Don – Page 42 – DONFOOLERY

“…snatching laughs and love between amputations and penicillin.”

My Sunday started out with brunch with some friends and mimosas! I think I’ve found something to replace my love of riesling. But that wasn’t why I made a two-hour drive.

As part of a benefit for the JCC of Greater Rochester, actor Elliott Gould was in the region for a 40th Anniversary Screening of the film MASH, one of my all-time favorite films. Seemed like a good reason for a roadtrip. One of my friends from overseas even (jokingly) threatened me with death if I squandered the opportunity and didn’t go.

Gould did a brief introduction before the screening. His presence was definitely worth the price of admission. I’d have paid double if Donald Sutherland would’ve been there, too. After all, my favorite line in the film was about his Hawkeye Pierce.

Hot Lips O’Houlihan: “I wonder how a degenerated person like that could’ve reached a position of responsibility in the Army Medical Corps.”

Father Mulcahy: “He was drafted.”

During the Q&A afterward, Gould (justifiably) credited the series for keeping Altman’s film alive. Now, if I wasn’t so tired, I’d go on about how much more I like the film than I ever liked the TV series. I understand that film and TV are two completely different animals, and how some of what I liked about film just wouldn’t translate. Still, the film’s tone was more my speed.

I’d made jokes beforehand about how I was going to ask lame questions like, “Gee, did you realize 40 years ago that you were making a classic?” Or the sort of stuff Chris Farley would ask: “Remember… that scene… when you punched out Robert Duvall? Remember? ‘Cos he made that kid cry. Remember that?

“That was awesome.”

I think that by making those jokes, I’d realized, at least on a subconscious level, that those are the sorts of questions that always get asked whenever you open a forum up to “the general public.” It happened when I saw writer Joyce Carol Oates speak last year. She was there to talk about a non-fiction project she was doing at the time. Now, as disappointing as that was–I’d wanted to her about her fiction, of course–it would never occur to me to ask the question most writers dread hearing, “Where do you get your ideas from?”

Now, not every question Gould was asked was at that level, but it was pretty close. As a result, I didn’t hear Gould say anything I didn’t already know from watching the MASH DVD extras–except for the fact that apparently director Martin Scorsese didn’t understand the game of football until he watched the football scene in MASH.

I know that must make me sound like a total snob.

Still, the opportunity just to be present at an event like this, honoring a piece of art with one of the people involved in making it was pretty breathtaking. Just the thing to get my creative juices flowing….

Sunday Brain Dump

1
Last night, I went to the season opener double-header for the Ithaca League of Women Rollers, i.e. our two local derby teams, the SufferJets and the Bluestockings. Great bout!! A comment was made by one of the announcers, giving me an idea for a short story.

2
Came up with another idea for a short story a couple of days ago. I think it’s a killer idea. I don’t have a character in mind for it. Which means, I don’t have any scenes in mind. It’s frustrating, because until I come up with one or the other, the idea’s useless to me.

3
I used to keep a monthly scorecard of my short-story submissions, but explaining why I didn’t submit any stories for a given month got old. I got back on a submissions kick this month, putting out 5 previously rejected stories and 3 new ones. I’ve already gotten 3 rejections back. *sigh*

Gotta keep pushing!

4
It’s taken me two years for me to follow my own advice and start reading Ben Tanzer‘s book Most Likely You Go Your Way and I’ll Go Mine. You know how it is. You intend to order something that’s not available at your local bookstore, and you just put off doing it. And then, it does appear at your local bookstore.

Yo, Ben — I started it and I’m liking what I’m reading so far. Sorry it took me so long!

5
This is part of a push on my part to read more novels in 2010. How else am I ever going to learn to write one…?

6
It has its flaws (which I understand are soon to be remedied), but I’m still in love with mint.com. It’s given me something I’ve needed for a long time, namely a way of GTD-ing my money management.

7
I cannot tell you how much I’m enjoying the 2010 series of Doctor Who. I wasn’t up in arms about David Tennant leaving the role, because I’d learned my lesson. I remember ranting in 2005, “What do you mean Christopher Eccleston’s leaving?” I had no idea how good Tennant was going to be. Well, I looked forward to Matt Smith’s performance, and so far, so good. And I admit that he rocks the tweed jacket better than I do.

Not only that, but so far the new head-writer/producer Steven Moffat has delivered, too, AFAIC. The BBC made the right choice, giving the show to the writer whose episodes have won Hugo awards. No, the episodes haven’t been perfect but I’m very, very impressed with what he’s done with the show’s tone. Everything people say about the fairy-tale/fantasy tone is all true. The first two episodes, especially, seemed like a sci-fi version of Pan’s Labyrinth. The only to make them better would be to have had them directed by Guillermo Del Toro.

8
I really need to do something about my home office. I’m fighting the clutter lately, and losing. The trouble is, the only solution is hard for me to face. I need a new desk with more tabletop real estate, which means taking the time and trouble to empty out and junk my old desk. Dammit.

I think that’s it for now.

“These dreams go on when I close my eyes”

Madeleine Is Sleeping by Sarah Shun-lien Bynum

My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I first read Bynum in Tin House: Fantastic Women. I thought “The Young Wife’s Tale” was nice story with nice writing, but it didn’t prepare me for what I’d find in this novel.

Bynum’s writing style is simply hypnotic. It’s as dreamlike as just about every other reviewer says it is, but that shouldn’t put you off. Just don’t get too tied up in the dream logic of these interconnected vignettes. Don’t worry about the line between the real and the dream. Just go with it and be absorbed.

View all my reviews >>

Practical Magic

Let me tell you something
I’ve met men in jail who had more style
than the people who hang around colleges
and go to poetry readings
They’re bloodsuckers who come to see
if the poet’s socks are dirty
or if he smells under the arms
Believe me I won’t disappoint em

-Raymond Carver, “You Don’t Know What Love Is (An Evening with Charles Bukowski)”

I did not to a poetry reading last Friday night, but I did go to a Paint Off–an annual fundraiser featuring local artists who had one hour to create artpiece which would be auctioned off to benefit a local summer festival.

I wasn’t the only one gawking at them and taking pictures, and I admit going with some romanticized delusion about watching a piece of art being conjured out of thin air from nothing but the Muse’s direction. I’m willing to bet I wasn’t the only one doing that, either. Then I gave the matter a second’s thought and I finally realized that these weren’t “artistes” whose socks were dirty or who smell under the arms. They were artists who were working.

I saw people with their sleeves rolled up, sweating, scrambling, and getting their hands dirty. I saw noses put to the grindstone.

This is the real magic of art to me, whether it’s painting, sculpting, music–or even writing. This is the level of professionalism I want to attain.

This inspires me.

You?

One Good Turn, &c.

So, I may not be sure exactly where I fit into the whole social-writer-networking thing, but I at least know to return a compliment. I’m a little late, but let me return a shout-out to Medeia, who gave me The Picasso Award last week.

The idea is to post seven truths about myself and invite others to do the same. Now, in the interest of bandwidth conservation, I don’t like pressuring people into playing along. But by all means, any and all comers are welcome to.

So, here goes. But, caveat emptor: I share the same views on truth as Obi-Wan Kenobi.

One of my mutant superpowers is the ability to hum along with the horn lines from any Chicago song on any Chicago album.
If an object can cut a person, I can probably use it effectively as a weapon.
I’m a caffeine abuser. Always have been. And even though I struggle to moderate my use, I really don’t have any plans to cut it out completely.
While I like the idea of turning the other cheek, I don’t do it as much as I should. I treat my emotional and verbal battles like physical altercations, i.e. I counterattack while I’m defending myself. In both cases, that response was developed after years of training.
“Plan Z” (aka “My life plan if all else fails and falls apart”) is to take my trumpet and wander the earth like Caine in Kung-Fu, playing and finding adventure.
It’s been too long since I’ve played a table-top role-playing game.
My writing owes as much to jazz musician Chet Baker as it does to Raymond Carver.

Any questions?

My Branding Motto

I see lots of Twitter discussions and blog entries on the importance of social networking and branding for writers. I have my share of sites (just look at my sidebar), and have given some thought to what my “brand” might be (or should be), so I certainly don’t knock the idea.

Yes, publishing’s moving. Yes, a writer (any artist, really) should be online somehow. But, how much time and energy do I spend doing this? Where do I spend it? More importantly, what about the writing? Makes me wonder if I have to be Don Draper to figure this all out.

Alan DeNiro (author of one of my favorite short story collections, Skinny Dipping in the Lake of the Dead) has also tried to ponder these mysteries, partially spurred on by a presentation at SXSWi, at which the assertion was made that…

An author is no longer an individual working in a room alone, but the leader of an online “tribe” of followers –- the people who comprise the author’s audience. Several example kept coming up, wine guy Gary Vaynerchuck, author of Crush It!, business guru Seth Godin; and Kroszer’s favorite example, The Pioneer Woman, who “could organize a tour on her own without the help of a publisher.” The consensus, from another panel –- “Scoring a Tech Book Deal” was that a potential author needed a minimum of 5,000 Twitter followers.

Now, I have no intention of being John the Baptist in sackcloth and ashes, crying out in the wilderness. I’m not going to rail about art vs. commerce. I’m just saying that as I look at my “writers” list on Twitter and the Google Friendconnect bloggers I’m following on the sidebar–which accounts for only a third of the writer blogs I follow on my RSS feed reader–I see exactly the tribalism that’s being talked about. Book and story reviewing, writers of every level interviewing other writers of every level, guest blogging, group blogging — and I honestly have no idea where I fit in yet.

Until I figure it out, though, I feel I’m doing two things absolutely right…

I’m writing what I want to write, and I’m putting it out there.
I’m connecting with “the right people.”

Mystery Science Theater 3000‘s Joel Hodgson said his crew was never worried if not everyone would get their arcane references, because “the right people will get it.” Who are “the right people?”

First, I’ll talk about how I collect them. I collect them the way I collect comic books after the 90s when people realized they just didn’t need 8 variant covers of the same damn first issue of every book with an X in the title. I invest in the books I want to read. The ones that interest me. Same with the folks I follow on any given social network I belong to. I follow them ‘cos I want to. Because they pique my curiousity, or enthrall me with their points of view, or they’re doing exactly what I want to be doing, the way I hope to do it. And, I strive to be equally interesting to them. And I accomplish this by putting myself out there, and responding the best I can to what these people put out there.

I read an interview with–well, I forget if it was Ricky Gervais or Eddie Izzard. To paraphrase my favorite bit of that interview, I’d rather be 1000 people’s favorite writer than 10,000 people’s 10th favorite writer. The way I see it, my chances of accomplishing that are better when I develop–okay, a tribe–of people who “get” me.

i.e. “The right people.”

I guess you could say my branding strategy so far can be best summed up in the poem “Motto” by Langston Hughes…

I play it cool
And dig all jive
That’s the reason
I stay alive.
My motto,
as I live and learn,
is:
Dig and be dug
In return.

Now, I did say “so far.” So, tell me — am I missing anything? What else should I be considering? I want to hear especially from my peeps that have blogged about this in the past (don’t make me go back through all the Read items in Google Reader, pleeeease?). Am I thinking too hard about all this? Or not hard enough?

Educate me.

Hail to the King, Baby

Two songs and two thoughts went through my mind as I sat in this chair, getting this picture taken at a local winery.

I’ve got to keep my image while suspended on a throne
That looks out upon a kingdom filled with people all unknown
Who imagine I’m not human and my heart is made of stone
And I’ve never had no problems and my toliet’s trimmed with gold

Spencer Davis Group, “I’m a Man”

What that idiotic smirk on my face doesn’t show is the inner realization that if those lyrics resonated with even the smallest part of me, then I have only myself to blame. If I do portray this image, it’s because I’ve developed a Game Face. I wondered if the Game Face may be part of some psychological defense mechanism that may or may not be needed anymore. I wondered if maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance that my life might be better off without it.

But then, I remembered the words to another song…

I was the king of the world
I had every thing thrown at me,
That the judge and jury could hurl
I was the man of the hour
I would claw and scratch my way up,
To the very top of the tower

-Toto, “King of the World”

Then I realized there were reasons I was the way I am. No, I haven’t been severely traumatized or anything, at least no more so than your average Joe. But somewhere along the way, I decided the Game Face became a handy tool for helping me get back up whenever I was knocked down. I decided that maybe it was the price of doing business in life. I decided that it wasn’t making me hard or calloused in the way people don’t like – the way that makes you slow, closed-off, and numb. I decided that it made me stronger – like a fighter who’s not only conditioned to take a hit and get back up, but is willing to step back into the ring and tell the next chump (read: bit of disappointment) who wants a piece, “Come get some.”

I decided it’s good to be the king.

Tough Love

Been awhile since I’ve attended the literary vivisection that is my biweekly critique group with something to read. This week, I brought in a 996-word flash fiction piece, written to a story prompt I found online–sorry, but due to the rules of the forum, I can’t post the prompt here.

Anyway, here’s what the gang had to say…

FTW!

I was unsatisfied with the working title I gave the story, but at least one reader thought it fit just fine.
As usual, at least one reader called my story “intriguing.”
People liked my description of “bad college behavior,” especially in regard to one peculiar substance.

StoryFail

That certain peculiar substance didn’t click as much for a couple of readers as much as for the rest. They understood how I used it; just didn’t resonate, it seemed.
Only one reader out of eight seemed completely satisfied with how I ended the piece. Most, even those who understood the implications, still thought the ending could’ve been “stronger” or “more clever.”

A short critique for a short piece. Sometimes, though, I don’t feel I deserve the praise I sometimes get for my flash. Flash seems to cover a multitude of sins, where my writing is concerned. It makes sense–the more I write, the more that can go wrong. But sometimes, I feel like the success–or lack thereof–of my longer pieces is more representative of my current abilities. Oh, well…

Getting Things Done, For Longer Than I’ve Been Alive

Jim Lehrer, host of the PBS NewsHour (formerly known as, among other things, The MacNeil-Lehrer Newshour) for over 35 years, is one of my biggest writing influences. During his long and storied career in journalism, he’s written and published nineteen novels. This makes him one of my writing heroes, despite the fact that I haven’t read word one of his books.

So what makes him my influence? He wrote those books while he was anchoring, reporting in, and producing award-winning news shows. And he’s not some Johnny-Come-Lately who decided to “follow his real dream” once he got the NewsHour gig and after getting a bit of fame behind him. His first novel Viva, Max! was published in 1966, seven years before he teamed up with Robert MacNeil, at the beginning of a career that would garner him numerous awards for excellence in journalism.

Do a thought experiment with me. Lehrer’s books get fair-to-middlin’ reviews but let’s assume–purely for the sake of argument–that each and every one of his novels is utter crap (Again, I don’t know this, because I haven’t read any of them). Imagine how much work it would take to produce and publish nineteen bad novels, and you’ll see why I’m impressed.

In short, he’s a guy who gets his writing done, and in the interviews I’ve seen over the years in which he talks about his fiction, he gets it done anywhere and everywhere he can, every day.

I’ve met writers who hold down day jobs and/or are parents (some, of kids with special needs), and/or who are adult caregivers, and/or who are dealing with their own or someone else’s medical/mental/emotional problems. And I look at these folks, and at Jim Lehrer, and ask myself, “What the fuck excuse do I have?”

Does it make you ask the same?

Pants on Fire

So my friend Jess passed on the ~~Bald-Faced Liar~~ Creative Writer Award to this here blog. THANKS, JESS!! Not just for the award but for another fun game to play along with.

Here are the rules:

Thank the person who gave this to you. (see above)
Copy the logo and place it on your blog. (see above)
Link to the person who nominated you. (see above)
Tell up to six outrageous lies about yourself, and at least one outrageous truth. (see below)
Nominate seven “Creative Writers” who might have fun coming up with outrageous lies.
Post links to the seven blogs you nominate. (Umm… well…)
Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know you nominated them. (Uh, yeah…)

Anyway, let’s start with the outrageous lies and the one outrageous truth. Can you guess which is which?

Clevelanders are famous for lying about this, but I really was an extra in the parade scene in “A Christmas Story.” I was one of the folks standing right in front of Soldiers & Sailors Monument.
I once got a standing ovation singing “Sweet Transvestite” at a karaoke bar, embarassing another singer the way Huey Lewis did in the film Duets.
I lost my left big toe in a childhood bicycle mishap, finding out the hard way why there are always supposed to be guards around the chain.
I made it through two rounds of interviews for The Real World: San Francisco. Yes, the one with Puck. So glad I dodged that bullet.
Fourteen years ago, I embarassed myself backstage at a Chicago concert by telling the trumpet player, Lee Loughnane, that he was my idol and I wanted to be just like him.
When I was twenty, I once slept with a girl who would eventually become an actress who, until recently, co-starred in a famous network TV police procedural drama. She’d originally planned to be an engineer. (No, I won’t tell you which show.)
As I child, I had dreams of me being a sub in BDSM scenes before I even knew what BDSM was.

Anyway, the real truth is that while I occasionally break my rule of not spamming other people’s blogs, I’m a little wiped to think of seven folks who might be kind enough to play along. How about, I pick… you? I’d only ask one thing, which is that you leave a comment with a link if you do play along.