BOOKS & PUBLISHING
Two Two Two: Flights Delayed, Trains Amuck & the Lethargic March of the Music City Star MachineTHE DEEP SOUTH 12 October 2009 |
The other day I heard one of my favorite authors say it takes her at least a month to get a seven or eight page story right. Then another writer I like a lot twittered for feedback on the first chapter of his new book. He said he had rewritten the beginning, about five pages, at least fifty times but still didn’t feel good about it.
This helps me. I write and re-write. Let it sit, write some more. Go away, come back, keep a tiny piece and throw the rest away. Edit, refine, sharpen. And still never know if it’s any good.
Davis, a pal of mine from William Morris, tells me that “good or bad” are effectively irrelevant. He says that in his world the only thing that matters is Can we sell this? and that if a company thinks the answer is enough of a yes to invest, an army of enablers exist who can dig your diamond from the rough and make it shine like the stars.
“I’m not saying art doesn’t matter or that commerce kills the process,” Davis offers while pushing a hand through his close-cropped sandy blond hair. “Just that to some degree you don’t know what you’ve got until you get with the right people who can push you, bring out your best and package that in a manner so the right audience will connect with you enough to spend money.”
“So hey um, how does one find those right people?” I inquire.
“Well, that is the trick,” he muses, wadding up his napkin and throwing it to the table. “Marketing talent is a nebulous process and there are many things that can go wrong. And those things that can go wrong – usually do.” Agent Davis gives me a sympathetic look as he slips the check into his pocket. “All that to say – you finish that project yet?”
“Been kinda stuck lately.”
“Get it done. Get your brand name going. See you – know how to talk. You could handle press. Build your platform, you can do the speaking tour thing – that’s where the money is right now in your genre.”
“Yeah I don’t know.”
He stares at me a moment, like Dylan lyrics are scrawled across my face in tiny print. “You sure you want to even get into something like this?”
“What you mean?”
“You work from home, sleep late every day and get to be with your pretty wife every night. You sure you want the hassle? It is a hassle.”
I give him a goofy sort of grin, saying nothing.
“Well keep me posted,” he says, shaking his head. “Help you where I can.” Davis steals a glance at his watch. “Man. Gotta go catch my plane.”
“Where you going now?” I ask.
“Roanoke or some shit,” He replies. “What you got going the rest of the day?”
“Goin’ home.”
“Home,” Davis says with a roll of his eyes and a smile. We shake hands and go our separate ways.
“Seriously, better get your horse in the race,” he calls from his SUV, patting the door for emphasis. “Soon enough somebody’s gonna get this Kindle thing right and books will go the way of bootlegged music.” He points across the street to the ruins of a sad old record store.
I’m parked at the curb but keep walking, just to clear my head. I pass the record store and peer through at the dust and bones of dead efforts and eras gone by. I think about all the stuff I used to know that I don’t know anymore, how unsure I am of everything.
I love art but I’ve never been any good at the business of art. I’ve never been any good at the business of anything. I’m easily distracted. I don’t take things seriously except for that which I I take far too seriously. I’m socially awkward unless I fake it but I can fake it pretty good which is really bad. I’ve had too many concussions. I am oft bewildered and my trains run amuck. I am an everhoping sillyheart.
Maybe these are just the excuses I make for laziness. I don’t know. Sometimes it seems I will never ever figure out the way things work.
Storms brew to the South as I drive back home. Scary bolts of lightning stab through the sky. Signs at the airport flash, stating flights have been delayed, and I wonder about David, if he is drinking at the airport bar, watching the crawler on CNN.
I pull up to the house and my honey’s car is already in the drive. Through the side curtain I can see her stirring pasta and at the door I hear her singing along to the opening strains of Ode to Joy.
Sprinkle turns to a heavy rain as I stand with my hand on the door. I watch my wife stir and taste and as her sweet voice rises above the music I enter like a Spaniard, take her in my arms and we dance in the kitchen light.
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Original comment thread below
52 Comments »
Comment by James Michael Blaine
2009-10-12 20:50:25
and later
while she sleeps
I write
Reply to this comment
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-12 21:25:53
I’m just a little bit in love with you and your wife.
I’ve said it before but your love for each other gives me so much hope – you make me believe it’s a good thing to be an ‘everhoping sillyheart.’
In fact, when I read this, it’s all I want to be now.
Reply to this comment
Comment by jmb
2009-10-13 06:53:18
thank you Zara.
some days sillyheart is blessing
others a curse
But I am reminded
that lots of things I think
I need
I dont need
‘Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.
Reply to this comment
Comment by David S. Wills
2009-10-13 03:54:07
“He stares at me a moment, like Dylan lyrics are scrawled across my face in tiny print.”
Great line.
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Comment by jmb
2009-10-13 06:58:17
Well thank you.
I meant Dylan McKay from
90210.
That band he and David and Kelly
started that was sort of pre-Sublime-ish
meets No Doubt?
Well I asked my agent friend if he remembered that
and he said “What the hell are you talking about?”
and I realized I get my plotlines from
90210 & Saved by the Bell mixed up.
Concussions.
Reply to this comment
Comment by Ducky
2009-10-13 07:12:28
Ha!
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Comment by Robin Antalek
2009-10-13 05:15:44
Ahhh… your ending is so beautiful because it is also a beginning…..
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Comment by jmb
2009-10-13 06:58:38
every ending
is another beginning
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Comment by josie
2009-10-13 05:46:18
That you can make a piece about literary struggle spin in to romance is pretty impressive to me. I’m with Davis – get your horse in the race – because everything we do in life comes with a hassle, especially the joys. Go get ‘em, you everhoping sillyheart.
(Nice piece. Musta took you ages ;^)
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Comment by jmb
2009-10-13 07:09:56
My horses
do not race
they ramble
and run free
there is no
romance without
struggle
but it’d be nice huh?
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Comment by josie
2009-10-13 06:01:49
I just heard that some school back east will be building a bookless library. Future generations will no longer tote textbooks, the library will be an empty room. And I thought switching to mp3s was going to be tough. I’m going to miss libraries.
The times they are a changin’.
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Comment by jmb
2009-10-13 07:10:58
Pass.
Times may change
but not all change
is timely
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Comment by A.F. Passafiume
2009-10-13 06:21:04
Very nice piece, fellow Nashvillian!
Reply to this comment
Comment by jmb
2009-10-13 07:12:38
Gasp*
You probably recognize
my Music City hints….
I put the villain
in Nashvillain.
Really, I did.
It’s right there
not where it belongs.
I put it there.
Reply to this comment
Comment by Ducky
2009-10-13 07:12:04
When I grow up, I want to be an everhoping sillyheart.
I love this. It keeps me grounded in the moment. Every word. That, to me, is the magic of writing.
That zen moment when I am there with the writer, seeing every detail.
As you are an everhoping sillyheart, I am the grateful watcher. Thank you for letting me see through your eyes today.
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Comment by jmb
2009-10-13 07:15:12
Ducky that’s very sweet
and I am much thankful for those kind words.
Oh to be grounded.
Doesnt grounded
mean you are safe from lightning though?
I never want to be safe from lightning.
Are you really Janet Oke?
Janet Oke watching me
with those big glasses she wears….
Reply to this comment
Comment by Ducky
2009-10-14 12:25:56
I am whoever you need me to be. And I must be grounded, as I’ve never been struck by lightning (though I had a boss once who was struck three times) and hookers never lie.
Reply to this comment
Comment by jmb
2009-10-14 13:40:17
SuperDucky
take me away
wait, can ducks fly?
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Comment by Ducky
2009-10-14 19:12:31
We fly high.
Comment by jmb
2009-10-24 20:01:52
Let’s roll.
Reply here
Comment by Irene Zion
2009-10-13 07:54:21
jmb,
you are the lucky ones
you and your wife.
(You have to pay a downtown rat to gnaw off a mole?
I didn’t know they charged for the service.
Where do they keep their money?
Is there a rat bank?
But, then, where do they keep their bankbook?
What do they buy?
An education for their pups?
You raise so many questions today.)
Reply to this comment
Comment by James Michael Blaine
2009-10-13 08:03:40
So many more questions
than answers
What was that Rilke said?
Blessed, indeed
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Comment by Reno
2009-10-13 07:59:54
writing is full of dread and usually created by dreadful people. you’re writing is not full of dread. nor are you dreadful.
you lucked out. so did the rest of us when we get these little snapshots. thanks.
yup,
rene
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Comment by James Michael Blaine
2009-10-13 08:04:22
Oh brother
I am
Judge Dread
’s bailiff.
Reply to this comment
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-13 08:15:00
Boy, I went through a range of emotions reading this.
I’ve had similar talks with agents, and they did nothing but depress me. Oh, and the kindle depresses me like nothing else. Why must everything be digital?
But then, at the end, I was inspired. How did you pull that off?
Oh, and I would give just about anything for a proper thunderstorm right about now.
Reply to this comment
Comment by jmblaine
2009-10-13 13:39:50
It’s always storming somewhere
Thanks for those kind words.
I dont know how I pulled that off but it was
kind of you to know what a struggling
writer wants to hear
Reply to this comment
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 08:30:52
Hey. I’m a struggling writer myself. And it did rain in L.A. a couple of days ago, which I suppose amounts to a storm, though there was no thunder or lightning.
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Comment by jmb
2009-10-15 08:34:10
they say there’s glory in the struggle
but I dont know.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 08:36:07
Sure doesn’t feel like glory.
Comment by jmb
2009-10-15 13:35:11
amen
hallelujah
Reply here
Comment by Mary
2009-10-13 08:40:32
I am with you all the way through this one. It’s juuuust right. You and your wife — beautiful — and your feelings about the publishing industry and everything? Yep, I feel ya there, too.
I keep wondering if there is hope for someone like myself to keep working this day job thing and keep writing and somehow eek out a life I can be proud of. For me, it’s not even about getting published right now (although I do desperately want that eventually), but about creating something I can really love, you know? I just want to do work that fulfills me, and I realize that people aren’t likely to pay me the big bucks for doing that. I may or may not be in the process of deciding I’m OK with toiling away in obscurity until I finally produce something really great …
Reply to this comment
Comment by jmblaine
2009-10-13 13:41:15
Creating work you love
I think you said it right there.
And not be so anxious thinking
some sort of validation will make you fullfilled.
My dad says if you arent happy with what you have now
Chances are you wont be happy
later
I hate when he says that.
Reply to this comment
Comment by Mary
2009-10-13 16:06:09
Dads have this infuriating habit of being right sometimes. Well, not all of them, but the good ones.
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Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-10-13 11:53:36
Thunderstorms are rolling overhead here too – God, how I’ve missed them!
Apparently Sony’s making a big push towards digital as well. But I don’t know… like sharks, the book is the perfect predator as it is; it’s never really had to evolve. Without having taken a quick straw poll, most people I know can’t go past the allure of actually holding a book.
I know I can’t.
Reply to this comment
Comment by jmblaine
2009-10-13 13:43:15
Most of my buddies work at Sony
or have in the past – what Sony
wants it gets
I love books, the smell and the weight in your hand
and I hate the Kindle thing
but we have to realize we are book nerds
and the younger generation
wants e-everything.
Reply to this comment
Comment by Lenore
2009-10-13 17:39:09
“dust and bones of dead efforts” is good.
real good.
i’m stealing it. i plan to use it at least twice this week.
Reply to this comment
Comment by jmb
2009-10-14 07:31:47
I stole it from
Izzy of Guns and Roses.
Really.
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Comment by Marni Grossman
2009-10-13 23:02:58
You don’t have to wonder. You ARE good.
Reply to this comment
Comment by jmb
2009-10-14 13:38:40
If so its still good to wonder
But thank you for saying so
Reply to this comment
Comment by Megan
2009-10-13 23:43:41
Yeah you & your honey, barfingly adorable. “I’ve had too many concussions” is a great original excuse. But you mean from wrassling?
I personally find it’s crippling/stifling to write while all the time thinking of the market, the buyer, the dollar. Rappers weave ads into their lyrics, but it’s only tolerable when it’s almost self-mocking.
I think we should worry about saleability in the editing process. Or a pro editor can shape it into something sell-able.
Reply to this comment
Comment by jmb
2009-10-14 07:44:45
Ah but how does one get to the pro editor?
I think I am so
self-mocking
that no one ever knows when I am serious.
Well, that’s what I was told.
Reply to this comment
Comment by Rich Ferguson
2009-10-14 04:59:57
Very enlightening piece, brother. Yeah, in one way or another, seems like you gotta pay to play.
Reply to this comment
Comment by jmb
2009-10-14 07:47:19
For the rank
absurdist
its all play
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Comment by tip robin
2009-10-14 07:53:26
very fluid, visual and introspective, something i’m most writers or even artists can relate to, especially the: “I love art…” paragraph.
also, the lovely ending as you enter like a Spaniard and dance with your wife, write late and, essentially fill out the Davis’ definition of’ writer minus the book or book tour.
simple and striking.
Reply to this comment
Comment by jmb
2009-10-14 13:43:06
Artists make terrible business people
because we have no practicality
which is why managers and agents
its so easy
for them to be crooked.
Its like they see us as special
ed.
I left this part out but just before I
enetered I got a tiny little cowboy hat
and tipped it just so
and smirked
Southern Dandy style.
Reply to this comment
Comment by Autumn
2009-10-15 04:17:42
After 40 comments by writers all more eloquent than I, allow me to just say that I read this, and loved it.
I think we are all a little bit in love with the love between you and your wife.
And your words. Your storytelling seduces all of us. I hope there are many more stories to come, be they book, essay, or comment/poem.
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Comment by jmb
2009-10-15 07:51:08
Stories without end
Amen
I love your
little cute little new little picture.
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Comment by Greg Olear
2009-10-15 16:20:21
I concur with the rest of the comments, which is to say, great piece.
Your William Morris pal is wrong, incidentally. You can’t make chicken salad out of chicken shit. If everything came down to marketing, every movie would be a blockbuster hit, and there’d be no flops. Can they pump stuff up? Sure. But in the end, art wins out. It always does, and it always will. Period. Or, to put it more poetically, as you do with your comments:
Beauty is truth, truth beauty
G
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Comment by jmb
2009-10-15 16:28:54
Well there’s a fierce debate over that here.
I think what he means if you have to have something -
some sort of spark or “it” or whatever
but it doesn’t have to be perfect.
But enough diamond to dig.
In Nashville some of the least talented,
lacking charisma or looks
have had the greatest success
while others with the total package
have struck out
I wont name names but you know what I mean.
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Comment by Greg Olear
2009-10-15 17:32:00
I think it has more to do with luck than marketing, then. But I see his point.
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Comment by Erika Rae
2009-10-19 04:09:03
I love your ending on this. I also like how your friend asked you if you were really sure you wanted this. It’s almost as if he were channeling the devil right before he sells it to you for your soul.
Reply to this comment
Comment by jmb
2009-10-24 20:04:13
To Hell with the
Devil!
Yellow and Black Attack!