Week's End - Off-Leash

You do have a leash, as a writer. You're holding a dog. The great excitement is to see what happens if you let the whole thing go. And the dog or the character really runs about, bites everyone in sight, jumps up trees, falls into lakes, gets wet, and you let that happen. That's the excitement of writing plays.--Harold Pinter

Before I let it fly (maybe, probably, next week) I have to clean up the blog templates, work on headers, get legal advice (kidding). I have to finalize plans to meet up with Ralliers for Sanity (not kidding). I...uh. I'll stop there. Back later.

OK, I'm back. For a minute. I have to post my vote. Have you voted if you're eligible? Oh dude,* if you don't & start complaining on 3 November about Teabaggery...I will so not be there/here for you. (*Pops out of my mouth with a disturbing naturalness.)

Some fun: Mad Men Yourself. Here's my beta-version with a little shout-down to naysayers about political satire rallies. (That newspaper in the hand is rolled up for a teeny light swat.) First they want to call the election before it's held (shrieking curses) & now all manner of pontification about Jon Stewart & Stephen Colbert. What do these nincompoops (no, not S&C, I'll fix grammar later) not understand about political satire?

You know what? Tough. Here I go: I've lived here for um, a long time. The media-punditiocy w/knickers-a-twist? They weren't invited, those sniffy twits. And now, in the name of a bit of sympathy (only a bit)...

Once upon a time, a youngish editor stood outside her office door. She railed to her boss about the "media." Her boss kept trying to interrupt. They were both talented interrupters--they had to be. Finally the boss pointed at the younger woman who said What, what? Boss: "I'm pointing at your press pass."

Oh. Gulp. Slink away in manner of humiliated Snoopy.

(Tim Walker photograph via one million sites & counting; silly me via AMC)

Darling, It's Not Me, It's You (by The Paris Review)

I usually refrain from spreading gossip unless it's of my own concoction. Still, this is what I call news. I have warned writers, especially poets, to be careful with their CV/bio. Do not, I repeat, do not, (are you listening?) tell the entire world that you have a poem, a story, an interview, etc. "forthcoming." Until it happens/just before it happens. You will seem tasteful, elegant, & suitably modest. Oh, what a delightful surprise, there is your work, your quote, an interview with your charming self in [insert title of periodical]. But really, I'm trying to save you from possible public humiliation. Now, if others need to be contacted, of course, you tell them that a reporter will be calling, etc. Use your commonsense, if you have it. If not, borrow some.

Articles & columns are spiked routinely. But "unacceptances" such as being reported? No. What's worse, writers are turning on writers, poets on poets, editors on editors (well, OK this is not news), telling others to get over it. So rafts of accepted poems have been unaccepted at a major literary journal, so what? Oh, it happens all the time, etc. No it does not. Rinse, repeat, with adverb. No, actually, it does not.

Here are pertinent links. Behind the Scenes, We Who are About To Die, The Great Paris Review Poetry Purge, Part I, here. Part 2, here. The Poetry Foundation Harriet blog, here. Follow the threads. I don't particularly like to wallow in this ugliness, but people need to look out for themselves. I don't blame anyone for telling about acceptances (it is exciting, yes). It can help one's lot. Just don't FB/Twitter/Blog/YouTube to the moon & back, if it's not out/imminent. (Books are a different matter.) But now...hmmm. Back to fussing with templates, annoying phone calls, the cat's hurt feelings, & so on.

For those who don't give a damn (who could blame you?), there are worthy links on this blog & on Giulia Geranium about other matters. It's all a mash-up, anyway.

[lovely photograph by Dottie via her Dream Camera tumblr. Now I have to bookmark her Let's Go Ride a Bike blog & flickr account. She turns out to be very interesting, damn her.]