Monday, January 14, 2008

Zachariah Wells, poet [Unsettled] and critic [Canadian Notes and Queries, Career-Limiting Moves]

Zachariah Wells, poet [Unsettled], critic [Canadian Notes and Queries, Career-Limiting Moves]:

1. CBT: Unknown musicians record their own music in basements -- and, if they've got talent, people take them seriously. Unknown film-makers shoot movies with DV cameras -- and, if they've got talent, people take them seriously. But unknown writers who self-publish -- in particular those who self-publish online -- are frequently snickered at whether they're talented or not, or, more often, given the publishing world's gesture of choice: the cold shoulder.

What do you think is the explanation for this? Is the publishing world the callowest of all the arts? Is it, despite the bromide that one not judge a book by its cover, the one in most need of a "package"? Or will the prejudice against publishing online change, once people become more acculturated to online creative work?


ZW: This is a hard question to answer. Of course, until really quite recently, there was really no such thing as "official publication" and some of the world's classic works started off life as self-published works (think Blake, or, better yet, Whitman, who even had to write his own reviews!), and when the vast majority of people were illiterate and poetry was a past-time reserved mostly for the gentry, poems we now find in Penguin paperbacks were circulated in manuscript.

It's tempting to think that the general snobbery directed towards self-publication has to do with the low standards of official publication. When so much crap can make it into print, the work must be really bad if you've got to pay to produce it yourself, right? I'm half-joking, but there may be something to this. It's comparably much harder to get a deal with a recognized music label or film studio, as everybody knows, so it's not surprising that there'd be less stigma ("indie" vs. "vanity") in these fields. (Also, the vast majority of self-published writing is even worse than the vast majority of officially published writing.)

Another thing is how much official publication is really veiled self-publication. One of the Griffin-nominated books last year was published by a house that employs the book's author. Several presses routinely publish books by their founders and editors (a practice with a very respectable pedigree: think Hogarth Press). And an awful lot of books get published because of personal connections between an author and a publisher/editor. This kind of self-publishing seems to be a-okay; the books get reviewed, taken seriously, and given awards. Given how easy it is to set up shop as a publisher (not that it isn't quite a bit of work and money, but it's not like you have to get a license) or to become a magazine editor, maybe some of the snobbery has to do with not following social protocols.

All that said, there is a flourishing--arguably too flourishing--sub-culture of self-publishing and chapbook presses. It's a full-fledged ethic with some people, an active rejection of the trappings of the book business. My friends at littlefishcartpress, for example, have produced a handful of perfect-bound anthologies and a whole slew of chapbooks and chipbooks, mostly by people they know, including me. People buy them and people read them. Not in masses, but then again, no one buys press-published books (except for a fortunate few) in masses either.

Anyway, I personally have nothing against it. I've done a fair bit myself (most recently, a CD recording of 24 of my poems). And whenever someone asks me how to get published, I suggest d.i.y. There's a lot to be said for having full control of the process.


2. CBT: You have posted on the rules governing copyright, arguing that they should not apply in situations where someone (e.g., you) genuinely admires someone else's work (e.g., Wendy Cope), and creates a podcast of it. Assuming that you're being forthright when you say you have good intentions, and furthermore that Cope may be self-defeating when she reacts against your desire to help her increase her fame, is that really the point? As a friend of mine says, we need the same laws for good people and bad people. Isn't the issue not your intentions, but the precedent you help create?


ZW: Mine is a utilitarian, not an idealistic, position. I don't believe that the laws shouldn't apply. I just think that people should realize that it does no harm, and is potentially of some benefit, when someone "pirates" a poem on a not-for-profit website. Most people, I think, do realize that. A few, like Cope, think they've had something stolen. Technically, she's right. Practically, she's an idiot. Paying her lawyer to threaten bloggers has probably cost her more than the "theft" of her poems.



3. CBT: You've also posted on the campaign organized by Jean Baird along with John Oliver to stipulate the amount of Canadian literature that is taught in B.C. schools. According to Baird's statement:

We will be taking the opportunity to respond to the new curriculum and have suggested that in each year from grade 8 to 12 each student should read, both collaboratively and independently, to comprehend a variety of literary texts, including one or more significant works of Canadian literature. The proposed amendment allows for the study of a play, several short stories, a collection of poetry or poetry by three or four different poets, one or two novels, or work by Canadian literary critics.

To which you responded (in part):

Hmmmm, if the teachers think it's important and that more of it should be taught, then why aren't they teaching it? Maybe they'd rather be teaching something else, but when surveyed by someone who clearly thinks it's important, they said what they thought they should say. Are they being blocked from teaching Canadian books? Apparently not. One thing's for sure, if they're forced to teach Canadian books, they'll have less freedom to form their own curricula. And it's interesting to note that Ms. Baird does not provide stats on the answer to question 19 on the survey, concerning support for a provincial policy requiring a set percentage of Canadian content. I wonder if maybe these numbers don't support her cause so well...

Three questions follow from this....

First, it doesn't seem that Baird and Oliver are asking for that much. Isn't the amount of CanCon that they want to mandate in B. C. classrooms a reasonable amount, given that teachers already teaching this much Canadian literature will have already met the proposed standard?


ZW: First, amount is not the issue. Something that teachers in BC have fought hard for (my mother-in-law's a retired union negotiator with the BC Teacher's Federation and my wife recently completed her teaching certificate at SFU, so I hear a lot about these issues) is autonomy in setting their curricula. Mandating anything is antithetical to that freedom. Secondly, given how few books of any sort seem to get taught in public high school "English Language Arts" classes, this is actually a significant chunk of the curriculum.



4. CBT: Second, isn't there a principle involved? In other words, isn't it a recognition of reality that Canadian culture needs a form of "space" in order to thrive? After all, most countries apart from cultural hegemons mandate percentages of their indigenous culture: South Korea has screen quotas, Canada has CRTC regulations. Shouldn't Canadians maintain quotas in classrooms as a matter of course?


ZW: Yes, there is a principle involved, viz.: Classrooms are not marketplaces for the sale and purchase of products.



5. CBT: Third, in an exchange you and I had on the subject, you drew a contract between the Canadian and American novels you read in university, and commented:

Of the Canadian books, I would classify only one (The Double Hook) as brilliant and another (The Diviners) as very good. The Handmaid's Tale I will grudgingly call good, but I didn't like it much. The other two are dead dull. All of the books on the American list range from very good to brilliant.

Agreeing that there is a lot of good American writing, and that your first duty as a reader is to assess work objectively, and not be mindlessly patriotic, is it still not the case that perhaps part of the problem was the list itself? (I should say at this point that I, also, feel a fair degree of frustration with a rather fusty tendency that seems to have great strength in this country, and has a dampening or even excluding effect on lively but unorthodox writing.)

Augmenting this tendency is a Canadian tendency -- see the question about creating more "space" above -- to not celebrate our own. Evidence of this can be seen on the Internet. For example, litblogs routinely discuss U. S. outsider authors like Charles Bukowski, Noah Cicero, and Gilbert Sorrentino. Canadian outsider authors like Britt Hagarty, Daniel Jones or Matthew Firth tend to be ignored. And so it goes, with the work of many Canadian writers not getting attention in either the United States or Canada. Isn't the apparently "dull" quality of CanLit partly a problem of perception, and isn't this perception in part formed by the amount (or lack thereof) of commentary that surrounds it?


ZW: Yes. Part of the point that I was making in our earlier discussion was that if English teachers aren't teaching Canadian literature, it's probably because of the way it was taught to them (bad books; thematic criticism masking their badness). While I'm very quick to disagree with people who say that Canada has produced no good or important writing, I can't say that we've done a good job identifying what's best. (George Bowering, the husband of Jean Baird, being a prime example of our over-rating of prolific second-rate talents.) Forcing teachers to assign Cancon is not a productive way to solve this problem, only to exacerbate it. We need to persuade teachers that teaching Canadian books will enrich their courses. This is, of course, much more work than passing a bill in the legislature.

As for your point about "outsiders," I think it might be a demographic issue. If, say, 5% of American readers are drawn to the sort of writing you're talking about, that still generates a lot of conversation because it's a lot of people. 5% of Canadian readers is considerably fewer people. But still, someone like Mark Anthony Jarman has a pretty good following in Canada. And he should, he's a damn fine writer. But it seems to me that "outsider" writing is plagued with the same fundamental problem that plagues all writing: most of it's not very good.



6. CBT: Alternatively, are Canadians too hung up on questions of cultural nationalism? Should we simply relax and not categorize work according to a checklist in terms of its content or origins?

After all, the banner of cultural nationalism tends to morph fairly easily into a double-edged sword; it can engender provincialism, and it can have a cooling effect on the freedom a writer feels to write in any setting he/she chooses. The world should be the artist's oyster; that tends not to happen in a culturally nationalistic atmosphere.

Would a revival of cultural nationalism in English Canada carry the risk of making us overly inward-looking? Or is it a question of "getting the mix right"? Is some cultural nationalism necessary, given the reality of Canada's place in the literary culture of the 21st Century?


ZW: I have no idea what "the reality of Canada's place in the literary culture of the 21st Century" is. And I frankly don't care. So I guess my answer to the first part of your question is yes. When I ride on a Skytrain full of people from other countries, the notion of an English Canadian Identity feels not so much provincial as colonial. The great lie we tell ourselves is that we're a nation that suffers from having been colonised politically by the British and economically by the Americans. The fact is that Canadian WASPS are British and Americans and we've been doing the colonising (in my case, being 1/4 Russian Jew (family surname "Douglas"), I've colonised myself). Or maybe we're the Lucky Pierre in this arrangement, both buggered and buggering... Whatever, I get very tired of all the Survival-mythologizing, ressentiment-mongering, special pleading and excuse-making. I've just finished editing an anthology of 99 Canadian sonnets, and something that struck me is just how international in flavour the book is. A staggering number of the 100 contributors have come from somewhere else or have emigrated from Canada and are, like you, living abroad. Or have moved around extensively within the country, which really is a place of distinct regions (I know: I've lived on all three coasts and in 6 different provinces and territories). I think there's much to be said for adopting inverted commas whenever we talk about "Canadian" Literature.



7. CBT: In the comments thread mentioned above, you describe Canada (accurately) as a "minor power", and then make the point that Canadians should not assume that on a per capita basis we produce equal amounts of high caliber work as other nations .You then ask rhetorically, "Now quick, how many Australian or New Zealand writers can you think of off the top of your head?"

This raises the issue of whether we Canadians -- who tend to be ignored by our American and British cousins -- also tend to overlook work from English-speaking that are also "minor". And not just Australia and New Zealand, but also Kenya or the Philippines, among others. (And then there is the issue of work in translation, from French-Canadian work, to that of, say, Korea.) Do English Canadians need to do more to seek out work from nations that are equally or more "minor" than we are?


ZW: Probably; it can certainly do no harm. But personally, I find "seeking out" work, whether here or abroad, to be mostly tiring and fruitless. I've stumbled occasionally on things that are of great importance to me ( e.g., the novels of Yukio Mishima, which I first encountered--wait for it--in a high school English class).



8. CBT: You're a poet, and you blog about both prose and poetry. In your opinion, does there need to be more commentary of this sort? Given that poetry and prose tend to exist is separate worlds (or two solitudes, if we want to get all CanCon about it), do we need more sites devoted to both?


ZW: Only if people want to build them. I started my blog in large part because I was frustrated with the way arguments would get sabotaged in other fora. It was an experiment; I didn't know if blogging was something I'd enjoy. It turns out that I do like it, so I'll keep doing it until I don't.

Personally, I read very little contemporary prose fiction and very little fiction period. I only read a lot of contemporary verse because I get paid to do it. Far too much of what I read I don't like. At some point, I'm going to have to quit, at least for a while, and read only good books (a few of which will be Canadian).



9. CBT: Returning to the theme of writing that is "outside" -- should the standing notion of "writing" be expanded in Canada, especially at the institutional level? For example, there are some who feel (myself included) the Canadian literary establishment should embrace what are now called graphic novels for the simple reason that Canada has produced a really great number of artists/writers in this field alone -- Julie Doucet, Chester Brown, Dave Collier, etc. Any comments on this?


ZW: We should definitely embrace graphic novels if it means more graphic sex. I have no issue with this sort of thing in principle, but I haven't read any graphic novels and haven't read much Sci-Fi or fantasy since my early teens. But genre has nothing to do with writing quality. A good sci-fi novel is better art than 90% of the poetry published. But "poets," oddly, have more political clout in the literary establishment, so they get to decide what's "real art."



10. CBT: A lot of American literary magazines have a forceful online presence: they offer complete short stories to be read, they allow for online submissions. Canadian lit magazines (with a few exceptions, such as The Danforth Review, Matrix and Lies With Occasional Truth (I'll add more to this list as I come across them)) don't. A survey of the online presence of Canadian lit mags shows that they do not have much (or any) of their content online, and do not allow email submissions. They seem, to put it bluntly, behind the times.

Should Canadian literary magazines be more proactive in taking advantage of the Internet? And given that a strong Internet presence requires more labour, should they get Canada Council funding specifically for this? Or is this a typically Canadian reaction, and should those with a passion for narrative culture (in all its forms) just open that blogspot account and get their work out there?


ZW: There are few things more hidebound than the average litmag. I posted about this a few months ago. Arc magazine has a really excellent website and they keep it updated. Most others are pretty shabby, as you say. If anything, the internet seems a better medium than print for a lit journal. Journals are ephemeral anyway, so why not save a whole lot of money and paper and stop printing the things? It's far easier to reach a wide readership online and you can be more adventuresome with content because there are no space restrictions. And you don't have to assemble an issue out of what you have on hand. Whenever you get something really good, you can add it. I don't think more labour is needed, just a bit more savvy. The magazine I work for does not, unfortunately, have a very good site, because none of the editors is very web-wise. But we're working on it.

But yeah, open that free account; just be aware that if you want to build an audience for your site, you've got to add content regularly. If I go a week without posting something on my blog, the traffic drops way off and takes a bit of time to build up again.


BIO: Zachariah Wells is a writer and editor from Prince Edward Island living in New Westminster, BC. He is the author of a highly regional collection of poems about the Canadian Arctic, Unsettled, the editor of Jailbreaks: 99 Canadian Sonnets and co-author of Anything But Hank!, a children's picture book forthcoming in the fall. His blog is Career Limiting Moves and he edits the reviews section of Canadian Notes & Queries magazine.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

LOVEOGRAPHY: Inside Haemi Fortress




EXT. A SMALL KOREAN VILLAGE. AN EARLY SUMMER EVENING, MID-WEEK.

A WESTERN MAN is walking down the city's main street. To his left is Haemi Fortress, a medieval Korean fort. Its wall is built of unevenly-matched stones, each lightened by age to a gentle ochre, as if the stone itself has softened.

The MAN walking beside this wall has a peaceful expression on his face. But from his body language we can tell he's lonely.

VO: Those were the days before I met you.

SFX: A light breeze.



EXT. THE INNER COURTYARD OF THE FORTRESS. MOMENTS LATER.

The Western man sees a group of CHILDREN. They are giggling and playing with each other. Then one of them spots the man.



CHILD: 의국인! [Foreigner]

SECOND CHILD: [sing-songy] Hello!

MAN: [smiling] Hello.

ALL CHILDREN: [gleefully] Hello! Hello!

MAN: [speaking slowly] Can you speak English?

The CHILDREN suddenly start to giggle uproariously. But their amusement is more a symptom of shyness than a desire to carry the game any further. They run away, still laughing.

The MAN continues walking. He makes his way through small, sad, empty streets.




V.O.: Chris Marker once asked how we can remember thirst. What I want to know is, how can we remember loneliness? It penetrates not just oneself but the world. Reality itself appears changed.
The side-streets suck themselves empty, their noise vacuumed behind shuttered store-fronts. The sky pulls itself as taut as a blue drum. The clouds starve themselves and harm themselves, like self-loathing anorexics.

And as the world seems to change, so does the self: feel lonely enough, and that juncture of soul and body that comprises what you think of as you becomes as parched as cracked soil. The lonely individual is ancient, he is dirt.


INT. AN EVANGELICAL CHURCH. TEN MINUTES LATER.



The MAN enters. He is somewhat surprised to see a CROWD OF WORSHIPPERS. They are very involved in their prayers.

The MAN walks cautiously forward.

A MIDDLE-AGED KOREAN MAN spots him.

CUT TO: CLOSE UP of
MIDDLE-AGED KOREAN MAN.

MIDDLE-AGED KOREAN MAN: 하느님! 하느님이 자를 사랑하습니다! [God! God loves you!]

The MAN pulls back, alarmed.


EXT. A STREET. MOMENTS LATER.

The MAN is walking by himself again. He looks even sadder than before. A DIFFERENT CHILD spots him.

DIFFERENT CHILD: [especially enthusiastically] Hello!

V.O.: I don't know what it is was about that kid's voice. It went to my heart -- pierced it, like an exquisitely fine spear, the sharp end of sweetness. And it was this strange combination of sensations -- the needle's prick and the blood's sunny melt -- that suddenly transported me (there's no other word) to a different time. It was a time in the more recent past, when I still felt the residual parch of loneliness. But it was a time when I started to feel.

I mean, it was a time when I started to feel again.



Sunday, December 16, 2007

You is published!

Alex Good on Andrew Keen's The Cult of the Amateur:


Keen is clear on the fact that culture follows the money. And he's right. The problem is that there is no money in the content of culture, in being a creative, cultural producer. The great Internet successes on the Internet are not in the content business. Starting at the top with Google, which is described, accurately, as "a parasite." The content of the top Web 2.0 Internet brands - Google, MySpace, Yahoo!, FaceBook, YouTube, Blogger, even the film review resource Rotten Tomatoes - is all outsourced or user-generated. These sites produce virtually nothing of their own, they simply exist as platforms. And they are the new Internet economy's big winners.

Content, then, is for losers. Content is crap. Copyright on the Internet? Why even bother? Mere content isn't worth it.

This is the real threat to our culture, not the assault on our traditional institutions. Those institutions can, at least in theory, transform themselves into more viable forms. The problem is that the Internet represents perhaps the final step in the process of our rejection of the very notion of culture having any value at all. This is a disillusionment the human spirit will find hard to survive.


Keen's book has received considerable attention elsewhere on the Net -- predictably, critical. I can't comment on the book itself, but I have to say that I think the argument surrounding it presents a slightly misleading dichotomy. Either the Internet is "gate-less" (the pun implicit in this phrase not worth commenting on) and allows an unending stream of poorly written gibberish, or it is an opportunity for greatly expanded creativity.

Obviously, most Net commentators tend toward the latter position. And obviously, most commentary written by people who work for mainstream media outlets tends toward the former. On the surface, the moral of the story seems to be the timeless one that what we ourselves term logic is often a pattern of thinking which follows self-interest.

But I think there's another way of viewing this debate, and it is to think of the Internet as simply a vehicle for publication akin to publishing itself -- or more accurately, what we intuitively define as publishing. What tends to be forgotten is the absolutely amoral aspect of technologies, and the degree to which their advent simply creates the potential for doing things we have always done, but more simply. (I could write a long post on whether anything related to computers is, strictly speaking, "simple" -- for example, I had to wrestle with my software just to write this post. But in any case, at their best computers enable new activities.)

Like it or not, the moment one posts something online, it is published. That it has not cost much money to produce and may not be worth reading is of no more relevance than the fact that a lot of the TV shows and movies that have the highest production values are also not worth watching. The Internet allows new forms of writing to exist. Despite putting some of my work online, when I'm honest with myself I realize it's taken me a long time -- a struggle of overcoming internalized resistance
-- to fully recognize this.

Of course, a lot of online writing is crap. But some isn't. Some of it is golden. And some -- too very depressingly much -- contemporary published work is, if not exactly crap, then bloated and lacking the sting and focus of brilliance. How this current state of affairs will sort itself out is anyone's guess.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

SmallCon

Steven Beattie at That Shakespeherian Rag is doing a year-end roundup of people's favourite books during 2007. My contribution is here.

In it, I bang the drum of Canadian cultural nationalism as loud as I think I politely can. But of course, being ironic about one's passions is in itself a veddy Canadian thing to do (as is throwing in a piece of outdated slang that is, in its etymology, less than fully of the Home Country (I won't even touch the more complicated question of the associations this latter phrase triggers within the Canadian mindset)).

I'm in the process of writing some more on the issue of Canada's view of its own culture. This is a topic that often arouses the following, snickering response: "What culture?" When voiced by a Canadian, the wisecrack is further proof of how deep neurosis runs in the national character, and when voiced by someone outside the country (usually an American or Brit), it shows how large the "Kick me" sign is written on our pasty, frozen butts.

But the truth is, Canada not only has a culture, it needs one ... it needs more of one. And it's been my time in South Korea that has really reinforced this conclusion, because Korea provides an example both of what a fairly small country's culture can be to its own people, and how it can retain its sense of self while also finding a place within global culture. Believe it or not, any country can achieve this, and while this might seem like a given to those from dominant cultures, it is something Canadians will have to sort out through not only a painful process of debate, but trial-and-error in the machinery of its cultural production, and an increased willingness to take risks.

[Update: to see an example of the kind of debate that can happen -- and is needed -- on this issue, see this post at Zachariah Wells' site Career Limiting Moves. Personally, I haven't been won over by Wells' central argument that literature is a kind of completely open marketplace in which the "best" titles win attention from teachers and readers. But the key thing is, Wells is willing to forcefully speak his mind. And he is right on the money when he says there is confusion in Canada (and maybe the States, too) about what constitutes fair debate. ]

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

Ian Brown on His Son, Walker

Ian Brown of the Globe and Mail has written a long piece entitled The Boy in the Moon about his severely disabled son, Walker. The article deals both with Walker's disability -- a rare condition called cardio-facio-cutaneous syndrome (CFC) -- and Walker's relationship with those around him, in particular Brown and his wife Johanna.

The series is appearing on a weekly basis, and you can find the main page of it here.

(You can also find the interview I did several months ago with Brown here.)

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Review-dialogues at That Shakespeherian Rag

Steven Beattie at That Shakespeherian Rag has started a series of review-dialogues. The first, about a collection by Elyse Friedman entitled Long Story Short, is with Derek Weiler, of Quill and Quire and Stuff in the Attic.

The form of a review-dialogue is an interesting one, and though comments sections of online literary sites tend, at their best, to function in a similar fashion, I have never seen an exchange this detailed. In writing his intro to the project (and kind enough to refer to a comment of mine), Beattie emphasizes there is a provisional aspect to what he's doing; he is not sure that this form of discussing work will be a method of reviewing that will take off at his site. Here's to hoping it does.

Here's a sample of the first exchange:


Weiler:

Which leads into my overall experience of Long Story Short, which I found wildly uneven. Sometimes mildly so: as with “The Soother,” I found myself overlooking minor flaws in stories that I generally loved, like the novella “A Bright Tragic Thing.” Sometimes more egregiously: there are a couple of stories here, “Truth” and “Wonderful,” that for my money should never have been included at all.

In “Truth,” a couple on a blind date communicate by saying exactly what they’re thinking, rather than the usual bland dissembling. Well, “exactly what they’re thinking” isn’t quite right – what these two actually voice are the subconscious impulses and motives that most of us don’t even articulate to ourselves. And here it’s all played for straight laughs. “Listen,” says the man, “my self-esteem will be temporarily boosted if I get you into bed tonight, and that waitress is making me horny. Why don’t we go to my place.” The woman replies, “Why not. I have masochistic inclinations and I’m feeling self-destructive.”



Beattie:

I do admire the way Friedman pulls the rug out from under the reader in the story’s early stages. When Leslie and Martin first meet in the Starbucks coffee shop, the initial impression a reader gets of Martin is that he’s just a gigantic asshole: “I’m too cheap to pay more than a buck for a cup of coffee. Besides, I’m already buzzing. Just had two cups with another prospective partner at the doughnut shop around the corner.”

And Leslie’s tepid response – “ ‘Oh.’ She frowned. ‘How did it go?’” – makes her seem like a bit of a doormat. It’s only as the story progresses that you realize what Friedman’s up to: these are two people without interior monologues, and they vocalize everything they are thinking either consciously or, as you suggest, subconsciously.

The tension between a blind date that follows a rather traditional trajectory – meeting in a coffee shop, moving on to drinks, back to his place for sex – and the absolute, brutal honesty of the two characters results in a kind of absurdism that is rare in Canadian fiction. But you’re right that the story would seem more at home on Saturday Night Live or Comedy, Inc. than in the pages of a literary collection.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Friday, November 09, 2007

Sound Survey

For some time now, I've been trying to place podcasts on this site, with varying degrees of success. I now have two versions of the same audio -- one (lower) with a player directly installed on site, the other (upper) that links to a web-host.

I want to know if people can actually
listen to these podcasts. Does the sound come through for the upper podcast? The lower one? Neither? (At my end, I'm not getting any sound whatsoever, but that's because yesterday I got the genius idea of also buying one of those webcam doohickeys and, in the process of installing it, gummed up my Windows sound settings. But that's my problem. Farmers have rain to contend with: too much or too little. Muddern Day Writers have technology to deal with: a force equally incomprehensible and inevitable as nature....)

In any event, let me know. Are the podcasts working? One? Both? Or should I just go back to chiseling letters on stone?


Note: the dual segment below is quite short -- an excerpt of an excerpt, if you will. I haven't reached a final decision, but I'll probably put up more (i.e., longer) once I've worked out the technical issues.

TRUTH MARATHON -- part four [exp]

My Odeo Podcast

Friday, November 02, 2007

TRUTH MARATHON: Say Goodnight ----- (excerpt, part four)


powered by ODEO


The above is a rather truncated excerpt from a podcast of my
screenplay-novel, Truth Marathon.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Notable Commentary

Levi Asher:

I've spent the last two months talking to many book industry professionals about book pricing and hardcover vs. paperback publishing. Invariably, the people I've spoken to who support the status quo in publishing -- hardcover first, premium priced -- are the ones who believe the business faces a future decline. This pessimistic belief supports the idea that premium pricing for books makes the most sense. It's the "gated community" model of literature...



Eric Rosenfield:


In fact, one of the things I like about sf magazines and anthologies over literary ones is that they tend to have more of the editor and the author talking about their work, a few paragraphs before or after to help draw you in or give you context. It's also something I like about One Story's interviews with their own authors that give you some background. My fear is that people are seeing the fiction and poetry on this site and ignoring it, even if they like reading the commentary. And, let me tell you, most of the time on this site, the fiction and poetry is where it's at. This is partially because the commentary is mostly written by me, and the fiction and poetry is written by other people, and so I have some critical and editorial distance.

Saturday, October 27, 2007

LOVEOGRAPHY 1: More Inside Haemi Fortress -- a screenplay-story




EXT. A SMALL KOREAN VILLAGE. AN EARLY SUMMER EVENING, MID-WEEK.

A WESTERN MAN is walking down the city's main street. To his left is Haemi Fortress, a medieval Korean fort. Its wall is built of unevenly matched stones, each browned by age to a soft ochre, as if the stone itself has softened.

The MAN walking beside this wall has a peaceful expression on his face. But from his body language we can tell he's lonely.

VO: Those were the days before I met you.

SFX: A light breeze.



EXT. THE INNER COURTYARD OF THE FORTRESS. MOMENTS LATER.

The Western man sees a group of CHILDREN. They are giggling and playing with each other. Then one of them spots the man.



CHILD: 의국인! [Foreigner]

SECOND CHILD: [sing-songy] Hello!

MAN: [smiling] Hello.

ALL CHILDREN: [gleefully] Hello! Hello!

MAN: [speaking slowly] Can you speak English?

The CHILDREN suddenly start to giggle uproariously. But their amusement is more a symptom of shyness than a desire to carry the game any further. They run away, still laughing.

The MAN continues walking. He makes his way through small, sad, empty streets.




V.O.: Chris Marker once asked how we can remember thirst. What I want to know is, how can we remember loneliness? It penetrates not just oneself but the world. Reality itself changes.
The side-streets suck themselves empty, their noise vacuumed behind shuttered store-fronts. The sky pulls itself as taut as a blue drum. The clouds starve themselves and harm themselves, like self-loathing anorexics.

Feel lonely enough, and that juncture of soul and body that comprises what you think of as you becomes as parched as cracked soil. The lonely individual is ancient, he is dirt.


INT. AN EVANGELICAL CHURCH. TEN MINUTES LATER.



The MAN enters. He is somewhat surprised to see a CROWD OF WORSHIPPERS. They are very involved in their prayers.

The MAN walks cautiously forward.

A MIDDLE-AGED KOREAN MAN spots him.

CUT TO: CLOSE UP of
MIDDLE-AGED KOREAN MAN.

MIDDLE-AGED KOREAN MAN: 하느님! 하느님이 자를 사랑하습니다! [God! God loves you!]

The MAN pulls back, alarmed.


EXT. A STREET. MOMENTS LATER.

The MAN is walking by himself again. He looks even sadder than before. A DIFFERENT CHILD spots him.

DIFFERENT CHILD: [especially enthusiastically] Hello!

V.O.: I don't know what it is was about that kid's voice. It went to my heart -- pierced it, somehow. I heard that cheerfully demanding,
pip-squeaky voice, and suddenly was reminded of the present ... I mean, that part of the past that connects to the present.

All I could think of was another day when the sun was setting -- a hotter day, and happier, too.