Category: Uncategorized

Yep, it’s true. I do not like her. For all the wonderful things that she has done for women, the GLBT community, people of color, or all three combined, she rubs me the wrong way. Maybe it’s because I think she’s in it for the money. Maybe because I think she’s the New Media version of Eva Peron. Maybe I just don’t like how she treats writers, who after taking bad advice from their publishers and who continued to do so against their best judgment, come on her show to try and come clean and get yelled at on national TV.

You all know what I’m talking about. Yes, “A Million Little Pieces”, and its author, James Frey.

In the beginning Frey sold his book to Random House as fiction, a novel, as in, “not all true”. Like any good fiction it is based on fact. The word came down from his publisher that, ‘Hey, this is about you, right? So why not call it ‘non-fiction’ and we’ll sell it as a memoir.”

This is all about money. Fiction does not sell these days, and it rarely has. Trust me, I come from a long line of fiction writers and poets who, if you knew my last name, you might (or might not) recognize.

Non-fiction does not stay on the shelves. I heard an interesting quote from another publisher the other day and it added up to the fact that if Frey (Random House) had sold his book under ‘fiction’ he would have had maybe a 10th of the sales. Fewer sales, less money. Who gets the money?

Not the author. Most authors are paid in advance of their work. After which the publisher takes that advance back following sales. If sales exceed the advance, then the author starts earning usually 12% of the remainder. These are called royalties. They aren’t much, unless there’s a movie deal.

So even if Frey made a lot of change from an already written manuscript, he did not make much from the follow-up sequel. Random House made the money, and they still have the money, no matter how ashamed Oprah makes Frey feel on the telly.

I just checked with Amazon. Frey’s book is still listed as part of Oprah’s Book Club. Hmmm…Does Oprah make any dough from this situation?

As I recall there is a quote that says “The only bad press is no press”. Well, there is certainly enough press about this guy now. I hear the tippy-tapping of keys right now as he writes his third, and even more shocking, book.

Don’t forget that ‘scandal’ sells even better than non-fiction.

You might ask yourself (or maybe not) “As a recovering alcoholic, how does Johnnyboy actually feel about this situation?”

Johnnyboy doesn’t give a flying fuck.

Johnnyboy

Last night in the middle of a meeting I began to feel dizzy and nauseated. I was light-headed and feeling the world move with that sea-sickness kind of drift as I turned my head, moved a book, etc…I really hate that feeling. Oddly enough that is the same physical feeling of being drunk, and I didn’t mind that when I was drinking. Now it is just another way to feel out-of-control in a stable world. So after the meeting I went home and went right to bed. It was 9PM. It felt so good to be enclosed in cool sheets, covered by warm blankets, and feeling the sensation of blood flowing horizontally through my legs. I slept until 11AM this morning, waking up and feeling slightly groggy. I have a slight headache now, but the spins seem to have gone away.

With all that I have been through in the past 5 years I can point to PTSD as a reason. I am trying desperately to reclaim some kind of life from what I have left. As an ex-felon, much of the world is closed to me. I will never make the big bucks in a high-end job. My political future is sunk (damn!). Many doors are closed to me. It seems sometimes that the only thing I have left is a certain financial security from my family and the ability to put words on paper. I could do worse than pursuing that avenue. So I am going back to school to learn the things I missed out on in college. I had to cancel a meeting this morning with a teacher, and I hope he forgives me. I called last night before I swam into bed and made my apologies. I need to speak with him, though, and discuss an idea for a paper in his class. I hope to meet with him next Monday.
So this creeping ennui, or malaise, is something I’m dealing with today. I will do what I need to do to fulfill my end of the bargain I have made with my hopes and dreams.

I have read a few short stories from 3 different books for one class. I will read some philosophy from the textbook for another. I will practice my new moves with this old life, trying to remember that I cannot start over again, only continue from where I think I have left off. It’s like arriving back at the main road after taking a wrong turn in the dark and foggy night. It’s a relief to be on the highway, yes, but at times the scenery isn’t as vibrant as that wrong turn, full of pitfalls, narrow escapes, and hairpin turns on twisting mountain roads. Living on the edge seems to be fun at times but the safety and security of a well-lit path holds its own charms as well. Today only thinks it’s boring.

I finally went to see “Capote” the other day. Amazing film. Philip Seymour Hoffman plays Truman Capote with an ability that made me remember what an ‘actor’ is supposed to do. It is not good enough to portray a fictional character wherein the actor can infuse his own characteristics upon him. An actor should be able to mimic an actual person from history, making the viewer forget he is watching a a staged production. Stunning work. Go see it, quick!

So I have seen all the films up for ‘Best Picture’ and, I must admit, they all deserve the award. I am so pleased that this year there was no crap like “Titanic” to squeeze out the quality work. All the films are great, they should all win, but if “Capote” doesn’t win, well…something is rotten in Denmark.

So in light of reclaiming my future, here are 3 new haiku. I stop publishing those old ‘jail’ haiku in an attempt to remind myself to live in the present and hope for the future.

#1.
Light snow falling slow
no wind to blow it away
a crow calls loudly.

#2.
Rain falls on the roof
snow melting in winter fields
gray trees and gray sounds.

#3.
The years weigh heavy
experiences unsought
taken on by fate.

Johnnyboy