Showing posts with label the nervous breakdown. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the nervous breakdown. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
My Face in a Trailer
I have declared myself skeptical about the marketing value of book trailers, but I do confess to getting a thrill when the filmmaker decided to shoe-horn my face into this one. Photo courtesy of my lovely daughter, who managed to hold the camera steady during all my bossing.
Labels:
beautiful anthology,
book trailer,
essays,
the nervous breakdown,
TNB
Monday, May 17, 2010
No Comment
In the future, everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes, said the famous artist whose works — lo, thirty years later — command tens of millions at auction.
In the present, everyone has fifteen opinions on everything, said the not-yet-famous author, though I’m working on it.
Well, maybe I’m not working hard enough on it. And maybe not everyone has fifteen opinions. Just those who inhabit the land of the comment culture.
In the comment culture, writers write things and readers are not content to appreciate another point of view without sharing their own. They post a comment, and sometimes the writer comments back, and sometimes this goes on for a while, and the comment count gets run up.
In the present, everyone has fifteen opinions on everything, said the not-yet-famous author, though I’m working on it.
Well, maybe I’m not working hard enough on it. And maybe not everyone has fifteen opinions. Just those who inhabit the land of the comment culture.
In the comment culture, writers write things and readers are not content to appreciate another point of view without sharing their own. They post a comment, and sometimes the writer comments back, and sometimes this goes on for a while, and the comment count gets run up.
Labels:
Cadaver Blues,
commenting,
essays,
fiction,
the nervous breakdown
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