Wild Stab in the Dark: Maybe She Just Doesn’t Find You Sexually Attractive?

Slate: “She says the reasons for your wife’s trouble could be many. She could have vaginismus, which causes her vaginal muscles to go into spasm and can make intercourse almost impossible. She could have had a trauma in her childhood connected to sex, ranging from abuse to being raised with a punitive attitude toward it. She could be consumed by thoughts of you with other women.”

Ed McMahon’s Adjunct

Step right up, bona-fide schmucks aspiring writers! The time has come to hand out the Sobol Award! Yes, $100,000 is on the table, kiddies! With $25,000 and $10,000 for the runner-ups! That’s some good bread, don’t you think? Why, all of you Writer’s Digest subscribers who have always thought about sending in your novels but haven’t done a thing because you fear rejection now have the perfect opportunity to get with the program right now! We’re the Sobol Awards! Why, the name’s almost a palindrome!

Oh, did we mention an $85 non-refundable registration fee? Well, contrary to those pesky critics of ours who claims that this isn’t an award. It is an award! Did you not see “Award” in “Sobol Award?” Is that noun not provenance enough?

Vanity presses? Poppycock. Did you not read the large print?

ONE. HUNDRED. THOUSAND. DOLLARS!

We think this should quell any doubts.

Who cares if we’re run by Sobol Literary Enterprises? You act as if a word like “enterprise” is a bad thing. Okay, so we’re not a foundation. But isn’t any writing experience an “enterprise” of sorts? Writing is an adventure! Embarking into the unknown. To boldly go…hey, you Star Trek fan fiction writers, I’m talking to you. Enterprise — it’s a good name, right? Send in your Kirk/Spock love stories to us and we might give you — what are those four words again? Let’s see.

ONE. HUNDRED. THOUSAND. DOLLARS!

Yes, that’s right!

Remember, it’s first come, first served. Just like any great scam. And if you’d like to send us $85 anyway, we’ll be happy to send you a postcard straight from Sobol Literary Enterprises headquarters thanking you for your money. Because that’s the kind of people we are.

A Message from Stephen Baldwin

Hi, I’m Stephen Baldwin. You might know me as the “other Baldwin” or the “youngest Baldwin.” Or perhaps the “other other Baldwin.” There are, after all, so many of us. I can understand the confusion.

stephenbaldwin.jpgAfter years of being a sanctimonious prick, I’ve decided to become a sanctimonious Christian prick, which some might argue is even worse. But I’m here to tell you that it’s not as bad as you think. You see, something funny happened when those planes hit the towers. I realized that life was hardcore. But I had to think it all over. So on that terrible day that Satan struck down our great skyscrapers of commerce, I retreated to my isolated gym room with my Brazilian housekeeper and beat the shit out of my bags and threw myself into a Tae Bo frenzy as tempestuous as the Good Lord himself and did many other things that I won’t tell you about. Because I’m a private man. Besides, I’m sure you’ll learn it all on your own, if you take a long hard look at Jesus. His is the only way.

I emerged with a profound belief that religion can be hardcore too. More hardcore than getting fired by Brian De Palma from Casualties of War. More hardcore than the tattoos between my shoulder blades. And certainly more hardcore than all the chicks I banged in those terrible days before married life. The days where I was led astray. I have long since repented for telling these fine vessels of motherhood that I was Alec.

You see, I am a hardcore guy. And it was this hardcore attitude that had me regularly calling The Ron and Fez Show. And Ron and Fez told me that I was hardcore. And I thought, hey, hardcore. And I felt compelled to take back this word from the evil porn peddlers. And I did my best to close down a porn shop in Nyack, even taking pictures of the sinners’ license plates and publishing their names in the paper. And that was hardcore. Hardcore, the way having a gravel sandwich for lunch is. Hardcore, the way God punishes these evil sinners. Ideally with painful flames and horrible lacerations.

And then I wrote a book — a hardcore book. Since my good friend Pauly Shore had some writing gifts bestowed upon him by the Lord, I showed him an early draft. And he gave me the thumbs up. And he said, “Stephen, that’s hardcore.” And we ate a hardcore lunch. And we both took a big hardcore dump in front of an abortion clinic and laughed our asses off on the drive to Coldstone Creamery. Because that’s how hardcore we are.

And now I’m urging you to buy it. Open your heart. Jesus’s way is the only way. You may not know this now. You may never have known this. Certainly Bono doesn’t know it. He thinks that providing relief is the answer. Doesn’t he know that God will work this all out? Don’t you know? If you don’t understand where I’m coming from, the True Answer is in my book. I am a Baldwin. The Lord is My Shepherd. And I am more hardcore than you.

And, Dammit, What Happened to That Cute Little Logo Turtle? Restore BASIC to Today’s Computers Or the Terrorists Have Won!

Salon: “But all of this misses the point. Those textbook exercises were easy, effective, universal, pedagogically interesting — and nothing even remotely like them can be done with any language other than BASIC. Typing in a simple algorithm yourself, seeing exactly how the computer calculates and iterates in a manner you could duplicate with pencil and paper — say, running an experiment in coin flipping, or making a dot change its position on a screen, propelled by math and logic, and only by math and logic: All of this is priceless. As it was priceless 20 years ago. Only 20 years ago, it was physically possible for millions of kids to do it. Today it is not. In effect, we have allowed a situation to develop that is like a civilization devouring its seed corn. If an enemy had set out to do this to us — quietly arranging so that almost no school child in America can tinker with line coding on his or her own — any reasonably patriotic person would have called it an act of war.”

Harry Potter and the Order of the TSA?

The BBC reports that J.K. Rowling was stopped at an airport because she would not part from her manuscript. Airport security wanted to check in her manuscript. Rowling relented and was eventually allowed on board the plane back to the UK with her notes bound with rubber bands.

It’s good to know that the TSA are using their energies to go after the real terrorists: bestselling authors who carry such dangerous items as manuscripts. Let us consider first that the paper is flammable. And it is just possible that an al-Qaeda operative, one who has spent several years in the mountains perfecting his throwing skills, might steal one page of the MS and fold it into a paper airplane. The paper airplane, carefully targeted at a flight attendant’s eyes, would subsequently blind the attendant, creating distress among the plane’s staff, and causing the pilot to unlock the cabin door to investigate this ruckus. The plane would then be successfully overtaken by the operatives.

One can never be too careful in this age of terror. I am grateful that the TSA has left no stone unturned, save for the rubber bands, which might put out a flight attendant’s eye just as adeptly as a paper airplane.

Updike to Trade In Comfy Sofa for Expensive Davenport

John Updike has won the $30,000 Rea Awardan award granted to “a living American or Canadian writer who has made a significant contribution in the discipline of the short story as an art form.” It’s good to see that the Dungannon Foundation has gone out of its way to honor a writer who truly needs more cash and awards. It is rumored that Mr. Updike’s interior designer will apply these funds to the east wing living room.

No Booker Love for Mitchell This Year

At long last, the Booker Shortlist has been announced. And David Mitchell’s Black Swan Green didn’t make the cut. Also stubbed out: Peter Carey. Personally, I pin the blame on Fiona Shaw for this great oversight.

Then again, one must question an organization that actually considered DBC Pierre’s Vernon God Little as an exemplar.

The shortlist, which is truly a collection of surprises, is as follows:

Kiran Desai’s The Inheritance of Loss
Kate Grenville’s The Secret River
M.J. Hyland’s Carry Me Down
Hisham Matar’s In the Country of Men
Edward St Aubyn’s Mother’s Milk
Sarah Waters’s The Night Watch

The Myth of “Stealing” Ideas

Tayari Jones notes an exchange she had with a young writer who was terrified of sending her work to an agent because this writer believed that her work would be “stolen.” I think Tayari is right to suggest that this is a crisis of confidence. Literary agents simply do not have the time to “steal” anyone’s work. And think about it. Why would they open themselves up to an expensive legal battle when they are already drowning in manuscripts and strapped for time and money? Further, even if a writer can make the case that the work was “stolen,” do you honestly think that this is the only idea a writer’s ever going to come up with?

I once met a temp who was convinced that the producers of the movie Michael had “stolen” her screenplay about an angel fond of debauchery.

“Did you register your screenplay with the WGA?” I asked.

She hadn’t. And, in fact, upon close examination of her story, I realized it was bullshit. She mentioned Pete Dexter, but could not convince me that she had met with any producers, much less signed any contract. I pointed out to her that sometimes ideas come in patterns, pointing to all of the Freaky Friday-like movies of 1988 (Big, Vice Versa and Like Father, Like Son). But she was unfazed. She was convinced that the producers had “stolen” the idea from her.

What’s more, this woman was extremely miserable about it. And this was the excuse she had made to stop writing.

When I was a younger and more foolish man, I was pissed at Tab Murphy in 1995 because of a movie called Last of the Dogmen. Shortly after high school, I had written a screenplay about some teenagers stumbling upon a forgotten tribe of Native Americans. But this Tab Murphy guy managed to get the movie made before I could attract any interest. And what’s more, it starred the insufferable Tom Berenger. The bastard! Still, I didn’t let it faze me and I kept writing.

I’ve seen posts and associations I’ve made on this website seemingly pilfered by newspaper columnists. Or were they? Really, why should I be so self-important to think that they got the ideas from me?

The point of all this is that if you’re a writer clinging to the stubborn notion that someone is out there to “steal” your work, and if you are letting this get in the way of writing, submitting, or pitching, then I ask you for the good of humanity to step out of the way. Take up something else. All good writers are idea machines. All good writers have distinct and original voices in which an “idea” is just one component of an equation as intricate and inexplicable as love.

Perhaps this fundamental misunderstanding of the writing process is what causes so many people to ask the question, “Where do you get your ideas from?” Would these same people ask a bookkeeper, “How do you keep focus when you’re inundated with so many numbers?” It’s just the way writers are wired. For a writer, ideas flow through the noggin like a barely controllable fire and trying to manage all this is a bit like a good head rush during a run. There’s really nothing writers can do about this other than set it down on paper and do the best they can to convey this frenzy in coherent terms. If they’re lucky, they can make a living at this.

Segundo By the Numbers

Current Podcasts Available Online: 63

Current Interviews in the Can: 8

MacArthur Genius Fellows Interviewed: 3

National Book Award Winners Interviewed: 4

Granta “Young British Novelists 2003” Interviewed: 2

Interview Subjects Sadly No Longer Living: 1

Age of Oldest Guest to Appear on Segundo: 74

Age of Youngest Guest to Appear on Segundo: 29

Most Books Read by Our Young, Roving Correspondent to Prepare for an Interview: 5

Least Books Read by Our Young, Roving Correspondent to Prepare for an Interview: 1

Most Articles Consulted During Preliminary Research for Subject: 65

Longest Segundo Podcast: 1:17:49 (Show #32)

Shortest Segundo Podcast: 25:59 (Show #45)

Emails Asking Mr. Segundo for a Date: 2

Number of Times the Three Cheap Tenors Have Made an Appearance: 2

Longest Segundo Introduction: 3:35 (Show #54)

Public Appearances of Mr. Segundo: 1

Podcasts Without an Appearance from Bat Segundo: 20

Roundup

Not Even Dessert is Sacred

Nora Ephron: “Dessert spoons are large, oval-shaped spoons. They are so large that you could go for a swim in them. I’m not one of those people who like to blame the French for things, especially now that the French turned out to be so very very right about Iraq, but there’s no question this trend began in France, where they’ve always had a weakness for dessert spoons.”

Fitting Words for an Egomaniac

Wikipedia head Jimmy Wales dukes it out with Encyclopedia Britannica vice president Dale Hoiberg:

Mr. Hoiberg: No, we don’t publish rough drafts. We want our articles to be correct before they are published. We stand behind our process, based on trained editors and fact-checkers, more than 4,000 experts, and sound writing. Our model works well. Wikipedia is very different, but nothing in their model suggests we should change what we do.

Mr. Wales: Fitting words for an epitaph…

About Time

Washington Post: “The world’s first ban on overly thin models at a top-level fashion show in Madrid has caused outrage among modeling agencies and raised the prospect of restrictions at other catwalk pageants. Madrid’s fashion week has turned away underweight models after protests that young girls and women were trying to copy their rail-thin looks and developing eating disorders.”

In Defense of Literary Taste (Sort Of) (Wild Metaphor Edition)

To respond more fully to GOB’s post:

While I fully support Mr. Allen’s tower metaphor, having experienced Laurell K. Hamilton once, I cannot find it within me to subject myself to her again. On the reading front, there can be nothing worse than opening a novel about vampires only to find dreadful sentences, inconsistent logic, endless cliches, and characters so thin that they resemble thin wafers rather than full flesh and blood. There can be nothing more horrible than picking up a book and realizing how terrible it is and throwing it across the room and realizing that you have to give into crappy emotions rather than letting the great joys and pleasures of literature subsume your very being. A great read is like great sex. You wonder if it’s possible again and you realize, holy hell, it is. And you’re just as wowed by it the next time. And the next time after that. And it reminds you just how great the reading experience is.

But a bad book is the asshole who dents your car and drives away. It’s the guy behind a telemarketing scam who calls a lonely old woman and bamboozles her out of her life savings. Sure, you’ll pick yourself up off the ground and dust yourself off and live to fight another day. But it may not be easy. It’s the bad books that often discourage those who aren’t so stepped in this books thing from giving it another shot. And just as everyone has a different notion of who an asshole is, each and every person is bound to have a different notion of what a bad book is. That’s the trouble. That’s also the excitement.

One wants to avoid the bad books whenever possible, just as one wants to avoid the assholes. But the flip side of this mission is to keep an open mind (genre-blind, personality-blind) and remain open to the many possibilities of the universe (literary or human). And jumping off the cliff into something you’ve never even experienced could very well leave you bruised. But how else will you know what’s beyond the cliff? And how else can you find recherche treasures?

But just as one must display a little common sense with life, one must display a little common sense with books — however narrowly or broadly one decides to pursue it. So my feelings on the tower is that I’m glad it’s there, but I’ll be the crazy bastard shrieking outside the window about the great jacuzzi on the literary fiction floor, inviting people to come inside. Of course, I’ll still ride the elevator, even if I could care less about where things fall on the vertical axis.

Just When I Was About to Dig Up Some Guest Bloggers…

Wall Street Journal: “Yet for the sliver of people whose livelihood depends on the blog — whether they are conservative, liberal or don’t care — stepping away from the keyboard can be difficult. Unlike other jobs, where co-workers can fill in for an absent employee, blogs are usually a one-person show. A blogger’s personality carries the site. When the host isn’t there, readers tend to stray.”