Blog Archive

The 'mystery' of writing:

My friend Matt who reads this here blog and saw me speak at Hopkins last week sent along this article about the L.A. Times Festival of Books and the rediculously long lines at the "How Do I get an Agent?" panel. I was reminded of the talk I gave on Sunday at the Marin County chapter of the California Writers Club. For an hour I thought (immodestly) that I held the audience enrapt. I told then you don't need an agent to succeed as a writer, you don't need a publisher to say, "Yes it's ok now to call yourself a writer." You need to declare it for yourself, to work, work, work, at writing wherever you can, to belong to a literary community and to support that community with your efforts.

After I finished, a very nice woman raised her hand and said "I hear what you're saying but that sounds like a lot of work. How do I get an agent?"

Friends, it is a lot of work. The other arts (musicians, painters, actors) accept this and do it anyway, whether or not they have any external validation. When was the last time you heard the bass player of your average bar band say "well, I'm not really a musician because an agent/label/whomever hasn't discovered me yet."

Aspiring writers labor under some absurd notion that those who have "made it" as writers, our Michael Chabons, our Ann Patchetts, are from some farwaway land, where the secrets of the trade are released from a golden box for all to share. But here on earth, the only recourse they feel they have is to mail piles of submissions to agents and publishers in hopes of being one of those lottery stories where a secretary likes the typeface on the title page, recommends it to their boss and tomorrow they're being handed the National Book Award.

It's a myth. Writing is work. Lots of it. A career's worth. Those folks you see winning the awards and getting interviewed by Charlie Rose have been at it for years, often with no recognition, little money, and no publisher's reassurance. And the sitting at your desk and crafting beautiful sentences is only the first half, just like composing music is only the first part of making it as a band.

How to be a writer is not a secret. You want to write, like for a living? Start small, zines, web sites, places that need content. Use those clips to work up, first to your local newspaper, then small magazines, then bigger papers, then national magazines. Read in public whereever they will let you. Get known in your community as a writer. Keep a mailing list. Make your admirers easy to read you and see you perform. Create a buzz around yourself and your work. This can all be done without agent, publisher, or anyone's permission. Know who Neal Pollack is? He read his work is the men's room and at the post office. He got arrested for disturbing the peace. Say what you want about his attitude. He's got two books out already.

You wanna be a writer? Be active about it. Don't wait for anyone's permission. Get in there and work at it. You can do it. We all can. The only one stopping you is you.

Go to it. It's a blast.

Piss Play:

Just in case you thought using the john was dull (via boing boing).

Roller Skates and Glowing People:

Xanadu was a blast. The heckling was relentless.

Festive Friends:

I've now run into about half the people I know on planet earth at screenings for the San Francisco International Film Festival. Suzan is volunteering this year which means I've procured a few tickets. And seen more than a few friends and acquaintences.

Just today, on my way out of a screening of the documentary Girl Hood, I ran into my buddies Jane and Doug. They had scored tickets to some Philip Seymour Hoffman movie whose name I've forgotten. Hence, they will both miss Monday Night at 'Moklers, my monthly film evening and April's feature film, Xanadu. Heckling is expected, which I plan to fill them in on.

By the way, if Girl Hood is passing through your town anytime soon, see it. This is a magnificant documentary about two teenagers passing through the juvenile justice system. Like Liz Garbus's (my favorite kind of hero, a documentarian with a conscience) earlier film The Farm (about a Louisiana maximum security prison), it covers our creeking, failing justice system from the inside out, revealing just how empty promises of rehibilitation really are.

'And We Danced', again.

My absolute favorite band, ever, ever, I-wrote-their-names-on-my-sneakers-in-seventh-grade-ever The Hooters are going back on tour for the first time in like a decade. Best remembered for their songs "And We Danced", "Day by Day" and "Johnny B", Hooters frontmen Eric Brazilian and Rob Hyman we also co writers and producers on many songs by Cyndi Lauper (including "Time after Time"), Patti Smyth and Joan Osbourne (including "One of Us").

I, like a loon, have been subcribing to the Hooters fans yahoo group Melodica since I got on the web in 1995. Searching for Hooters related information was the very first web related search I did. On Yahoo, generation 1.0.

The Hooters New Official Site

Pledging...

Invisible Ink, the radio show I contribute to, has been invited to run a pledge drive this afternoon. I know as a listener, public radio pledge drives are downright annoying but actually, it's quite an honor to be a brand new show and have the station run a drive during your program. It means they think its got a strong, loyal audience and is worth keeping around.

So should you live in the San Francisco Bay Area and listen to Invisible Ink (and I know you do), please consider joining KALW which produces an ungodly amount of quality local programming on a budget a fraction the size of, er, that other public radio station. I think by pledge there's a nifty 'Ink T-Shirt in it for you too.

Won't you?

Say again, Beth?

Mega-talent, San Francisco it-girl and all-around nice person Beth Lisick mentioned me in her column today.

I can retire happy now.

Live from the mud:

This is Kevin Smokler reporting live from the second floor of Baltimore Clayworks, one of the coolest little arts organizations in the nation. Should you find yourself in this part of the world, I highly recommend stopping by for whatever exhibition they have going on (they're always great), and buying yourself a high quality yet strangly affordable piece of tableware: mugs, bowls, plates, ewers, they got it all.

I volunteered here in 1995, after getting fired from my first newspaper job. I made several friends, a few sloppy pots that I still have and was awakened to the importance of arts organizations in local communities. I stay connected as a donor and friend.

This is Kevin Smokler, from Baltimore.

Back to you, readers...

Out of 'Scope:

I've got two speeches to give today so not much time to blog but allow me to tempt your tummy with Peerscope, some sort of wingding that allows you to share links with people in a pre-defined group. A shiny silver dollar to anyone who can explain how this program will save me time because, as it stands, I don't get it at all (via Mightygirl).

Seeing a way into it...

Ever email for way too long and then run out of energy to blog? Welcome to my life.

Lunch with my friend Meg yesterday was way fun, considering we knew each other and we could talk careers, work, and such but with nothing at stake. She had a few neat ideas for this Virtual Book Tour thing I'm thinking about doing and I learned the gist of the project she's working on. Sounds exciting. She also gestures as much with her hands as I do which means we were a few animations away from silverware flying every which way.

Last night I went with my dear friends Jo and Robin and some of their homies invited me to see Fighting Gravity at a club in the Village. It was after Shabbat dinner with my parents and a light sleep night the evening before and I was dead tired. A noisy, crowded club was not how I wanted to end the night.

But I motivated, got there and had a great time. I realized I've been making a lot of lame excuses for myself lately, that I'm too old for that kind of stuff, that I need more sleep than everyone else because of the stupid apnea, that I can only be so healthy because of the stupid apnea and on and on. I'm really tired of it. I'm a lot healthier and sprightly than I give myself credit for. And the same way I can get out of bed in the morning and not listen to the little devil voices that tell me to get back in, I can silence the one's that tell me I should always be in bed by 11 on a Saturday night.

Yes, I'm turning 30 this summer but I figure I can let that get to me or not. And if I have fun leaping in place to loud, silly music once in a while, then it seems pretty stupid to me to not do that because it's slightly more inconvienent than reading a book. So next time I will try. Again. Because, though it might not feel like it at the time, it always seems worth it afterward.

Meet and Eat:

Lunch with Jud the Agent Guy went quite well. We talked about publishing (he knows way more than me, which is good), the book (he has a strong feeling about it, which is good) and Brooklyn (which I've only been to once, but seems good). When I get home next week, I make a few inserts on the proposal then he hits the bricks with it.

This could get exciting real fast.

Easter-ly

Hi. I head east to spend Passover with my parents tomorrow, to meet with the agent person, and to give a couple of speeches at my alma mater in Baltimore. Blogging may be sparse until next Friday when I return. Or is it Thursday? Right now I'm so tired I don't know the difference. So you'll hear from me soon.

zzzzzzz

Doing the Un-Straight:

According to the Gay-o-Meter, I am 40% gay.

*Insert appropriate pun below*

It. Is. Done.

The CD's are put away, snoozing happily in their wall unit. The undesirables have been squirreled away in a cabinet. I'm now listening to CD #1 in the alphabetical, a .38 Special greatest hits album. Numbers come before letters.

Stop laughing.

So it only took 36 hours. And hopefully I won't have to do it again until the next earthquake.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled life.

"T" is for Tail (as in chasing it...)

I just approached letter "T" while listening to myself on the radio. The self-indulgance is stupifying.

E is for Exhaustion...

I just got home from a party where I ran into my friend Tantek who warned me that "organizing your CD's is not a one-day project." I opened the front door when I got home and prompty put away the letter "E." Since I'm clearly insane, I'm now going to bed.

CD Update...

I just finished letter D. I'm taking a break to each dinner and play Xbox. Perhaps naked.

Between Ice Cube and the Indigo Girls...

We are currently on hour 23 of the quest to organize my CD collection. I figure next week will mark 1 year since I moved in here so its about f'n time.

Right now, the dining room table is a precarious theme park of CD's old and new (I haven't ever purged, not once since I started buying them in 1986) so this is probably my punishment. An earthquake right now would be poetic justice of the sharpest kind.

To amuse myself, I've consumed 1 Odawalla Bar, drank 3 glasses of water, called several relatives, listened to old episodes of Invisible Ink and cursed under my breath enough times to horrify a whole convent worth of nuns.

I have no idea if I'll finish this foolishness today or if Tony, my next door neighbor, will find me dead, face down on the broken remenants of CD's that all begin with the letter "J." You'll know if there's another post after this one.

Social Peril:

It is my deepest hope that as online social networks become more purvasive, as the web becomes a means by which strangers may come together and form community, that more of this does not happen. Or that we develop an infastructure, either technical or cultural to prevent it as much as we can.

How perfectly horrible this story is (via Consolation Champs).

'Better Luck' Today:

I just caught the trailer to Better Luck Tomorrow which opens in San Francisco today. Although I can't see how it's all that different than Boyz in the Hood (or worse, Billionaire Boys Club with Asian teenagers instead of bratty WASP twentysomethings), the ad still paints a compelling picture. Maybe it's because I haven't been too excited about what's been in theaters lately. That's not a tragedy since I spend the downtime with Netflix and whittling away at the AFI 400 (only 171 films to go) but nothing quite beats going to the theater, even a charming-as-an-airport-lounge cineplex like AMC 1000 Van Ness.

To the movies I go...

When the cat's away...

Suzan left town for her Spring Beak this week (Austin, then Las Vegas to visit an old friend) so I rule the roost until Wednesday when I leave for New York. I've got a little work to finish up and prep for my trip but I'm thinking there will still be time for watching dumb T.V. and playing Xbox naked. Jish's housewarming is Saturday night. I'm thinking I'm going to hafta have some dudes over here to get some masculine energy going on up in this piece.

This Week's Recommended Books...

Los Angeles: People. Places, and the Castle on the Hill
by A.M. Homes
(21.95$ in hardcover, National Geographic Directions, 176 pp.)

A longish essay that won't teach you much about L.A. except that A) the Chateau Marmont is a really cool hotel and that B) A.M. Homes is a grumpy, funny, world weary as day-old-coffee writer who I want to read more of. Her collection "The Safety of Objects" is the basis of a film being released by IFC this month so I might start there. Oh and the Chateau is known the world over as a favorite hotel for writers, actors and creative types of all kinds. It's also where John Belushi croaked.

National Geographic Directions has been doing these little books (send famous writer somewhere and have them write about it) for a few years now. I love series lihe this and would recommend getting them all but NGD is doing such a piss-pour job of promoting them, I can't. They're scarely mentioned on National Geographic's web site and I can't seem to find them indexed at Amazon either. These sorts of practices are tantamount to open hostility towards readers and I just do go for that.

Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers
by Mary Roach ($23.95 in Hardcover, W.W. Norton, 224 pp.)

I don't have much interest in death, not even my own, but these facts are just plain neat....

Did you know that the human head is about the size of a roast chicken? And that Diego Rivera once fed his students human meat? And that anatomy classes will have memorial services for some of the dead bodies?

It's all in this pretty damn funny book by Mary Roach, who used to be a columnist for Salon.com and does a humor gig for Reader's Digest. The first line goes something like this.

"The way I see it, being dead is not terribly far off from being on a cruise ship. Most of the time is spent lying on your back."

I'm so there...


Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
($27.00 in Hardcover, FSG, 544 pp.)

Boy gets reborn as girl. 80 years of wild family history in Southeast Michigan. Eugenides went to the same high school as my dad. And just won the Pulitzer Prize for this one. 'Nuff said.

Hey I'm back...

It was neat. I had fun, got a massage. I ate calamari. I found the approximate location of the Bohemian Grove and the schoolhouse from The Birds. I drove a lot, which isn't like me, but I also got a lot of quiet time, to think, write, meditate then think some more. I hope that becomes a little bit more like me.

Now I'm home. And glad. Me dad used to say that the sign of a good vacation is that you're happy to leave home and happy to come back.

This was a good vacation.

My Mini-Retreat...

I'm heading up to Sonoma Country for a little quiet and alone time. No work, no blogging, no nothin' See ya on Tuesday.

Woof!

Too bad The Puppy Channel didn't make it (warning: intrusive audio. Do not try at work). 24 hours of puppies gamboling probably would have been better than most of what is on T.V. (via This American Life).

Barn Burners:

Raised Barn Press is a new publishing company that's looking to capture diverse art mediums (photography, scultpture, the works) in books and multimedia form. Their first project is a photography book on the art projects at Burning Man and it also comes with a DVD. I was made aware of them when the photographer Holly Kreuter appeared on West Coast Live a few months ago. I'm glad she did.

This just in...

Atlantic Monthly editor-at-large Michael Kelly was killed in a Humvee accident while covering the war in Iraq. What an awful shame. Though Kelly was a bit conservative for my tastes, he did wonders for what was once a stuffy, east-coast patrician magazine. His journalistic talents were extensive and will be missed (via Crabwalk).

Yuppin' it Up:

I've heard from people who've lived here longer than I that the Hayes Valley neighborhood of San Francisco used to be a dump. My office is seven of eight blocks from there and half a world away, next to a questionable greek lunchery and across the street from a methadone clinic.

What do I mean? A recent walking trip to the neighborhood confirms that Hayes Valley is like a crash course in urban with-it-ness. Some examples...

Urban Knitting Studio: Located below a former porn studio, UKS sees itself as half-knitting store, half-singles bar, where you can sit, knit, and hopefully meet someone. This is a bright idea because, even though knitting has been bleeding edge hip for a few years now, it hasn't quite spread enough to include men.

Fritz Fries: I've been to a Belgian fry joint in New York whose name I've forgotton. It looked like a soccer hooligan's pub, low lighting, dark woods, and the faint smell of grease. Take that same cuisine and make the decor Japanese school girl and you've got Fritz, right down to the DJ spinning next to the soda refrigerator and the bathroom with a day-glo toilet seat. Fries were good though.

Gravis: Some footwear company I've never heard of is now in the ultra trendy luggage business. I saw a backpack of theirs I liked, available at the fashion-is-pain price of $98.

Phillipe Starck Chair: I sat in this while Suzan poked through the overpriced luggage at the overpriced luggage store. When I asked a clerk where one could get a chair like this, she haughtily informed me that they got it from MOMA but I could get it through Design Within Reach. Thanks.

This is all way over my head. I mean yeah, I have a sense of style but taking it out for a spin just wierds be out. Makes me long for a bowl of cottage cheese and a Neil Diamond album back home.

Short Sell

Yes, I too am excited about Blogshares, which allows you to invest $500 imaginary dollars in the weblogs of your choice. Weblog values rise and fall based on how many links you throw out and on who links to you.

It looks fun but I worry this is yet another way to obsess over the popularity of WTS on a minute-by-minute basis. Sitemeter is bad enough. My friend Scott has a weblog worth about 90 bazillion dollars, according to Blogshares. Why? Why him and not me? Is it my big ears?

Eh, who needs it? Three people have bought stock in this here blog and I'm thrilled. Of course, I'd be more thrilled if many more did. But that's where the madness lives.

'Pray' for the Fools

April 1st on the web means designer Joshua Davis's displays all of the past title pages for his esteemed web creation, Praystation. But just for a day, so go now.

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