One of the main editors at Random House objected to me bringing up a few early "brushes with fame." I told him they weren't famous when we had our brushes. That was the last I heard from him. I also talked about plenty of brushes with nobodies. In fact the whole book was about brushes with nobodies, but I guess he thought I was trying to capitalize on having known famous people before they were famous. I wasn't. I don't know what the hell he thought. And frankly, my dear.
I think, in times to come, people will scratch their heads, unable to answer the question, Who appointed these well-educated scions to the grand poobah status of deciding what everyone can read ? Glad to have a little substack cross-fertilization, Gerard, thanks for stopping by. The beat goes on.
I knew a woman who used to hang out with Havel. She liked him...as the only smart politician she'd ever heard of. You and I share the notion that our stuff will be recognized after we "croak." That's a nice notion to walk around with. Who gives a fuck whether it's true or not? Neither you nor I, to quote Yoko.
I wrote it to provoke myself. Those of us outside the system cannot let those inside define our careers. We must devise other routes to being read. No one can honestly say they prefer obscurity.
I can honestly say I prefer obscurity. There's so much I never would've done had I gotten rich and famous. Trying to get rich and famous is way more fulfilling than getting rich and famous. You'll see.
I didn't say anything about being rich and famous, my friend. You added that. There must be much more between those two. I merely said, read. We truly need a system of recognition and distribution outside the Bigs.
The trouble is there is no system of recognition and distribution outside of the Bigs. Everyone wants recognition, sure, but what gets recognized has to make money in order for the bigs to stay big. So you have to try to make money. Which makes what you write not what you want to write, not truthful, etc. Some huge geniuses were able to say what they wanted to say and be read, too...Celine, Henry Miller, James Joyce, etc., but that was a different time. I've made all the money I want or need. People who like my stuff give it to me. I get recognition, too. Lots of very personalized attention. I like it. About "current alternative systems of recognition and distribution," people only want to get their shit read, they don't want to read other peoples' shit. It's all tit-for-tat...you read my shit, I'll read yours. People either read my shit or they don't. I read my shit. I like it. Reading...or listening to...or watching my shit makes me happy. Every once in a great, great, great while I stumble on something worth reading that wasn't written by me. You've had a paragraph or two here and there that was worth reading, for instance, but you're rare. The Bigs can generate the kind of hype people buy in to. That costs money. People buy hype. That doesn't me the stuff they're hyping is any good, it just means they have the money to buy the hype. They only "take on" writers who write stuff they can hype, writers who will let their editors change it around to make it more "marketable." All the Bigs are going to give you is marketable stuff and marketable stuff sucks.
A bit more euphonious, perhaps mysterious, a touch irregular, verging on singular, it's an old conspiracy I toy with every so often. If I publish under the name Joe Blow, people will laugh and maybe they'll buy. I blow, you buy ? Soon enough they'll be asking who or what I blow. After forty years they'll murmur, Blow family, goes way back.
One of the main editors at Random House objected to me bringing up a few early "brushes with fame." I told him they weren't famous when we had our brushes. That was the last I heard from him. I also talked about plenty of brushes with nobodies. In fact the whole book was about brushes with nobodies, but I guess he thought I was trying to capitalize on having known famous people before they were famous. I wasn't. I don't know what the hell he thought. And frankly, my dear.
I think, in times to come, people will scratch their heads, unable to answer the question, Who appointed these well-educated scions to the grand poobah status of deciding what everyone can read ? Glad to have a little substack cross-fertilization, Gerard, thanks for stopping by. The beat goes on.
I knew a woman who used to hang out with Havel. She liked him...as the only smart politician she'd ever heard of. You and I share the notion that our stuff will be recognized after we "croak." That's a nice notion to walk around with. Who gives a fuck whether it's true or not? Neither you nor I, to quote Yoko.
I wrote it to provoke myself. Those of us outside the system cannot let those inside define our careers. We must devise other routes to being read. No one can honestly say they prefer obscurity.
I can honestly say I prefer obscurity. There's so much I never would've done had I gotten rich and famous. Trying to get rich and famous is way more fulfilling than getting rich and famous. You'll see.
I didn't say anything about being rich and famous, my friend. You added that. There must be much more between those two. I merely said, read. We truly need a system of recognition and distribution outside the Bigs.
The trouble is there is no system of recognition and distribution outside of the Bigs. Everyone wants recognition, sure, but what gets recognized has to make money in order for the bigs to stay big. So you have to try to make money. Which makes what you write not what you want to write, not truthful, etc. Some huge geniuses were able to say what they wanted to say and be read, too...Celine, Henry Miller, James Joyce, etc., but that was a different time. I've made all the money I want or need. People who like my stuff give it to me. I get recognition, too. Lots of very personalized attention. I like it. About "current alternative systems of recognition and distribution," people only want to get their shit read, they don't want to read other peoples' shit. It's all tit-for-tat...you read my shit, I'll read yours. People either read my shit or they don't. I read my shit. I like it. Reading...or listening to...or watching my shit makes me happy. Every once in a great, great, great while I stumble on something worth reading that wasn't written by me. You've had a paragraph or two here and there that was worth reading, for instance, but you're rare. The Bigs can generate the kind of hype people buy in to. That costs money. People buy hype. That doesn't me the stuff they're hyping is any good, it just means they have the money to buy the hype. They only "take on" writers who write stuff they can hype, writers who will let their editors change it around to make it more "marketable." All the Bigs are going to give you is marketable stuff and marketable stuff sucks.
A great article with some good points. Graham James it’s a fine name for you to write your novel under.
A bit more euphonious, perhaps mysterious, a touch irregular, verging on singular, it's an old conspiracy I toy with every so often. If I publish under the name Joe Blow, people will laugh and maybe they'll buy. I blow, you buy ? Soon enough they'll be asking who or what I blow. After forty years they'll murmur, Blow family, goes way back.