Exhibit 12.5

Okay, I said I was done with politics, but I can't help it. I have thoughts. I'm doing my best to keep them to myself, but I can't do that any more than I can stop writing the word 'I' in these three sentences I have written here on this blog I do.

I promise this is the last one for awhile.

I've read a lot of reaction to the Palin speech and this is the one that takes the most realistic, balanced view, in my, admittedly biased, opinion:

http://jamesfallows.theatlantic.com/archives/2008/09/sarah_palin.php

I think last night was bad for the Republicans and they just don't know it yet. They already had support from something like 90% of Republicans. How much higher can they really go in the polls with speeches like that? Losing that video hurt--a lot. Giuliani's speech ending up in prime time hurt--a lot. Sure, they'll probably come out of this tied or close to it in the polls--which is normal for a convention--but why they continue to think this country wants bitterness and sarcasm is beyond me. Do they really think people don't know who has been in charge during the last eight years? The culture of Washington that they are attacking is something they've never taken the time to distance themselves from. Having a bunch of cowboy hat waving whities chanting, "Drill, baby, drill," on national television is a disaster no matter how well spoken the speaker is.

Suddenly, that quote from McCain's campaign manager that "This race is not about issues." is massively important. I'm no expert, but if McCain thinks they are going to win a personality contest with a modern, massively popular candidate they're out of their minds. Let me help them out a little on this one:

Vaguely racially charged line mocking community organizing to (again) cowboy hat waving whities: Cheers, hat waving, hooting, hollering.

Vaguely racially charged line mocking community organizing to auto industry worker in Saginaw: Boredom, confusion, maybe resentment.

God help McCain if he busts out a line like that at a debate because Obama's response is so easy and could be delivered with such blistering condescension that it would be palpable. Here, let me take a stab at it:

"John, community organizing is what people do to lift up their communities, to help their fellow Americans, when they lose their jobs during Republican administrations. You can mock the work I did helping auto plant workers who'd lost their jobs to factories overseas, but I think if you asked any of those people I helped, or any of the people who were fed by neighborhood churches instead of FEMA after Hurricane Katrina, they'd tell you what I'm going to tell you right now: making a difference isn't about tearing people apart, it's about bringing them together. It's a lesson you and George W. Bush apparently haven't learned yet, but the Americans I've met across this country have."

That sentiment, if not the words, is a clear winner over McCain's position which seems to be asking the country to hate Obama more than they hate McCain. Maybe that worked against Kerry, but this is a very different candidate in a very different year. At some point the hat wavers go back to their McMansions in Texas and they're going to realize that actual voters looking for answers to their problems are the ones they've really been talking to and the only thing they've heard is, "He has no executive experience. He hates America. When is the elitist media going to treat us fairly? Am I right?"

Not this year.

Exhibit 11.11

I've officially done this blog for an entire year now. When I started, I told myself I'd do it for a year and see how it went. As it would be a shame to disappoint the two people who read this nonsense, I'm going to keep going indefinitely.

There have been so many memories. Remember that time I did that thing with the Robert Creeley poem? Or posted a picture of Brett? Or railed against The Magician's Assistant? Yep, it's been one crazy year.

It's tough to say what my favorite post is, but it's hard to beat this one, frankly.

Exhibit 9.23

Well, this seems about right:

Police: Man kicks in door, gets assaulted

I wish it were my job to come up with headlines like that.

Exhibit 4.16

Countdown to GRE Literature Subject Test.

Days left until test: 2

One sentence long plot synopsises of fake Restoration-era comedies:

The Turn of the World, or, The Good Daughter
Mrs. Tinworthy, a widower, wants to marry her daughter Rosalind off to the wealthy but aged bachelor Count Fritzhughes whose second oldest son, Bensen, has been secretly having an affair with the rosy-cheeked Rosalind with the help of her maid Benvolia who, unbeknown to all but Mrs. Tinworthy, is actually the deceased Mr. Tinworthy's sister and rightful heir to the Tinworthy fortune which Bensen is actually after when he proposes marriage to Rosalind, an act which causes Mrs. Tinworthy, fearing an impoverished life for her daughter, much consternation until Count Fritzhughes unexpectedly proposes marriage to her, thus securing the Tinworthy's prospects.

The Orphan Child
An orphan discovers he is actually not an orphan at all, marries.

The Tinker of Piazza
Don Julio is the father of three daughters (Maria, Sophia, and Isabella) who he has, with some success, engaged to three rich but clownish suitors (Fernando, Leonardo, and Gizzeppi) and everything is fine until a poor metal worker, hired to repair the candelabra which is to be the centerpiece of the wedding banquet, arrives and begins to seduce the daughters one-by-one while also winning increasingly large sums of money by besting the suitors with his cleverness in a series of challenges organized by Don Julio who is trying to embarrass the tinker in order to win back the hearts of his daughters for the rich suitors yet ultimately comes to see the hollowness of the suitors who are thrown from the house so that the tinker may choose his bride from among the sisters though ultimately he chooses only the repaired candelabra which he takes back to his beloved Chastia as a sign of their love.

Exhibit 3.12

So Stephen King has an essay in The New York Times about the short story. You can read it here (at least for the moment). I'd like to imagine someone writes an article like this every day. Some writer who is frustrated by the lack of the impact, other than that sweet C.V. credit, each of their published stories has. Some writer who feels conflicted about writing short stories when there are novels and screenplays and blog posts to be written. Some writer who then sits down and writes a short story.

Well, consider this as close as I'm going to get.

The short story isn't dead. It isn't being killed. It isn't, as King says, not "well." The short story gets about what it deserves, honestly, which is to be read by those that write them. It's hard to imagine what's wrong with that, but King seems to think that writers only read other writers in order to "get an idea of what sells." King laments this as "copping-a-feel" reading, but from my perspective it's a rare misstep by the usually self-effacing King which somehow ends up insulting both writers and readers.

Here's the thing: short stories don't sell. If The New Yorker were to accept one of my stories tomorrow, the transaction would be less like selling a car and more like winning a school raffle (incidentally, I would totally sell my car to The New Yorker if they're interested). The short story simply isn't a commodity anymore--nor was it probably ever--so it's naive of King to suggest that most (or any) writers spend their time working on short fiction in order to become famous or even get a little cash. Then, frustrated when they are unable to do so, give up or start pandering to what's popular. As no short fiction is popular, this seems particularly absurd.

I can tell you from the stacks of envelopes I opened while working at a journal and the stacks of envelopes I send out myself, the short story is certainly not hurting for writers and so should not be hurting for readers. That many of these writers don't read (and, more importantly, subscribe) to every journal they submit to is no doubt a cause of great concern for those journals' editors, but it hardly signals the end of the short story. Rather, it means writers (and journals) should reassess what kind of fiction they seek practice. Once we stop lamenting that short fiction isn't in the Saturday Evening Post, maybe we can finally stop seeking Saturday Evening Post short fiction.

(My favorite part about King mentioning the SEP is that it completely ignores the fact that the publication has ceased to exist at all. I'd like to think that this week the Washington Post or whoever will publish an article by a famous painter bemoaning the state of hyper-American, realist magazine cover art. Then, on some snooty art blog no one reads, someone else will write a post about how we should be happy that anyone still does hyper-American, realist magazine cover art. My guess is that this happens once a year for every single part of the Saturday Evening Post, including the recipes section).

King begins to make the point in the article that it's the stories that are bad, but by the end of the article he backs off this point in favor of a fairly broad critique of our short-fiction-ignoring culture. (Or, perhaps more accurately, King suggests it's the culture that leads to bad short stories. In any case, King doesn't seem willing to blame the writers). But again, this seems almost nonsensical to me as it is nearly impossible to imagine a writer being self-interested enough to care that their work will bring little financial benefit yet self-destructive enough to waste their time anyway.

It's interesting that some of the writers King chose for this year's Best American were writers who have had much more success with their short fiction than with their novels. If anyone should be bitter, it's probably a writer like Jim Shepard who everyone seems to know is great but can't get the recognition he deserves. Still, it's hard to argue that there was a time when short stories alone could make a writers' reputation. Sure, there's Flannery O'Connor and John Cheever and Raymond Carver. But we have Aimee Bender and George Saunders, not to mention dark horses like the previously mentioned Mr. Shepard. They may not ultimately get the respect of the former, but when it comes to dedicated short story writers, no generation has had more than one or two cross-over to the mainstream anyway.

None of this is meant to be an attack on Stephen King, who I can say without embarrassment showed me what it meant to be a writer in On Writing. But I do think there is a disconnect of status--not to even mention the generational disconnect--that leads him to his conclusions. Why get upset about what's at B&N? There are still hundreds of venues for short fiction in this country alone and that's without considering online journals (or anonymous pamphlets).

As with most things, poets have done a much better job of creating venues that cater to poet/readers. Breaking down the distinction between the reader and the writer for short stories is the first, and easiest, step for writers in a position of power (like King) to be making. Instead of acting like any writer who reads a short story is some grubby-handed molester, we should try to cultivate stories that do things writers admire. Not surprisingly, writers will admire many different things, which is how a dead, dying, "not well" form like the short story can be vital.