Crowdsourcing Is Us

Or not. (I'm not such a fan of the whole "let's crowdsource this book" thing.) But: how's about the title? For my last book, I came up with what I thought was a great title: descriptive, indicative of thesis, etc. Got rejected (a fact I did not learn until the publisher sent me a copy of the book jacket. Lo and behold, a new title...)

So this time around, I decided to play it safe: Go with simple, straightforward, to the point. As in: MEAT: AN AMERICAN HISTORY. (Using all caps for titles in a publishing/writing convention.)  

And yesterday, after my editor read the Wall Street Journal article in which I was mentioned, she emailed me to say, in effect, "not sure I like that title. We need something that conveys the 'argument.'" [UPDATE: the link may or may not work. WSJ has a paywall, but I grabbed a link from Google cache. If you google Dizik and kangaroo, you'll probably be able to find a free version.]

Sigh.

Anyway, new title. Whaddya think, folks?

The title I slapped on the proposal that my agent used to sell the book was: IN BEEF WE TRUST: MEAT AND THE MAKING OF AMERICA. Apparently the editor sort of likes that, although she came up with a slightly different subtitle: AMERICANS, MEAT, AND THE MAKING OF A NATION. (And, yeah, that's better than my in-thirty-seconds version.)

My second title, after I'd started working on the book, was: CARNIVORE NATION: MEAT IN THE MAKING OF AMERICA. (Crucial difference in the subtitle is using "IN" rather than "AND." Small but crucial difference.)

I liked it so much that I bought the domain name (carnivorenationDOTcom), which I've since let go because thought I wouldn't be using it. And, frankly, it smacks of coattails (eg, FAST FOOD NATION, OMNIVORE'S DILEMMA), so as far as I'm concerned, it's a non-starter.Problem with IN BEEF WE TRUST IS that the book isn't only about beef, so it's a bit misleading.

Today I thought of: E PLURIBUS CARNIVOROUS: AMERICANS, MEAT, AND THE MAKING OF A NATION. Which I kinda like.

So. Thoughts? Ideas?

STILL Peddling . . .

. . . as fast as I can. Specifically: Now researching more deeply into the "recent" past so I can write about 10,000 more words on the whole organic-local-alternative meat system that has emerged in the past ten or fifteen years. I'd written a significant chunk of text devoted to those topics, but The Editor --- also known as She Who Must Be Obeyed --- wanted a full chapter. Sigh.

So. With any luck (translation: I don't fall into an abyss of despair or lose my mental faculties --- and there are days when I feel as though that's about the happen) (okay, who am I kidding? I feel like that EVERY day . . . ) I'll be finished with this new text in another seven to ten days. And just about then TE (aka SWMBO) will return the manuscript to me with another round of "Oh, this is so GREAT! But --- rewrite the entire thing."

Yes, this is the part where the word "endless" resonates mightily. But I AM getting there. Slowly.

Meanwhile, of course, the election has ended and my worst fears were not realized. On election day, I had occasion to go back to blog entries I'd written in November 2008, which reminded me all over again of just how much I love the blog as a medium for communication. I so want to get this manuscript out of my life so I can get back to regular blogging. Although: fair warning: my brain is already busy thinking about the next book. And I've been thinking about how to use the blog to work through ideas for it.

NOT, I hasten to add, that I intend to be one of those "let's write this book together" authors. Ya know, the ones who post a chapter or section and ask readers to improve it. Please. Ain't gonna happen here, folks. But I do want to continue thinking about and exploring ideas there that will provide the core of the next book (or so I hope), ideas that, I've realized over the past few months, I've already tried sketching here without realizing that a book might come from them.

So. That's what's what here: Almost finished. Almost, but not quite. (Life has this way of getting in my way. I've spent three of the past four weekend in airports, for god's sake. That's does NOT further the cause of finishing the book.) On another, and unrelated note, this article in today's Wall Street Journal contains a quote from me. Enjoy!

I shall return.

I’m Peddling As Fast As I Can; Or, That Slice of Heaven-and-Hell Known as “Revisions”

For those who are wondering --- and I understand if no one is (it’s a big world; lotso other stuff about which to wonder): Yes, I’m still working on the manuscript, and yes, I’m almost finished. Truly. I am finally --- FINALLY --- down to the end.

As in: Stretch your arms as far apart as they’ll go. That’s where I started. Now hold your thumb and index finger as close together as you can without them touching. That’s where I am now.

Whew. And: YAY!

But: I’m currently at that almost-the-end stage of the process known as “revisions.”

Whenever a writer says “I’m revising,” those who work in the business (other writers, agents, editors, whoever) nod knowingly and say, with sympathy, “Ohhhh. Good luck!” Emphasis on the sympathetic tone of voice.  

For those who don’t work in the biz, revisions go like this:

First the writer writes the manuscript, in my case a 100,000-word piece of non-fiction based on five years of research. Said writer writes the whole damn thing: Introduction! Chapters! Epilogue if there is one!

And then emails her editor and says “Remember me? The history-of-meat person? I’m finished!” (*1)

And the editor says “Great! Send it along. Let me take a look.”

And six or eight weeks later, give or take a month or two, the editor calls or emails and says “Oh, this is such great stuff! Wow. I’m so impressed! But . . . .”

That’s the abracadabra, not-so-secret word that unlocks the gate that leads to hell: “But . . . .”

The editor articulates that “But” in the form of pages (and pages and pages . . .) of comments and notes --- always emphasizing what a trooper the writer is and what great work this is --- “But:

Please re-write the entire manuscript. And add a new first chapter, and I think the last chapter isn’t really the last chapter, so write a new last chapter.

And so, dear readers, the writer begins her descent into that small slice of hell known as Revisions.

Translation: My poor abandoned blog sits idle and neglected because I’m rewriting the entire manuscript and writing a new first chapter and a new last chapter, the latter of which will likely require still more research, all of which is driving me slowly but inexorably insane.

The good news, however, is that I’ve been revising since June and I’m now down to the penultimate chapter (I’ve always wanted to use that word but never had a reason to until now). Hooray!

But of course once  I've revised the entire manuscript (and written those two new chapters), I'll return to word one, page one and --- start over! This time in order to examine every. single. word. to ensure that all 100,000 are engaging and lively rather than stilted and dead. (*2)

And I need to have it finished by the third week of October because the house is putting together its catalog for Fall 2013, which is when my book will come out, and so the editor and the VERY IMPORTANT sales and marketing departments need to see the manuscript so they can add their two cents to the project because no book goes out without input from sales and marketing and that’s when titles get changed and the author doesn’t even know it until the book jacket design shows up in her inbox and she discovers that the title she slaved over no longer exists but hey that’s life and I’m not complaining. (*3) (*4)

So. That’s what I'm up to. I shall return.

_______________________________

*1:  Okay, hyperbole: My editor  knows who I am. I am extraordinarily fortunate to work with her. (See also *4 below.) She understands that long, complex pieces of work take, ya know, a long time to create.

*2: The payoff for this insanity is moments like this one: When the beer book came out in the fall of 2006, I did a ton of interviews (aimed at persuading people to read the book) and during one of them --- a hilarious phone sit-down with two beer guys ---- one of the guys said “Well, this wasn’t that hard, right? I mean, the story and facts were all there and all you had to do was write it down, right?” After I was through howling, first with laughter and then with tears, I knew I’d succeeded: If I made five years of blood, sweat, and lotsa tears look THAT EASY, well, by god, I’d done my job! (Because, in case you missed my point, neither the facts nor the story were “there.” I had to go find the facts [which took three or four years] and then make sense of them and then turn them into a “story” [which took another year or two].

*3: Which is why, ahem, this time around I came up with a blunt, straightforward title to which no one could object and which no potential reader could POSSIBLY misinterpret.

*4: Seriously. I’m not complaining. The self-publishing crowd thinks that traditional-publishing  dinosaurs like me should throw ourselves off the nearest tall building because it’s just SO EASY!! to crank out a book and whip up a digital file and put it on Amazon and make zillions of dollars and why would anyone want to deal with traditional publishing houses and editors because among other things traditional publishing just takes so. fucking. long. and why wait a year when you can publish an e-book RIGHT NOW?.

I disagree. Quality takes time. And in my case, a LOT of time because I do all of my own research and writing. I have no paid assistants. So there’s one benefit of traditional publishing: My publisher paid me an “advance” that, in effect, subsidized much of the cost of creating this book. (My beloved husband provided another chunk of “subsidy.”) But I also enjoy the input of a professional editor --- the one who read the manuscript said “Okay, it’s not bad but let’s make it better. Here’s how.”

The benefit of that extra set of eyes and perspective is, literally, priceless. Everything I’ve ever published has gone through the mind of an editor who marked it up in red pencil or digital “ink” and the work has ALWAYS, without exception, been improved immeasurably thanks to the editor’s input.

And yes, it increases the time needed to move a book from idea to published work -- not least because mine is not the only book coming out of the house. I have to wait my turn for the attention of the editor, the copyeditor, the jacket designer, etc. It’s worth it.

What I Learned on the Mountain

How's that for a dramatic title? And truth be told, it's not so much that I learned as that I was reminded of what I already knew: a) I'm not now and never have been the center of the universe, because said universe is so much bigger than me; b) ordinary people are extraordinary; c) when push come to shove, those ordinary folks come through, including this ordinary person. (*1) (Translation: I didn't fall off the mountain, break any limbs, or give up.

Background:

I don't like to travel, but when I force myself to do so, I don't regret it and I return home a better person. (*2) My husband, however, lives to travel (that's not a typo), so we rarely vacation together (one of the three secrets to a happy marriage). (*3) And I don't vacation much, period. (My last true vacation was in 2008 when we went hiking in Moab. And it wasn't much of a vacation: I was sick the whole time with, as I found out later, pneumonia.)

And The Husband (as we shall henceforth identify him) (he IS a real person) is fascinated by what he calls "monumental architecture": think Angkor Wat, Mesa Verde, anything by Gaudi, Borobudur, etc.   

Naturally he wanted to visit Machu Picchu, and naturally  (and as always) he asked me if I wanted to go with him.

And naturally I dithered, hemmed, and hawed. Until I read about Mountain Lodges of Peru and thought "HEY! If I know where I'm going to sleep and eat every day, and I'm hiking with a guide, I'll go. After all, I love hiking and silence, so what the heck?"

And that, dear friends, is how I found myself struggling to climb and cross a mountain pass 15,000 miles up in the Andes. (Please note: I've lived my entire life at 1,000 feet above sea level.)

Thus My Great Vacation: Six days of hiking up, down, across, and through various valleys, meadows (okay, ONE meadow), mountain passes (okay, okay, ONE mountain pass), ravines, and so on and so forth, all the while trying to a) breathe (did I mention I live at 1,ooo feet above sea level?); b) not fall (here's how to trek downhill when the path is nothing but loose rock: grip your trekking poles and GO. Fast. Don't think. Just move. Your feet will cooperate. Move slowly and you're bound to tumble); and c) enjoy the view and the moment.

The "view" included the two photos above, and ranged from this

to this

to this

Was it difficult? Ohmygodyes.

Was it worth it? YES.

One reason, one BIG reason, was the people. We traveled with ten other trekkers, all total strangers, plus two guides (plus a bunch of "wranglers" who carried our bags and food). My ten trek mates were amazing. Every one of them. That's what I mean about "ordinary" people: we were just a bunch of random people, thrown together, but those other ten (plus my husband) proved to be people of extraordinary heart and compassion and empathy and courage and determination. I was humbled and awed by all of them, and grateful for their company and good cheer.

Then there was the trek itself. Hands down, this was the hardest thing I've ever done. Physically, it was brutal (again, I live at 1,000 feet above sea level. Trekking at 15,000 feet ain't easy....) And because it was so physically difficult, it was also mentally challenging.

On the other hand ---- what's not to like about no noise, few people, spectacular scenery? THE smartest decision I made was to "unplug" for the duration: On August 25th, the day we left, I read a couple of newspapers on the plane. But after that, and until September 6th, no TV, no radio, no phone, no iPad/computer, no web. (The lodges were wired, as were our hotels, but I stayed away from the computers.) Glorious! I highly recommend it.

And being unplugged led to a singularly odd experience: I literally was unable to figure out what day it was. Which led to a comical exchange on Sept. 6th, when we arrived at the Miami airport on the way back to Iowa. As had been the case in Lima, our plane was delayed and we were going to be sitting in Miami for some (unknown) number of hours. So I thought "Meh. Almost home. I think I'll read the Times." (*4)

So I go to the nearest newsstand where I find the newspaper rack, which is in the process of being restocked by the newspaper-stocking guy.

I stand and stare at the stack of New York Times papers.

Me to no one in particular: "Is this today's paper?" (Because honestly, I had no idea what day it was.)

Newspaper guy (and without missing a beat): "Wow. That must have been some vacation."

And it was.

You can see more photos here. (I only own a point-and-shoot, which I bought for this trip, so the pix I took aren't fabulous. The second album in the set, however, contains some astounding photos taken by one of my trek mates.)

_____________

*1:  By which contradiction I mean that most humans ARE ordinary, right? By definition, most of us are average. We can't be and are not all Steve Jobs or Mother Theresa. But: "ordinary" human beings are extraordinary in their capacity for compassion, courage, empathy, love, and laughter, and my trek mates provided all of that in spades.

*2: What I dislike about travel is precisely that on which travel aficionados thrive: chaos.

*3: The three are: separate vacations, double sinks, and ear plugs.

*4: After reading the newspaper cover to cover, I was not surprised to learn that nothing earth shattering had taken place during the previous 11 days. And when I got home, all those accumulated emails amounted to, well, not much of anything . . . . because the world goes on, ya know?

I Am . . .

Not here. I'm there. Out of the country and nowhere near anything digital. I'll return in early September. Here's hoping I don't fall off a mountain.

Yep, It's Time to Revisit the "Basics"; Or, I'm A Historian, Folks, A Historian

Apropos my comments as reported in yesterday's Los Angeles Times: Once again, it's time to remind readers (and myself . . . ) what's what here at the ol' blog and in the ol' professional life. Short version: I'm a historian. Historians spend their time thinking about the past; trying to understand "what happened"; and taking the Long View of the Big Picture.

And that's pretty much the beginning, the middle, and the end of what I do. I write history.

"Pretty much," but not entirely.

My work as a historian includes a delightful bonus: During the course of my research, I learn a great deal about my subject, and that knowledge informs my view of both the past AND the present.

So when a reporter calls to ask me about "current events," I'm qualified to do two things.  

First, I offer historical context on those events. For example, I told the reporter from the LAT that definitions and the technology of "humane" slaughter have changed over time; that Congress has weighed in on the subject from time to time.

Second, if the reporter asks me to do so, and if I have an informed opinion, I also weigh in on whatever current situation prompted the reporter's phone call, in this case, the closure of a California packing plant. But my comments about the CURRENT situation are informed by my research. The opinions I express are based on what I've learned from that research.

Let me rephrase that: My opinions are my own. I'm not paid by anyone or any company or any organization. I don't represent any group, company, organization. I'm on no payroll.

It's worth reiterating the source of my opinions: When I work on a book, I amass facts, information, and knowledge (such as it is). I use that information, insight, and knowledge to shape my opinion about "what  happened" in the past and what's happening now.

Here's one example: When I wrote the beer book, I (naturally) spent a lot of time and energy thinking  about alcohol in general and its place in American society. As a result of that thinking and study, I concluded that we Americans "enjoy" a sick relationship with booze; we demonize it and infantilize our relationship with it.

But I arrived at that conclusion after several years of studying the history of beer and booze in America. The conclusion --- my opinion --- was based on and stemmed from my research. When a reporter asks me about American's relationship with alcohol, I offer my informed opinion.

So it's been with the history of meat in America. I didn't know a damn thing about meat when I started. Knew nothing about slaughterhouses, the meat industry, what role meat has played in our diets, or how, if, and when that role changed.

More than five years later, I know a little something (okay, more than a little) about all those things. But I got there the hard way: I studied these matters and thought about them and studied some more. And arrived at conclusions. Conclusions based, again, on my work.

And when we humans have studied a subject and developed opinions about it, we often express our opinions. And sometimes our opinions are different from those held by other people. (Gee, what a profound conclusion....)

But expressing an INFORMED opinion about a matter does not mean that I'm a "shill" for one side or the other. (*1) The last thing I'm trying to do is dupe, swindle, or fool people.

And I'm here to tell you: Given how hard I work, it's disheartening to see that work confused with shilling. Alas, it happens. (*2)

Here's an example, one I've elaborated on in other contexts (not least here -- the relevant section is clear at the end, so you can skip most of the essay):

When the beer book came out, some beer geeks concluded that Anheuser-Busch funded my work on the book and that I was a "shill" for Big Beer. (They could not have been more wrong on both counts.) Why? Because I didn't write a book bashing "big beer." They don't like big beer and they assumed that a history of beer in America ought to express their view. When that book did not, its author was denounced as a shill.

Again, I'm a historian. (Maybe if I just keeping saying and writing that sentence, people will get my point??? I can hope.) As I noted here:

I didn’t write Ambitious Brew in order to “take sides.” I wrote the book because I thought the history of beer in America would enrich my understanding of what it means to be an American. Period. End of story. It never occurred to me to “take sides.”

So, too, with the meat book. I'm not a shill (unless, apparently, you disagree with me). I'm a historian who has spent the past five-plus years doing immersed in the history and culture of meat in America. Do I have some opinions? You bet. Am I willing to express them? You bet. Will I continue to do so? Yes.

I hope you will, too --- and I plan to greet your opinion with respect, and to distinguish your informed opinion from shilling. Because there's a BIG difference between those two things.

____________________

*1:  This business of denouncing someone as a "shill" simply because that person disagrees with you. Where the hell does that come from? If I'm a shill because I disagree with you, then aren't you also a shill because you disagree with me? (Think about it for a minute. Please.)

*2: I often wonder if the problem is simply this: Most Americans have NO IDEA what historians do. None. For that, I blame historians.