That's right bitches, the first draft of the second chapter is done. And it feeeeeeels good. I mean, it's absolute shite of course, but definitely a step in the right direction. Even has a nice little lead in to Chapter Three. And once Chapter Three is done the formal Submission Rejection Process begins! Yeehaaaaaaawwww!
In other news, "fustercluck" is the word of the week. I mean, clusterfuck was waaaay too tidy for what it was trying to convey. Fustercluck, on the other hand, is not only messy, it's barnyard messy.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Gerhard Richter and the Art of Literary Maintenance
Before I even finish writing chapter two, I've already started making notes on how to edit it. In editing, I typically use a few different metaphors to help me along.
1) What kind of drink would this chapter be? Does it read like a shot of Jaegermeister (short and strong) or a can of the Beast (more content, but watered-down)? Ideally, I'm going for Guinness (smooth and hearty, and if the barkeep's poured a shamrock on top, even better).
2) Is it Grandma Moses (no surprises, very simple and straightforward) or Jackson Pollack (what the fuck am I looking at?)? Me, I'd like to go for Gerhard Richter who's painting in layers interests me.
The Layers:
The first layer usually just moves the story along. It's more action than description. It's more two-dimensional than three. For the second layer, I close my eyes and ask myself what I see. This is where I flesh out characters, settings, dialogue and the sequence of events. Transitions between sentences, paragraphs and the general action smooths out. You've moved the story along, congratulations, but have you made the most of opportunities for comedy? Have you introduced or played up the conflicts enough to keep people interested in the characters and the story? Also, have I stayed true to the main themes or have I lost focus by introducing tangential ideas and allusions while trying to be clever showing everyone what a fucking genius I am? That being said, I usually go through 5-8 drafts before opening the process up to public comment.
I had a junior high gym teacher stand over me once while on the bench press. I did a few reps and then heard him say, "OK, one more." I did one more. Then he said, "Now one more." I did another. After a third "one more" I saw where this was going, but I'm glad he pushed me. I've come to enjoy editing as it presents a similar challenge: Are you humble enough to admit that what you just wrote is shit and can you make it better? Ok, now make it better again. And again.
1) What kind of drink would this chapter be? Does it read like a shot of Jaegermeister (short and strong) or a can of the Beast (more content, but watered-down)? Ideally, I'm going for Guinness (smooth and hearty, and if the barkeep's poured a shamrock on top, even better).
2) Is it Grandma Moses (no surprises, very simple and straightforward) or Jackson Pollack (what the fuck am I looking at?)? Me, I'd like to go for Gerhard Richter who's painting in layers interests me.
The Layers:
The first layer usually just moves the story along. It's more action than description. It's more two-dimensional than three. For the second layer, I close my eyes and ask myself what I see. This is where I flesh out characters, settings, dialogue and the sequence of events. Transitions between sentences, paragraphs and the general action smooths out. You've moved the story along, congratulations, but have you made the most of opportunities for comedy? Have you introduced or played up the conflicts enough to keep people interested in the characters and the story? Also, have I stayed true to the main themes or have I lost focus by introducing tangential ideas and allusions while trying to be clever showing everyone what a fucking genius I am? That being said, I usually go through 5-8 drafts before opening the process up to public comment.
I had a junior high gym teacher stand over me once while on the bench press. I did a few reps and then heard him say, "OK, one more." I did one more. Then he said, "Now one more." I did another. After a third "one more" I saw where this was going, but I'm glad he pushed me. I've come to enjoy editing as it presents a similar challenge: Are you humble enough to admit that what you just wrote is shit and can you make it better? Ok, now make it better again. And again.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Vampires, Lit Agents & Dick Teases
Well, if I can't sleep I may as well be productive. So tonight I took the opportunity to go through Jeff Herman's Guide to Book Publishers, Editors, & Literary Agents 2008 (Yes, there's an Oxford comma in that thar sentence, folks - not my doing as, well, as the kids like to sing, "Who gives a fuck about an Oxford comma?" Not I, said the Randall.)
From this tome I was able to identify 42 potential literary agents that may be interested in Any Color You Want. Once I've finished writing the first three chapters, I'll return to this list and most likely whittle it down some as I take more time reading each agency's description.
A first draft of chapter two should be finished shortly. Then I can tear it down all over again. Speaking of building up and tearing down, was thinking about Penelope the other day. Dr. Zafeiris, if you're reading this, do you know the ancient Greek for "dick tease"?
From this tome I was able to identify 42 potential literary agents that may be interested in Any Color You Want. Once I've finished writing the first three chapters, I'll return to this list and most likely whittle it down some as I take more time reading each agency's description.
A first draft of chapter two should be finished shortly. Then I can tear it down all over again. Speaking of building up and tearing down, was thinking about Penelope the other day. Dr. Zafeiris, if you're reading this, do you know the ancient Greek for "dick tease"?
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Ngugi
In addition to visiting Michigan, I have read a number of books on Michigan history and African literature. Most of the African works that I've read have either been regarding folklore or poetry to get a feel for the stories Africans tell, how they tell them, what kinds of characters and plots they use and so on. And then there's Ngugi.
A friend recommended that I read Ngugi's Devil on the Cross (1987). As I quickly learned, Ngugi's no joke. A native of Kenya, his writing concentrates on post-colonial Africa. I was reluctant to read his work for a couple reasons:
1) It takes place in East Africa, not Southern Africa
2) I didn't think I had read enough traditional African literature and didn't want to jump ahead to more modern content.
That being said, I believe that I was able to pick up some phrases that could be used universally throughout Africa ("Too much haste splits the yam", "The shoe doesn't need a sock" (meaning, "Nothing's closer to the truth"), "It is never too early to go to the market, before the sun scorches the vegetables"), not just Kenya.
This book also reads like the other side of John Perkins' Confessions of an Economic Hit Man. There Perkins talks about what he would do to extend American business interests abroad. Here, Ngugi talks about how men like Perkins influenced his country's businessmen. Pretty powerful stuff which begins to answer a question I'd always had: Why don't these countries have their own corporations? Perkins may argue it's because we've taken them out (to stay on the hit man tip).
As Ngugi writes, "There is nothing as terrible as a people who have swallowed foreign customs whole, without even chewing them, for such people become mere parrots", which is how he describes some of his post-colonial countrymen who continue to serve the financial interests of foreigners. More positively, he also writes, "...we shouldn't always run after foreign things, following in the footsteps of other people, singing only songs that have been composed by others, joining in the chorus of songs sung by soloists from other lands. We can compose our own songs, produce our own soloists, sing the songs to ourselves."
How does this fit in to Any Color You Want? First, Ngugi's story sewed a seed 21 years ago that now, with the Western world weakened economically and militarily, may give the developing world fruit to bear: That being, they can follow their own way. Second, his story questions the expertise and supremacy of Western ways which my protagonists will also do. Basically, Ngugi may be the dramatic precedent for this comedy.
For those of you finding it hard to believe that this is really a comedy, in chapter two our protagonists start a car alarm symphony with a soccer ball in a public parking lot. Good times.
A friend recommended that I read Ngugi's Devil on the Cross (1987). As I quickly learned, Ngugi's no joke. A native of Kenya, his writing concentrates on post-colonial Africa. I was reluctant to read his work for a couple reasons:
1) It takes place in East Africa, not Southern Africa
2) I didn't think I had read enough traditional African literature and didn't want to jump ahead to more modern content.
That being said, I believe that I was able to pick up some phrases that could be used universally throughout Africa ("Too much haste splits the yam", "The shoe doesn't need a sock" (meaning, "Nothing's closer to the truth"), "It is never too early to go to the market, before the sun scorches the vegetables"), not just Kenya.
This book also reads like the other side of John Perkins' Confessions of an Economic Hit Man. There Perkins talks about what he would do to extend American business interests abroad. Here, Ngugi talks about how men like Perkins influenced his country's businessmen. Pretty powerful stuff which begins to answer a question I'd always had: Why don't these countries have their own corporations? Perkins may argue it's because we've taken them out (to stay on the hit man tip).
As Ngugi writes, "There is nothing as terrible as a people who have swallowed foreign customs whole, without even chewing them, for such people become mere parrots", which is how he describes some of his post-colonial countrymen who continue to serve the financial interests of foreigners. More positively, he also writes, "...we shouldn't always run after foreign things, following in the footsteps of other people, singing only songs that have been composed by others, joining in the chorus of songs sung by soloists from other lands. We can compose our own songs, produce our own soloists, sing the songs to ourselves."
How does this fit in to Any Color You Want? First, Ngugi's story sewed a seed 21 years ago that now, with the Western world weakened economically and militarily, may give the developing world fruit to bear: That being, they can follow their own way. Second, his story questions the expertise and supremacy of Western ways which my protagonists will also do. Basically, Ngugi may be the dramatic precedent for this comedy.
For those of you finding it hard to believe that this is really a comedy, in chapter two our protagonists start a car alarm symphony with a soccer ball in a public parking lot. Good times.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Dearborn Day Three: I Got Your Setting Right Here, Pal
On Thursday, February 28, 2008, I toured the Ford Rouge Factory and watched the assembly of a Ford F-150. There were also two films, one on Henry Ford who had more of a Lincoln-like story (failed in business at least twice before making it) than I had ever known. The second film was about the factory and the steps and the people involved in the making of the F-150.
As one tours the factory, Ford, Bill Ford in particular, makes no bones about their dedication to the environment – until you realize that all their references to being green regard their processes (their Green Roof, use of fuel cells and recycled materials), not their vehicles.
There are no immediate plans to include the tour in the book, but I reckon my time at the factory will come in handy down the road. If nothing else, it's an essential part of the community and one that I needed to make myself familiar with.
Another part of the community that cannot be overlooked is the fantastically empty and dated Montgomery Ward department store smack dab across the street from City Hall, caddy corner from the Arab American National Museum, a stone's throw from a local newspaper and right on Michigan Avenue. One would think this makes for prime commercial real estate, but from what the innkeeper told me, the building's been vacant for years. According to that link (from 2006), offices within the building were rented out. Looked like a ghost town to me, but I'll have to follow up.
Well, one community's abandoned relic is another writer's central setting. Where better to set the rebirth of a local economy than from a beautiful building long overlooked?
Before leaving Dearborn, I picked up as many local papers as I could. I look forward to returning in a few months and taking in a Tigers game at Comerica. Now it's back to writing.
As one tours the factory, Ford, Bill Ford in particular, makes no bones about their dedication to the environment – until you realize that all their references to being green regard their processes (their Green Roof, use of fuel cells and recycled materials), not their vehicles.
There are no immediate plans to include the tour in the book, but I reckon my time at the factory will come in handy down the road. If nothing else, it's an essential part of the community and one that I needed to make myself familiar with.
Another part of the community that cannot be overlooked is the fantastically empty and dated Montgomery Ward department store smack dab across the street from City Hall, caddy corner from the Arab American National Museum, a stone's throw from a local newspaper and right on Michigan Avenue. One would think this makes for prime commercial real estate, but from what the innkeeper told me, the building's been vacant for years. According to that link (from 2006), offices within the building were rented out. Looked like a ghost town to me, but I'll have to follow up.
Well, one community's abandoned relic is another writer's central setting. Where better to set the rebirth of a local economy than from a beautiful building long overlooked?
Before leaving Dearborn, I picked up as many local papers as I could. I look forward to returning in a few months and taking in a Tigers game at Comerica. Now it's back to writing.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Day Two in Dearborn; A Book Title is Found?
On Wednesday morning I toured The Henry Ford which "showcases the people and ideas that have fired our imaginations and changed our lives." More specifically, the innovative ideas of Ford (cars), Thomas Edison (electricity) and the Wright Brothers (aviation) complemented by other exhibits on guns, quilting and Dairy Queen. Obviously we're working with Ford's (contemporary) definition of who and what fired our imaginations and changed our lives.
While walking around I asked myself what my protagonists would make of the museum. A famous Ford quote hit me in particular: "You can have any color (Model T) you want...as long as it's black." This line has become well-known for it's humor, but sadly it contradicts what we like to think the U.S. is all about: democracy and open-market capitalism, ie, the freedom of choice. We'd like to believe that we can choose the color of our cars, the leaders who represent us and through this openness we progress in perpetual revolution. But here is corporate titan Henry Ford restricting our choice and laughing about it. Kinda fucked up. I'll return to this. Now I'm off to the Arab American National Museum.
The museum's mission statement is: The Arab American National Museum's mission is to document, preserve, celebrate, and educate the public on the history, life, culture and contributions of Arab Americans. We serve as a resource to enhance knowledge and understanding about Arab Americans and their presence in the United States.
Unlike the Ford, which seems to lose its focus, this museum does exactly what it sets out to do. And I can't get this to not italicize. At the same time, the museum raises some questions: 1) It discusses briefly the "Save the South End" campaign in Dearborn, but I'd like to know more; 2) How are the Gulf War and Iraq War Iraqi refugees doing in the community?; 3) How do the Arab Christians and the Arab Muslims in the area get along?; and 4) How are female Arab entrepreneurs doing in Dearborn?
After visiting the breeding ground of a major American car manufacturer and an Arab American museum (in the same town) I had the following horrible thought: What if unemployment is high and the economy is down in this part of the country because it is home to two of the most infamously stubborn entities (American autos and Arabs) this side of Red Sox fans and vegans?
I'd like to think I was proven wrong later that same day on a few occasions. First, Dearborn is not black and white, Arab and non-Arab. There are no stark residential boundaries. The local KFC offers Halal chicken. The Arab restaurant I had dinner at offered American standards. Women in burqas enjoyed hot drinks on cold Dearborn days in coffee shops on the other side of town.
Dizzy with the prospects of such subplots, I drew myself back to book's main idea and Ford's quote. The U.S. suffers when it restricts choice, and by extension opportunity. By rejecting the help of two successful (foreign) entrepreneurs, choice and opportunity take a hit. So what do you call a book set in Ford's backyard that stonewalls two African entrepreneurs from offering Americans choice and opportunity? Why, "Any Color You Want" of course. ;)
Tomorrow: The making of a Ford F-150 and the renting of Montgomery Ward.
While walking around I asked myself what my protagonists would make of the museum. A famous Ford quote hit me in particular: "You can have any color (Model T) you want...as long as it's black." This line has become well-known for it's humor, but sadly it contradicts what we like to think the U.S. is all about: democracy and open-market capitalism, ie, the freedom of choice. We'd like to believe that we can choose the color of our cars, the leaders who represent us and through this openness we progress in perpetual revolution. But here is corporate titan Henry Ford restricting our choice and laughing about it. Kinda fucked up. I'll return to this. Now I'm off to the Arab American National Museum.
The museum's mission statement is: The Arab American National Museum's mission is to document, preserve, celebrate, and educate the public on the history, life, culture and contributions of Arab Americans. We serve as a resource to enhance knowledge and understanding about Arab Americans and their presence in the United States.
Unlike the Ford, which seems to lose its focus, this museum does exactly what it sets out to do. And I can't get this to not italicize. At the same time, the museum raises some questions: 1) It discusses briefly the "Save the South End" campaign in Dearborn, but I'd like to know more; 2) How are the Gulf War and Iraq War Iraqi refugees doing in the community?; 3) How do the Arab Christians and the Arab Muslims in the area get along?; and 4) How are female Arab entrepreneurs doing in Dearborn?
After visiting the breeding ground of a major American car manufacturer and an Arab American museum (in the same town) I had the following horrible thought: What if unemployment is high and the economy is down in this part of the country because it is home to two of the most infamously stubborn entities (American autos and Arabs) this side of Red Sox fans and vegans?
I'd like to think I was proven wrong later that same day on a few occasions. First, Dearborn is not black and white, Arab and non-Arab. There are no stark residential boundaries. The local KFC offers Halal chicken. The Arab restaurant I had dinner at offered American standards. Women in burqas enjoyed hot drinks on cold Dearborn days in coffee shops on the other side of town.
Dizzy with the prospects of such subplots, I drew myself back to book's main idea and Ford's quote. The U.S. suffers when it restricts choice, and by extension opportunity. By rejecting the help of two successful (foreign) entrepreneurs, choice and opportunity take a hit. So what do you call a book set in Ford's backyard that stonewalls two African entrepreneurs from offering Americans choice and opportunity? Why, "Any Color You Want" of course. ;)
Tomorrow: The making of a Ford F-150 and the renting of Montgomery Ward.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Day One in Dearborn
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
I arrived at the Dearborn Bed & Breakfast on 22331 Morley Avenue at around 1:30pm; the snow so fresh that a number of driveways had yet to be cleared. Am staying in the Walnut Room on the second floor which is drafty, but beautiful and spacious - at least by New York standards. After getting settled, I spoke with the innkeeper about local attractions and posed some of the questions about the area.
The innkeeper, who has lived here for approximately 45 years after moving with her husband from the Cleveland area upon his taking a job with Ford, is a white woman probably in her sixties. She is very kind and hospitable. She also has a good sense of the changes that have taken place in the area, though I don’t think she’s one to be critical or negative.
She admitted that the local economy was not in good shape, mainly because of Ford and GM (also that white collar workers (like her two sons, who seem to be safe in their jobs) are often the first to get the axe) and that old Mayor Hubbard was not one for allowing blacks or immigrants to live in Dearborn: They could work here, but that’s all.
She said that the Arab population was mainly in East Dearborn (off of Michigan Avenue near City Hall and the old Montgomery Ward which has been abandoned for years) and Melvindale; that West Dearborn was mainly white; and that Inkster was mainly black. She added that there was a Mexican neighborhood in Detroit, but that there wasn’t a particularly large Hispanic presence locally.
While she did delineate ethnicities and neighborhoods, she also went so far as to say that these lines were not so clearly drawn; that there was a good mix of black, white and Arab all around. She also said that there had been no white flight. That being said, she gave an example of a family that moved before their white child was to enter a school that was 99% black…
I had dinner at Miller’s Bar which the innkeeper recommended for their burgers. Miller’s is right off of Michigan Avenue - the main drag; it has a big, clear sign, but then no signs on either of its doors which gives it a prohibition dive bar feel, until you enter and it’s spic and span. Indeed, my medium rare cheeseburger – served bloody, thank god – was tasty and tender. The fries, on the other hand, had the backbone of the local economy. The burger was served with a slice of onion wrapped in parchment on the side and a jar of sliced pickles on the table. On tap? Miller or Miller Light. I chose Miller and was served what appeared to be a half-pint; which Lucy would order by saying, “One up” to the bartender. Two all day.
Eating at 8:20pm on a Tuesday night, I missed the main dinner rush, but as Lucy my server informed me, that usually hadn’t mattered. She attributed the low turnout to either the snow and cold weather, the economy or both. There wasn’t a soul at the bar, most of the patrons were middle aged and all were white. As was the staff.
I was informed that Miller’s is cash only and that they work on the honor system. I received no bill from Lucy; I just have to go up to the bar, tell the bartender what I had and pay him. And so I did.
As I leave it either begins to flurry or the wind kicks up and blows the earlier snow around. The parking lot in the back is all American made to a car.
My initial drives up and down Michigan Avenue (in tandem with my conversation with the innkeeper) draw some points of note. First, there are all the requisite chain/big box stores. Second, there are a number of empty stores, even stores of renown. I took these to be a sign of the weak local economy. The innkeeper mentioned that a number of stores and buildings had been torn down and replaced with new buildings (mainly residential apartments and lofts with a commercial presence on the ground floor) – so perhaps these empties are just awaiting the wrecking ball before new structures go up. If what she says is true, then the area probably benefited from the housing boom like the rest of the country. Whether or not the area can weather the automotive industry’s woes, the popping of the housing bubble and the sub-prime credit mess is another matter.
Like a moron, I left my digital camera at home.
Wednesday I visited The Henry Ford and the Arab American National Museum. More tomorrow.
I arrived at the Dearborn Bed & Breakfast on 22331 Morley Avenue at around 1:30pm; the snow so fresh that a number of driveways had yet to be cleared. Am staying in the Walnut Room on the second floor which is drafty, but beautiful and spacious - at least by New York standards. After getting settled, I spoke with the innkeeper about local attractions and posed some of the questions about the area.
The innkeeper, who has lived here for approximately 45 years after moving with her husband from the Cleveland area upon his taking a job with Ford, is a white woman probably in her sixties. She is very kind and hospitable. She also has a good sense of the changes that have taken place in the area, though I don’t think she’s one to be critical or negative.
She admitted that the local economy was not in good shape, mainly because of Ford and GM (also that white collar workers (like her two sons, who seem to be safe in their jobs) are often the first to get the axe) and that old Mayor Hubbard was not one for allowing blacks or immigrants to live in Dearborn: They could work here, but that’s all.
She said that the Arab population was mainly in East Dearborn (off of Michigan Avenue near City Hall and the old Montgomery Ward which has been abandoned for years) and Melvindale; that West Dearborn was mainly white; and that Inkster was mainly black. She added that there was a Mexican neighborhood in Detroit, but that there wasn’t a particularly large Hispanic presence locally.
While she did delineate ethnicities and neighborhoods, she also went so far as to say that these lines were not so clearly drawn; that there was a good mix of black, white and Arab all around. She also said that there had been no white flight. That being said, she gave an example of a family that moved before their white child was to enter a school that was 99% black…
I had dinner at Miller’s Bar which the innkeeper recommended for their burgers. Miller’s is right off of Michigan Avenue - the main drag; it has a big, clear sign, but then no signs on either of its doors which gives it a prohibition dive bar feel, until you enter and it’s spic and span. Indeed, my medium rare cheeseburger – served bloody, thank god – was tasty and tender. The fries, on the other hand, had the backbone of the local economy. The burger was served with a slice of onion wrapped in parchment on the side and a jar of sliced pickles on the table. On tap? Miller or Miller Light. I chose Miller and was served what appeared to be a half-pint; which Lucy would order by saying, “One up” to the bartender. Two all day.
Eating at 8:20pm on a Tuesday night, I missed the main dinner rush, but as Lucy my server informed me, that usually hadn’t mattered. She attributed the low turnout to either the snow and cold weather, the economy or both. There wasn’t a soul at the bar, most of the patrons were middle aged and all were white. As was the staff.
I was informed that Miller’s is cash only and that they work on the honor system. I received no bill from Lucy; I just have to go up to the bar, tell the bartender what I had and pay him. And so I did.
As I leave it either begins to flurry or the wind kicks up and blows the earlier snow around. The parking lot in the back is all American made to a car.
My initial drives up and down Michigan Avenue (in tandem with my conversation with the innkeeper) draw some points of note. First, there are all the requisite chain/big box stores. Second, there are a number of empty stores, even stores of renown. I took these to be a sign of the weak local economy. The innkeeper mentioned that a number of stores and buildings had been torn down and replaced with new buildings (mainly residential apartments and lofts with a commercial presence on the ground floor) – so perhaps these empties are just awaiting the wrecking ball before new structures go up. If what she says is true, then the area probably benefited from the housing boom like the rest of the country. Whether or not the area can weather the automotive industry’s woes, the popping of the housing bubble and the sub-prime credit mess is another matter.
Like a moron, I left my digital camera at home.
Wednesday I visited The Henry Ford and the Arab American National Museum. More tomorrow.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
