About the arc of development I mentioned yesterday. I have the day off, and I spent a little time going back through posts last year, proud of what I saw and read. And then I thought of my readers, knowing that some of you take real pleasure in the words and photos, also knowing, occurs to me now, that Temple University Communications Director, Chris Dubble, who interviewed me, describes the writing as brilliant, and I thought about my striving towards additional publication. If I were any of you who read this blog, I might be thinking, "Why doesn't he at least get that first book published the tab on the upper right corner promises?"
At least one of the posts from late last year mentions me working on essays. I never blogged about the good news, though. The first of maybe half-a-dozen I worked on, an essay of I think 19 pages, I sent to one of the world's foremost literary journals, Agni, literally just minutes after midnight on Election Day. I had finished the essay about three minutes before midnight. Six months later the editor got back to me, and though the essay was not accepted, he began his communication by emphasizing that his was not a standard rejection notice. He found the writing lively, and asked me to please submit again.
Which I will do. The publication business is super tough. This is partly why I feel Litton's Fishing Lines so special, because all I had to do was log in to Blogger and figure it out--easy--and we have a platform. A man of credentials no less than Chris Dubble's picked up on it, on us. I think of this blog as representing a network. By what I've carefully read on getting a book published, you need various sorts of credits before an agent or publisher will take you seriously. I have plenty of credits towards my book on salmon eggs for trout, a book which ultimately will about why I think stockers are valuable despite so much flack they take from fly fishermen. (Not that I would ever argue for stocking wild trout waters.) I need more credits yet for my book of essay chapters on fishing, because this sort of book is so tough a sell that Angelo Peluso, who has books on fly fishing and a novel published in addition to numerous magazine credits, is turning to self-publication for his book of essays on fishing. I plan on trying to get novel(s) published first.
Around 2012, I began work on my novel Space Cruise. I wrote about 500 pages in six months or so. Too many pages, I fear, for a first novel. I got away from the work, and that's what it needed, because now I understand much better what intuition then led me through, so I can make the changes needed by conscious choices.
It's a period piece. The 1970's. Space Cruise. You get it. But the novel just uses the backdrop of that time's challenges to create the story of a boyhood and adolescence that descends (and certainly in some ways ascends) into madness. In the one respect, there's a dark appeal in this I hope readers will be drawn to, though they may be drawn by reviews that speak of hope, and I hope so all the more because the publishing industry is ruthless. I've read that if your first book doesn't sell, publishers may not ever consider another from you. I'm not worried about the salmon egg book. Not only will that surely do OK, judging the numbers of salmon egg post visitations on this blog, it's a fishing book, not a novel.
If I took my former writing mentor's advice, I would end my "dark" tale tragically. Ed Minus was an older man and a modernist. He is the author of the novel Kite, published by Penguin Classics. (https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/ed-minus/kite/) But I've never believed in tragedy and never will.
I've mentioned in a number of posts that I keep the better of my photos out of sight. I imagine I have another 10 years--maybe more--of shooting before I approach a publisher with three books of photos. The Raritan River System from Zarephath north, including perhaps most of the tributaries; Round Valley Recreation Area; Lake Hopatcong.
And finally, who knows. About those journals I've mentioned, which contain all sorts of stuff I'd never put on the blog. I have Curt Cobain's published journals. "You will judge," he wrote on the first page. There's a tragedy, by the way. And yet, I believe his suicide was completely unnecessary. Some might say, "How dare you judge him," but I do, with sadness. I have the journals, however, which perhaps so few read, but I have read. A man like Ed Minus, for whom I have great respect, might argue that tragedy is acceptance. Each of us dies.
But each of us lives. As I see the issue, it's a matter of which emphasis to choose. Curt Cobain isn't really gone altogether. I pick up what he put himself into--those words he wrote--and I accept the spirit present for as long as anyone reads him.
At least one of the posts from late last year mentions me working on essays. I never blogged about the good news, though. The first of maybe half-a-dozen I worked on, an essay of I think 19 pages, I sent to one of the world's foremost literary journals, Agni, literally just minutes after midnight on Election Day. I had finished the essay about three minutes before midnight. Six months later the editor got back to me, and though the essay was not accepted, he began his communication by emphasizing that his was not a standard rejection notice. He found the writing lively, and asked me to please submit again.
Which I will do. The publication business is super tough. This is partly why I feel Litton's Fishing Lines so special, because all I had to do was log in to Blogger and figure it out--easy--and we have a platform. A man of credentials no less than Chris Dubble's picked up on it, on us. I think of this blog as representing a network. By what I've carefully read on getting a book published, you need various sorts of credits before an agent or publisher will take you seriously. I have plenty of credits towards my book on salmon eggs for trout, a book which ultimately will about why I think stockers are valuable despite so much flack they take from fly fishermen. (Not that I would ever argue for stocking wild trout waters.) I need more credits yet for my book of essay chapters on fishing, because this sort of book is so tough a sell that Angelo Peluso, who has books on fly fishing and a novel published in addition to numerous magazine credits, is turning to self-publication for his book of essays on fishing. I plan on trying to get novel(s) published first.
Around 2012, I began work on my novel Space Cruise. I wrote about 500 pages in six months or so. Too many pages, I fear, for a first novel. I got away from the work, and that's what it needed, because now I understand much better what intuition then led me through, so I can make the changes needed by conscious choices.
It's a period piece. The 1970's. Space Cruise. You get it. But the novel just uses the backdrop of that time's challenges to create the story of a boyhood and adolescence that descends (and certainly in some ways ascends) into madness. In the one respect, there's a dark appeal in this I hope readers will be drawn to, though they may be drawn by reviews that speak of hope, and I hope so all the more because the publishing industry is ruthless. I've read that if your first book doesn't sell, publishers may not ever consider another from you. I'm not worried about the salmon egg book. Not only will that surely do OK, judging the numbers of salmon egg post visitations on this blog, it's a fishing book, not a novel.
If I took my former writing mentor's advice, I would end my "dark" tale tragically. Ed Minus was an older man and a modernist. He is the author of the novel Kite, published by Penguin Classics. (https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/ed-minus/kite/) But I've never believed in tragedy and never will.
I've mentioned in a number of posts that I keep the better of my photos out of sight. I imagine I have another 10 years--maybe more--of shooting before I approach a publisher with three books of photos. The Raritan River System from Zarephath north, including perhaps most of the tributaries; Round Valley Recreation Area; Lake Hopatcong.
And finally, who knows. About those journals I've mentioned, which contain all sorts of stuff I'd never put on the blog. I have Curt Cobain's published journals. "You will judge," he wrote on the first page. There's a tragedy, by the way. And yet, I believe his suicide was completely unnecessary. Some might say, "How dare you judge him," but I do, with sadness. I have the journals, however, which perhaps so few read, but I have read. A man like Ed Minus, for whom I have great respect, might argue that tragedy is acceptance. Each of us dies.
But each of us lives. As I see the issue, it's a matter of which emphasis to choose. Curt Cobain isn't really gone altogether. I pick up what he put himself into--those words he wrote--and I accept the spirit present for as long as anyone reads him.
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