I was destined for it. Although I may be tempted to cling to the real worlds I was in, the ones I knew, something was going to chew me up and throw me out into the one I didn’t. It was exciting and a little frightening, and I wasn’t sure what it would mean for me or the relationships I had with the people in the first two “real worlds” (summer jobs and schools), who would not be there when I entered the third.

Here’s a story about that choice and how it played out.

#Object #16 – The Laundry:

Those were glorious summers. Every day was different. I would turn up at the laundry as dawn broke. Steam would already be pouring out of the small brown building. Inside, Jerry would be stuffing shirts into one of the giant machines as Inga pulled pants out of the dryer, snapped them straight, and folded them over wire hangers. I would fill the back of the truck with hundreds of work uniforms, hanging on two long bars in five-pack bundles, the hangers tightened together with a twist tie. Then I would head out to the factories and small businesses on the route to deliver a week’s worth of clothes to the lockers or work stations of the men and women who welded machine parts and processed food and manufactured cardboard and assembled airplane governors in southern Wisconsin and northern Illinois. Back in time for lunch, and the cool, quiet afternoons in the laundry before an early evening swim in the pool behind Jerry and Inga’s house, which was out in the country, or the pond they owned a mile away.

…

And all day long I saw an entrepreneur’s mind at work. It was intoxicating, even though I was headed for other things. When college began I alternated school years of Great Books with summers filled with trucks and nachos and cash. And when graduation came, Jerry made me an offer.

“Ever think about being the ambassador to Mexico?” he asked.

I admitted I had not.

“Okay. Second best job: why don’t you buy the laundry?”

Read the entire story at Object #16 – The Laundry.

And please note: this is NOT the same boss as the one in Object #24 – The Rope. If you’re looking for something funnier and less elegiac, I suggest you try that one. More end-of-summer longing! Bittersweet, of course. But what an outstanding preparation for life!

 

Back To School Day 2 – Coaching the Only Girl

To catch you up:

Last week we celebrated teachers (music, science, English, literature, and Suzuki parenting)
This week we’re taking a look at students. A story per day. Yesterday was the Great HIgh School Schism (set off by a McDonald’s game piece)

And today, we feature Object # 17 – The Shirts and Skins. The story is about what happens when a single girl plays in an all boys’ league – one that routinely divides up and goes shirts-and-skins. I was her coach; what she told me was a total surprise. But there are many layers of shame going on before we even get to that: 

The night before I’d played in front of a few hundred screaming fans. We had won in overtime, a thrilling game, and an indelible moment for every kid who wanted to be me, just as I had once sat in those stands and wanted to be the guys who preceded me on the court. Those guys were not beautiful either, but they were rugged, and athletic, and charismatic, and above all teenagers: when I was Dougie’s age, I’d never have dreamed of disrespecting them, my heroes, with such a comment.

And now here I was, getting myself out of bed early the morning after this triumph to come and coach these little kids for free. No, I doubted he’d repeat it: he needed me and my approval a lot more than I needed him. I had ninety-nine other kids to worship me or at least show me a little respect. He had one me.

“A what, Dougie? What did you just call me?”

“A zitso!” he said, laughing now. Laughing right in my face.

Well, that stung, and Dougie gets punished, but none of it turned out quite the way I expected. Ah, interlocking shame: is there any better kind?

 

Writers Laughing: Stephen King

Stephen King! We’ve praised his book on writing and pointed out that he’s probably a great guy. We’ve written a story or two he’d probably like. And now it’s time to take a look at what he looks like laughing.

Pretty good! He seems like he’d be such a good neighbor….

…as long as you didn’t build your house over an old forgotten cemetery or something.

Image Credits: Eamonn McCabe via The Guardian; NYTimes

Back to School! Causing a Metaphysical Riot Somewhere Between Michael Jackson’s Thriller and Nirvana’s Nevermind

We start with a quote:

I was starting to believe in the power of this thing, not as a talisman but as a phenomenon. It had to mean something that it – and I – had generated so much consternation. I represented something. To some I was a testament to discipline, to conviction, to inner strength. To others I was a fool who needed to be saved. To many I was both. And to a few I became a symbol of something horrible, something wrong with the world, or humanity; I needed to be exposed as a fraud. Whatever I represented, the principle on which I stood, needed to be expunged.

I started receiving threats. Violence seemed real. Would I die for this?  –Object #18 – The Monopoly Game Piece

That’s right! It’s another back-to-school week! Last week we celebrated teachers (when we weren’t celebrating awesome princess ninjas or writers laughing or, um, ourselves. This week I’m running a special celebration of what it means to be a student. Or what it meant for me.

Today’s story: the ever popular story about the Monopoly Game Piece.In which a simple refusal (hello, Bartleby!) splits a high school down the middle. Into the world of believers and unbelievers. And finally, to an encounter with an actual religion, and the way it all circled back on me.

So put on your jeans-and-sweatshirt, pop in some Van Halen, and tape a few Sports Illustrated pictures to the inside of your locker door (if you haven’t forgotten the combo – d’oh!). And here…we…go…!

A History of Jacke in 100 Objects #18 – The Monopoly Game Piece