A TREE FALLS

If a hermit blogs on the internet and there’s no one there to read it, does it make a sound? That has been the great existential question I’ve been grappling with instead of actually blogging. But of course the answer is yes, the tree hears it. What I mean is that whether or not people are reading my blog entries, I’m writing them. And that is still time well enough spent. And that is my nugget of wisdom for today. Of course, if I’m the only one reading this, I’m the only one benefiting. Your loss.

Your Irish curse of the day:

MAY YOUR WIFE BE A WITCH

Til next time

I AM NOT FAUST

I am not Faust. I will not sell my soul, that is, my work, to corporations that think they can pay writers pennies for their hard work, and that we will sell it gladly, outright, with next to nothing in return. I’m sick of CEOs trying to get one over on the rest of us, making their money on the backs of desperate writers. I know I sound like a crazy conspiracy fanatic, but Prevention magazine wants to hire bloggers. That is, bloggers who are willing to give up ALL rights to their own work AND let their company use the writers as their personal PR lackeys AND use those writers’ personal MySpace and Facebook pages as billboards for said company in their “social marketing techniques.” All for “up to” $100 a month.

Speaking of selling your soul, I watched the ORIGINAL Bedazzled with Peter Cook and Dudley Moore the other day. Fabulous. Must see. Check it out.

And now your Irish curse of the day (yea):

MAY YOUR PARTNER BE AN UNFEELING BRUTE.

Yeah. That’s what I have to say to anyone who tries to take advantage of me just because I’m broke and desperate.

ON "RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION"

I’ve been reading about this Virginia Quarterly Review scandal that was brewing online a couple of months ago. Yes, I’m always a bit behind the times. VQR published to their blog snippets of scathing comments made by the readers on their staff about submissions from their slush pile. I’m all too aware how elitist attitudes run rampant in literary circles, but it’s still a bit surprising to see it displayed so proudly. Apparently, a lot of other people felt the same way, and cyber fights broke out like the plague.

So then editor Ted Genoways wrote an “apology” that spent all of one sentence expressing something resembling remorse and the rest of the several paragraphs tooting the publication’s horn in the same self-important, aren’t-we-so-clever tone that got so many people riled up in the first place, with a lot of fighting-the-good-fight-for-literature rhetoric and blaming the blog readers for misinterpreting their intentions, saying that “some writers got the idea that VQR delights in belittling unsolicited submissions,” which, of course, is exactly what they did. But I’m sure they didn’t delight in it. I’m sure it was very painful for them.

He also says that the comments accurately depict their readers’ “righteous indignation” at the submissions they read which are inappropriate for them. What?! Did he really just say that? Righteous indignation? Is he aware that this phrase is typically not used in a particularly flattering way (see link above)? It might not have been quite what he meant to say, but it certainly does speak volumes.

Genoways tries to defend the post by saying that there is objectively good writing and objectively bad writing, and to a degree this is true. But I hope he’s not trying to pretend that he has always been a member of the former group. Who of us with any self-awareness can say we never wrote something embarrassingly inept? But hopefully, there wasn’t someone there to berate us publicly for our bumbling, sophomoric attempts, and that’s why we continued to write and to, hopefully, improve.

When I was reviewing submissions for River City (now The Pinch) did we make derisive remarks about certain submissions? Of course. Did we post the most absurd cover letters on the walls of the office? Yes. One has to keep a sense of humor in such a frustrating, often annoying, and usually thankless job. But did we keep our snickers and comments within those four cover-letter-papered walls? Most definitely.

Everybody that has ever been in the position of reading other’s work (with a publication or as a teacher) has complained about and laughed about the quality (or lack thereof) of the many, many manuscripts they have to trudge through. I think the line is crossed when you make public the responses to specific pieces, which could very well be read by that very same author. Genoways says that the criticisms did not describe the works in any recognizable way, but then no one can read the original post to decide that for themselves because it has been removed. If it was harmless and defensible, why remove it?

I’m not trying to paint the staff at VQR as bad people, but what they did was tacky and unprofessional. And instead of sincerely apologizing, they are still defending their actions, because after all the debate, they still feel justified in their “righteous indignation.” Perhaps they could use a little more tact and a lot more humility.

Now, on a lighter note, the reason you really came here... your Irish curse of the day! (yay!)--or week:

ANOTHER STONE ON YOUR GRAVE, YOU MISERABLE WRETCH.
Happy writing.

THE BITCH IS BACK

No, I’m not dead. I’ve merely been in an intellectual coma. But not to worry, I’m awake again and the doctors have given me a clean bill of health. I even took a brisk stroll around the fertile grounds of imagination today.

Aside from having a productive day creatively speaking, I also got a surprise phone call from my long lost best friend. Unlike me, she actually has a very busy life with school, and a real job, and a real boyfriend (though my imaginary boyfriend does take up quite a lot of my time). The point is that I hadn’t talked to her in weeks, and frankly, it was beginning to make me a bit, well, crazy. Literally. I began to develop some imagined falling out we must have had, some way I had slighted her without knowing. Some reason I had not heard from her in so long. Solitude can do this to a person. Especially in the absence of a person who is so essential to your life, to your sense of who you are and how the world works. Like separated identical twins.

But things now seem right in the world again. We tend to forget how much we need human connection, even writers, especially writers. Ours can be such a lonely and narcissistic existence, spending an unhealthy amount of time alone with nothing but our own thoughts. We need the touchstones in our lives to keep us sane. I do, anyway.

One last matter of business I’d like to address today. I’m introducing a new feature to the blog… (drum role)…

The Irish curse of the day! (Yea!)

I picked up a little book of Irish curses last summer while on the Emerald Isle, and it’s quite funny, so I’d like to share it, one curse at a time. How nice. That and I’m trying to come up with filler and maybe a hook to keep people coming back—or, to get them to start coming—to the blog. So without further ado, your Irish curse for Saturday, July 12, 2008!

MAY YOU HAVE TO STAND FOR A LONG TIME ON WEAK LEGS

Wow! That’s a scorcher! See you here tomorrow for another installment of…

The Irish curse of the day! (Yea!)

ZEN AND THE ART OF DOIN' IT DOGGY STYLE

Watching my dog, Violet, today in an encounter with a beach ball, I vowed to myself to try to be—to live, to think, to write—more like my dog (not that my dog writes, mind you). What I mean to say is that she, as well as my cats, are like children in their sense of wonder. Only they never grow up and lose their wonder. They are forever children in awe of everything. The world is a constant sorce of fascination to them. It is often scary and confusing too, but then, so it is to me, more often than not. I’m not saying I wish to be a simpleton, though I might be happier if I was. Actually, I almost assuredly would be happier. But if I could just try to concentrate a little less on what is scary and confusing, and a little more on what is wondrous, beautiful, funny, and amazing, I might be a happier person, and who knows, maybe even a better writer. Not that I want to be warm and fuzzy, but then there’s little chance of that. You won’t catch me reading Chicken Soup for the Soul any time soon. I’m naturally negative, but I go online or, in a moment of weakness and boredom, turn on the TV, and everyone is bitching about something. Just who does that Britney Spears think she is, or some shit I couldn’t care less about, but the negative energy abounds. And it’s definitely contagious. I’m as snarky as the next gal, and even snarkier than the one after that, which is why I have to make a real effort to enjoy myself. Always look on the bright side of life, as my boys say. Keep on whistling.

What would we do without these furry little jesters? (Pets, that is, not Monty Python.) Or are they really wise men—er, women—that is, animals. People without pets genuinely concern me. I wouldn’t want to turn my back on someone like that for too long. So yes, you will definitely catch me pissing and moaning in my blog or anywhere else I’m allowed, but I’m trying to be a bit more, let’s say, less negative. You’re sure as hell not going to hear me touting the power of positive thinking, or any crap like that. But most people could stand to be more like their dog or cat, unless it bites. Or poops on the floor.

Just read more Shel Silverstein and like he said:

Put something silly in the world
That ain’t been there before.

I couldn’t have said it better myself. (Maybe that’s why he’s the one with all the books.)

A WORD OF ADVICE TOO MANY

I’ve been catching up on my reading today. I’ve looked at several magazines and websites, all about writing, and they all have, more or less, the same content—advice. The advice they offer is different, but the pitch is all the same—Read this, and you’ll get published. Even the most respectable publications are guilty of this blatant appeal to writers’ frustration and desperation. Anyone and everyone who has ever had a word in print (and some who haven’t?) feel they have the authority to offer advice in this area. And why shouldn’t they, because they know people will read it. Yes, it’s good to hear, or read, the voice of experience. We should never be so proud or think we know too much to take advice, especially from those who really are in the know. But there’s just so much of it. If one were to actually listen to every Never do this or You must always do that, a writer wanting to “break through” would never even attempt it. We all know that there are exceptions to most every rule, and, of course, it does help to at least know the most important rules, but the cacophony of voices out there giving their expertise is deafening. It can make one feel like, I can never meet all these so-called requirements, so why bother? Well, I too have a piece of advice for all you writers out there: Stop trying to heed everyone’s advice already. Except mine, of course.

TO ALL THE EDITORS I'VE LOVED BEFORE...

A few days ago, I submitted a short piece to Tiny Lights and received almost immediately a very pleasant email from the editor, Susan Bono. Needless to say, this kind of thing is so out of the ordinary that I felt it warranted a comment.

I’m sure all of us writers have had encounters with editors who are less than courteous or professional. Years ago I submitted work to a journal. I don’t remember now the name, but I don’t think it exists anymore. I got a letter from the editor in which he said no thank you to my submission and in the very next sentence let me know that I could become a better writer if I just read his instructional book which I could purchase directly from him for a reasonable price. (Oh no he didn’t) Oh yes he did.

And then there are those editors who accept your piece as long as you don’t mind a few minor revisions, i.e. letting them rewrite it to read exactly as if they had written it themselves. But my intention today was not to rail against those kind of editors, few that they are, but to celebrate those we appreciate.

By the way, I should also mention that the editor at GUD was very sweet about the ftp server thing.

So to all the editors who treat us writers like human beings, thank you. We appreciate it. And I for one will try to return the favor. We know your jobs are hard, and we know that you know ours is too, since most of you are writers yourselves.

Just as it pays for writers not to insult editors for rejecting their work if they ever hope to get published, it also pays for editors to be respectful of writers, even if they don’t respect their work, especially for small publications. If you treat writers with courtesy, they will be loyal to you and your publication. See, here I am plugging Tiny Lights. Not that droves of people are reading this. But that ‘s not the point. The point is, well, thank you. That’s all.