Let's take a Winston break:
Getting on Mr. Big Stuff's case:
This isn't the Junior Chamber of Commerce, Brad:
Tea Party orgy:
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Maple tap
My buddy Harry Finch hails from Vermont. He posted a bunch of photos of a maple sap extraction that are stunning to me. They are scary, surreal and surprising. I loved these photos. I mean, who thinks about the business end of maple syrup? Harry Finch, to be sure.And my dad. My dad made maple syrup once.
I pulled onto Mom and Dad's property in April 2002. There was something attached to one of the maples. Then another and another. As I got closer, I recognized them as empty half gallon whiskey bottles, all Dad's preferred brand of Lord Calvert Canadian. They each had a tube that went from deep inside the tree to deep inside the bottle.
Dad came out to greet me.
"Dad," I said, "there's whiskey bottles strapped to all your trees."
He rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue. "How the hell else would I collect the sap for the maple syrup?" he said.
That was so funny to me.
Dad went on to boil, boil, boil all the sap he collected from his whiskey bottles and make the syrup. Then he died.
Mom gave the closest family members bottles of Dad's syrup for Christmas that year, but I've never been able to bring myself to pour one drop of mine over a stack of hotcakes.
That's what it's like. That's exactly what it's like.
* * *
Friday, March 26, 2010
Ain't misbehavin'
I love marital aids that look like they've been plucked from the set of Star Trek tos.* I'm talking your fantastical and otherworldly. I'm talking your improbable.You'd think I'd have had a bit of media posted here from the old Star Trek with an example of exactly what I mean, but after a person has been searching for vids and photos that have an incidental prop in them that look like a groovy dildo for over an hour, a person realizes that they're pretty much at the end of the line. The evocative photo of Kirk and Uhuru will have to do. You can extrapolate the rest for yourself.
*tos is an acronym for "the original series," which I learned while doing my intrepid research for this post. I'm cutting edge like that.
Oh all right already. I hear you bellyaching over there. Now this is as examply as I'm going to get, but damn if this little number couldn't command the Bridge and then some:
* * *
This post lovingly dedicated to Fred.
* * *
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Scene with dog
A woman in a baggy jean jacket is walking down a semi rural road. With her hands in the side pockets, she's hunched around her thoughts. Ear-bud wires frame her cheeks.
Suddenly, a dog is running furiously towards her. It stops just a foot before her and barks. The woman rears as the barks dissolve into a threatening growl.
The dog falls silent and wags its tail. It is shaggy with mottled brown fur, medium size. Ugly, thinks the woman as she goes to step around it, but the dog lurches, growls again and bares its teeth. The woman stops. The dog falls silent and its tail sweeps back and forth.
In her softest voice, the woman says, "Good boy." The dog pants and sits. She steps forward, but again, the dog jumps and menaces.
The woman is paralyzed as she waits to hear a voice--any voice--call to the dog, but the street is dead silent. A handful of seconds seem to stretch on and on as anger and humiliation redden the woman's cheeks. The dog alternately pants with its dog smile, then growls and bares its teeth, its tail wagging intermittently. The woman has never felt more alone.
She inches her hand from her pocket, extracting a small handgun. Before the elements of the equation fully register, a shot rings and the dog drops. The silence that follows is confusing and unrealistic. Uncertainty washes over the woman.
"Jayjay?"
A girl in a stained tee with stripes the colors of Necco wafers, bounds from an adjacent yard and kneels before the wounded dog.
"I ... He ..." the woman stammers.
"Jayjay?" repeats the girl as the dog lifts its head, it's tail thumping weakly on the asphalt.
It is a completely different animal than the one that had stood before the woman just moments ago, with meek eyes and spindly legs. The girl pets the whimpering dog. She gently touches the dark spot of wet fur in the dog's middle and looks at her bloodied fingers in disbelief. The girl raises her eyes to the woman, who is standing speechless and slack-jawed, the gun dangling from her hand.
"Desi? " calls a woman as she steps from the nearest house, her hands worrying a dishtowel. "Desi? What was it? What happened, baby?"
Suddenly, a dog is running furiously towards her. It stops just a foot before her and barks. The woman rears as the barks dissolve into a threatening growl.
The dog falls silent and wags its tail. It is shaggy with mottled brown fur, medium size. Ugly, thinks the woman as she goes to step around it, but the dog lurches, growls again and bares its teeth. The woman stops. The dog falls silent and its tail sweeps back and forth.
In her softest voice, the woman says, "Good boy." The dog pants and sits. She steps forward, but again, the dog jumps and menaces.
The woman is paralyzed as she waits to hear a voice--any voice--call to the dog, but the street is dead silent. A handful of seconds seem to stretch on and on as anger and humiliation redden the woman's cheeks. The dog alternately pants with its dog smile, then growls and bares its teeth, its tail wagging intermittently. The woman has never felt more alone.
She inches her hand from her pocket, extracting a small handgun. Before the elements of the equation fully register, a shot rings and the dog drops. The silence that follows is confusing and unrealistic. Uncertainty washes over the woman.
"Jayjay?"
A girl in a stained tee with stripes the colors of Necco wafers, bounds from an adjacent yard and kneels before the wounded dog.
"I ... He ..." the woman stammers.
"Jayjay?" repeats the girl as the dog lifts its head, it's tail thumping weakly on the asphalt.
It is a completely different animal than the one that had stood before the woman just moments ago, with meek eyes and spindly legs. The girl pets the whimpering dog. She gently touches the dark spot of wet fur in the dog's middle and looks at her bloodied fingers in disbelief. The girl raises her eyes to the woman, who is standing speechless and slack-jawed, the gun dangling from her hand.
"Desi? " calls a woman as she steps from the nearest house, her hands worrying a dishtowel. "Desi? What was it? What happened, baby?"
* * *
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Beer of America
The Goat and I were celebrating the purchase of his a new Goatmobile, a "jewel red" Chevy Impala. He is now the forth Chevy Impala owner on our street, which is here in the middle of America. The Goat and I agreed that the Chevy Impala is the Car of America.
Behold the vision of perfect angles coming together: the Husbands of America driving the Car of America in the Middle of America with the Wives of America in the passenger seats and Kids of America in the back.
We were at a restaurant/bar where they have a bowling machine and a basketball machine, and where the walls are covered with photos of the hometown high school football team. The place was packed with bar regulars and families having fish fries and wings. I ordered a Bud Light draft.
"That's a cold draft," I said, "here in the middle of America."
"Yup," said the Goat. He was drinking some dubious foreign beer--a Labatt's or some goddamn thing, which made me swell with superiority.
"You should have a regular American beer," I said, "a regular shitty beer." Then of course I remembered that Budweiser is owned by some shady Belgian entity. "America needs a new beer," I said as I tapped a shake of salt into my Belgian suds.
"The Belgians should stick with chocolate," said the Goat.
"Yeah," I said indignantly. "To hell with the Belgians. America needs a Beer of America."
"Beer of America," said the Goat. "I like it."
Beer of America will be some seriously shitty beer that is seriously shitty and that everyone understands: You drink it real cold and real fast, and you'll have no troubles. Beer of America shall be the sole product of the Brewery of America, available in kegs (but not cans); and no one's getting any Beer of America in some candy-ass plastic bottle. This shit's going out in cases of twenty-four 16-ounce RETURNABLE long necks.
God how I love shit like that.
A case of Beer of America will put you back $55--IF you don't have your empties. You got your heavy-duty cardboard case of empties? Well then belly up, baby. You're walking out with an ice cold case of fresh Beer of America for just six bucks!
We executives here at Beer of America are targeting a very specific clientele.
Beer of America will be available at regular beverage stores, the drive-in type or the ones that have a jar of pretzel rods on the counter and still have a rack of dirty magazines in the back that no one ever buys but remains based solely on principles you either understand or you don't. And we're not going to be pricks about the empties. You bring 'em back in good refillable condition (and we will check the condition because we've seen what sort of shitbags are out there trying to slide in a chipped or broken bottle), and we'll give you your $49 deposit back. Go on and have your candy-ass Belgian Budweiser.
As founder, president and CEO of Beer of America, I'm going to make these bottles the kind you have to open with a church key because the vision of you lugging your beer cooler around with an opener dangling from a shitty string tied to the handle entertains me to no end.
Beer coolers, church keys, having to deal with shitty cases of empty beer bottles that are a major pain in the ass--this is how you rebuild the American character, people.
In the future, I envision stand-alone Beer of America kiosks where you can pull up and get your BYO container (think empty gallon milk jug) filled up with ice-cold Beer of America draft for just 3-cents an ounce.
We're still working out formal pricing, but this is the sort of forward thinking that percolates here at the Offices of Erin O'Brien while you're all out there playing with yourselves.
Thank you for your continued support.
Erin O'Brien
Founder: Beer of America
Certified Member: United Wives of America
Behold the vision of perfect angles coming together: the Husbands of America driving the Car of America in the Middle of America with the Wives of America in the passenger seats and Kids of America in the back.
We were at a restaurant/bar where they have a bowling machine and a basketball machine, and where the walls are covered with photos of the hometown high school football team. The place was packed with bar regulars and families having fish fries and wings. I ordered a Bud Light draft.
"That's a cold draft," I said, "here in the middle of America.""Yup," said the Goat. He was drinking some dubious foreign beer--a Labatt's or some goddamn thing, which made me swell with superiority.
"You should have a regular American beer," I said, "a regular shitty beer." Then of course I remembered that Budweiser is owned by some shady Belgian entity. "America needs a new beer," I said as I tapped a shake of salt into my Belgian suds.
"The Belgians should stick with chocolate," said the Goat.
"Yeah," I said indignantly. "To hell with the Belgians. America needs a Beer of America."
"Beer of America," said the Goat. "I like it."
Beer of America will be some seriously shitty beer that is seriously shitty and that everyone understands: You drink it real cold and real fast, and you'll have no troubles. Beer of America shall be the sole product of the Brewery of America, available in kegs (but not cans); and no one's getting any Beer of America in some candy-ass plastic bottle. This shit's going out in cases of twenty-four 16-ounce RETURNABLE long necks.God how I love shit like that.
A case of Beer of America will put you back $55--IF you don't have your empties. You got your heavy-duty cardboard case of empties? Well then belly up, baby. You're walking out with an ice cold case of fresh Beer of America for just six bucks!
We executives here at Beer of America are targeting a very specific clientele.
Beer of America will be available at regular beverage stores, the drive-in type or the ones that have a jar of pretzel rods on the counter and still have a rack of dirty magazines in the back that no one ever buys but remains based solely on principles you either understand or you don't. And we're not going to be pricks about the empties. You bring 'em back in good refillable condition (and we will check the condition because we've seen what sort of shitbags are out there trying to slide in a chipped or broken bottle), and we'll give you your $49 deposit back. Go on and have your candy-ass Belgian Budweiser.
As founder, president and CEO of Beer of America, I'm going to make these bottles the kind you have to open with a church key because the vision of you lugging your beer cooler around with an opener dangling from a shitty string tied to the handle entertains me to no end.
Beer coolers, church keys, having to deal with shitty cases of empty beer bottles that are a major pain in the ass--this is how you rebuild the American character, people.
In the future, I envision stand-alone Beer of America kiosks where you can pull up and get your BYO container (think empty gallon milk jug) filled up with ice-cold Beer of America draft for just 3-cents an ounce.We're still working out formal pricing, but this is the sort of forward thinking that percolates here at the Offices of Erin O'Brien while you're all out there playing with yourselves.
Thank you for your continued support.
Erin O'Brien
Founder: Beer of America
Certified Member: United Wives of America
Monday, March 22, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Dear Gram,
Somehow these crazy Continental Art lamps you bought back in '52 made it back to Mom and dig this--she gave them to me! MAN how I love these crazy lamps.
Anyhow, seeing as I turn 45 in just 11 days, it's sort of like the coolest b-day gift coming straight down from heaven by way of both you and Mom and I love it. Your great-granddaughter thinks they're pretty terrific as well.
Mostly I miss you and wish you were here so we could play gin for half the afternoon, but I'll sure think of you every time I turn on these far-out lamps.
Love,
Erin
ps: For any crazy cats out there who dig on this sort of thing and want to see more photos of these righteous lamps in a higher resolution, hop on over here.
Anyhow, seeing as I turn 45 in just 11 days, it's sort of like the coolest b-day gift coming straight down from heaven by way of both you and Mom and I love it. Your great-granddaughter thinks they're pretty terrific as well.
Mostly I miss you and wish you were here so we could play gin for half the afternoon, but I'll sure think of you every time I turn on these far-out lamps.
Love,
Erin
ps: For any crazy cats out there who dig on this sort of thing and want to see more photos of these righteous lamps in a higher resolution, hop on over here.
* * *
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Big One Leg and Von Huffer
I go to a local gym that has a sauna and sometimes I like to sit in there and sweat until I can't stand it anymore. It is weird to be in a little room with a huge window sweating in your bathing suit with a bunch of strangers. That said, they are not strangers for long.
There's the one guy in his seventies with only one lung who speaks with a German accent.
"I only got da von huffer," he will explain while he shows you the scar that was created when his lung was removed.
When the ladies' swim class starts (the pool is right in front of the sauna) and all the old dolls come out with their skirt swimsuits and rubber caps with flowers, the one-lung-German-accent guy says, "Here come da vah-ter buffaloes."
The sauna/pool guy I respect the most, however, is Big One Leg. He's also in his seventies and clocks in somewhere around 350 or 400 lbs. He's so big that when he passes in front of you, you actually notice how long your view has been obstructed, sort of like when an elephant goes by in a parade just when you're trying to check out the hottie on the other side of the road. Dude is BIG, and as you might expect from my nickname, Big One Leg only has one leg.
It's really something to watch Big One Leg come out in his giant swim trunks and lumber over to the pool. Then with no small effort, he gets himself situated on the edge, removes his prosthesis, sets it aside, then plops into the water and swims around for awhile.
I find it ironic that the one-lung-German-accent guy doesn't call him a vah-ter buffalo.
There's the one guy in his seventies with only one lung who speaks with a German accent.
"I only got da von huffer," he will explain while he shows you the scar that was created when his lung was removed.
When the ladies' swim class starts (the pool is right in front of the sauna) and all the old dolls come out with their skirt swimsuits and rubber caps with flowers, the one-lung-German-accent guy says, "Here come da vah-ter buffaloes."
The sauna/pool guy I respect the most, however, is Big One Leg. He's also in his seventies and clocks in somewhere around 350 or 400 lbs. He's so big that when he passes in front of you, you actually notice how long your view has been obstructed, sort of like when an elephant goes by in a parade just when you're trying to check out the hottie on the other side of the road. Dude is BIG, and as you might expect from my nickname, Big One Leg only has one leg.
It's really something to watch Big One Leg come out in his giant swim trunks and lumber over to the pool. Then with no small effort, he gets himself situated on the edge, removes his prosthesis, sets it aside, then plops into the water and swims around for awhile.
I find it ironic that the one-lung-German-accent guy doesn't call him a vah-ter buffalo.
* * *
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Toora loora loora
The Goat and I went to Cleveland's St. Patty Day parade early and walked around the staging area. It was more fun than any parade could ever be. Here are the snaps.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Hey good lookin'
Whatcha got cookin'?
Al the Retired Army Guy is a reader of this here blog and a student at the New England Culinary Institute. Here's the skinny on of one of his latest projects.
From Al: Here are a few pictures of a display platter my classmates and I worked on. If you’re wondering why everything appears shiny, it is because all of the food is coated in aspic (gelatin) to give the food a shine for display purposes only. It isn’t meant for consumption, though you could eat it if you wanted to. I wouldn’t mainly due to the gelatin. Without the gelatin, though--> ;-)
In the pictures you will find a terrine, a liver pate, and a duck galantine, as well as two vegetable garnishes. There is also a beet/pickled onion salad, with an orange vinaigrette (you can’t really see the vinaigrette).
The single plate represents a single serving of the components contained in the platter.
It took us about six hours to put five coats of aspic on every individual piece. The vegetables were individually carved and placed as well. I did the “pointy” rutabaga bases you see, as well as the chioggia beets (the purple ones, carved into fleurons or a crescent shape). I did the orange/white squares you see inside the circular garnish on the right side of the platter. The terrine, galantine, and liver pate were made for us by classmates and our instructor.
Overall it was a lot of fun. All the attention to detail I learned while in the Army definitely pays off while doing things like this.
Looks good, Al. Now whydontcha come over here and wrangle up something for dinner?
Al the Retired Army Guy is a reader of this here blog and a student at the New England Culinary Institute. Here's the skinny on of one of his latest projects.
From Al: Here are a few pictures of a display platter my classmates and I worked on. If you’re wondering why everything appears shiny, it is because all of the food is coated in aspic (gelatin) to give the food a shine for display purposes only. It isn’t meant for consumption, though you could eat it if you wanted to. I wouldn’t mainly due to the gelatin. Without the gelatin, though--> ;-)In the pictures you will find a terrine, a liver pate, and a duck galantine, as well as two vegetable garnishes. There is also a beet/pickled onion salad, with an orange vinaigrette (you can’t really see the vinaigrette).
The single plate represents a single serving of the components contained in the platter.It took us about six hours to put five coats of aspic on every individual piece. The vegetables were individually carved and placed as well. I did the “pointy” rutabaga bases you see, as well as the chioggia beets (the purple ones, carved into fleurons or a crescent shape). I did the orange/white squares you see inside the circular garnish on the right side of the platter. The terrine, galantine, and liver pate were made for us by classmates and our instructor.
Overall it was a lot of fun. All the attention to detail I learned while in the Army definitely pays off while doing things like this.
* * *
Looks good, Al. Now whydontcha come over here and wrangle up something for dinner?
* * *
Monday, March 15, 2010
I think you're beautiful Gabourey
Thirteen years ago, I pulled a novel from a bin at the library's used book sale and paid one dollar for it. Sapphire's Push immediately engaged me and I didn't put it down until I'd reached the last page.
The book takes stylistic risks, with Precious Jones narrating her own story in a phonetically realistic voice. She is poorly dressed and obese, the sort of person many of us pass on the street and never see. Therein lies the brilliance of the novel. Push puts Claireece Precious Jones and her harrowing life squarely in front of the reader.
If this was difficult and compelling to watch unfold on the page, the trailer for the movie Precious indicated it would be stunning on the screen as well. After much consideration, I decided to take my 12-year-old daughter to see Precious.
"I was really rooting for Precious," I said as we talked about the movie on the way home.
"Me too," said Jessie.
I was bowled over by Gabourey Sidibe's portrayal of Precious. If possible, she realized Sapphire's vision with near perfection--as someone who is so easy to dismiss, until you really see her. Then she is impossible not to embrace.
To be honest, I had some literary quibbles with the novel, but my respect for the risks it took overwhelmed them. The film has received raves as well as scathing criticism for being "a strange combination of liberal guilt and condescension," which is a point well taken.
I apologize that I cannot find the link now, but one of the reviews I read took issue with Precious's weight saying something to the effect of must she be so fat that her face is distorted? Then darling Howard Stern chimed in last week with his obnoxious comments about Sidibe.
I was infuriated by this stupidity. Don't these morons realize that the driving force of Precious is a main character who is the antithesis of Gwyneth Paltrow and Reese Witherspoon? Her physical size is symbolic. It's one of the reasons she will not be denied. Whether you're on the pick or pan side of the reviews, that ambition deserves respect.
As for Sidibe, I think you're beautiful, Gabourey. Now go bury the likes of Stern with a long and illustrious career.
The book takes stylistic risks, with Precious Jones narrating her own story in a phonetically realistic voice. She is poorly dressed and obese, the sort of person many of us pass on the street and never see. Therein lies the brilliance of the novel. Push puts Claireece Precious Jones and her harrowing life squarely in front of the reader.
If this was difficult and compelling to watch unfold on the page, the trailer for the movie Precious indicated it would be stunning on the screen as well. After much consideration, I decided to take my 12-year-old daughter to see Precious.
"I was really rooting for Precious," I said as we talked about the movie on the way home.
"Me too," said Jessie.
I was bowled over by Gabourey Sidibe's portrayal of Precious. If possible, she realized Sapphire's vision with near perfection--as someone who is so easy to dismiss, until you really see her. Then she is impossible not to embrace.
To be honest, I had some literary quibbles with the novel, but my respect for the risks it took overwhelmed them. The film has received raves as well as scathing criticism for being "a strange combination of liberal guilt and condescension," which is a point well taken.
I apologize that I cannot find the link now, but one of the reviews I read took issue with Precious's weight saying something to the effect of must she be so fat that her face is distorted? Then darling Howard Stern chimed in last week with his obnoxious comments about Sidibe.
I was infuriated by this stupidity. Don't these morons realize that the driving force of Precious is a main character who is the antithesis of Gwyneth Paltrow and Reese Witherspoon? Her physical size is symbolic. It's one of the reasons she will not be denied. Whether you're on the pick or pan side of the reviews, that ambition deserves respect.
As for Sidibe, I think you're beautiful, Gabourey. Now go bury the likes of Stern with a long and illustrious career.
* * *
Friday, March 12, 2010
Tattoo referral
"I can’t think of anything that I liked in my twenties that I would want tattooed on my body now. Okay, maybe chicken Parmesan, but that would take up too much space."
Now go read the rest of my good buddy Paul Ita's latest essay for masslive: My Horrible Tattoo: A Cautionary Tale for America's Young People.
Now go read the rest of my good buddy Paul Ita's latest essay for masslive: My Horrible Tattoo: A Cautionary Tale for America's Young People.
* * *
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Wordle girl
The above word cloud is courtesy of Wordle.
I cannot get enough of that silly gadget. To have your work instantaneously analyzed and transformed into a piece of literary artwork is like masturbation for writers. After Alex Pruteanu introduced me to it yesterday, I fooled around Wordling this blog, old articles, even my writing bio.
The source text for today's Wordle cloud was lifted from an article wherein I recount a professional "girlie" photo session, which explains the photo on the left (yes, that is your humble hostess).You can read the full text of the article here.
* * *
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Phone cam round-up
Fifty degrees and sunny. THE CABIN-FEVER CRAZED O'BRIEN CAN FINALLY WALK OUTSIDE despite all the blasted snowdrifts.
Riunite Lambrusco, anyone?
Above the bar at Cleve-o mega hot spot Melt.
The Goat bought a new GoatMobile. Yay, Goat!
The old GoatMobile looked sad when we left it at the dealer. Boohoo and bye-bye, old GoatMobile.
Indian spirit money house blessing rainbow incense sticks--only six for a dollar at the discount grocery. Man-o-man, my luck never ends.
Sorry, ghost of George Carlin.
Come-hither bra display at the low grade closeout store.
"Honey, springtime is high time for a new toilet."
* * *
Monday, March 08, 2010
Tips on writing
A post chock full of writing tips for all the young writers who contact me with questions about this crazy business and craft. Last updated 3/8/10.
Start local and small. My first paid bit of writing was for Ohio Writer. For my 900-word book review of Judith Hemschemeyer's The Harvest, I was paid the royal sum of $10. That was in June of 2000 (you can see how the next ten years unfolded for me here). Building a professional writing portfolio and the associated career takes time, and it sprouts from humble beginnings.
If I were starting out today, I'd probably fish around for casual blogs associated with professional publications. Many daily and weekly print papers have online blogs that might not pay much, but would be an excellent place to earn a link and a bonafide publishing credential. Who knows? If an editor likes your style, it might lead to something more serious (and lucrative).
Bonus tip: Leave a few comments on a blog (under your real name) that you might like to write for before querying the editor with your idea.
Small local papers are often looking for writers to cover things like school board meetings and local government. These usually are paying gigs. I spent five years doing that sort of thing for The Broadview Journal. That stint earned me experience, street smarts, clips, a bit of local notoriety, and a steady paycheck.
Get involved with a local literary or publishing organization. Here in Cleveland, we have The Lit, Cleveland Digital Publishing Users Group (CDPUG), and the Cleveland Society of Professional Journalists. These types of organizations host all sorts of events, parties, and classes where you will meet professional writers and editors.
If you want to be one of these people, you have to support what they do. That means buying their books, paying the club fees and having a genuine interest in their community. It means learning from them in an organic sense. This is perhaps the most important piece of advice I can offer a new writer.
I'm sure there are plenty of online sources as well. Many professional journalists I know are members of Freelance Success for example.
Go to the library. There you will find droves of books dedicated to publishing and writing advice. Librarians are wonderful and can always make good suggestions.
In my home library, I have a shelf full of Writer's Market editions. Two other good books to start with are The First Five Pages and The Elements of Style.
Mind your manners in a cold contact. Don't ask established writers for big favors. Never send them unsolicited writing to critique. Also, don't ask a writer to do your work for you. Finding the right publications to query is hard work. The question, "Where can I publish this?" is almost never appropriate. Get online and start researching for yourself, or go find a copy of the LMP.
Follow guidelines. When you're ready to submit, follow the guidelines on the agent's or publisher's site. If there are none, a one-page query is your best bet. NEVER use cutesy fonts or graphics or anything that discredits your professionalism.
Get tough. The more successful a writer is, the more rejection they've faced because they toughed it out and lived to submit another day. If you want to achieve success, you will get kicked. Hard. And repeatedly. When you get a rejection, send out another query the same day. It will help you keep your game face on. Sometimes you have to resort to Plan B and rethink your approach or your project, but giving up gets you no where. Your submission or query will likely get rejected again and again--until the one day when it gets accepted.
Be warned: there is a growing trend in the publication industry wherein the powers that be simply do not respond to submissions that don't interest them. All you can do about "passive" rejections is keep a meticulous spreadsheet detailing all your queries with dates, names, pertinent websites, etc. Include any special notes as well. How long you wait to give up on getting a response is up to you, although sometimes an agency or publication will have response time info on their webpage.
Simultaneous submissions? Again, your call.
You are your own publicist. The days of the reclusive and mysterious writer sucking deeply from a Winston before his trusty Royal typewriter are gone. You must represent yourself and you must do it online. Prospective agents and publishers are busy people with no patience for ineptitude. If your information is more than a click away, you'll lose them. I recommend you maintain two types of webpage. This blog is my main active webpage. Content here is frequently updated. Here is my static/informational site. Content there does not change very often.
If you are just starting out, your static page might simply include some education and contact information, and your active page may be a twitter account. However you choose to do it, you must have these things. Design, develop and shape them in a way that properly represents you and your work. They will evolve with you. They will surprise you as well.
Bonus tip #1: Google Docs is a brilliant tool for creating static public webpages.
Bonus tip #2: The way you drive a readership to your blog is by going to other sites that have the sort of readers you are trying to attract and leaving brilliant comments.
And now for some miscellaneous links:
They don't call it "submission" for nothing.
Where I go to bellyache about writing.
A whole podcast featuring Erin on Writing.
Lastly, a bit of nostalgia. When I was a kid, I had a Mattel Knit Magic toy. You threaded the yarn through this squiggly little thing in the front, turned the crank, and PRESTO! a knitted tube would come out the bottom of the plastic machine.
You were supposed to be able to do all sorts of things with the tubes, make groovy hats and stuffed dolls and scarves, but all I ever ended up with was a long tube, (although I did love my Knit Magic machine).
When I lead discussions on writing, I often say that there is no Essay Magic machine, wherein you thread an idea in, turn a crank and watch an essay wind out from the bottom. The process I go through in order to produce a good solid piece of writing is laborious, wonderful, frustrating, difficult and satisfying. It has matured through the years.
It is important to be in love with your process, to truly revel in the revelations, and savor the small victories. If you focus solely on that "big" publication, you risk missing the small and wonderful things that happen along the way. Write because you have something to say and your own way to say it. Write because you are driven to the craft. Above all, write because we need the good writers. We need their words and observations. We need them to scale and record the human condition.
I will likely revise this page from time to time, so stop by again. And if you have good news, bad news, or your own advice to share, please do tell all in the comment section.
Best of luck,
Erin
* * *
Start local and small. My first paid bit of writing was for Ohio Writer. For my 900-word book review of Judith Hemschemeyer's The Harvest, I was paid the royal sum of $10. That was in June of 2000 (you can see how the next ten years unfolded for me here). Building a professional writing portfolio and the associated career takes time, and it sprouts from humble beginnings.If I were starting out today, I'd probably fish around for casual blogs associated with professional publications. Many daily and weekly print papers have online blogs that might not pay much, but would be an excellent place to earn a link and a bonafide publishing credential. Who knows? If an editor likes your style, it might lead to something more serious (and lucrative).
Bonus tip: Leave a few comments on a blog (under your real name) that you might like to write for before querying the editor with your idea.
Small local papers are often looking for writers to cover things like school board meetings and local government. These usually are paying gigs. I spent five years doing that sort of thing for The Broadview Journal. That stint earned me experience, street smarts, clips, a bit of local notoriety, and a steady paycheck.
Get involved with a local literary or publishing organization. Here in Cleveland, we have The Lit, Cleveland Digital Publishing Users Group (CDPUG), and the Cleveland Society of Professional Journalists. These types of organizations host all sorts of events, parties, and classes where you will meet professional writers and editors.
If you want to be one of these people, you have to support what they do. That means buying their books, paying the club fees and having a genuine interest in their community. It means learning from them in an organic sense. This is perhaps the most important piece of advice I can offer a new writer.
I'm sure there are plenty of online sources as well. Many professional journalists I know are members of Freelance Success for example.
Go to the library. There you will find droves of books dedicated to publishing and writing advice. Librarians are wonderful and can always make good suggestions.In my home library, I have a shelf full of Writer's Market editions. Two other good books to start with are The First Five Pages and The Elements of Style.
Mind your manners in a cold contact. Don't ask established writers for big favors. Never send them unsolicited writing to critique. Also, don't ask a writer to do your work for you. Finding the right publications to query is hard work. The question, "Where can I publish this?" is almost never appropriate. Get online and start researching for yourself, or go find a copy of the LMP.
Follow guidelines. When you're ready to submit, follow the guidelines on the agent's or publisher's site. If there are none, a one-page query is your best bet. NEVER use cutesy fonts or graphics or anything that discredits your professionalism.
Get tough. The more successful a writer is, the more rejection they've faced because they toughed it out and lived to submit another day. If you want to achieve success, you will get kicked. Hard. And repeatedly. When you get a rejection, send out another query the same day. It will help you keep your game face on. Sometimes you have to resort to Plan B and rethink your approach or your project, but giving up gets you no where. Your submission or query will likely get rejected again and again--until the one day when it gets accepted.
Be warned: there is a growing trend in the publication industry wherein the powers that be simply do not respond to submissions that don't interest them. All you can do about "passive" rejections is keep a meticulous spreadsheet detailing all your queries with dates, names, pertinent websites, etc. Include any special notes as well. How long you wait to give up on getting a response is up to you, although sometimes an agency or publication will have response time info on their webpage.
Simultaneous submissions? Again, your call.
You are your own publicist. The days of the reclusive and mysterious writer sucking deeply from a Winston before his trusty Royal typewriter are gone. You must represent yourself and you must do it online. Prospective agents and publishers are busy people with no patience for ineptitude. If your information is more than a click away, you'll lose them. I recommend you maintain two types of webpage. This blog is my main active webpage. Content here is frequently updated. Here is my static/informational site. Content there does not change very often.
If you are just starting out, your static page might simply include some education and contact information, and your active page may be a twitter account. However you choose to do it, you must have these things. Design, develop and shape them in a way that properly represents you and your work. They will evolve with you. They will surprise you as well.
Bonus tip #1: Google Docs is a brilliant tool for creating static public webpages.
Bonus tip #2: The way you drive a readership to your blog is by going to other sites that have the sort of readers you are trying to attract and leaving brilliant comments.
And now for some miscellaneous links:
They don't call it "submission" for nothing.
Where I go to bellyache about writing.
A whole podcast featuring Erin on Writing.
Lastly, a bit of nostalgia. When I was a kid, I had a Mattel Knit Magic toy. You threaded the yarn through this squiggly little thing in the front, turned the crank, and PRESTO! a knitted tube would come out the bottom of the plastic machine.You were supposed to be able to do all sorts of things with the tubes, make groovy hats and stuffed dolls and scarves, but all I ever ended up with was a long tube, (although I did love my Knit Magic machine).
When I lead discussions on writing, I often say that there is no Essay Magic machine, wherein you thread an idea in, turn a crank and watch an essay wind out from the bottom. The process I go through in order to produce a good solid piece of writing is laborious, wonderful, frustrating, difficult and satisfying. It has matured through the years.
It is important to be in love with your process, to truly revel in the revelations, and savor the small victories. If you focus solely on that "big" publication, you risk missing the small and wonderful things that happen along the way. Write because you have something to say and your own way to say it. Write because you are driven to the craft. Above all, write because we need the good writers. We need their words and observations. We need them to scale and record the human condition.
I will likely revise this page from time to time, so stop by again. And if you have good news, bad news, or your own advice to share, please do tell all in the comment section.
Best of luck,
Erin
* * *
Sunday, March 07, 2010
The golden age of MTV
My daughter had a tummy ache yesterday and we soothed it with many things, including a healthy dose of MTV's Liquid Television, which was one of my favorites shows of all time.
We have about six hours of Liquid Television on VHS (taped in the 90s), so there was enough for this tummy ache and the next one as well. It worked perfect-as-you-please in the tape player that's still hooked up to our shitty 20" CRT television.
I swear, people, this is how you win.
We have about six hours of Liquid Television on VHS (taped in the 90s), so there was enough for this tummy ache and the next one as well. It worked perfect-as-you-please in the tape player that's still hooked up to our shitty 20" CRT television.
I swear, people, this is how you win.
* * *
Saturday, March 06, 2010
Hell hath frozen over
"Indeed, how do conservatives justify borrowing hundreds of billions yearly from Europe, Japan and the Gulf states -- to defend Europe, Japan and the Arab Gulf states? Is it not absurd to borrow hundreds of billion annually from China -- to defend Asia from China? Is it not a symptom of senility to borrow from all over the world in order to defend that world?"----uber-conservative Pat Buchanan.
And this here lib will be goddamned if he ain't right about that.
And this here lib will be goddamned if he ain't right about that.
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Cleveland milkshake sex
If a good milkshake is like good sex, than a vanilla bean apple pie bacon shake with a shot of bourbon is like great sex with a guy who's got good breath and a really big dick.
I know what I'm talking about, I had that very shake the other day at Michael Symon's newest joint here in Cleveland, B Spot Burgers, and I got the pix to prove it (sorry, no pix of good breath/great sex/big dick--you'll just have to trust me on that part).
Hey man, you're good-lookin' and you're bringing me a burger? Down.
I'll have the "Thin Lizzy" thank you very much, after all, if the boys wanna fight you better let 'em.
Vintage beer cans and it's cool.
Give your Goat some 'nilla pie bacon bourbon shake.
Hell yeah, celeb chef Michael Symon's a Clevelander! Just dig the bottle of Stadium Mustard on every table.
Big boob mural chick with a tat.
Antlers and the big B beer can wall.
Relish bar from heaven with pickled everything and gimme some of those peppers.
Self portrait in weird mirror in unisex bathroom. Hi, Self.
Love you too, baby.
Nah, you go on ahead and have the last one.
B Spot is righteous and see you again real soon!
I know what I'm talking about, I had that very shake the other day at Michael Symon's newest joint here in Cleveland, B Spot Burgers, and I got the pix to prove it (sorry, no pix of good breath/great sex/big dick--you'll just have to trust me on that part).
Hey man, you're good-lookin' and you're bringing me a burger? Down.
I'll have the "Thin Lizzy" thank you very much, after all, if the boys wanna fight you better let 'em.
Vintage beer cans and it's cool.
Give your Goat some 'nilla pie bacon bourbon shake.
Hell yeah, celeb chef Michael Symon's a Clevelander! Just dig the bottle of Stadium Mustard on every table.
Big boob mural chick with a tat.
Antlers and the big B beer can wall.
Relish bar from heaven with pickled everything and gimme some of those peppers.
Self portrait in weird mirror in unisex bathroom. Hi, Self.
Love you too, baby.
Nah, you go on ahead and have the last one.
B Spot is righteous and see you again real soon!
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