| writings: intro to shooting pigeons |
Writers write to publish and if the publishers decline you can always publish yourself. Why not? With this in mind, back in 1999, I put together a handful of pieces—stories and essays-- and sent them off to my buddy Jack D'Amico in Buffalo for a quick editing job. All writers have an editor and Jack was mine. He made suggestions and I gave the manuscript a final re- write and delivered it to Amy, the queen of Future Studio for typesetting and a cover design. Then it was over to the printer. The quote from the printer was $2500 for 1000 copies. I said: I only want 500 copies. The printer said: in that case the price is $2500. So ahead we went with the job and 2 weeks later I get a call from the printer. He said: we have a problem—an overrun of 300. I can give you a good price. I said: I only wanted 500. Now its up to 1300. Forget it. So a few days later a large semi pulls up to the house and here are my books--35 boxes with 39 copies in each box equals 1330 books. Now all that remained was to sell them. Need I add I didnt sell them. Some years later I still had 28 boxes of books gathering dust in the garage. I needed that space and it was a tough call but I made the call and threw out 25 boxes of the book. But it was something I did—to publish the book—that I am glad I did, because, as I am fond of saying—writing only becomes writing upon publication. Otherwise it doesnt exist. Manuscripts don’t count. Plus— it was a good book. Otherwise why publish it? I got a lot of compliments about the book. So here follows, for the reading pleasure of the many devoted fans of bflowriter.com, the introduction to the book. |
| rowing the boat Rowing the boat is an expression favored by my friend Frederica. I visit her once or twice a week. She is married with two kids. I go to the house and ask whats what and her eyeballs spin in their sockets in a familiar way and she gives me a “what can I tell you?” look and says: I am Rowing the Boat. In other words—its the same this week like it was last week and the week before that and all the weeks in the future as well. The image can be developed further. The boat being rowed is on a river. The current is swift. Downriver— not too far—are the falls. These are a formidable hazard—in the Niagara/Victoria/Iguassu category. There are other boats with other people rowing. They are rowing with great urgency. Its a desperate situation. Some people are in the water. The boats have capsized and they are being swiftly whisked downstream. They are swimming for their lives. But the current is treacherous. The water is cold—like ice. A few minutes of this and they are finished. They signal frantically for the people in the boats to extend an arm or oar and haul them aboard. This sometimes occurs. But not too often, Caution is advised here. We could capsize ourselves and wind up in the drink with these other sorry chumps. Also its added weight— steerage. It makes our progress upstream more difficult. We continue to row. Its exhausting. And somehow we don’t seem to be making progress. There is a tree on the riverbank—to our right. We measure our progress with reference to this tree. But there is no progress. The tree doesnt move—or barely. Some days we pull a small distance ahead. Some days we fall a bit behind. Some days we fall quite a bit behind and must double our exertions. But usually we are in the exact same spot as the day before. Its aggravating. Naturally it could be worse. We could be in the drink with all these other people—the sorry chumps—being dragged under or even at the brink about to be swept over and plunged onto the rocks below. There is the occasional hydroplane with a few upper class or filthy rich types that go flying past—but for the rest of us the tree doesnt move. Nothing is happening. We are going nowhere. Our concern is not to make progress upstream but to keep from being dragged downstream over the falls and shredded in a hideous way upon the rocks below. That is Rowing the Boat. |
