Monday, November 21, 2011

Get Thee to an Editor

Technology has been the great equalizer for writers: thanks to tablets, e-books, and online self-publishing, all aspiring writers can access a large audience, not just the writers who make it into the consciousness of a major publishing house.  It goes without saying that this is a blessing to many writers, and that it reflects the values of a democratic, capitalistic society.  But what of the curse of the new world of publishing?  What's happening to editorial review?

I can't deny I have a professional bias: of course I think editing is important.  It's my job.  Since I have a conflict of interest, I will recuse myself from arguing for the necessity of the editor in the authorial process.  I'll let speak a far more capable champion of the editor.  Salman Rushdie:

"...In house after house, good editors have been fired or not replaced, and an obsession with turnover has replaced the ability to distinguish good from bad. Let the market decide, too many publishers think... What we need, however, is a return to the best kind of editorial ruthlessness.  We need a return to judgment."

Maxwell Perkins, Editor Extraordinaire
Salman Rushdie wrote this even before the current boom of online publishing; if it was true in a pre-Create Space world, how much truer it is now.  That the editor is now an endangered species is obviously problematic for the editor himself; it's no less detrimental for the reader and the writer.

Without "editorial ruthlessness" to vet and improve material, readers are inundated with writing -- some good, some bad, and much that could have been better under the eye of an editor.  It's dismally overwhelming to navigate through thousands of unknown texts: writers, writers everywhere, but not a lot to read.

Meanwhile, the writer suffers from the loss of his unbiased judge and advisor. It's a loss felt no matter how talented the writer -- even Fitzgerald needed a Maxwell Perkins.

The fiction writer gets to play god in his work: He giveth characters life and can taketh away, too.  So, if you're writing, be a benevolent god.  Get an editor to do justice to your work.

- Kate Zavack

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Foot in Mouth Disease

Active Voice not only writes speeches, articles, and other content.  We can also prep you for press interviews or debates.  Why would you need that?  Let’s ask Herman Cain:

Republican presidential candidate Herman Cain struggled to answer a question about U.S. foreign policy toward Libya in an interview with theMilwaukee Journal-Sentinel editorial board Monday.

"Okay, Libya," said Cain, glancing up. "President Obama supported the uprising, correct? President Obama called for the removal of [Muammar] Gaddafi. Just wanted to make sure we're talking about the same thing before I say, 'Yes, I agreed. No, I didn't agree,'" said Cain.
"I do not agree with the way he handled it for the following reason," Cain started, before cutting himself off. "Nope, that's a different one." Cain shifted in his chair, adjusted his jacket and looked up again.
"I got all this stuff twirling around in my head," he added.

Huffington Post, 11/14/11.  Read the whole story, and watch the film adaptation, here.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Chairman of the Board


                A few months ago, I was talking to a couple good friends – both leaders in well established businesses – about my start-up writing and editing company.  I needed to find more work but couldn’t figure out on which product line to focus (I narrowed it down to “working on projects that involve words” – that’s right, in a bold move, I eliminated miming from my menu of products). If I picked a product, I didn’t know how to price it.  If I priced it, I didn’t know where to sell it, or how. 

                At one point, one friend said “You need a board of directors.”  Now I know, what he meant was “you need to shut up and order so we can eat before they start putting chairs on the tables.”  But the idea intrigued me.  Perhaps, somewhere, there was a table of men, looking like my Dad in the 1960s, in impeccable suits, silk ties, and hats, who would help me work through the business problems I might have been able to tackle myself had I spent less time on Aristotle and more (or any) time on accounting in college.

                But I didn’t get a board.  The mere thought of putting one together sent me in another tailspin (Who would serve on it?  And why?  Do I pay them (Ha! Of course not!  We don’t pay anybody!)?  Do I have to get water glasses and notepads for each like in the movies? Do they even make those hats anymore?). 

                I still need the help my imaginary behatted board would provide, and I had pretty much given up on finding it until a coworker, Peter Mellen, from our coworking space, Affinity Lab, asked us to write a quick speech introducing his company, Netcito.  Of course, before making an introduction, I had to get to know Netcito.  And there, I found my board.

                Here’s the speech:

                Good afternoon.  I am Peter Mellen, and I founded Netcito, a membership organization that brings together groups of creators – innovators, entrepreneurs, philanthropists –to support each other as they cultivate their business, personal, and life dreams.
                I was recently watching the award winning 2008 documentary, Man on a Wire, about Philippe Petit, the man who walked a high wire between the twin towers of the World Trade Center in 1974.  The plot line is fascinating –a caper story worthy of Christopher Nolan: Petit had to sneak into the World Trade Center a custom 26 foot balancing pole and a 450 pound cable, which was shot with a bow and arrow between towers.  But more stunning are the pictures – both still and rough video – of Petit’s 45 minutes on the wire, eight trips between the towers before he surrendered to New York City police.
                Those shots show him stepping into the air, alone above New York City.  One misstep spelling, not just the end of his dream, but the end of his life.  But he doesn’t misstep.  Instead, he takes a mundane activity we almost all do every day – walking -- and elevates it to magic – an unbelievably eloquent expression of man’s potential – a moving monument to an artist’s vision, and perseverance, and bravery.
                And isn’t that exactly what the entrepreneur does – what all of you in this room do?  Take something that almost everybody, even in this crap economy, does – work a job – and – alone, without a net, with fatal foot faults possible at each step -- elevate it to magic: your own product, your mark on the world, a living dream.
                It is a great metaphor – except for one thing.  As solitary as his feat looks in the photos, Philippe Petit was not alone, not by a long shot.  He had teams of technicians, supporters, fellow artists, investors, believers, and adventurers, helping him plan his approach, pay for his equipment, break into the towers, tighten his rope, hold back those who rushed to knock him down.  He could not have done it without them.
                And you -- regardless of how many hours you work, how many business books you read, how many credit cards you take out to meet payroll – can’t do it alone either. 
                That is where Netcito comes in.
                Netcito puts together small groups of entrepreneurs to meet informally and off-the-record for half a day once a month and a full day once a year.  We learn from each other, dissect past actions and map future ones, talk strategy, share fears, make new connections.  In short, we act as your personal board of directors, the people who have your back when someone or something threatens to push you off your high wire.
                Netcito is more than a business seminar, do-it-yourself management book, or networking circle.  We know you are too busy running your business to have time to read or discuss all the information out there on how to run your business.  You bring to Netcito your specific questions, your challenges, your opportunities, your hopes.  Like Petit’s team, we are focused on your dream.  And like all truly extraordinary dreams, we understand you need a solid team, in both towers and on the ground, to make it real.
                    If you are interested in more information on joining Netcito, please come talk to me after the presentation, or visit our website at Netcito.com.  Let us help you reach heights you – and perhaps no one – ever imagined. 
                    As Philippe Petit said: “It’s impossible.  That’s sure.  So let’s start working.”
Kate the Elder

Monday, November 14, 2011

I have a record to set straight.

I have a bee in my bonnet.  A bone to pick.  Whatever - I need to get something off my chest.

Last week, Affinity Lab hosted a DC Week event on the future of publishing (called "The Future of Publishing.")  The Labbies, wonderful coworkers that they are, proffered free coffee and candy and bagels (with cream cheese!) to attendees, and my morning seemed full of promise. Interesting discourse and tasty treats were mine.

Is this a book? Gotcha!
But as I sat in the back of the crowd, partaking in my morning caffeine ritual, a dark cloud descended over the Lab.  It was a very localized cloud, pretty much limited to the region directly above my head.  I listened to the panelists, a handful of their comments rendering me crankier and crankier.  Soon I was in a crank that coffee would not undo.

"I doubt anyone here would say this isn't a book," grinned one panelist, holding a Kindle aloft.

"Here's a question - is The Odyssey a book?" posed another panelist.

Ugh.  The English-major-bibliophile rancor rose within me.  And it still hasn't subsided.  For my own sake, I need to clarify a few things.

The Odyssey isn't a book, nor has it ever been: it's an epic poem.  And Pride and Prejudice is a novel.  And Pygmalion is a play.  And Essais is, you know, a collection of essays.  Just ask Wikipedia: they're not books.  They come in books (sometimes).

The book is a medium for the text, just as a Kindle is, or an online pdf on Google Books is.  They aren't interchangeable.  They are different from each other - and I suspect over the next decade we'll see how much so.

Now that I've defined my terms, let's address the claim that the book is dead.

Book of Kells: cooler IRL
I'm a defender of the book.  I spent enough time in undergrad tracking how authors play with the text-as-physical-object motif to want the text-as-physical-object to stay relevant.  And for the record, I think it will.

A book, since it is a physical object, has possibilities its digital brethren have not.  A book is an artifact, bearing the smudges, coffee stains, and scribbled marginalia of every person who has been exposed to it.  It can be a personal relic, conjuring associations of the texture and smell of the pages with how you felt, what you thought, and where and who you were when you read it.  It can be an aesthetic object - no digital text can replicate the splendor of an illuminated manuscript.  I will always defend the book, commercial viability be damned.

But I'm not blind to the advantages of new textual media.  I get why my dad read War and Peace on a Kindle, not as a clunky, five-pound paperback. (I haven't actually weighed it, but I assume it's about the same as a toy dog).  An online nonfiction can supplement text with interactive graphics, video, and running commentary from author and audience alike -- I won't deny educators the possibilities this opens up for textbooks.  And a digitized text, like those available on Google Books, does wonders for academic research: instantly you can locate a quote you half-recall, or find, for example, every instance of the word "pale" in Lolita (40 times in about 300 pages, by the way).

Evolving to their own niches
The point is, these media are distinct from each other. Each is suited to different kinds of texts, purposes and audiences.  New textual media don't need to supplant the book - nor do I think they will, ultimately.  Instead, I imagine all these media cohabiting the literary ecosystem, each evolved to its own niche.  We can take these media for what they are and what they're best at - and not confuse, conflate, or condemn any of them.

Whew. I feel better.  Time for coffee.

- Kate Zavack

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Kate Zavack's November Reading List

If you've been on the internet this week - and clearly you have if you're here - you might have seen Salman Rushdie's limerick-tweet commemorating Kim Kardashian's divorce. If you haven't, you can view it on The New York Times page here.

There's so much I love about this limerick-tweet existing: the crash of highbrow with lowbrow, of traditional written form with new media, of an iconic writer with, you know, the rest of us. Maybe I'm overreacting, but this limerick is actually pretty groundbreaking.  Salman Rushdie has demonstrated the realm of possibilities available to us in the new millennium.  He's shown how we can relate to, and even communicate with, our heroes.  He's shown how traditional literature can adapt to a new online environment and evolve to be more accessible.  He's shown how literature can be part of the lives and daily discussions of a growing audience.  That's pretty cool.

So, in honor of Mr. Rushdie's limerick-tweet, my reading list this month will explore his work in more traditional media.

1. The Satanic Verses
2. Step Across the Line
3. Midnight's Children

I'll be sharing my thoughts about each throughout the month.  Read along with me and share your impressions.