Posted by: jpon | January 25, 2012

The Worst Thing About the Internet

Let me add a final chapter to the recent blogs about G.F. McFetridge’s essay on Mobius. In addition to what was posted here, there were some heated emails between us. Being the ex-New Yorker I am, I gave as good as I got. But somewhere in those messages both McFetridge and I read between the lines and picked up on a touch of integrity. Between insults, I admitted I had gone too far and too fast with my column. He appreciated that. A couple of days ago, George emailed me with his phone number and suggested we talk. I called.

We each apologized for the impetuousness of our remarks, and then talked writing, philosophy, and more. There was common ground, which led to some mutual respect.

George explained the history of his essay, how it had grown from a small joke between friends to more of a prank and a wakeup call to the literary establishment. It typically had received more praise than criticism (it’s been printed several times in the last ten years). Had I known these things, I would have written my blog differently, focusing more on the message than the messenger.

Afterwards, I considered taking the two posts down—to bury the bad feelings the way we had in real life—but my site stats show that the exchanges were the most viewed blog posts I’ve ever had—by far. Controversy sells. No surprise. Seeing it happen on my blog is like spending a million dollars to conduct a study that reveals what everyone already knows. Too bad, too. I’ve written other, more interesting and informative posts, but hardly anyone seems to care. The experience also says something about the nature of the internet—it’s mostly about immediacy. That breeds inaccuracy and misunderstanding, and often sacrifices integrity for controversy.

As a writer in 2012, I understand that “platform,” one’s online presence, counts as much as writing talent—in many cases more. That means Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, and this blog. I don’t mind that so much—it can be a means of keeping in touch with friends and colleagues I might never be able to visit, but it also means searching for subjects one can have an opinion on, subjects possibly controversial, subjects that might add a few more hits to the site stats, get my name out there, throw another plank on the platform.

I’m glad George made the gesture and suggested we talk. A literary feud might have gained notice in the writing world, but it wouldn’t have been much fun. Talking things out was much more satisfying.

Talking—I recommend it.

Posted by: jpon | January 22, 2012

G. D. McFetridge’s Reply

A couple of blog posts ago I commented on an essay by G. D. McFetridge on the Mobius web site. Here is his reply:

Joe’s attack was too selective in the way it drew on my essay to be objective; therefore, it was agenda driven (see FJ Bergman).  Part of his agenda may reside in his literary Uncle Tom attitude:  If I lick master’s boot, maybe he’ll throw me a bone.  Plus Joe set me up as a straw man (see philosophy 101) so that he could show himself off as good and noble Joe beating up and bad me.  In addition, having seen his brief literary résumé, he’s clearly trying to call attention to himself riding my coattails.  But beyond all this, poor Joe is completely out of the loop.  You see, “Show Us, Mr. Faulkner” was first published over 10 years ago.  Since then it has been published 10  more times across the US and in the UK, where, unlike anything Joe has ever written, it was favorably reviewed by John Jenkins (see The Editor’s View March 2007).  In 2006 SUMF won an academic award for the year’s best creative nonfiction.  The editor at “Harvard Review” also had a positive comment about SUMF.  Also read Fred’s comments at “Mobius.”  The list goes on.  Nevertheless, what’s really important is to ask why Joe attacked me when I had never attacked him.  I have a graduate degree in clinical psychology.  So … let’s have a closer look.  Joe’s a weak and frustrated man dominated by his wife.  His advancing age and poor physical condition causes him to feel inadequate, in more ways than one.  Because Joe has trouble being an assertive and strong man, he cultivates a nice cutie pie image and tells people about his doggie that drinks coffee.  Underneath nice Joe lurks a passive-aggressive personality type, although by attacking me he was subconsciously hoping to step up and show what a big guy he really is (see Freud’s personality styles), but due to his underpinning neurosis, he put his foot in his mouth.  Lastly, I’ll leave the rest of you with this:  When a ram is among the sheep, the sheep do a lot of bleating.       

Every once in a while (okay, a great while) some new person somewhere in the world stumbles upon a post of mine and subscribes to my blog. I always check our their blogs to get an idea of who they are and to see if their blogs are worth following. A couple of recent finds that are worth your time and effort:

David Francis Barker Poetry and Painting: David lives in somewhere in the UK. His art in both disciplines is excellent, but it’s his philosophy that intrigues. He is essentially self taught, having dropped out of university art courses. He admits his early work wasn’t great, but his passion for his art helped him stay with it and learn. His latest post talks about his realization of who he is and why he continues to paint and write. Although I eventually went back to school for a writing MFA, I identify with his outlook and his path in life.

The Wuc: Self-described as “a broth of thoughts, stories, wucs and wit.” From her About page: “I’m a chick living in Australia, working for the man. I hate office work with a passion usually reserved for James Cameron, but somehow I ended up with a career behind a desk, stapling my forehead at random intervals.” There’s more, and it’s all good. Usually hilarious (unless I can’t understand her Aussie slang). Sample posts include I’m gonna punch you in the ovary and Are you trying to Garfunkel me? Just go there. See for yourself.

So every few years, some frustrated writer gets the idea that he will expose the publishing industry for the hypocrites they are by submitting a piece of famous writing to a few agents or publishers, and daring them to reject it. Yes, they always do reject it, but no, that doesn’t mean anyone’s been “exposed.”

The latest attempt is described in an essay and rebuttal, on the excellent online journal Mobius. G. D. McFetridge chronicles how he pilfered an excerpt from Faulkner’s novel series, The Hamlet, made “adjustments in the opening and ending pages,” re-titled it, and submitted it as a short story to a few literary journals.

As the rejections came in McFetridge speculated that the reasons he couldn’t get the pieces published ranged from a network of cronies whose ranks he couldn’t crack, to literary elitism enforced by the self-appointed gods of the lit world. The possibility that that what he submitted didn’t match what the readers and editors were seeking didn’t enter into his equation.

He tried the same scam with more recent short stories already published in The Atlantic Monthly and a “best of” anthology, and got the same result, although the rejections were at least more personal.

Later, he ramped up his attempts by masquerading as a well-known author (he didn’t say who) championing an unknown writer from the Montana plains, whom he called a “diamond in the rough,” a barely-disguised reference to himself. He called a few journals and was received warmly, with promises that the writer’s work would vault the slush pile because he knew someone famous.

The morals: If you’re not already on the inside, you don’t have much chance of ever getting there, no matter what you write. Being one of the chosen has much more to do with networks than talent. Most readers and editors play favorites and are not qualified to do their jobs. Industry exposed!

Well, not really.

To be honest, I’ve had all these thoughts myself. Often. And all these statements are, to some extent, true.

But here’s the thing—it doesn’t matter. Read More…

I tried and I failed. I wanted so much to do it that I sought recommendations and advice. But in the end I just couldn’t read a so-called classic science fiction tome.

I’ve been dabbling in genre writing in the last year, churning out bits of psychological horror, but written in my usual, literary, character-centered style. I’ve enjoyed the challenge and the freedom that comes with experimenting in a new realm. But I knew I needed to learn more. I asked some members of the genre writers group in which I participate for recommendations. Last week I ordered one of those titles, Hyperion, a Hugo Award winner by Dan Simmons, and when it arrived I eagerly dove into Chapter 1.

Or actually, the Prologue, which as any literary novelist knows is often the mark of a hack writer. But I overlooked that, only to enter a world of such vague, insider jargon that it was unreadable to any but the most inured sci-fi fiction fans.

A sampling from the opening pages: Read More…

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