Hey! Non-Fiction Is Writing, Too! (And, Ya Know, Sometimes Even "Literary")

Well, well. Just as I decide that my 13-part rant/saga/ramble had run my blog brain-well dry for the week, a rant-ready topic presents itself.

Earlier today at Twitter, Rebecca Skloot noted a website that listed authors who use Twitter. So I visited the site to see what was what. Found a long list (100 authors total) --- nearly all of them fiction writers. The teensy pinch (not even, friends, enough to qualify was a handful) of non-fiction writers appeared at the end as "miscellaneous." As Tom, Dick, and Harry would say: Gimme me a fucking break.

Non-fiction is "miscellaneous"? I don't think so. Alas, however, I was not surprised. I learned several years back, when I first launched

my write-for-the-people career that many good citizens --- and fiction writers --- don't regard non-fiction as "real" writing. That point was driven home some years back when I first ventured on to the internet. I found a website devoted to reading and writing (I refrain from mentioning its name, it being a staggeringly snooty, snobby forum).

One of the forums at the site was for writers, and I was looking for company for my misery as a learning writer, so I started reading posts and trying to add posts of my own. (*1)

A discussion developed among the "regulars" about fiction versus non-fiction (nearly all of them wrote fiction). "Oh," said one woman, "I don't count non-fiction as real writing. I mean, how hard can it be? You just gather a bunch of facts and write them down."

Ouch. And ugh. (*2) Yeah, that's what I do alright. I round up a buncha pesky facts and then I just write them down on a piece of paper. You betcha. Piece  o' cake. Leaves me plenty of time for manicures, bonbons, soap operas, and other activities.

As I say: gimme a fucking break. (Yes, am going for a personal best in the number of times I use the word "fuck" in one blog entry.)

Never mind the thousands of hours spent gathering the facts. Never mind that the facts have little or no meaning until the author fashions them into a coherent narrative. Never mind the agonizing hours spent staring at the wall or prowling the dictionary and/or thesaurus struggling to find the right word. Never mind the even longer hours spent pondering arrangement of words, sentences, paragraphs into a lively narrative. Never mind . . . .

Oh, never mind. I feel soooooo much better now. By the way, the best rebuttal to inane attitudes toward non-fiction is Barbara Tuchman's essay on "verity" in her book Practicing History. (I'm pretty sure the essay is in that collection.)

_________

*1: My visits to the site didn't last long. Not long after the encounter described in the anecdote above, another new arrival commented that none of the others at the forum ever replied to or commented on her posts. One of the "regulars" informed her, and I quote "We were here first. We don't really need any newcomers." It was a public forum, for fuck's sake! 'Twas enough for me. I departed the premises. (First, however, I tried hanging around the readers' forums, because of course I'm a reader, too. Whew. Snobby? I'd never met such condescending people. Lots of use of the word "masses," typically with dripping derision, as in "Oh, Stephen King. He's not a literary writer. He writes for the masses." Or "Just read New Novel X. Brilliant prose. Not for the masses.") (I may be many things --- bitchy, foul-mouthed, opinionated --- but snobby I am not.)

*2: Insult to injury: A couple of years ago, the National Endowment for the Arts published a long study of Americans' reading habits and concluded that reading was on the decline. Its data, however, included only the reading of fiction. That's right: the analysts didn't ask people about what, if any, non-fiction they'd read. I guess someone forgot to tell them that 85% of the books published in the U.S. are, you guessed it, non-fiction. See NEA reports here and here.

Giving Attention to Attention

At my house, the subject of "attending" and "attention" come up often. (I'm married to a philosopher who specialize in philosophy of mind.)

So I was interested to see this longish essay in the New York Times about the subject of attention. The reporter interviewed Winifred Gallagher, whose new book is  Rapt. (I've read several reviews of the book, but have not yet read the book itself.)

I mention this because the reporter and Gallagher focus on a subject I've contemplated often in the past six or seven years: adjusting my work habits to accomodate an online life. Before about 2000, I wasn't all that sure what the "internet" was. I used email and had used a PC for years, but the whole online thing? Not so much.

And then I went online --- with, frankly, disasterous results in the early years. But gradually I figured out how to negotiate this new terrain, and especially relations with humans I never see in the flesh.

The biggest issue was the mental intrusion. For example, pre-internet, I just sat down in the morning and started working. I didn't have much else to do, or at least not anything as interesting as my work. I worked for hours without thinking about anything else.

And suddenly . . . there was this enticing wonderland out of there. Email. Websites. Online forums. All of it was literally screwing with my ability to concentrate.  I struggled against it for several years and finally concluded that short of moving into a cave, I was  now living in a different world and I had to learn how to cope and adjust.

So, for example, I bought a second computer. One is hooked to the internet. One is not.

I write on the "non-connected" one, and keep the "connected" one turned off when I'm writing. The point of this already longer-than-I-expected ramble is that we'd all do well to pay some attention to attention. I agree with Gallagher: "multi-tasking" is an illusion.

So take at look at the Times piece. And you might also consider reading another book on the subject, Maggie Jackson's Distracted. (I have read it and I recommend it.)

My Auto Bailout Plan STILL Sounds Good

So Chrysler is planning its bankruptcy. My plan for a Big Three Automaker Bailout, which I first suggested back in December, sounds even better now.

The "Practice" of Reading --- and Why "Design" Matters

This is a lovely, cogent essay about what happens when we read, and why the image we're "reading" matters. It explains, as it happens, why my own website looks the way it does. (I didn't write the coding, but I "designed" its appearance. There was a method to my madness.)

Tip o' the mug to the always enlightening and entertaining Alan Jacobs at Text Patterns.

Yes, I Am Writing Another Book, and No, I Don't Mind The Time-sink Beer Has Become

I started writing a reply to an email from Loyal Reader Dave who asked a good question and I decided I'd post my reply here because I think it might be relevant to other readers. (Or not.)

He wondered if it bothers me to spend so much time on beer, given that I'm writing a new book that has nothing to do with beer ( Carnivore Nation: Meat and the Making of Modern America is the working title.)

And the answer is no: It took me awhile, but I finally accepted that beer is now part of my life (although, ahem, I'm sure some beer geeks wish I would just go the hell away.) Yes, keeping tabs on the beer world takes time, but that's okay. Once I made the decision to blog regularly, I knew that might happen.

So -- be careful what I wish for.

But I'm also careful to organize my time. It may seem, for example, that I spend huge amounts of my day blogging. In fact, I spend 85 to 90 percent of my working time on the meat book, and the rest of it on beer.

Speaking of which, at some point in the next month or so, I plan to add a website page about the meat book and to start talking about it more here at the blog. I haven't said much up to now about the new book because I was still finding my footing, but that project is now far enough along that I'd like to start sharing some of what I've learned. And THANKS for reading the blog. I really do appreciate it.

Now About That "I Am A Craft Brewer" Film . . .

Okay, after being urged by Loyal Reader Dave, I watched the "I Am A Craft Brewer" film. You can see it here.

Nice piece of filmmaking. Lively, well-paced, well-filmed, and well-lit. Music aimed straight at the heart. Did what it's supposed to do: Rally the craft beer troops.

Content? Hmmm. . . . Well . . . . Hmmmmm. Astounding lack of historical perspective -- or, alternatively, "historical perspective" constructed so it matched what the filmmaker wanted to say rather than historical reality.

Once again, the drumbeat of "We are the American dream" (as if somehow the rest of us who don't make beer or earn livings by working for larger companies can't possibly represent that dream).

I was surprised that the film avoided mentioning the Big Talking Point that everyone who's anyone in craft brewing always make: The number of American craft brewers. Craft brewers love to roll out the numbers. "We are 1489 strong!" they say. (Or whatever the current number is. Just under 1500.)

Except, ya know, they're not. Because that number includes every outlet of every chain restaurant that claims to be a "brewpub."

So, for example, every Rock Bottom outlet is counted as a separate "brewery." Every Granite City outlet is counted as a separate brewery. Strip those down to what they are --- a single brewing "company" selling its beer in a number of retail outlets --- and the number of "craft breweries" plunges. I

ndeed, it's not clear to me why those are even counted as "breweries."

But hey, it's not my organization and it's not my turf to protect. And you gotta love the tiny core of "real" craft brewers who are doing just that: honoring and protecting their turf. Now --- what was it someone in the film said about "snakeoil salesmen"?