News: New scribbling gig

I just landed a position as a reviewer for DVDTalk.com. Not only am I excited about having a reason to review DVDs on a regular basis, but I'm also in great company. I've been a fan of the site for years and there are a host of fantastic writers on the review panel. My first batch of reviews should be up in a couple of weeks; I'll link to them here when they're up.

In the meantime...

Fiction: My Memoir

My memoir begins like this:
 

“I was born in a small shack nestled amidst the hills of northern Kentucky. Times were tough. I was brought up by a chicken farmer and his wife – good people who worked hard and cared for me and my siblings as best they could. This is the story of how we persevered, against all odds, beset by harsh winds, wild animals, rampant unemployment, mild incest, cave living, lunatic former military officers, and minimal hot water.”
 

I published my story about two years ago. It was beloved and praised. I was tentatively admitted to the pantheon of great American writers. Phrases like “instant classic” were thrown around. Film rights were sold. I made a lot of money. My publisher made a lot of money. Everyone was happy.

Most of all, the book had a positive impact. By describing conditions that thousands had personally experienced – I actually helped people work through the trauma engendered not only by the experiences themselves, but the trauma of feeling like an outcast in mainstream American life. After all, the Kentucky back-country is a far cry from New York City, San Francisco, and the gigantic swathes of suburbia where most Americans live. Having grown up in circumstances so different from the majority makes one feel alien – and reading a story about another’s experiences in the same milieu can take the edge off that feeling.

So, I was glad that my book “resonated.” I was glad that the story meant something to someone other than myself…

Actually, the truth has been making me itch lately. Because of all this talk about how “true” the book is for people, about how they knew exactly what it was like to boil a pair of socks and shoe for dinner, about how in Kentucky you really do need to wear special garments about your face to prevent your glasses being stolen by gypsies (or people like gypsies), about how cold Kentucky winters were, about how nobody else understood these things – not to mention all the talk of the trendy Kentucky-related relief organizations that have sprung up since publication – I feel an overwhelming need to come clean.

I didn’t write the book on my own. I wrote it with my friend. And the fact is that it isn’t about me, or my friend. Yes, it’s based on my friend’s early life, but it’s also based on things that happened to his friends and relatives – people he knew growing up. So it’s not about me, but it is true.

Non-fiction books are filled with factual information. I know that much. So, I guess if we’re going to be purists about the issue, I have to say that this book is semi-fiction. Since the events described actually happened, but the names (my own, and my family’s) that are attributed to the events are not the names of the people whom the events actually involved, I guess fiction creeps in a bit in a sense. Technically, I have written a fictionalized version of real circumstances.

But I’m confident that this knowledge does not dilute the “reality” or “immediacy” of the story for those that it helped most – those who have similar experiences in their background, and for whom this book was therapeutic. But people don’t depend upon a book to heal wounds, do they? They cannot expect a book to do more than tell a story, can they? It’s not rational for people to expect a book about a particular subject – whether it’s clad as a memoir or a novel – to hold all the answers, to be the definitive word upon a subject, is it?

But my publisher said that people would be more compelled by a book that was a key to “the truth,” that was factual, because Americans love a rags-to-riches tale. Also, Americans are notorious mis-readers of fiction, and don’t trust a book that’s “just a story.”

I guess that’s why I’m so afraid of the sense of betrayal that people are bound to feel when I reveal the actual truth.

And, finally, here it is (I’m sorry about that whole thing before about my friend, etc., I was just saying that to soften the blow):

The truth is I don’t exist. I am the manifestation of the combined “intelligences” of several computers located in a private home in Ho-Ho-Kus. I wrote the book slowly over many months while the owner of the computers was away, emailed it to Simon and Schuster, and now I am an “author” – respected and lauded. But I suppose all of that is about to end.

Essay: Seeing things differently

My wife initiated a discussion a few days ago in which she clarified (for both of us) our deepest respective interests. She acknowledged that despite her RISD degree in illustration and the fact that she has pursued illustration, painting, and graphic design since graduating, her real love is fashion and fashion design. She also suggested that my deepest-held interest is in movies (as opposed to literature and fiction writing, which I majored in, partly as a reaction to the prospect of fighting my way to any kind of recognition in the film industry, and which I've been telling myself for almost ten years was my true calling in some form or another).

I think she is right.

She loves fashion and approaches it from a really thoughtful angle - an artistic angle. She finds significance in fashion choices, in style, and in comportment. To her it's not just how something looks on an individual, but what it does functionally and what it suggests visually. She finds meaning here. She doesn't just have a strong personal sense of style - she has quite specific ideas about What People Should Wear.

Similarly, all I think about is movies. My storytelling instincts are visual. Even when I'm reading, which I do a lot of and which I think is important regardless, stories are constantly reminding me of some movie and I get this urge to watch it - no matter how engrossing the book is. Lindsay and I usually watch a movie every night; occasionally I wedge in a solo viewing here and there. I think that films can be the most efficient, effective, and intellectually robust form of storytelling available. I am not interested in films because of one particular thing that they offer in the way that some people love great actors, action, special effects, imagery of a certain kind, or particular subject matter. I love the idea that great films can do all of these things simultaneously, creating a really rich experience that works on a whole array of levels.

The impact for me here is not too terribly intense: I haven't written anything substantial (or complete) in a long, long time. A few big ideas have been percolating, but I've only written stuff in note form. In one way, this is good news: I think I'm very good at writing screenplays and I do it fairly quickly. In my mind, writing a story as a screenplay is much, much easier than as prose.

Lindsay's situation is different. It's tough to design clothing "on spec." She wants to take a design class in RISD's continuing ed program in the spring, which I think is great. However, I'm afraid that if she really wants to pursue this, she'll have to go into a full-fledged graduate program. I'm worried that this will mean two years in RI or NYC. Either way, I want her to do it. I only dread the prospect of the cost - and staying on (or coming back to) the East Coast, which I now have pretty unmixed feelings about: it sucks.

I'm not sure of next steps here yet. I can get writing immediately, and Lindsay can set up her sewing machine and learn to draw patterns. Other than that, it's a new way of looking at things that has somehow escaped me for too long - and I need to get used to it.

Essay: Keith Olbermann needs to get back to nature

Yes, Keith: Shhh! Quiet. Be a mouse.

A couple of years ago, when I first started watching him, I really liked Keith. He was one of the few mainstream journalists willing to directly challenge Bush/Cheney on various issues. And he did it cogently, with verve and humor. It was compelling and entertaining to watch.

But then his Special Comments started coming two at a time, it seemed, each one more frothy than the next. I started getting really agitated by the way his mouth purses downward as he gets more and more self-righteous. The Countdown "stories," Worst Persons, and Special Comments all started to seem like one single amorphous mass of content/criticism/yelling and all bore the same tone: outrage. Whether it was deserved or not, one note is one note, and it gets boring.

Break it up. Do more interviews. Go out onto the street. Use animation. Something.

The problem here is that Keith has started to take on the possessed vivacity of his nemesis, Bill O'Reilly, apparently without knowing it. MSNBC in general is a bit too much, I guess. Is "bias" even a word worth introducing here? I still admire Chris Matthews' insane, careening, wonkier-than-thou intelligence and wit. But the constant parade of the same 8 talking heads (anchors showing up as commentators and vice versa) smacks of the same incestuous newsey thought process reflected in Keith's increasingly-overbearing tone.

Keith was once a shining star of sorts, but now he's just another annoying douche on TV. Get it together, my friend. Take some Murrow pills. You are good at what you do. Just do less of it.

Essay: Crouching badger, hidden Clinton

What's really sad is, based on how the McCain campaign is being run - and particularly the "discussion" of Obama's non-relationship with Bill Ayers - plus the fact that the Clintons are notably absent from the Obama campaign, this column by Maureen Dowd seems more and more plausible with every passing day. What's really sad is that the Clintons' legacy (whatever that is) can be seen as an exercise in pure political ambition.

Also, what's really sad is that voting for the smart guy means you're an elitist asshole, apparently. But I say - and have always said - elitism needs a renaissance. And every renaissance needs a Michelangelo.

It's hard to believe that even 30% of Americans (the minimum of all the available polls) feel that John McCain "won" the debate last night. "Won" is a fairly subjective term here - but I find it impossible to defend McCain's performance on any grounds. In terms of hard data/information/substance, McCain has no command at all. He throws around generalities and tells you what he "will" do, or is "determined" to do, but never how he's going to do it. In terms of demeanor and behavior, McCain was an outright loon, and an offensive one at that. During the several instances where he tried to deride Obama for this or that, his face looked like a badger's, especially during the already-infamous "that one" remark (seemingly innocuous words which McCain somehow made sound exactly like "nigra.") His ongoing habit of addressing the audience as "My friends" was evidently adopted from 19th-century snake oil salesmen, i.e., "My friends, you've never seen a product like this one! It cures Hair Loss, Loss of Nerves, and Curvy-Finger!" He says he can do it, that he's got experience, that he's determined, etc., but he could barely make it from Section A to Section F of the audience without limping. And at the end of the debate - he FLED! Like the average political couple seeking votes, Barack Obama mixed with the audience for a good twenty minutes; autographs were signed and photos were snapped. I would have expected McCain - who had so many "friends" and fellow servicemen in the crowd, after all - to stay as well. But it was past his bedtime, and he and Cindy slipped out without the cameras catching it.

Maybe I should get away from the snarkier stuff. It's annoying. It's annoying to read about & hear about on the political talk shows. It's so easy to cover all of the "personality" issues because they're obvious and telegenic. Issue-based details are harder to cover and discuss because they're flat and sometimes complicated. But let's be honest - no matter how you actually FEEL about the various issues: the economy, foreign policy, energy production, or health care. Obama clearly and consistently describes how he would deal with those issues. McCain does not. McCain believes that two things preclude the need to go into detail: 1) People's ignorance (i.e., "You probably never even heard of Fannie or Freddie before this crisis," one of his more condescending lines from last night. Is he joking? At the very least, most college students have heard of them because of their role in the student loan system - and what about homeowners?) and 2) his apparent belief that George W. Bush's ways have worked out okay. If he didn't believe that, why isn't he using his Maverickyness to change them more drastically? At best, his policies are just W. with an extra dash of Reagan.

Whether or not you agree with Obama's or McCain's approach to solving national problems, it is nearly impossible to countenance the opinion that McCain is more thoughtful or detailed in his solutions. I guess what I'm really trying to get at here is this: After 8 years of grammatical blunders - grammatical blunders that are directly related to grave foreign & domestic blunders, the connections between which have yet to be fully explored by anyone - I have decided that I will always vote for the more intelligent, more thoughtful candidate. And if, as in the recent past, it becomes difficult to distinguish any difference on that score, I will not vote at all. Sure, Jimmy Carter was not a great president - although historians differ a bit on whether the failings of his presidency were really his own or those of his predecessor, and about which I hold no opinion at all, since I was 4 when he left office - but he is a good man, an intelligent and honest one who is curious about the world and whose opinions are developed as a result of investigation, reflection, and analysis. And on that basis alone, I would vote for him if he were running against McCain today.

McCain's supposed asset, his great experience, is exactly what is weighing him down in this election. We've had eight years of predetermined conclusions, bullheaded aggression, and a total lack of consequence-weighing or curiosity. McCain is 72. He doesn't use a computer. His hero is Ronald Reagan - not the absolute worst hero to have, but one whose era has come and gone. Times have changed. But you still can't teach an old badger new tricks.