The Sweetest Words A Writer Can Write

"The End."

Yes. A bit more than five years after signing the contract for this book, and five years (more or less) after finally starting it (the beer book came out the same week we negotiated a contract for the meat book) and minus the two years during which I did what felt like nothing because of an arm injury ----

I'm finished.

Well, okay, more or less. Here's an insider tip: Manuscripts are NEVER "finished" until about four hours before they go to the printer. Seriously. You'd be amazed at what happens during those last few hours.

Plus, nothing's finished until the editor says so, and I just sent it to her. (As in: about ten minutes ago.)

But you get the drift: About a year from now, the manuscript I just sent will appear in public as a book. 

Am I happy? I dunno. I'm too exhausted to know if I'm happy. This has been a serious slog. And if I EVER decide to write another book this complicated, you have my permission to lock me up. Permanently.

But perhaps my life will return to normal: Lots of blog rants. More time with my family and friends. More time to cook, read, walk, hang out, etc. Plus, hey! Tomorrow I'm leaving for Florida and my first real vacation since 2008. (Am I excited about doing NOTHING but drifting in a pool for the next four days? Yes. Yes. Yes.)

But lest anyone misunderstand: I wouldn't trade the privilege and pleasure of what I do for anything. Not ANYTHING. And it is a privilege to spend my time sitting in a room thinking, reading, and writing. I never forget that. I never take it for granted.

Lou Gehrig had it all wrong: I am the luckiest person in the world.

 

Historical Tidbits: Meat. Tyson Closes the Original IBP Packing Plant

Before I hie myself back to final revisions: Today the Des Moines Register reported that Tyson Foods plans to close its slaughtering facility in Denison, Iowa. I note this for two reasons:

First, by coincidence I'm in the midst of revising the chapter in which I recount the founding of IBP and the construction of the Denison packing plant, which began operating on March 21, 1961. It was IBP's first facility, and was, at the time, a marvel of modernity. It wasn't the only such modern marvel among packing plants, but it helped push IBP to the top of the beef-packing heap just a few years later.

But second, the article is interesting (to me) for the reason that Tyson gave for the closure: The decline in local supplies of cattle.

If only Iowa cattle feeders had listened to IBP's honchos back in 1965! Four years into it, IBP executives realized they'd made a rare miscalculation: Iowa cattle feeders couldn't provide the company with enough livestock to keep the plant running at capacity.

The company drew on cattle from a four-state area, which added to its costs, so IBP's executives urged Iowans to feed more efficiently, pointing out, correctly, that they were being clobbered by cattle feeders in Texas, Colorado, Kansas, and other western states. Feeders in those states had the advantage of better climate, cheaper feed grains (primarily sorghum, which was far cheaper than corn), and a more efficient feeding system. 

That led IBP to announce plans to build a state-of-the-art, confined cattle feedlot, less because it wanted to get into feeding than because it hoped doing so would inspire/encourage Iowans to modernize their feeding practices. The response? Iowans lobbied a Congressional representative to introduce legislation that would ban packers from feeding livestock.

Several years later, IBP finally opened the feedlot, but in conjunction with Iowa State University, which operated it as a research facility. And the then-president of IPB wrote to an Iowa Senator warning, again, that if Iowans didn't move with the times, they would lose their cattle feeding industry to western feeders.

They didn't, and now they have. The whole story is more complex than that, but, hey, I gotta go finish revising that very tale, And you can read more about it when the book comes out.

Capitalism, Us/Them, and Finding the Middle Ground

Another quickie post (because, yes, I’m still working on the manuscript --- and so close to the end that I’m finally enjoying the writer’s bliss zone). (*1) But I’m taking a moment to comment on two essays I read this week. 

The first is by Alexis Madrigal writing at TheAtlantic. The second is a response to Madrigal’s piece by Rob Horning writing at The New Inquiry. 

Madrigal’s essay is about the mechanisms of online advertising tracking. Trackers “follow” you around the web, and then sell the info they’ve gathered to advertisers so that said advertisers can “target” audiences with appropriate advertising (read: with ads that will make you want to buy what they’ve got).(*2)

 Much of Madrigal’s essay is devoted to the nuts/bolts of how this works. (Fascinating stuff, by the way.) But that’s all by way of his main point: What does tracking mean for us in our “real” lives (if indeed our online lives are separable from our non-online lives)? And is tracking a bad thing? 

Madrigal’s conclusion (for now) is that it’s a necessary evil (my term, not his): Online tracking is the price, literally and figuratively, we pay so that the web/internet can remain a mostly “free” resource. The folks at the New York Times, for example, can post much of its content for free, or for a minimal price, because ad tracking helps pay for that content. In his words:

There’s nothing necessarily sinister about this subterranean data exchange: this is, after all, the advertising ecosystem that supports free online content.

In his view, the alternative to tracking is the paywall, and as far as he concerned that poses a greater danger: 

Sure, we could all throw up paywalls and try to make a lot more money from a lot fewer readers. But that would destroy what makes the web the unique resource in human history that it is. I want to keep the Internet healthy, which really does mean keeping money flowing from advertising.

Horning disagrees. (*3) In his view, Madrigal’s conclusion amounts to a sell-out (no pun intended) to “capital.” By conceding the need for tracking, we’ve ceded our “selves,” our humanity, to capital. In his (more eloquent) words:

 The question here is about what the internet is for, and whether it allows us to imagine alternatives to capitalism or simply serves to allow capital to co-opt the alternatives generated by technological development.

But one might argue that the fact that it seems as though we can’t have an internet not fueled by advertising is a sign that the internet is already unhealthy, sick unto death. And perhaps we are all sick too if we can’t imagine a way to collaborate and communicate without also commercializing it, that we need private incentives to generate and share information . . . .”

And:

 There’s nothing not sinister about that, including the alibi generated through its association with our access to “free” content. That we think its free is indicative of our delusion: We are paying for it with personal information that may be used against us in perpetuity.”

Here’s my (admittedly paltry) contribution to this discussion. Despite their differences, Madrigal and Horning agree on one point: Tracking and advertising are an us/them situation. In their view, trackers/advertisers are “them” horning their way into our lives. (Madrigal’s “us” view, I should add, is markedly more measured than Horning’s. (*4))

I disagree. In my view, capitalism is less about us/them than it is a participatory system from which all of us benefit. Let’s consider, for example, Apple, the very model of capitalism, and, thus, presumably a “them.”

Apple has been criticized lately because it manufactures its products in China under allegedly less-than-stellar conditions. (I say allegedly because it’s not clear to me that anyone involved in the discussion is being completely forthright.) A strike against Apple. (*5) But consider the other positive ways in which Apple affects our lives. Consider, for example, the iPad.

Many people spent years imagining, designing, and developing those little wonders. They got paid for doing so. Apple’s marketing people earned money thinking about how to “position” the tablet in the market. When people visit an Apple store, they enounter a crew of employees whose job it is to help them understand and perhaps buy the iPad; that a crew earns money. When you buy an iPad online, someone in a warehouse earns in income by boxing your purchase for shipping (using packaging that others earned money to design, fabricate, and deliver) so that the woman in the brown uniform and driving the brown truck can deliver it to you.

Nor do the collective benefits of the iPad end with its delivery to your door: The iPad’s success elevated Apple’s stock and so its shareholders, including myself, earned more profit from it.

That’s obvious to the point of being simple-minded. But sometimes the obvious is what gets overlooked. Capitalism is less an us/them proposition than it is a participatory system: All of us, every last one of us, profits (literally) from this system. (*6) Tracking is less an us/them equation than it is a particularly efficient mode of stoking capitalism’s engine (and a device that, yes, many people have earned incomes inventing, designing, and implementing).

So perhaps one step toward “imagining” a better web/internet, and a better capitalism, is rethinking our stance on the conflicts (we believe/imagine) it engenders.

_________________

*1: The writer’s bliss zone = the moment when he/she realizes that, wow, this is truly, finally, almost a finished work! Hey, this is going to be finished; it’s going to be a coherent whole, worthy of sharing with the rest of the world.

*2: Here’s my own recent encounter with tracking: I’ve been looking for a shoulder bag for five years and not had any luck. (I’m not that fussy, but most bags are less about practicality than about fashion, in which I’m not interested. Unless “practicality” is a fashion statement.) But about six weeks ago, I finally found one that came as close to perfection as I was likely to find. 

But it was expensive: “suggested retail price” was (if I remember correctly) $235. I found it online for $178. I’m a writer; I make shit for income. (Boy were my taxes easy to do this year!) So I was willing to wait --- for the price to come down; for a coupon; for a “sale.” 

I’ll be damned. Twelve hours after I found said bag, I was visiting some site or other --- no idea what, but probably a news-related site --- and there, at the of the page, was a banner ad, containing my bag and a hefty discount coupon. I clicked the ad, bought the bag (and set in motion the chain of events I describe in the body of my essay). 

*3: For lack of any better place to put this: Horning does not address one of Madrigal’s main points: How the hell do we pay for content? That’s a biggie.

*4: About the trackers, Madrigal writes: “None of them seem like evil companies, nor are they singular companies. Like much of this industry, they seem to believe in what they're doing. They deliver more relevant advertising to consumers and that makes more money for companies. They are simply tools to improve the grip strength of the invisible hand.”

*5: Frankly, I don’t get the criticism, especially because the critics are busy tapping out their critiques on devices, Apple or otherwise, built under similar conditions, probably while wearing clothing and shoes manufactured under similar conditions, and probably while sitting in a chair manufactured under similar conditions.

*6: At this point, many of you are rolling your eyes. “Has she never heard of Enron? Did she sleep through the stock market collapse/scandal of ‘08?” Yes, I have, and no, I didn’t. Of COURSE the system has “bad” players. Every endeavor has its shares of incompetents, devils, and bad guys. 

But it doesn’t follow, logically or otherwise, that the system is bad. I’ve experienced more than my fair share of incompetent physicians, to name one example, but they don’t make me want to toss modern medicine out the window. (Indeed, I thank the universe pretty much every day for its wonders, without which I wouldn’t be here to write this.) There are bad lawyers and evil politicians and shifty bankers. But the law, and our system of governance, and banking survive and function well because most players are good, not bad.

 

 

The Brain-Equation At Work; Or A Quickie Take On the Stuff That Makes the World Go Round

Another drive-by post because I am otherwise occupied. (*1.)

This is especially for the non-beer types --- because lotso you readers aren't into beer.

But because I'm generous -- it's a two-fer: It's for you beer types, too. Clever me.

So: In which I contemplate [briefly] passion, the creativity of daily life, and ...beer. (*2)

Chris Bowen is a beerish Facebook "friend." I've never met him. Don't know anything about him other than what's on his wall. (*3) (Viva Zuckerberg!)

Today Bowen posted a link to a short Youtube vid about him that Forbes mag shot a couple of years ago. (*4)

So I watched.

Great stuff! I enjoyed a wash of memory about what draws me me to beer folk: Passion. Passion and creativity. 

In the video, Bowen, a gifted homebrewer, expresses both.

He explains beer. And, hooray!, does so in plain language accessible to everyone, including those who don't speak beerish. And because he's a typical beer person (eg, passionate as all hell), the clip is compelling.

Jesus. Almost made me wanna start homebrewing!

Bonus? The vid also illustrates something that fascinated me when I was researching the beer book.

Brewers, by which I mean the people who concoct those vats of elixir, fall into two groups: They're either  science-y or chef-y. (*5)

As in: "Beer is fascinating science!" Or "Making beer is like cooking!"

Chris is a chef-type. Watch a similar video that featured an equally passionate, scienc-y beer person, and you'd get an equally engaging introduction from a different perspective.

Again, here's the link. If I weren't so tired, I'd go figure out how to embed the vid --- but surely you can just click the link, right?

Urgh! So much for my intention to be "quick" about it.

Oh -- Yes: feeling slightly, light-heartedly optimistic about The End.

_________________________________________

1. This ramble started out as a 20-second Facebook post --- and about 100 words into it I thought "Geez. This is what blogging is for: fun and relaxation. Time to break my rule" 

But this'll be quick because the brain is deep into constructing "the end" of the new book.

*2. (As many of you know, I don't drink much beer. Do I like and appreciate beer? YES. Am I a beer geek? No.) (Do I like beer geeks? Of course!)

And I'm not surprised beer's on my mind. My brain's in overdrive, finishing the book, but part of it is also contemplating the rigors of the creative process.

Which means, heh, the brain-equation behind this post is:

Working hard >> Creativity >> Joy of previous >> Beer people.

*3. More on Bowen: There's this website, and otherwise google "Chris Bowen beer".

*4. I feel obliged to link direct to the Forbes site, but add this: during the 20th century, Forbes dished up excellent business reportage. Have no idea what its quality is now, but it's long been one of this historian's pals. 

*5. There's also a third, more rare type: Beer is a great way to make money." NOTHING wrong with these folks. In many ways, they're the most interesting of the group. Believe me, they're doing as much if not more to bring the world good beer as, well, as the people who make the beer.

 

 

Yo, "The End"! You there??????

Or something like that. Because really, am I ever. gonna. finish. this. book?

Yes, I will. Although every time I get within spitting distance, calamity (in the form of my own stupidity) strikes and I take umpty-bazillion steps backward. 

I'm still revising the manuscript. It's all there. It's just that, well, some of the words are in the wrong order. You know?

Meantime, of course, the world rolls on, presenting me with one rant opportunity after another, and I'm resolved to ignore those opportunities. I was keeping a list of Very Important Matters On Which I Long To Rant, but the list got so long that it took over my office. 

So. The official update is: My editor doesn't even want the manuscript until March, and come hell, come high water, come Armageddon, I will get it to her then. 

Because I'm just that close and because surely there's a limit to how many times my stupidity can trip me. Right? Right????? 

See you soon!

I'm An Iowan --- And It's Time for Indecision '11

Ultra-quickie drive-by posting because I've got to get back to work. (I've got three weeks before my deadline to finish the manuscript of my new book.)

It's caucus time here in Iowa (What? You didn't know that?) and I'm faced with the weirdest set of options since I first caucused back in 1972. I can:

1. Stay home.

2. Go to the democratic caucus and stand for President Obama. You know, to affirm my support and all. (That kind of thing is important.)

3. Change my party affiliation and go to the Republican caucus and stand for Mitt Romney, on grounds that if President Obama loses the election, Romney is the only tolerable alternative.

4. Change my affliliation, go to the Republican caucus, and stand for Newt Gingrich, on grounds that if he gets the nomination, he'll lose and Obama will win.

Seriously --- I can't decide what to to. Option three is the least attractive: I'm not wild about the idea of going to a caucus to support a candidate. I don't mind going as a way of helping a loser win, if you know what I mean. But supporting Romney because of he might win... I don't know.

On the other hand, in Iowa's last gubenatorial race, I did do just that in our state primary. The incumbent, Democrat John Culver, was going to lose. I could have run and beat him. So we were going to end up with a Republican governor. Republican nutcase Vanderplaats stood a solid chance of getting the nomination, which scared the crap out of me.

So I changed my party affiliation (in Iowa, independents can't vote in primaries) and voted for Terry Branstad in the primary, reasoning that I'd never forgive myself if Whackadoodle Vanderplaats won.

So --- this is sort of the same thing. But not quite. And I have the feeling that, as in '08, I won't figure out what to do until the last minute. And it'll be emotional and I'll get all weepy again. Etc. 

Such is the state of politics here in Iowa, land of skuzzy towns and methheads

And yes, I'm really and truly and definitely almost finished with the manuscript. I think I'll make the January 15 deadline. See you then!