Miller/Coors Redux

I've had a few days to ponder the Miller/Coors merger (or "collaboration). Here's my outsider's long view ("long" as in the historical perspective).

This story won't have a happy ending. Plenty of beermakers have gone after number one -- and failed. Indeed, both Miller and Coors took a run at Anheuser-Busch in the 1970s. Neither succeeded in the goal of toppling A-B. It's unlikely they'll succeed this time.

If I'd been running the joint, here's what I would have done: reinvented myself as a beermaker with deep roots in the nineteenth century (after all, there are only a handful of American breweries whose histories reach back that far) and in my region (in the case of Miller, the midwest; in the case of Coors, the far west). At least then they'd have had an identity. As things stand, their only clear role/identity/image is as an also-ran. Which is a shame. There are plenty of people at both companies who have worked so hard to make good beer.

Let's hope they still can.

Work, Fame, and Other Things

There's an essay worth reading in the 5-13-2007 issue of the New York Times Magazine: "Sex, Drugs, and Updating Your Blog," by Clive Thompson.

Here's the link. If you don't want to register at the Times in order to read it, here's the gist: Some young musicians today are using the internet to build their fanbase by blogging, posting music for free, and building a presence at MySpace and other internet sites.

That's obviously not news. What sets this essay apart is Thompson's focus on the flip side of that self-promotional coin: when the strategy succeeds, it becomes a double-edge sword, and the fame a burden: Too many people demanding too much of one's time. Hundreds of emails that the musician feels obliged to respond to, a task that devours his or her day. Too much closeness ("intimacy") with fans, who assume and expect you will respond to their every suggestion, every demand, every email.

It's an unusually thoughtful piece and it affirms my belief that this blogging/MySpace thing ain't all it's cracked up to be. And that they're deadly traps that can ensnare the unwary.

Don't get me wrong. I LOVE hearing from people who've read my work. I.m nearly ecstatic when I hear from a reader who has taken the time to read one of my books. I enjoy using this space to spout off about whatever bug I currently have up my ass.

But there's a limit to how much time I can spend online. Why? Because I have work to do. I have a book to write. And it's not clear to me how anyone can spend hours answering email, finding "friends" at MySpace (yes, even this old fogie knows what MySpace is); trying to get noticed at YouTube, etc. -- and still get any work done. Or, more accurately, I COULD spend part of the day working and the rest building a "fan base" -- but if I do, then what happens to my "life"? I have a husband, two fabulous stepdaughters, an amazing son-in-law. A mother. Friends (the 3-D kind, not the online kind) (although I have some of those, too).

So let's say I spend part of the day working on my new book and the rest online trying to become both rich and famous. (Because let's be honest: musicians, writers, and others cultivate their online presence so that they can sell whatever it is they have to offer so they can make dough and become famous-in-their-field and sell even more of whatever it is they have to offer and make even more dough.)

But where would I find time for the rest of my life? For walking. Talking with my husband. Hanging with friends. Enjoying my family. Watching old movies and "The Sopranos" (which is crucial to my quality of life). Making love. Eating. Cooking. Sitting in a quiet place.

Answer: I wouldn't. My life would consist of a keyboard and monitor. A younger person, one more attuned to the virtual world, would say "So what's the problem? Being online IS life." And that's a legitimate response. But it's not the response I choose.

It comes down to this: I can write books and have the kind of life I want. Or I can write books and try to become famous by cultivating an online life, spending hours each day in frantic self-promotion (again, let's be honest)

Again, don't get me wrong. Self-promotion is utterly crucial to success in publishing. Utterly and totally crucial. I've promoted the hell out of the beer book. But eventually I stopped because I had to get on with my work: I need to -- want to -- write another book. And the only way that will happen is if I disengage from a large part of the world around me, deposit my ass in a chair, usually at a library or archive, and get busy.

I spent five years working on the beer book. My new project, a history of meat in America, will take about as long. And that's me working more or less fulltime on it, with "time off" to spend with family, friends, and myself. (Which is why my blogging borders on the non-existent). (Indeed, I'm posting this piece today only because I'm about to go on vacation and am taking the day off to prepare.)

So yes, "fame" and "success" represent a trade-off. If you do what you love, and become "successful," you run the risk that you won't have time to do what you love because you'll be too busy being successful. This has happened to several writers I know: they self-promote because they want to make money, achieve some kind of "success," only to discover that, well, they're making money but no art. Or thanks to the random churns of the universe, their book hits a bestseller list (and most bestsellers are flukes) and are inundated with demands on their time and frustrated because those demands cut into their workday.

So, sure, I could go the self-promotion- internet route, blogging constantly, working the virtual halls of MySpace, chat rooms, writers' forums, Gather.com, whatever. I'd probably be better-known than I am now and would certainly sell more books. (Although even that's a crapshoot: the average Jane on the street doesn't realize that writers earn money from sales of new books.) Instead, I choose to do what I love. Fame will have to wait.

Beer = Passion

From Crookedtimber.org, here's a great example of people's passion for and about beer. Thanks to Antimeta for the link. One minor correction to Daniel Davies' blog piece: In 1876, Budweiser was owned by Carl Conrad. It was brewed on contract by his friend Adolphus Busch, the mastermind at Anheuser-Busch. A-B only acquired the brand/trademark and outright ownership in 1891.

On a related note (beer = passion), last week I spoke at a regional meeting of the Master Brewers Assocation of America in New Ulm, Minnesota (home of Schell Brewing, the nation's second oldest brewing company). As always, I met with and spoke to an amazing group of people: talented, smart, funny-bordering-on-hilarious. We toured the brewery and heard about Schell's attempts to create a plastic container for beer. The folks there have my admiration -- and sympathy: as the history of canned beer demonstrates, it ain't easy to "contain" beer. Researchers spent a quarter of a century trying to figure out how to can it. I have no idea how long it will take to capture beer in plastic. Eventually we gathered back at the tour center for the group's business meeting and my talk about beer's history.

Then it was time for the main event: eating, talking, laughing, telling stories. Enjoying the moment, the grand spring evening, and the beer. Toward the end of the evening, I was sitting with a small group that included Ted Marti, the brewery's president. Mark Sutred, founder-president of Summit in Saint Paul, came to the table to say his good-byes. He shook hands all 'round, then leaned down, embraced Ted's shoulders, and kissed him on the cheek. A rare display for an American man, but a typical expression of friendship and affection for the people who work in the brewing industry. Made my night!

Oh, groan -- Part II

Sigh. Jay Brooks is a great guy and his blog is eminently readable. But, Jay, why oh why didja have to use the image of the big-boobed woman in the can’t-breathe-tight dress? And then add a caption noting, wink wink nudge nudge, that all of us readers would be happy that you did? (For those of you just tuning in, see his entry for March 9 titled “Here’s to Beer Alive and ... Well, Here Comes Phase 2.")

Please. Gimme a break. It’s 2007, not 1957. I’ll say one thing about the guys behind “Beer Advocate" magazine: So far the magazine’s covers have been paragons of good taste and restraint. Not a single big-busted blonde to be seen. At least they’re giving potential readers credit for possibly being something other than male -- and for believing that their male readers might think with something other than their dicks. Which is why I’m actually paying money to read “Beer Advocate." Now if the rest of you “guys" would get with the program.........

Readers/listeners are grand!

I've been doing interviews for about two months, and I just realized today that I've made the icky mistake of taking for granted one of the best parts of this whole gig: Namely, feedback from listeners and readers.

A case in point are the two comments about the previous blog post (about homebrewers): smart, savvy, cogent comments from people who've read the book or heard an interview. You have no idea how much I appreciate the fact that someone, anyone!, would take the time to let me know they've been listening ore reading, and that they were interested enough to ask questions or add some feedback. (This includes, of course, all the amazing emails I've had from people around the country.) One of the great things about the internet is that it makes this kind of interaction so much easier for all of us. I only wish we could all sit down and have a beer together.

Again, my sincere thanks to all of you. (And shame on me for not saying it sooner!)

Parking lots

This has nothing to do with anything -- but WHAT is the deal with parking lot design these days????????? Is it the refuge of drop-outs from urban planning programs?

There's one lot here in Ames that was my first encounter with Parking Lot Hell: short, curvy entrance (and only one entrance) with a sharp left turn onto a too-narrow strip of road that takes vehicles into and back out of the lot itself.

But during this book tour the past six weeks, I encountered one horrible parking lot after another, all of them in new or newish shopping centers (which is where I could find bookstores so I could sign copies of my book). Driving lanes barely wide enough for two cars. Entrances that double as exits and entirely too narrow for either purpose. Narrow boxy lots that can't possibly handle the traffic roaming in and out. And not nearly enough parking spaces for the center itself, which means that at any given moment, dozens of cars are zooming in and out of these too-narrow, too-small lots as drivers hunt for elusive spaces to deposit themselves and their cars.

I really don't get the rationale behind the designs. If the idea is to provoke people into leaving their cars at home and walking to the shopping centers, well, that won't work because in most places there aren't a lot of residential areas nearby and even if there were, pedestrians would have to negotiate six or eight lanes of traffic on foot just to get into the shopping area. And if you're an avid pedestrian like me, you KNOW how dangerous that is (because most suburban areas are designed for cars, not people on foot.......)

Okay, enough of this rant. But really -- who is designing these things????????? Or -- wait -- maybe no one is. Maybe engineers and traffic planners are now using computers to do this: they feed in the number of shops, the number of expected shoppers per day, and let the computer design the lot. Surely that's the explanation. Because no rational human being could be designing these things.