Text and Hubris

In and amongst the amazing sports stories this week, I took time to read Laura Miller’s piece on self-publishing. In it, she voices concern over what will happen when the proverbial slush pile, a term used for the large mass of manuscripts that publishers must wade through, is thrust upon the reader. She worries that readers will simply give up when faced with so many options, all of which are equally bad. Without publishers, she argues, those gatekeepers we all love to hate, readers will be left unable to find the really fantastic novels and will,instead, limit themselves to an even smaller number of gems that somehow find their way through.

It’s a terrifying thought, isn’t it? Masses of readers trapped in the vortex of slush, straggling en masse toward a few bright pieces of light while, all the while, the even greater works slip deeper and deeper into oblivion. Until, at long last, as she notes in her final sentence, we all just give up and literature slips away drowned in its excess.  Now there’s a horror movie worth watching.

To be fair, I like most of what Laura Miller writes (she was my only remaining reason for subscribing to Salon), so I want to give her a little slack and she admits that others tend not to be as, shall we say, dramatic in their predictions. Most anticipate a new form of gatekeepers arising and I tend to be part of that group. Her concern seems more that the chaos that happens as the old forms fade and new forms arise will be costly and difficult for both books and readers. I tend to think this is an overstatement. The old guard isn’t going away anytime soon and the new guard still has a long way to go. What we are seeing is a rather orderly transition from one form to another. Come on, folks, it’s not like we’re talking about the music industry here.

The simple fact is that self-publishing is great for certain things. It’s awesome if you simply want a small run of copies to give or sell to friends and family or for a specific event. It’s also great if you are a narcissist who wants to pretend that having a physical copy of a book with your name on it means something. It can also work if you are ready to market the hell out of yourself and do whatever you can to sell your books. For everyone else, it’s a model that isn’t going to work.

Let me start by reiterating a basic truth that is going to seem odd coming from a new media guy: books on the web aren’t real. They are characters that point to supposed real books that require someone to actually pay for those books before they are generated. That’s what makes print-on-demand so cool, you don’t have the overhead upfront. That’s the only thing it really changes. You still need to find somebody to buy your book. If you don’t, then there is no book. Your bad text now sits in a dusty electronic storage medium and still never sees the light of day. That’s the game with self-publishing. In self-publishing you have to be your own marketing agent. You have to push everything or nothing will happen. If your work is crap, no one is going to buy it and that, as they say, is that.

As far as the Internet goes, the slush pile is here. It’s been here for quite some time. I can sit and read Urbis or watch Youtube and, on occasion, I’ll find something decent. I still subscribe to Netflix, though, and you’re going to see the same type of thing happen with text. My personal bet is on the rise of small publishers with niche appeal. Well, at least that is what I am hoping for. Regardless, a new method will arise to help sort the crap from the quality. Miller may bemoan the slush pile, but we all know that change is here. Hopefully this industry is smart enough to move and evolve before being run over by progress. I tend to think it is. After all, it’s not like we’re talking about the music industry here (I kid, I kid!).

- Links -
Laura Miller’s Salon Article: “When anyone can be a published author” | Youtube | Urbis | Netflix

I am getting old. At least that’s what the calendar keeps telling me. Today, at 1:05am EST, I finally cross that demographic threshold into middle age. I am certainly starting out in style. In less than a month my position will be eliminated, and I have been informed that there are no additional monies available from the University. In a lot of ways, it’s like I am 20 all over again. Who knows? Perhaps this is the secret to staying young.

I know I should be upset and there are times when I am. My discussion with the financial aid office on Tuesday was hard and I was feeling quite discouraged until that afternoon. I met with a professor and we discussed narrative, new media, and the possibilities that are out there. We also talked about writers as storytellers. Storytellers were the original educators and in that sense writers should always be teachers in some form or another. Now, I may never teach in an actual school. Even after grad school, I am not placing my hope or faith in a professorship somewhere. That doesn’t mean I don’t plan on teaching in some form or another.

As I left that conversation and headed home, I began to think about why I loved the tech industry for so long and why, in some ways, I still love it. Technology expands our creative ability. It provides a playground for people to share and communicate on worldwide scale and it allows them to discover and explore their passions for themselves. This is especially true when the technology is put in the hands of the people. When that happens, they start to create. They start to tell us their stories. Sure, a lot of it is going to be things that seem silly or amateur but that’s okay. They still have that opportunity to share. What’s more is that some of those people are going to discover they love telling their stories and they will go even further. They will become storytellers, artists, creators, and teachers in their own right. There is something magical about that. Something that truly does border on the divine and if you know me and my attitude toward the divine you know that’s saying something.

So that’s my birthday wish. I know that, in some way, I want to be a part of that. As my “middle age” sets in (and let’s be honest, I could live to 80 or die tomorrow so age is a rather silly thing, indeed) I find that to be my driving desire. Yes, tech is in my blood and it will be to the day I die. I know that, for the rest of my life, I will write and create and develop with all the tools and technologies that I can learn and use. That is simply who I am. Truth is, I plan on making a living doing it, too. I’m still a fan of money. I like having money and it is a needed thing (I’ve not gone that far off the reservation, folks), but it isn’t the only thing. I’m more interested in using the tools and building something that helps people grow even if it means my bank account sits a little smaller.

I’m not sure what that is, yet. I still have a lot to learn and a lot to write, but I feel good. Every day, now, I wake up and I feel good. That makes this birthday, this opening of my middle age, a downright miracle.

So what now? There’s a light out above the
bathroom sink and the pale face that stares
back at me from between flecks of water
smiles a grim little smile. I wonder
what answer to give. What make sense?
This morning I had an two eggs wrapped in
the doughy confines of an English muffin
with watermelon on the side.
The smiling chef, a man whose face I know
who has been there every morning for years
didn’t even bother to ask what I wanted.
He knew my breakfast by heart
as I am creature of habit, but neither he
nor I knew that tomorrow wouldn’t come.
Neither he nor I knew that time
was so desperately short and that
in the space of an hour – I would be gone.

So what now? The handle is cold and damp
and the water runs a little too fast for the drain.
A puddle begins to gather in the sink basin
and I look away from the face,
from the eyes looking for an answer.
I can tell you the meaning of a text and
I can sometimes bend words
in just the right way to say something real
but I have nothing. No answer.
I should be afraid or angry.
I should yell, scream, cry, or shout.
I should do something.
So I cup my hands, reach down, and
catch the cold water as it pours out.
In a moment the captured water fills
my hands and overflows into the basin
below. I have changed almost nothing.
The water still flows as it has before
but I am a part of it now.
Maybe, just maybe, that can be enough.

Well, that didn’t go exactly as I had hoped. This morning at around 9:30 my manager pulled me into a back room. I knew what was coming as we stepped in. The bottles of water and Kleenex were a dead giveaway. We sat and he went through the standard spiel along with some personal commentary that I really appreciated. To be honest, most companies handle these things a lot worse so I can’t really complain about the process. I still remember the dark days of telecom when colleagues you respected were immediately escorted to the door by security. This was a much more polite process and I appreciate that.

All in all, I’m not sure how I feel. Of course, I’m sad. I’ve worked for this company for over five years now. It was the longest I have ever been at one company and honestly, for all its flaws, it was not a bad place to work. I have always said, and will continue to say, that it is the best “big tech shop” in Cedar Rapids and I honestly believe that. I’m also a bit stressed. I need money. I have school and kids. I am looking at options now, but all the advice seems to say to relax and calm down before doing anything so I am doing that, My resume is up to date but it will need to be customized for specific jobs. I have a company to work with and I am looking forward to seeing what they can offer in terms of placement and support.

Beyond that, I am not entirely sure what comes next. I’m a little excited to be honest. I needed a shift, a change, and this was about as severe a change as I could ask for. It’s up to me to make use of it and I intend to do just that. I do want to thank my friends, my family and my colleagues. You’ve all been incredible and as this new chapter opens, I can look back and smile. Sure, there were some things that I thought were very wrong but in the long run we’ve all done our best and I’ve learned a lot from all of you. Thank you for that.

Oh and, of course, Text and Hubris is going nowhere. Hell, I have more time to write so I would anticipate a bit of a pickup. So keep reading. It only gets better from here.