| Notes from the Frontier |
[Nov. 18th, 2009|05:11 pm] |
The publisher has decided on the title United States of Americana. I'm pretty sure this stems from an idea I tabled at some point, so even though it lacks imagination, I've signed on. (The fact my agent gave it the thumbs up, too, helps immeasurably.) And we're all in agreement the subtitle, cover art, and back jacket copy will have to be more vivid than that, in order to convey a fuller sense of the subject matter.
On a related note, God seems to be smiling on me. In the last few days, several key interviews I thought had fallen through the cracks for good have come through last-minute, including Daiki Suzuki, Miss Indigo Blue, and chocolate-makers the Mast Bros. Also the ladies of Salvatore Brooklyn cheese sent a very helpful e-mail today, which means I've got enough to complete the Brooklyn handmade foods sidebar. And Chris Bray from BillyKirk sent a sweet message asking how progress was coming, recommending some additional sources, etc. If I wasn't married, I swear I'd dedicate the book to him. He's been so encouraging.
Turned in three chapter drafts yesterday (Introduction/Philosophy, Grooming, Spirits), with four more to follow by Friday (Footwear, Food, Lively Arts, Crafts). Then I'm giving myself a day off, and then I have to hammer out the final three chapters before the Christmas holiday break. The last three are Clothing, Music, and Decor. Luckily, I've done a lot of research on the first, am overwhelmed with material for the second (as in, "How do I condense all my ideas into one chapter?"), and plan to just poke fun at the third. I mean, seriously, how earnest can I be about second-hand taxidermy in 2010? |
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| Notes from the Frontier: [Title TK] |
[Nov. 12th, 2009|12:16 pm] |
Publisher has officially vetoed Frontierland as the title for my book project. End of story. Please stop asking. My editor tells me that both legal and sales are firmly against it. The former I can understand (although the fact Disney makes folks so timid pisses me off), but the latter is depressing. It feels weird that the sales & marketing people are weighing in on a project that's still in development. That's what I get for thinking like an artist, right? Naïve little me.
Naturally, they have another big meeting coming up, and my project is on the agenda, so I've been brainstorming more titles. If anyone has any helpful input or alternate suggestions, please leave a comment. (As I've mentioned before, they'd love it if I could conjure up a well-known country or roots song title that magically encapsulates everything in the rustic universe I'm mapping out.) My poor noggin is feeling fried, which ain't a great place to be in when you're also struggling with a manuscript.
Newer ideas:
The Man In Plaid
Til Things Are Brighter - (this is a Johnny Cash lyric)
American Standard Time
Oh, Pioneers!
Modern Pioneer
New Rustic America
Backyard Frontier
Crossroads & Fence Posts
The Pioneers' Progress
Home, On The Range
The Americana Revolution
Back to the Promised Land
Waiting For A Train
Better World A Comin'
Old ideas I also asked them to reconsider:
Making of Americans (or Remaking of Americans)
Kings of the Wild Frontier
Sons of Pioneers (or Sons and Daughters of Pioneers)
One Piece At A Time - (again, a Johnny Cash song - the one about the auto factory worker who builds a D.I.Y. car with purloined parts; thematically, it fits perfectly) |
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| Attn: Spudboys! |
[Nov. 4th, 2009|03:59 pm] |
DEVO is going to stop by KEXP 90.3 FM on Monday, November 9 between 3 and 4 PM, for a DJ set and interview... with me! I'm so giddy I can hardly stand it. As if guest hosting "The Afternoon Show" wasn't already a treat.
Finished a rough draft of the Lively Arts chapter of Frontierland* earlier this week. Much closer to a version of the opening "Pioneer Philosophy" I can live with, too. Spent today laboring over the shoes and boots sections. There's a long way to go, and yet, as the deadline looms, completion of a manuscript feels less impossible every day. *fingers crossed*
* Which, this week, the publishers have suggested I re-title "O Pioneers," which apparently ties into some sort of popular jeans commercial? Willa Cather already used that title, guys. |
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| Halloweak |
[Nov. 1st, 2009|09:30 am] |
1. Porch light blazing? Check.
2. Front gate propped open? (The latch can be tricky, even for grownups.) Check.
3. Handmade jack-o-lantern sign, with words WE HAVE CANDY writ large where eyes and mouth would be, taped to front door? Heck yeah. I had fun making it.
4. Earthenware bowl overflowing with snack-sized Mike & Ike, Hot Tamales, and Skittles. No raisins or Trident like my Mom used to dish out. I don't want my windows getting soaped.
5. Dressed in Piglét costume. (Seemed less likely to frighten kids, or unnerve parents, than dressing in my maid's uniform, especially with my big, bushy beard.)
6. Made sure all preparations were ready well before dusk, in anticipation of especially little children.
Result? One visit. By three boys, probably old enough to grow beards as big as my own, dressed kinda-sorta like Juggalos/Slipknot fans/shoplifters from Hot Topix. Out pillaging with pillowcases. I hate when they use pillowcases.
I live on a residential street, with a lot of single-family homes. Admittedly, three of them are group houses for college kids—but I'd bet even one of those (the one that throws cool theme parties and had a skeleton on their door) had candy for tykes, too. And the majority of our neighbors are home-owners, and appear to be quite well off (i.e. multiple car garages, professional gardeners and landscapers, etc.). We're also within a block of a pre-school and an elementary school, so parents and kids march past my house constantly.
And still, no trick-or-treaters? It maketh Piglét very sad. I joked earlier in the day about the impact Twitter might have on trick-or-treat routes. Now I wonder if adults consult some sort of database where streets are rated for Halloween safety, the same way they track sex offenders, and the guy we never see in the house next door is the next Norman Bates.
*sigh* At least I like gelatinous fruit candies. And my fleecy pink pig costume is very warm and cozy. |
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| Notes from the Frontier |
[Oct. 28th, 2009|06:32 pm] |
Tough one today. The harder I tried to hammer away at the draft of Chapter One, "The Pioneer Manifesto," wherein I articulate the underlying philosophy of Frontierland, the less I could accomplish. I wrote a grand total of two sentences before lunchtime.
What's my hangup? Well, back when my editor reviewed the sample chapters, he expressed concern that there wasn't any discussion of "authenticity." I told him that would be right up front, in Chapter One. And I didn't want to put off it any longer.
For many hours, at three different venues, I struggled to stitch in something, anything, about "authenticity," alongside other concepts like "Made in America" and "nostalgia is passé" that I'd already tinkered with. But "authenticity" wasn't having it. Complete block. I felt like my eyes were gonna start bleeding I was so tense. I even went to the library and tried to make sense of freakin' Walter Benjamin's "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction" to get my juices flowing, ferchrissake!
Here's the crux of the problem (and probably why cracking open Benjamin didn't help, either): I loathe critical theory. I have no background in it, and the obtuse vocabulary and convoluted concepts make my head hurt. And "authenticity" is one of those words I associate closely with critical theory. Game over.
After most of a day where couldn't come up with anything worthwhile to say on the subject, my brain started screaming that I was a goddamn idiot, the whole book was doomed... you know the drill. All over one short but important section of a single, introductory chapter.
Finally I took half a Valium and my Internal Editor dialed down the hatred enough that I could cobble together six or seven paragraphs that avoid being wonky while still explaining why people respond to the word "authentic." Plus a funny anecdote about premium luggage. And who doesn't love a good story about Filson duffle bags? |
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| Notes from the Frontier |
[Oct. 25th, 2009|05:36 pm] |
The past 72 hours are a blur. Burlesque, circus, crafts, more shoe making. Scrambling to keep up with all the interview transcription and research notes, alienating my beloved ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) m3warlord in the process.
Had a long, lovely chat with the lady below yesterday morning about old school American burlesque. Please note: The fan she's holding is also a mask.
Her name is Marinka, and she worked with big names like Rose La Rose and Ann Corio. She'd come to Seattle for BurlyCon '09, and the Swedish Housewife thought it'd be a good idea if I spoke to her. Very charming lady. Waxie Moon joined us at the end of the our visit.
Since Friday morning, I've also interviewed the creative team behind Wolverine's 1000 Mile Boot collection, the founder of Urban Craft Uprising and author of Feltique, Eddy Joe Cotton from Yard Dogs Road Show, and Scotty The Blue Bunny.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, I visited some backyard chickens.
And now I'm going to an informal reception with Trixie Little and the Evil Hate Monkey, Jo "Boobs" Weldon from New York School of Burlesque, Lukki, and other visiting tassel-twirling luminaries. Somehow, I suspect I'm not going to get much actual work done.
Oh, and I did I mention that earlier this week I learned that my housemate from sophomore year of college is now a leading man of "boylesque"? Yeah. |
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| Notes from the Frontier: Pump It Up |
[Oct. 17th, 2009|05:28 pm] |
The Low Anthem showed up with the most amazing pump organ for today's KEXP in-studio (which I'll broadcast on my show Wednesday night) and Frontierland interview two-for. This gem was built in 1915, and, according to serial number records, was used by a World War I chaplain. It's completely collapsible—perfect for toting around the battlefield!
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| Help me populate the Frontier(land) |
[Oct. 17th, 2009|11:11 am] |
Aaron & I are working on a new component for Frontierland, a series of little stand-alone pages interspersed throughout the book, each devoted to an item that might be of interest to readers, but isn't actually essential to the narrative. Could you run your eyeballs over this list, and suggest any additional/alternate subjects to assist my brainstorming? Let your imagination run wild. Or take a swipe at some "old-timey" thing you've encountered lately that made you cock an eyebrow. Everything helps.
Thanks! I'll buy you an Old Fashioned next time I see you.
dirigibles
suet pudding
planting by the signs
butter churn
sleeve garters
daguerreotype
prospecting for gold
Calvados (apple brandy)
velocipede (high wheel bicycle)
mustache curlers
wax cylinders
friendship quilts
spats
briar or corn cob pipes
cigar box banjo/guitar
swizzle sticks
salt pork |
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| Notes from the Frontier |
[Oct. 15th, 2009|01:25 am] |
Interviewed Los Angeles musician and 78 collector Frank Fairfield this afternoon. Charming and eccentric, and I felt guilty any time I cynically suspected he might be putting me on with his oddball answers. He's only 23. Wild.
Yesterday was a summit with the owner of Schmancy Toys and founder of Plush You, to discuss crafts. Tomorrow morning I interview a couple of circus directors and a rep from Ball canning supplies. Friday I'm getting on the horn with the ladies of Salvatore Brooklyn cheese. And the Low Anthem are in town Saturday, so I'm either interviewing them at KEXP (as part of an in-studio taping) or before their Chop Suey show.
So much information. I transcribe, I filter, I sift. I do my best to write. And feed Aaron copy and ideas so he can keep making beautiful illustrations like this:
Will we have a rough draft ready in six weeks? Dear God I hope so. Right now, I feel like we will. *fingers crossed* Wes was in town yesterday, and we had brunch. His third novel is out in Fall 2010, and he's starting work on a fourth. He expressed unsolicited confidence in my ability to do a bang-up job with Frontierland, which was very reassuring. |
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| Notes from the Frontier |
[Oct. 11th, 2009|10:51 am] |
After a couple of rotten, post-KEXP Fall Membership Drive days of writing-not-writing, I got some of my mojo back yesterday.* The bulk of the day was spent in the carrels of the downtown Seattle Public Library (the one that looks like the set from a Kraftwerk video), getting up to speed on the history of the American circus—there are some gaping [TK] sections in the evolving Lively Arts chapter.
But when it came time to wind my way down from Level 10 to the street and head home, I bypassed the elevator and instead spiraled slowly through the stacks, cherry picking at a few lesser topics. I'm concocting these stand alone pages to briefly address topics that aren't vital to my narrative, but still curious: Steam engines, sleeve garters, mustache curlers, modern prospectors... and dirigibles.
Who knew dirigibles were once considered the height of luxury? I'd always thought them horribly impractical, what their their ludicrous size. Turns out that made them indifferent to turbulence. Plus they hovered 2,000 feet above the ground, and often lower, so you had great views of the countryside. Imagine four-course dining in a stateroom like this, instead of jammed in Seat 27-B over a reheated turkey wrap.
Dang. Maybe it's better I don't have a research budget, or the manuscript would never get done. I'd be off touring the world in a flying machine.
* This is not to suggest I hate the Membership Drives. I actually get a weird kick out of them. But accomplishing anything else after 4-5 hours on-air pleading for member support is nigh impossible. Which doesn't stop my Internal Editor from telling me I SUCK for not writing reams of flawless copy every goddamn day, regardless of other obligations. Stupid Internal Editor. |
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| That What Is Not |
[Sep. 26th, 2009|07:26 pm] |
This afternoon I stopped by the September Steampunk Swapmeet, a warm-up for next month's Steamcon. Sort of anti-research. Research by process of elimination. I'd already read some basic background info, and watched The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. I even excavated the only Rasputina record still in my collection, a 1995 7-inch not even listed in their discography (cuz only a geek can criticize other geeks, right?). And I was 99% sure that Steampunk didn't have much of a place in my book.
Yet on several occasions, when asked to describe my project—"a survey of how young Americans are adopting and adapting traditions and practices associated with bygone eras"—people I respect have said, "Oh, like Steampunk!" I wanted to nail down why Steampunk didn't fit. So I pawed through bins of second-hand watch parts, admired curious brass ray guns, and feigned interest in many poorly tailored velvet costume pieces.
After a few minutes, I was feeling a bit of a yearning... but for a cup of tea, light and sweet. And to hurry along to the library to write. But not to make additional room for Steampunk in the-book-formerly-known-as-Frontierland.
Why not Steampunk? Because the clause that I don't include in my summary above, but which is essential to the project, is "...to enrich contemporary life." Yes, Steampunk gleefully ransacks some cool elements from the past, but it's a subculture all about pretending to romp around an alternate future, not improving day-to-day existence.
Plus I'm already stretching things trying to insert Tiny Tim into the narrative. I can't shoehorn Thomas Dolby in there, too. |
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| Notes from the Frontier |
[Sep. 25th, 2009|06:26 pm] |
Finally managed to get on the horn with Michael Williams of A Continuous Lean and The Material Review for about 30 minutes today, to chat about Americana menswear. To my surprise, he did not have any strong feelings, pro or con, about sleeve garters. (Sorry alicetiara!) But he did express this pet peeve:
"One thing that drives me nuts is people re-do these classic items, and then everyone thinks it’s groundbreaking. It’s just an M65 jacket, and everyone’s going crazy over it. Look, it’s the same jacket that’s been around forever."
I can't imagine what he means...
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| Notes from the Frontier |
[Sep. 24th, 2009|08:10 pm] |
Amy Pennington, urban gardening expert and cooking instructor, discussed some of the fine points of canning and preserving with me earlier this week. I mentioned that while I’m confident with experimenting wildly in the kitchen as a rule, my baby steps into pickling have been the exception. I'm terrified by even the slightest possibility of botulism. Which Amy says is usually the case, even with seasoned foodies.
“Everyone is afraid of killing themselves. No one ever considers how it’s going to taste later. They’re either following a recipe religiously, or you’re so obsessed with wiping the rims of the jars that you don’t actually taste what’s going into the jars first or adjust for seasoning."
Well, death by dill pickle or stewed plum is no laughing matter. Or is it?
“Fruits are a high acid thing. And botulism can’t grow in an acidic environment. Pickles are really acidic as well, so it can’t grow there. So all the fuss is funny. In those situations, if anything, you’re trying to prevent spoilage. But nobody ever thinks about that. They only think about not killing themselves. And it’s virtually impossible to do.”
Now you tell me! |
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| Gracias |
[Sep. 24th, 2009|10:29 am] |
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I've been so nose-to-the-grindstone with the book that I felt it important take a moment to thank my myriad friends on Live Journal. Getting to share in your lives on a semi-regular basis enriches mine significantly. Your ideas, both raw and polished. Glimpses of the wonders—natural, artificial, or fantastic—that inspire you. And a hell of a lot of work ethic and dedication to craft and living life more fully. I may not get to interact with you ITRW as much as I'd like, but I feel very blessed to be connected with so many fine people via this forum. Merci. |
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| Notes from the Frontier |
[Sep. 21st, 2009|01:25 pm] |
Spent a couple hours on Saturday afternoon with A.J. Rathbun, who was kind enough to let me peruse some of vintage cocktail guides and share his myriad insights on cocktail culture. As we discussed the merits of such libations as Her Sarong Slipped and Elephants Sometimes Forget, he made a wonderful observation about another downside of Prohibition:
“We lost the great cocktails. We also lost the ability to have great cocktail names for a long time. Back in the classic cocktail era, there were so many great names. Even if you changed the bitters, or the type of vermouth, you would come up with a new, interesting name, because you realized that cocktails were an artistic form. So that drink deserved a name, just like a new poem or play deserves a name. So now, when people just add –ini to anything, it drives me crazy. Because it shows a lack of imagination. Good cocktails are driven by imagination and taste.”
Had an e-mail from my editor yesterday (that's right, on a Sunday afternoon) saying that if I didn't feel I could deliver the manuscript early, production on the book would have to move to another quarter. This was a bit confusing, as the original schedule was based on them receiving the manuscript in November, which is what I'm still aiming for. But I told them there was no possible way I could shave several weeks off my writing time, so if we have to move publication a little later, so be it.
On an unrelated note, I seem to be fighting a cold. Or flu. Something. Terrible sinus pressure, mild body aches, lack of appetite. It started yesterday while I was compiling my 2008 income tax data (I have a phone date with my beloved tax guy on Wednesday). As if reviewing what happened to my Self-Employment Pension Plan in November 2008 wasn't devastating enough on its own... |
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| Notes from the Frontier |
[Sep. 17th, 2009|08:52 pm] |
Just got home from my interview with DrinkBoy for the "Time In A Bottle" chapter (spirits & speakeasies).
He had an Old Fashioned—because he didn't know the bartender, and that's his "test" cocktail—followed by a Rob Roy. I started with a Tom Collins. For my next round, I ordered a Moscow Mule, which seemed like a good choice for Indian Summer. It was. In fact, it took all the strength I had not to order another one. Damn tasty. But I have a long, lively interview to transcribe right about now. |
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| I grew up with them, too |
[Sep. 17th, 2009|01:43 am] |
My thoughts on Rhino's career retrospective of Peter, Paul & Mary from No Depression #50 (March/April 2004).
Damn I wish I'd held on to that box, instead of re-gifting it to my Dad. It sure would've come in handy tonight. KEXP was deluged with requests for Mary Travers material, and we couldn't find anything in the library.
*sheesh*
I suspect there were many ill-advised purges made over the years. Saints preserve us from idealist college kids who think we need to save space for the entire Screaming Blue Messiahs or Toenut catalog, and toss out "Puff, The Magic Dragon." |
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| Notes from the Frontier |
[Sep. 15th, 2009|04:54 pm] |
Damn. It's only Tuesday and I already feel like I've swum the English Channel.
Yesterday I sent my editor the revised Table of Contents he'd requested, as well as Aaron's illustration for the opening of the chapter ("Shave And A Haircut") I'd submitted the week before. The latter, obviously, was a not-so-subtle hint that I was eager for his feedback.
That afternoon, I received two e-mails in rapid succession. The first contained my editor's comments, and the second was—you guessed it—observations from the peanut gallery. Overall, the response was positive. The one constructive criticism was to use fewer direct quotes. But they also loved the interview subjects and sources. So could I please integrate even more expert opinions into the text? Just don't quote them too much.
Okay. I sent a polite note back reminding my editor that arranging, conducting and transcribing interviews is very time consuming. Then set to arranging a bunch more. So in less than 24 hours, I spoke with the owner of this Cleveland speakeasy-style bar, and nailed down interviews with two cocktail buffs (A.J. Rathbun and DrinkBoy), the mastermind of Brooklyn Flea, the proprietor of this fancy-pants barber shop, and Michael Williams, who does A Continuous Lean.
I'm especially pleased about the last two, as they'd long been on my wish list but thus far eluded me. I'm sure there's an Aesop's Fable about why perseverance pays off, but I'm too scatterbrained to remember it right now. But I better, as I have a some folks who've said "yes" but since gone M.I.A. to follow up with tomorrow. (Daiki Suzuki, I'm looking at you!)
Today, I got another e-mail from my editor. The revised Table of Contents and Aaron's illustration had been circulated at a meeting this morning, and apparently were met with enthusiasm. A few staffers were baffled as to why the book was worthwhile, but they were outweighed by a majority who were very excited and all seemed to identify with at least one or more sections in particular.
In fact they loved it so much, my editor wondered: Would it be possible to get the manuscript early?
I'm flattered and terrified.
My agent has been out of the office, due to a family emergency. So until he's back in action, I'm just forging ahead at the same steady pace. I wrote another chunk of the spirits & speakeasies chapter today, and will do more this evening. But if they want me to speed up production and conduct more interviews, they can damn well hire me a research assistant. Or at least pick up the tab for a transcription service. |
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