Lucille Ball and Brenda Starr’s Love Child: Interview with Jessica Maxwell

Ahoy, me Gobsmacked Crew!

Jess Maxwell

            Yer in fer a treat. On May 27^th, Jessica Maxwell, author of the wildly successful Roll Around Heaven: An All-True Accidental Spiritual Adventure (phew!), sat down with me at Bella Vita Spa in Salem, Oregon, to answer a few questions. Instead of the usual interview—ar-ha-ha!—me pirate’s playful nature needed a playground. Seein’ twas still me birthday week, and Jess was treatin’ me to a pedicure, why not ha’ our brilliant nail technicians (who know Jessica and RAH) ask the questions? (Aye, captains love ta leave the work to the crew!)

            So wi’out further ado, here be the interview!

            Elena Leo, Jessica’s Bella Vita nail technician.

            Elana Leo:  How old were you when you decided to be a writer?

            Jessica:  A good question, because until I was sixteen I wanted to be a doctor. I always wanted to heal people. But when they were handing out math brain cells, I got back into the poetry line, and I didn’t get any math brain cells.

            So at sixteen, I knew I couldn’t do medicine, and I said to myself, I’m good at English, was even in honors English. Plus, I’m a redhead. I can be either Brenda Starr or Lucille Ball.

            Brenda was more appealing because she had all these exotic assignments all over the world. Plus, she had Basil St. John, this tall boyfriend who always showed up wherever she was, and he wore an eye patch, which I found intriguing. She had these fabulous clothes, and I thought what a great job! I ended up doing all this without the Basil part.

            Now, Lucille Ball was not a part I counted on. I had assignments for serious stories. The first one was on the LA sewer system, and I wanted to do an environmental story. But when I arrived, it’s Girl Scout day and only Girl Scouts could tour the sewer system. So I pretended to be in one of the troops. While I was on one of their tours, I noticed the workers at the sewer had big fancy rings. I said to one of them, “Man, they must pay you well,” and he said, “Oh, no. It’s finders keepers.”

            Then I interviewed the supervisor of the LA sewer system. I sat down with him and interviewed him very seriously. After, I asked, “Okay, what is your name?”

            He said, “Arthur F. Sewer.”

            I laughed, and he didn’t. “Is that your real name?”

            He nodded. 

            “How do you spell that?”

            “Suhr.”

            See? I tried to do a serious story and ended up with outrageous comedy. I was Lucy from then on.

             

            Michelle Moore, me Bella Vita nail technician asks her question.

            Michelle: What flower do you most identify with?

            Jessica: I adore flowers. And old Indian master Swami Satchidananda once said, “Flowers are God smiling at you.” And I thought that was so neat because you look at a flower, and it’s so beautiful and happy, even in the middle of yuck!

            What flower do I identify with? For some reason I love violets. When I lived in France my junior year of college every February-March is violet season, and they have little bouquets of violets. I actually have a little bouquet of faux violets I pin on my dresses all the time. I think they’re just so … so French! I love lilac time, too. I love cherry blossoms. What I love about flowers is they represent blooming again, every year, and if you think about it, it’s amazing we can count on spring bringing us again so much hope. I mean, what if flowers never bloomed again? In terms of a spiritual symbol, the lotus flower is the symbol of what the Eastern people call enlightenment. I don’t know if you know this, but the lotus floats on top of water, and its roots go down like jelly fish into the mud. So it gets its nourishment from the mud of life and then blooms forth on the surface. I think that’s perfect. Our feet are in the mud. Life’s messy, yet we can still bloom. So I love that. I have a lotus on my keychain.

            The other thing that comes to mind about flowers is my dad. He was born in Honolulu and lived in New Zealand, and any South Pacific flower—the pikake, gardenia, tiare—their beautiful fragrance, it’s like you’re smelling heaven right here on earth.

            I was on assignment and remember getting off the plane in Tahiti. They have tiare flowers planted everywhere. It’s very smart. And it’s not sickly sweet. They say the masters produce a fragrance, and that’s wild. All in all, I associate flowers with the highest, deepest level of awareness that we can attain on this planet here and now.

 

            I, as Gobsmacked Captain, could not be left out of the interview. I’ve known me shipmate Jessica for years, know the quest she was accidentally dropped into, and ha’ seen the results. She might write for all the big mags—National Geographic, Esquire, Audubon, Forbes, Gourmet, Outside, Town & Country  to name a few—but her True North is not of this earth, at least not that we know of. Being a witness to these adventures, I had one burning question.

            Captain Val:  Of all the questions in all the interviews you’ve done, what question have you not been asked that you would have liked to answer?

            Jessica:  (a long pause; a faraway look in the eye; husky low voice)

            What no one has asked me and what I have not volunteered is what I’m going to do in the next book. I’m going to write about what I really know—what I really know—because I don’t go around talking about it because it is so out there, or in there, and it’s not about me; it’s what we know, we’re always dancing around, even with the concept of enlightenment or samsara. The reason that I know what I know is that I live and I experience it, but I don’t talk about it. It’s so profound. And I don’t mean I have any big secret. I mean these trappings we give to the real stuff is the best we can do.

            It’s like when you’re writing. You have your idea and who the characters are, but what is their story? We call it inspiration, this unbelievable knowingness that comes through, and you write and write, and somehow a paragraph happens, the best you’ve written in years, and it glows. What is it, Val, really? We’ve tried to put words to it, but if you say “I’m channeling,” well …

            The words that come close are tainted by religious history, which makes intelligent people throw the baby out with the baptismal water. And what I’ve really come to understand didn’t come like a lightening strike.

Lama Karma

            What’s interesting is watching how people respond to my workshops. I’m giving them information, and we have a wonderful time, but certain people get that it’s literally coming through me, and it’s like transference. Like I say to them, “I’m the spiritual FedEx girl and don’t crown the messenger.” It’s a very interesting situation to be in because I instinctively know what people can take and not take, what you can offer and what you can’t because you don’t even talk about it. What you’re offering is something deeper but you don’t even talk about that because it comes with it.

            The closest I have found to a description of what that is I found in this book Glen, Randy’s* husband, gave me on Tibetan mysticism. How they understand the sound of chanting is bringing you and your mind to this place of peace—and that’s hackneyed too—but it’s literally medicine for your soul. Even that’s not it. But it’s starting to describe the undercurrents that are at work. A baby monk will be taught a chant, and the energy of the sounds, the rhythms and the cadence, will take the monk to this place.

            The first time I “got” it was when Lama Karma on New Years was chanting and I listened and was taken to a place where I understood the design within the chanting.

            Back to me, the Captain. I can tell no more o’ this interview because Pirate Maxwell asked me to keep the rest confidential so it is saved for her next book.

            But I ha’ to throw in me pieces o’ eight. Me thinks what she’s sayin’ is like when sailors thought the world flat and they’d fall off the end of the earth if they went too far. That’s where we be in the spiritual realm. We’re just waitin’ to find out the earth is round, and we’re spinnin’, and we can’t fall off because the design is so freakin’ awesome. And, nay, I be non religious, just a spiritual pirate spoutin’ similes.

            Ah, but I must ask one last question of Jess. Can’t resist.

            Captain Val:  What is your dream?

            Jessica: To have a farmhouse in the beautiful Paro Valley of Bhutan.

            So for ye on a spiritual sail, bon voyage!

            And “Stay tunaed,” as Miss Maxwell is fond o’ sayin’. The Gobsmacked is headed for adventure! With a private peek at me month at Vermont Studio Center and a frightenin’ tale of me run-in wi’ a tsunami. Shiver me timbers!

            Until then, I remain your

            Captain Val

*Randy is Jessica’s best friend.

COMING UP!

Adventures at a Writer’s Residency: Captain Val Goes to Vermont Studio Center

Runnin’ for Me Life:  Tsunami!

More News & Confirmed Gossip from the Writing World

And … an unusual interview with cartoonist Jan Eliot of “Stone Soup

Oh, Google, My Name Is ...

            Back when I was a young lass, just getting’ me feet wet, testing the waters of art and writing, an aunt sent me mother an article from Ballet News or some such magazine. The article was a review of a book about ballet, written by Valerie Brooks. Mum thought it had to be me because 1) that was me name, and 2) I love ballet and had taken ballet lessons from the time I was four. ‘Tis a sad day when ye ha’ to disappoint a mother.

            No, ‘twas not me, I had to tell her. ‘Twas not me article.

            I thought no more about it until years later when I began to call meself a writer. “You have the perfect name for a writer,” many said. Aye, I thought so, too.

            I thought no more of it. ‘Twas me name. A good hearty name. Valerie, French for valorous, strong. Brooks, traced back in our ancestry to the Normans when they conquered England in 1066. Thanks, mum! Thanks, Dad!

            I wrote for ten years without losing a sail. I had published and illustrated the first textbook for women in non-traditional careers. I’d been editor of a literary magazine. Then I began seriously writing fiction.

            Ah-har, I’d get to use me name soon!

            So I sailed to the internet to claim it on a URL.

            What? Bloody hell! Some dirty thieving pirate stole me name! Me heart sunk. I was forced to use me middle initial. Valerie J. Brooks.

            Who would know that?

            Then a fishbait troublemaker took it on Twitter, only this time, the name Valerie Brooks was followed by “freak” and some cartoonish #$%&. Wait ‘till I get me hands on that …

            Ah, but ‘twasn’t enough of a floggin’.

            Me son was tellin’ a friend o’ his about me writin’. His friend wants to be a writer, too, so he gives her my name and says to look me up for a chat. Blimey! She stops by me son’s house and says, “I ordered your mom’s book.”  Me? I ha’ no bloody books yet. What infernal nonsense be this? She shows him the book.

            Tantric Awakening: a Woman’s Initiation into the Path of Ecstasy

            And no mistake. Was written by Valerie Brooks.

            Well, I can’t say I wouldn’t mind writin’ a book like that, but …

            another one by me name?

            Arrrrgh!

             So I be thinkin’, okay, you’re not the only one. No need to sink your ship and be done wi’ it. When your novel comes out, maybe you should be V. J. Brooks, you know, like those who try to cover their gender?

            I be no lily-livered female, and you know it. I’m a pirate, for Neptune’s sake! I’m proud to be female.

            But, alas, it not be done there.

            Another curst pirate moves into me territory with me name. She even goes to my dentist and wanted to meet me! Harkee me, the rogue!

            Nay, I say. Be enough of a curse I be asked now whenever buying boots, or books, or paper, “Which one are you?”

            ‘Tis enough to make me blood boil.

            Then one day, a call comes. “Hello, this is Springfield Cleaners. We have your wedding dress and want to know if you’re coming to pick it up.”

            Be this a jest?

            Nay. Seems the dress has been there for months and “Valerie Brooks” has not claimed it. I say, “Look, lad, I’m not the Valerie Brooks you’re lookin’ for.” I give ‘im me dentist’s number to find her.

            And if this doesn’t make me yell, “Enough!” a recent Google alert for me name (oh, yes, we writers do that) pops up with this:

Find valerie brooks on WhitePages. There are 223 people named valerie brooks through regions like Baltimore, MD, Chicago, IL, Dallas, TX, Detroit, MI, ...

            ‘Tis a sad thing not to be able to own me own name. A writer needs their name to be recognized. Hemingway. Margaret Atwood. Virginia Woolfe. Herman Melville. What chance there be they ha’ me troubles. Ah, well, someday I be publishin’ and maybe I be using me full name. I dare some dung-souled imposter to show up with that!

Until next time, when I be interviewing the fair and lovely Jessica Maxwell, fair winds and followin’ seas to ye,

Captain Valerie Joy Brooks

To find out what your Pirate Name is click here!

NEW! To listen to an audio excerpt of my memoir "Liberté" from France, a Love Story, click on the mp3 player to the right!

Coming Up!

Finally, my interview with the fair and lovely Jessica Maxwell

Residency Adventures: Photos and Inside Tales from a Writer's Residency

More News & Confirmed Gossip from the Writing' World

A Pirate Saves The World

Listen Up, Me Hearties!
        I let few fellow pirates take o'er the Gobsmacked, but this week I give the wheel to Barb Sullivan. I once penned a letter of reference for her and in it I stated, if I were independently wealthy, I would pay all her expenses so she could do nothing but write, for she could lead this motley world out of its mess.
         I still believe that. If ye ha'n't seen her blog, then you're still a landlubber, mate. And if ye believe as I do that a good woman is not hard to find, only hard to recognize in today's world, then ye might want to pass this parcel of wisdom on.
         I be back next week. Until then ...
         At your service,
         Captain Val

The Solace of Lowered Expectations
Posted on June 19, 2011 by Barbara Sullivan  

Special bonus this month in response to Val’s comment on the thing I wrote in May about judgment: Tell an INFJ she epitomizes the kind of person who can save the world, and here’s what happens: she will come up with a how-to list, just like the one she produces when grocery shopping, or prioritizing home repairs. (Actually, I think it’s a pretty good thing that only 1% of us seem to be wired as INFJs, because if there were more of us, we would drive the rest of you nuts.)

How to Save the World

1. Put the oxygen mask on your own face first: Sever relationships that are abusive; end, starve, or allow to wither relationships with people who subvert your healthy growth. You know who they are.

2. Put the oxygen mask on your children: Believe in them, especially when they screw up. Repeat until they believe in themselves.

3. Opt for faith over religion.

4. Do whatever you can to increase women’s literacy because it’s the most effective lever on population growth, and it works without regard to culture or belief systems.

5. Speak truth about power, not to it (don’t waste your breath).

6. Realize that not everyone is playing by the same rules. This explains so much, and makes solutions so clear! People who have a conscience are at an extreme disadvantage until they realize it’s optional equipment that the base-model, predatory human uses against them. Predators are still around in the gene pool because they are good at what they do, and at camouflaging their intentions, so…

7. Stop believing what people say. If you want to know their motives (and you should), look at the hard evidence.

8. Then wake up the chickens, get politically active, and chase those snakes out of the hen house because they are cold blooded reptiles with primitive brains who think global warming is going to be like a day in the sun on a nice hot rock.

9. Lower your expectations, but never your standards. There is such a thing as the way things really are; truth is not all that complicated. (Neither is love: when someone has loved you, you know it.)

10. Despite everything, try to live gratefully; it’s contagious.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

COMING UP!

“Oh, Google, My Name is …”

… and IN TWO WEEKS the interview with Jessica Maxwell of Roll Around Heaven

Gobsmacked: Winner of May Drawing, Opinions, Gossip and More!

Ahoy, Shipmates and Landlubbers Alike!

            Aye, it’s been another week of merriment, this time in ol’ PTown with me first mate. Rose Festival gearing up there, sailors everywhere as it’s Fleet Week, plus a carnival at the waterfront. (Yes, Adam, I'm back, arrgg-ing and bloggin'.) 

            But as all good things must, the birthday celebratin’ has come to a fittin’ end with the May drawin’, a bit late I confess.

The Drawing

            Had me best mate draw a name from me hat of all those who emailed and commented on me blog and here’s the winner o’ me France anthology plus hot off the press, the first copy to go public, Jan Eliot’s ninth collection of her cartoon strip “Stone Soup” with the more ‘n accurate title of Brace Yourself. (check it out at http://www.stonesoupcartoons.com/) I be sendin’ ‘em both to:

Lou Maenz of Springfield Oregon

            Congrats, Lou, me heartie! Glad ta hear ya could use some humor and good news!

Pirate ship in Cabo san Lucas

            This week, fer fun, I be sending along a few guest comments I found entertainin'. They have their own categories, so listen up! And enjoy.

Opinion

            Captain, My Captain!

            I stand with you on deck to toss the very word (dare I say it) - Platform - overboard. Do not misunderstand: I have great admiration for those who have yacht-sized ones and keep them afloat. My 'platform' is so small that I balance on it with toe-room only. My social networking is called email contacts and writer events. "Do you have FB?" he asks. "Yes!" (Which I almost never look at it and have exactly 3 FB friends, who just happen to be REAL friends not simply cyber-friends.) "Do you have a blog?" Well, no, but I'm linked to 4 good ones that teach me lots—and I barely find time to read them much less answer them so exactly when would I actually write my own??? But I digress. As for a website—I'm working on it; kind of; actually I'm thinking about it—in between writing my book (and occasionally a sellable essay). Truth is, until forced by winds of an agent, my 'platform' is Office Chair with Butt In It. No glamour involved. Some assembly required. Scaffolding sometimes.

            I do not despair. I am breathing it (memoir) and teaching it (senior life-writing) and writing it (nonfiction). I am a writer. I can't help it.

            LJ Bousquet

            p.s. Do not ask me to Twitter. Me old mother twitters about everything and anyone and it shivers me timbers.

Confirmed Gossip

From me pal, Randy Sue Coburn, who used ta work at the Washington Star:

            And here’s my little tidbit for your zeitgeist hopper:  In my cub reporter days at the DC newspaper, I did a telephone interview with a certain bodybuilder turned actor. He asked me what my bra size was. When a guy has to grope a girl even on the phone, well . . . to quote Captain Renault, “I’m shocked, shocked to find out that gambling is going on here!”

Pirate News

Well shiver me timbers! Dolly Parton has joined me pirate ranks.

            MYRTLE BEACH, S.C. -- In a dramatic change, Dolly Parton is hoisting the Jolly Roger and tilting her sails to the wind, matey! Pirates' Voyage is docking in Myrtle Beach! The spirit of Blackbeard and his buccaneers, Captain Kidd and Anne Bonnie sailing the coast of the Carolinas, comes to life in a new show opening in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina in June of 2011.

Fer now, me hearties, that’s this week’s news. I be gettin’ back to the promised logs next week. I leave ya wi’ this little ditty from me long-time shipmate, Jan Eliot, who sent it ta me for "my" birthday jingle. Love it and her!

Smooth sailin’ and treasure ahead,

Captain Val 

COMING UP!

“Oh, Google, My Name is …”

… and IN TWO WEEKS the interview with Jessica Maxwell of Roll Around Heaven

Gobsmacked: Yes, that's Marilyn Monroe

            Hearties! Birthday week has come to a close, festivities ha'e ended, and my Gold Galleon has turned back into a wooden ship.
            I haven’t fergotten you, however. You’ve been on me mind. As the Merry Month of May comes to a close, I be prayin’ for better weather and wantin' to inspire your creativity with a tour of me captain's cabin.

            Me Captain’s Cabin is not fer the faint of heart. Aye, I work surrounded by what I call “my ongoing collage.” Me Mum, bless her British white glove and need for neatness, decorated my bedroom with lavender floral curtains and frilly girl stuff, not that I don’t girly up myself, but hers was a wee bit constrained: my only place to post tidbits of self-expression were on a newspaper-size bulletin-board, too small for the likes of my imagination.

            What? you say. Still flogging that piece of fluff? Well, aye! You don’t feed an imagination by restricting it, although there's an argument for that one, too. And I've heard some questionable comments o'er the years about me room.

            A former friend once returned from San Fran and, after tourin' one of her favorite, famous-artist’s studio, she said, “I can’t believe you do exactly what he does! His studio walls are covered with Marilyn Monroe memorabilia, too.” I guess my creative impulse had no cred on its own.

            Mum used to say to me (with great hope in her voice): “Winston Churchill believed you become more conservative with age.”

            Not bloody likely. A pirate is always a pirate. Consider this a tour of my rebellion, freak flag flying (and also a peek into the room where I work).

            If ye be wonderin' why the Marilyn Monroe homage? At age eleven, when I heard o’ her death, I cried, not understandin' why. An icon had died? She was beautiful? Died young? I felt her vulnerability? Oh, sure she was famous, beautiful, sexy, all the external things we worship. But I felt a deep internal emotion. I've always championed underdogs, and later, I recognized her an underdog, no matter her so-called success. Inside she was an intelligent, creative woman who was used and abused by the powerful, and never really seen. Oh, she'd been photographed plenty, but truly seen?

            Over the years, an idea brewed: if I held her up, gave her worthiness in my own mind, I could somehow raise her up. Oh, sure, the psychoanalysts out there are havin’ a field day with that one! I can almost quote those lads and lassies. But, as my husband says, who’s complaining about a wife who covers walls with beauty?

            ‘Nuff. Onto the photos!

 A pair of awards given to me by artist Bets Cole a long time ago for the exotic earrings I used to wear

Photos of girlfriends, writer's group, and my handwritten manuscript of my first novel

Ganesh, elephant god of fertility, creativity, and removal of obstacles, (the gold one is actually a chocolate) & one of the many small drawings my best pal Jan Eliot has given me over the years

 

One of my favorite juxtapositions: David Bowie (R, in white) and the dancer Mark Morris (upper left)

 Just a few of my Marilyn Monroe collectibles

 The north wall and where I face when working

 Part of my altar with the Snake Goddess of Crete, Marilyn, fairy, and a Tibetan blessing bowl. The box is my "goddess box" where I put written prayers for those in need

            Creative outpourings & blessing to ye all!

            Captain Val

Ahoy, shipmates! A drawing for free books. Only a few days left!

            Leave a comment before June 1 to have your name in the drawin’ for two books--a signed copy of my France, a Love Story, and a signed copy of a book by another author. If you subscribe by email, send your name and comment to valinparis (at) earthlink (period) net. If ye wish me to post yer comment to me Captain’s Log, tell me, and it’s done!

Followers Email Comments:

I also heard the rebroadcast of Shteyngart's interview and was, like you, initially dismayed and then delighted. He's hitting the nail on the head & as the mother of two BOYS who love to read (gasp), I want to remind all of us that if we don't buy it/watch it/do it, then it won't happen (as much): if we want readers, then we need to be readers, and that means reading to our kids and providing them with books that intrigue them (for my kids, that includes sports novels: gawd bless Mike Lupica & John Feinstein, two very fine sportswriters-turned-YA-authors). I'm with you, too, on wanting/needing long chunks of uninterrupted time in which to write and read ... so I'll stop responding to your post, now and get back to my own work!  -- LESLEY HOWARD

Happy birthday! -- LOU

I've lived in the Pacific Northwest for 34 years and am an avid reader. There's nothing like being on a river rafting trip and spending the afternoon curled up on a warm rock (try it sometime) and reading away the afternoon.  Or being ensconced in a warm sleeping bag and reading by headlamp as the moon and stars make their way across the sky.  Or pulling out a book from a daypack and reading while your feet are cooling off in a gurgling stream.  Or in a bubble bath or on the couch or waiting for the bus or . . .

I think the Pacific Northwest provides the perfect environment where books can be read wherever you are.  And you can quote me on that. – JUDITH WATT

Hey Gobsmaked Pirate Lady,

Am enjoying your blog, and meant to send a reply in reference to the camisole you referenced a couple versions back….

As a found object to think about; to write about….

“How did it get there?” … etc. kinds of questions you suggested … remember??

Well, I had a bit of a different take on the notion of the camisole, and just for fun,

I figured I send it along to you.  This is a little something I jotted down a while back- not too long ago. The camisole is mentioned, but only in passing reference to the …. Well, you can read it for yourself;

It’s attached.

 ~ DAVE the Wave OATMAN

 “Oh farther, farther, farther sail.”

w.w.

COMING UP!

“Oh, Google, My Name is …”

… and IN TWO WEEKS the interview with Jessica Maxwell of Roll Around Heaven

Gobsmacked: Platform, Flatform

            Hey, me hearties

            Have ye e’er been bothered by a wee word? One that should be tossed ov’r board and fed to the sharks? Good. ‘Cause here’s me rant. And here’s the word.

            Platform.

            Aye, sweet writing buccaneers. I can already see a few of ya ready to mutiny. But be honest now. Have ye not come to wretch when ye see the word? Have ye not bristled, choked back a curse, gripped your sword and wanted to draw blood when someone asks, “What’s your platform?”

            This drivel, this flat piece of shark bait, this dead piece of word smithing, is not worthy of us. It shackles us to someone else’s chain of cheap commerce. Are we free, creative beings, or are we toeing the line of someone else’s gobshite?

            For those pirates out there selling their “platform wares,” I’m not stickin’ it to you. You’re as much a slave to this as we all are. Aye, I understand the “we-have-to-promote-and-market-our-books-and-ourselves,” but do we have to do it with so little …

            Imagination?

            Creativity?

            Days ago on NPR’s Fresh Air, they be re-broadcasting author Gary Shteyngart’s interview with Terry Gross ‘cause his novel Super Sad True Love Story is out in paperback. Alas, I be thinkin’, another author slinging his wares.

            But I stayed on his story, and glad I was! He’s a true pirate with his irreverent talk. From his tales of growin’ up fat to observin’ that porn is norm these days, he was entertainin’. He’s a funny buccaneer, he is. Then he was asked why he be makin’ a satirical trailer for his book and he says,

"Well, nowadays nobody wants to read books, so anything you can do to sell book, you know, if I could sneak a book into - inside a knish and sell it that way, you know, buy the knish and then read my book when you finish eating it, that's fine with me too."

            Shiver me timbers!

            A knish?

            Brilliant!

           

Hark, Gary Shteyngart!

            I’m on board with the knish. I’m on board with the satirical trailer. I’m on board with someone who, I think, can replace the boring, overused, flat form of platform. 

           Gary, can you do this?

To Ye Readers

Not a writer's platform

            For all ye beauties who read, I should explain. 

             A writer’s platform is not a shipping crate turned upside down, shoes with very thick soles, or a structure where you sacrifice virgins to your gods.

            In the writer’s world, a “platform” consists of all the tools to sell your work—Twitter, email newsletters, Facebook, videos, blogs, signs trailing a blimp. It’s all about raising name recognition. It’s all about … well, let me give you Laurie Pawlik-Kienlen’s succinct explanation. She’s author of the blog The Adventurous Writer. Laurie says, 

“To build a strong writing platform, you need to be an entrepreneur and marketing guru with established followers.”

            Arrrghh!!!

            Yet, truth be told, she’s not tellin’ the worst of it.

            ‘Tis rumored that before an agent or editor even reads a manuscript, they Google the writer’s name to see how much name recognition the writer has already established before they buy the bloody novel or memoir!

Not a writer's platform

            For ye landlubbers who have never sailed these waters, here’s another truth. Publishers, even after they buy a novel, don’t promote—with the exception of best-selling authors. (Refer to Sun Tzu’s Art of War for how strategy favors sending re-enforcements to the winners and those battling the worst of odds are left to fend for themselves.) Aye, we write the novel, spend money on independent editors to give our novel the best chance for publication, submit to agents and pray for acceptance, wait, wait, wait, and then wait some more for the agent who accepts you to submit to editors, and when accepted by an editor/publisher (and you’re hopefully not turned down by their marketing rep), you down your rum in celebration, knowing they’ll promise to promote you to hell and back, but only deliver a “product” (this is your book) that you will have to promote to hell and back if you ever want to publish again because you never will publish again if you have mediocre or bad sales.

            Aarrr, and you think that couldn’t be the worst news?

            In the Fresh Air interview, Gary Shteyngart says:

            "You know, everyone's a writer. Nobody wants to read but everybody wants to write. These MFA programs, we can't, you know, we can't turn them away. There’s just millions of applicants. Everybody wants to be a writer. It’s this huge culture of self-expression."

            An exaggeration, true. Twenty or so years ago, Natalie Goldberg said twelve-step programs produced a dearth of writers (they journal, they all have an important story to tell, they need to express themselves). Shteyngart’s statement brings us into the internet age where everyone can express themselves. (Aye, point your finger at me.)

            And that increases the competition.

            Add to that the A-Type personalities, extroverts, writers with no scruples, or people who capitalize on their worst traits and sins in the open confessional of the internet. (Need proof, check out “Mommy” bloggers.)

            But blast the devil! What if you don’t want to express yourself in blogs/Facebook/tweets? What if you’re undermining your creativity and deep-ocean talent by swimming in the internet pool? Or what if you’re an introvert and have no desire to “share?” What if you’re Type B like me? I need me sleep, love me leisure time, have no desire to fill every bloody waking moment with action. I love to daydream. I love to ponder. I’m a slow reader and writer. If I had to write a blog every day, I’d throw myself overboard! When I work on a novel, I lose meself to uninterrupted time. To have me time broken up by all this “platform building” is enough to sink a ship. Don’t get me wrong, I know the necessity, but curse it.

            Airr, if I must play the game, throw me a bone, a scrap. Make swallowing this bilge a little more magical, sexier, inspiring.

            Replace this platform anchor.

            If Gary Shteyngart can’t conjure up a magical, sexier, inspiring replacement for the word, how ‘bout ye pirates out there?

            I do my possible, so for the time bein’, instead of sayin’ I’m “building my writer’s platform,” I’ll be saying, “I’m sailing my writer’s vessel, the Gobsmacked.” ‘Tis a little sexy and magical with an irreverent punch because Gobsmacked is how I feel about this pre-publishing marketing shite.

            And now me, lovelies, back to the real work.

            And a merry month of May to ya!

            Captain Val

* * * * *

Ahoy, shipmates! Help me celebrate my birthday!

            For the month of May, I’ll be givin’ away a signed copy of my France, a Love Story, along with a surprise: a signed copy of a book by another author who … I just keep ye guessin’.

            Here’s me instructions: leave a comment on me blog, and your name goes into the end-of-the month drawin’. The more comments, the better your chances. If you subscribe by email, send your name and comment to valinparis (at) earthlink (period) net. If ye wish me to post yer comment to me Captain’s Log, tell me, and it’s done!

            Bonus! Every captain needs followers and here’s how to serve yer captain. Bring a mate on board Gobsmacked by having them sign up to receive me blog. For every mate you bring aboard, your name goes into the drawing three times. I’m using the pirate’s code of honor for this. Just tell me you signed ‘em up. No cheatin’ now or it’s the gangplank!

Also from Gary’s interview:

“I think the Pacific Northwest is like the last place where books will be read in the world.”

Laurie Pawlik-Kienlen

Worthy and Funny: Shteyngart's Interview

Gary Shteyngart’s Hilarious Trailer ("They let him teach at Columbia???")

 

Coming Up!

May Giveaway!

 “A View of My Writers Room Wall: What Inspires Me”

“Oh, Google, My Name is …”

… and soon an interview with Jessica Maxwell of Roll Around Heaven

The Deep: Captain Val's Answers to Last Week's Questions

Gobsmacked: Celebrating Me Birthday Month with a Giveaway!

            For the month of May, I’ll be givin’ away a signed copy of my France, a Love Story, along with a surprise: a signed copy of a book by another author who … I'll just keep ye guessin’.

            Here’s me instructions: leave a comment on me blog, and your name goes into the end-of-the month drawin’. The more comments, the better your chances. If you subscribe by email, send your name and comment to valinparis (at) earthlink (period) net. If ye wish me to post yer comment to me Captain’s Log, tell me, and it’s done!

Bonus! Every captain needs followers and here’s how to serve yer captain. Bring a mate on board Gobsmacked by having them sign up to receive me blog. For every mate you bring aboard, your name goes into the drawing three times. I’m using the pirate’s code of honor for this. Just tell me you signed ‘em up. No cheatin’ now or it’s the gangplank!

The Deep: Captain Val's Answers to Last Week's Questions

Last week, I wrote ‘bout how a writer’s job resumé offers nothin’ but a skeleton of their experience. Writers ha’ to dig deep into personal experience to understand human nature and create living, breathing, believable characters. Some authors might disagree, but they don’t sail on my ship.

That’s why I suggest asking more personal questions of authors at readings. Depending on the nature of the book (‘cause you want to ask pertinent questions, not superficial, sensationalistic ones), the questions can be related to what the novel or memoir brings to the surface for you emotionally.

Here’s where I dive in deep water. Remember the questions I posed from last week?

“Ha’ ye ever been close to dying?”

“Ha’ ye ever taken a dark road and been lost?”

“What terrifies you and why?”

As promised, I’ll ask ‘em of meself and tell ye how they relate to life and work. A’right?

Ha’ ye ever been close to dying?

Job experience in me twenties:  drive-in restaurant waitress, telephone switchboard operator, movie theater ticket sales person, keypunch operator for a woolen mill (Ah, that dates me!)

Life experience and answer to the question:

Aye. At age twenty-three, I was beaten and had a knife put to me throat by a bi-polar, alcoholic Vietnam Vet who I was divorcin’ at the time. I’ve used that fear and aspects of the experience in me writin’. I’ve also used the characteristics that kept me alive—strength, determination, resilience, and street smarts. I learned first hand about PTSD, what war does, how it effects families, what violence looks and feels like, and can empathize with those who continually face the threat of violence and death during war and at home.

Ha’ ye ever taken a dark road and been lost?

Job experience during my thirties:  artist, editor of a literary arts magazine, graphic artist, cultural resource coordinator for the arts

Life experience and answer to the question:

No. I’ be lost a time or two, but ha’ ne’er taken a dark road. Even when I was wi’ me ex-husband, we had a child, traveled, and moved to Oregon from the East Coast. My son and Oregon were my greatest gifts from the ex, and I troll those waters, too, for me writing. The dark always yields to the light.

What terrifies you and why?

Job experience from forties onward: strategic planner at a community college; graphic designer and illustrator; writer

Life experience and answer to the question:

Nothing terrifies me, not after the experiences of my twenties, after the death of my best friend in high school, the suicide of my father, the terror of my ex. I follow me passion, have a terrific family, live in paradise, have the love of a great man, and if anything would frighten me, it would be the thought of losing any of my family, especially outliving the young ‘uns. But I don’t live there. I do however explore the possibilities, using those fears in the current work in progress “Parallel Crossings” where the five-year-old daughter of the main character is kidnapped by her ex-husband, and the girl is never found. That’s how I work the whole bloody thing into a story.

Guest author Erika Dreifus answers one of me questions

To show you scallywags what happens with authors when you ask questions like the ones above, I contacted Erika Dreifus, author of the brilliant debut short-story collection Quiet Americans. The connected stories about the Jewish experience during and after the Holocaust are so different and rich with characters who feel so real, I had to ask Erika the following question. Her answer follows.

Have you ever had a personal tragedy that gives you a strong empathy for your characters and what they had to endure?

“I think that the opposite situation may be true, that the immense good fortune and privilege with which I have been blessed are what have attracted me to the characters, themes, and events in Quiet Americans. It is because I find it so difficult to envision coping with the challenges that are woven into the stories that I have tried so diligently to do exactly that: envision. Then, too, the fact that certain characters and circumstances are so closely modeled on my beloved grandparents and what they did, in fact, have to endure does add a strong dose of personal connection to the mix.”

* * * * *

So there ye ha’ it! All told, if ye do one thing this month to celebrate me birthday, go to an author’s meet and greet, reading, or signing. No bones about it. They put their whole life into their work, and we benefit.

From the Gobsmacked ship to yours, a hearty hi-ho!

Captain Val

Captain Val's review of Erika Dreifus' QUIET AMERICANS

Coming Up!

May Giveaway!

“Platform, Flatform”

“A View of My Writers Room Wall: What Inspires Me”

“Oh, Google, My Name is …”

… and soon an interview with Jessica Maxwell of Roll Around Heaven