Entry 100 — MATO2, Chapter 3.01

February 8th, 2010

Note, I’m not posting my chapters in the order they’ll be in when I publish this book, just randomly as I come across material I think will make a chapter–or across an already written chapter.  This chapter returns to my diary excerpts starting with one from a Tuesday late in October 1990.

A lady from the school system visited today’s writers’ group meeting for a while, too.  She had talked to Nell about having members of our club give talks to local high school English classes and/or creative writing clubs.  She left before I could talk with her.  I’m fairly interested in participating.  I think it’d do me good to give a talk to a creative writing club.  I now tend to think nothing much will come of it.  The lady seemed very nice but I would have thought she’d have talked to us rather than just listened if she were serious.  (Nothing ever came of this.)

Wednesday  24 October 1990  was a Red-Letter Day for me: 2 copies of the latest Kaldron arrived from Karl, and two of my visual poems were in it, “Streetscene” and “Homage to Shakespeare.”  Excellent issue, as I had already decided before finding that I’d been included in it.   A few days later I heard from Jake Berry that he had decided to use “otherstream” as the adjective of choice to describe the kind of work he and others like him do. This word did catch slightly on.  I don’t think it’s much used anymore.  Nonetheless, it’s the only one of my coinages that has made it into even minimal use by the general public.

A few weeks later I wrote a letter to Bruce Bawer, a reviewer for The New Criterion to whom I sent a copy of my book, mainly because he spoke of teaching a course devoted to the sonnet in his last piece for the New Criterion.   THE LETTER, I BELIEVE WAS ABOUT WILLIAMS’S RED WHEELBARROW.  I eventually wrote about out exchange and about the poem but (naturally) can’t find what I wrote, which I wanted to insert here.  Hence, all the caps: they are to remind me to connect this with the red wheelbarrow stuff when I finally get it into my book.

Friday  21 December 1990  I glanced at Manywhere to get an idea of how much rewriting I’d have to do for a second edition.  I didn’t find out, but in the process I started re-writing, spending twenty minutes or so on each of  the first three chapters.  They seemed quite good to me.  Just one or two spots that needed clarification.  But the chapters did seem on a higher level than I thought they were when I was writing them.  In other words, they aren’t for the average reader at all.  I had hoped they might work for such a reader, at least in spots.  I now see no way of reaching such readers with the book.  It is for the cultured.  But I still want to simplify it substantially–to make it all for cultured non-specialists instead of in part for the cultured specialist only.  I’m enthusiastic at the moment about succeeding in that.  Certainly the first three chapters shouldn’t give any intelligent cultured reader any problems.

I concentrated on getting together a second edition of my book over the next few days, finishing my revision on the first day of 1991.  Here are some of the comments I made about the revision in my diary as I worked on it:

The paragraph about Pound’s opinion of  meter gave me a lot of trouble.  I wanted to redo it pretty thoroughly but got so tangled up with the rewrite that I ended hardly changing it at all.

23 December 1990: I plowed through six more chapters of my book.  I’m now satisfied that all but the last are about as good as I can make them.  The last is close to that, but is very long so I’m sure there are a few mistakes in it I missed.

30 December 1990  I got myself going just enough to try to fix up my equaphor chapter, which I expected to be the hardest to get right.  Well, I did pretty well on it, and kept going, taking care of the next two chapters as well.  One of them was easy–simply a matter of entirely deleting it.  The other was not all that easy, but not terribly difficult, either.  It was the one with the Klee analysis in it.  That analysis is now the only thing in it.  I’m feeling quite good about the book now.  I think I’ve gotten it better.  Certainly, it is simpler, and it ought to go more smoothly.  The next problem to be solved in the insertion of my new sonnet material.  Then I just have to simplify the parts concerning pluraesthetic poetry and I’ll be done.  I doubt that I have more than a full week-end’s amount of work left to do, so I should finish it before my birthday, which would be nice.

31 December 1990  I was eager to work on my book and did some good work on it for an hour or two in the morning, but got tired and left it till 3:30 or so when I worked on it for another hour or so.  As a result I now have it organized as I want it, with passages about my work on the sonnet coming more often than they did, and structuring the whole better.  I still need to revise the final six chapters, the last one needing an especially large amount of work.  I am convinced the final product will be quite good, though.  But I’m tired of the book again so probably will leave it for a while before doing the last part of my rewrite.  I’ll be terribly disapointed, however, if I don’t have it done before my birthday.

Next day: I worked on my book on and off right up to a little while ago and finished it.  I didn’t reduce the terminology as much as I’d hoped to but got rid of probably half the neologies it had before.  The glossary now has 72 terms in it, 30 of them my coinages.  The book itself is slightly less than 57,000 words long, or about two thousand shorter than it was before.  So it has to be a smoother read.  The problem is that it will still probably seem over-arcane to most readers, even intelligent ones.  At this point I don’t see what more I can do.  But maybe I’ll think of something.

Entry 99 — MATO2, Chapter 2.07

February 7th, 2010

What follows is something I compiled from a mixture of writings I wrote about The World of Zines. Some of it may be repetitions of passages in published materials, and some may be material I deleted from articles that were too long for publication.  I may have published some of it, too, who knows.  In any case, it adds to my picture of the history of Factsheet Five.

Comments on The World of Zines

Mike Gunderloy had been active in the micro-press for some ten years when I joined his team, having then–at the age of 22 or so–founded Factsheet Five as a sort of “zine zine” specializing in reviewing other zines (a zine being a kind of periodical that is to small press magazines what the latter are to, well, Cosmopolitan or NewsWeek).  Factsheet Five was purely a hobby for Gunderloy at first.  Working out of his garage (or the equivalent), he gradually turned it into something resembling a real business, eventually having it printed by offset and getting it commercially distributed.  His last issue had a press run of over 10,000 copies.  That in itself wasn’t enough to bring him financial success.  What it did, though, was establish him as an authority on zines, which were the subject of the book Penguin signed him up for, The World of Zines.  And now he’s getting national press coverage–and making at least a little money.

According to one newspaper article on Gunderloy, at least one other editor has recently been directly absorbed from a zine into the BigTime: a fellow named Christian Gore.  Seven years ago, at the age of 19, Gore started a six-page zine on movies called Film Threat that is now a slickzine with a circulation of 125,000.  So, while the only sane reason to begin a zine is to say things, however privately, that the mainstream isn’t, dreaming of one day reaching a public of some size is not entirely irrational.

In any event, if you’re at all interested in zines–as a publisher or would-be publisher of one, or as just a reader–I highly recommend The World of Zines to you.  It provides excellent, if brief, reviews, such as the one that follows concerning Raleigh Clayton’s Fugitive Pope (available for $1 in cash or stamps from Raleigh Clayton Muns, 7351-A Burrwood Dr., St. Louis MO 63121), which I chose at random from the 300-plus that are discussed in The World of Zines, seems to me typical of the genre.  Here’s what Gunderloy and his co-editor Cari Goldberg Janice have to say about it:

“Life as a librarian need not be terminally dull, as Raleigh proves over and over again in these pages.  He recounts strange questions encountered at the reference desk, gives us glimpses of what it’s really like in librarian school and suggests ways to discourage masturbation in the stacks.  Along the way, bits and pieces of obscure writing are dropped in–almost as much fun as finding them serendipitously among the stacks.”

Note Fugitive Pope’s resemblance to an ongoing letter.  Such is generally what most zines resemble, though a letter usually confined to some central subject–a librarian’s life here, flying saucers (UFO) or old Norse religions (Asynjur) elsewhere.  Comics, sports, sci fi, hobbies and collecting, “hip whatnot,” travel, and–this a single category– splatter, death & other good news are just some of the other general topics the zines reviewed get into.

It is refreshing to note that Gunderloy and Janice include on their pages almost as many graphics, rants, poems and other matter culled from the zines under review as they do commentary. Hence, we’re not just told about zines, we’re meaningfully exposed to parts of them.

Contact and ordering information for every zine mentioned is included, too.  Moreover, a number of pages at the book’s end deal in detail with the nitty-grit of starting, running and circulating one’s own zine.  This should make The World of Zines highly useful, particularly for people outside the knownstream who have incorrect interests, or lack credentials, but who nonetheless want to have some kind of voice in their culture, however small.

Of course, it can’t be said that The World of Zines is perfect: every connoisseur of the field will find dozens of terrible omissions (where, for example, is my favorite zine, the subtle journal of raw coinage?!?).  Considering that there are something like 20,000 zines extant (according to the authors’ estimate, which seems sound to me), this is inevitable.  It is not important, for the object of the book is to introduce the scene it covers, not exhaustively memorialize it, and this The World of Zines does with efficiency and flair.

Here endeth the history of my involvement in Factsheet Five. Later I’ll be quoting from columns I wrote for it.

Entry 98 — MATO2, Chapter 2.06

February 6th, 2010

Here’s what I got published in Small Press Review about me and Factsheet Five as a guest editorial:

Into the BigTime

By Bob Grumman

Among those of us who compose our masterpieces of prose or verse deep in the hinterlands of the hinterlands, I doubt that there are many who have not dreamed, however pure of heart we are, that there will come a day when something will go wrong, and a beserk minute projection of the BigTime will shoot out in our direction and beyond, then halt, permanently–with us inside it.  That the Bigtime will have accommodated us rather than the other way around, will, of course, allow us to accept the situation.  Insane this dream, without question, but . . . well, I’m here to tell you, my friends, that it has happened to me!

Here’s what’s happened: Penguin Books has published a large-format paperback survey of “the independent magazine revolution” by Mike Gunderloy and Cari Goldberg Janice called The World of Zines and a poem of mine is quoted in full in it.  What’s more, one page later I am cited as an important critic of the scene!  Okay, maybe all that doesn’t quite put me up there with Norman (Mailer) and Danielle (Steele), but I’m certainly not far from them.

How did this happen is not (entirely) to brag about myself but to make a few observations on “success”–mainly for those in the small press world who might want to follow me.  One is that, yes, who you know is probably what counts the most in the success game: Gunderloy is the former editor of Factsheet Five,  and I was one of his columnists for five years.  I never met him in person but we did exchange a fair number of friendly letters.  Of course, it could be argued that Gunderloy’s knowing me was an advantage I had earned since I wouldn’t have been able to latch on as a columnist for Factsheet Five without some kind of writing talent.

Well, I started at Factsheet Five because I knew Miekal And, a crazy multi-media wizard who, with his wife Liz Was, ran a publishing operation called Xerox Sutra (which has since become Xexoxial Endarchy, to avoid trademark infringement).  I knew And because I had bought $90 worth of books through the mail from his firm, and had written, and sent him, some criticism of it, some of it quite favorable to work he himself had done.  At this time (1987) And was peppering Gunderloy with letters reproaching him for not paying enough attention to experimental art publications in his magazine, which was billed as a complete guide to the micro-press.  Gunderloy agreed that he wasn’t and, feeling unqualified himself to treat such material, invited And to.  That was my door in, for And had too many commitments elsewhere.  He suggested I write Gunderloy, offering my services.  I did so, then at his request sent him a few sample reviews–which he thought good enough to use.

This all makes me sound much more self-serving and systematic than I actually was.  I originally bought the books from And because I was genuinely interested in what his press was doing, not to butter him up.  The essay on those books that I subsequently wrote was more a means of investigation than an attempt to further (more exactly at that point, begin) my writing career–although it was partially, and consciously, the latter as well.  The real upshot here is that I made my people-connections only after making my interest-connections.  That is, I first got involved with experimental art because I was genuinely interested in it, and that involvement led to my involvements with And and Gunderloy.

So here’s my advice for making it into the BigTime: develop your interests.

Note: the above was written 15 or 20 years ago.  My stint at Factsheet Five remains to this day the highest in the BigTime I ever got.  As I keep saying, I can’t begin to understand it.

Entry 97 — MATO2, Chapter 2.05

February 6th, 2010

Here’s something about Factsheet Five I got published somewhere, probably in Small Press Review:

Micro-Zine Compendium

Factsheet Five
#47, Spring, 1993, 112pp.;
Box 170099, San Francisco
CA 94117. 6 issues/$20.

For almost two years the bible of the micro-zine world, Factsheet Five, has been an on again, off again, proposition.  It seemed not to have much chance of survival when founder Mike Gunderloy abruptly abandoned it in the summer of ‘91 (due mainly, I gather, to overload, and too much generosity with free subscriptions).  Some five months later a personage with the intriguing name of Hudson Luce, who had talked Gunderloy into the rights to F5, managed to publish one fairly decent issue of it.  He then became only intermittently available, though vowing to continue the magazine for at least five or six more issues.  Eventually he sold his rights for a dollar to someone in San Francisco who started an electronic version.  I’m not sure how the present editor of the regular version, Seth Friedman, got in on the act, but early this year, when almost no one thought F5 would ever see print again, he got another issue out.  And now, against all odds, he’s published his second.

This is cause for celebration for anyone interested in what’s going on in the off-off-Broadway of the publishing world, for Factsheet Five has been covering that world with almost insane thoroughness since 1982.  During that time, it has been pretty much the sole general source of information in the U.S. on underground comicbooks, punk rock zines, sci fi fanzines, queerzines (as their own editors call them), conspiracy theory pamphlets, experioddica, animals’ rights magazines, and scores of other equally special-interest publications–including, most estimably, political and religious hate magazines (because, under Gunderloy, F5 was always a courageous champion of freedom of speech, even for those with whom Gunderloy was in violent disagree- ment).

The latest issue is as thorough as any of Gunderloy’s, for it contains over 1300 reviews.  It is also indexed, a welcome improvement.  Its paragraph-sized reviews tend to summarize contents, not discuss them, but they are informative and well-written.  Since Friedman has taken charge, F5 has not printed anything but reviews, aside from Friedman’s editorials, and one short article he wrote on food.  Consequently, it can be rather monotonous at times for a non-fanatic.  But it includes drawings, cartoons and wacked-out ads, and I’m sure that with time it will bring back at least some of the kinds of columns and features that made Gunderloy’s F5 so sparklingly more than a data-bank.   In the meantime, it’s reassuring to those of us who publish or write for micro-zines to know that it will continue to be there to chronicle our doings on a relatively visible, national basis.

Entry 96 –MATO2, Chapter 2.04

February 5th, 2010

8:30 P.M.  Friday  28 August 1992 I got quite a bit of  semi-interesting mail, including a form letter from Jim Knipfel  announcing that Hudson Luce sold Factsheet Five to Jerod Pore.  Then this evening Bill Paulaskis gave me a call and we chatted about the latest F5 developments, and Taproot Review, which he’s going to be participating in as well, and other matters.  My mail also included a note from John Byrum, who didn’t have anything to say about his newsletter but did invite me to do a  reading in Cleveland.

9 September 1992  Joe Lane just called me.  He just wanted to know what was  going on with me; he said that apparently the new Factsheet Five has two editors, one of them in charge of the printed version.  His name is Seth Friedman, and Joe thinks he’ll be getting in touch with me soon.  I certainly hope the magazine gets going again, with my column as part of it.

11 December 1992.  A form letter from Len Fulton announcing to past contributors to Small Press Review that he was planning to start a new similar magazine devoted to reviewing small press magazines and inviting comment, and submissions.  I wrote him a postcard note in support of the new magazine and told him he could count on help from me.  Next I hope to send him three 500-word reviews and volunteer for a position as regular columnist on “experioddica.”  It would be a huge step forward if he agreed to that!

Saturday  16 January 1993  I got a form advertisement for subscrip- tions to  Factsheet Five from Seth Friedman–no mention of my column.  I subscribed to F5 anyway.

Tuesday  19 January 1993  Among a largish number of minor letters was one that came in an envelope with no return address.  I tore it open thinking it and and ready to toss it.  Then I saw that it was from Small Press Review . . .  For a few  seconds I thought it was some kind of form letter,  particularly when I noticed that  the second of its two sheets was  a style sheet.  But I then realized that the first sheet was not from Small Press Review after all, but from Small Magazine Review.  It was, in fact, Len Fulton’s reply to my offer to write a column for his new magazine: he accepted!  Naturally, I was delighted–even though he only wants to run my column every  other issue for a while, and is hesitant about using the samples I sent him on the grounds that the magazines reviewed in them won’t be current by the time they appear.  He did say that he should be able eventually to do it more often, and he encouraged me to write regular reviews and features, etc.  In short, he was very positive.  And so am I.  I have now become sufficiently established to become an important part of world culture–if I deserve to.  I will now have to be attended to–if I deserve to be, for I will now be regularly visible.  If I deserve  a significant place in world culture, I will now not be  denied it because I couldn’t gain access to a
large enough public.  From now on all should be automatic, assuming I keep working hard.  Of course, if the  New Yorker comes through for me, things will be even better, but it doesn’t matter that much any more.  And that’s it for this entry.

(Note: The was the high point of my bigWorld achievements, I still can’t understand why.)

Thursday  21 January 1993    Around eleven a letter and some copies of the long-awaited first issue of Taproot Reviews arrived from Luigi-Bob Drake.  The magazine looked very nice and did a pretty good job of covering the micro-press scene.  I had a bunch of reviews in it, possibly all the ones I sent him, but he didn’t run my column.  He ran four others’ columns, though.  Oh, well, I’m more than willing to keep on as reviewer, as I told him in the reply I wrote to his letter.

27 January 1993: Mike Gunderloy’s Penguin book about the underground press is now out.  I ordered a copy, eager to see it.  I should be able to do an interesting review of it for Small Press Review.  I’m curious if I’ll be mentioned in it.   Probably not.  Geof, I’m sure, will be, however.

Entry 95 –MATO2, Chapter 2.03

February 4th, 2010

Friday  3 January 1992  I spent over an hour on the phone with David Roberts, who called.  We continued our metaphysical discussion somewhat, coming to a better and more amiable understanding of each other.  The main thing he wanted to tell me, though, was that he called the guy who bought Factsheet Five and although Hudson wasn’t there, the guy answering the phone described a copy of the newest issue, which he had on hand, and it sounded good, for I was in it.  I should soon be getting my copy.  David says he intends to write a letter to Factsheet Five in praise of my column, which would be nice.

Monday  13 January 1992  Jim Knipfel, my Factsheet Five features editor, called.  He wanted to know if I knew anything about the current issue, or Hudson, our chief.  He hadn’t gotten his copy of the January issue and said he was hearing unsettling rumors about the magazine.  I told him what David had found out, which seemed to reassure him.  We then chatted a little about my column.  He seemed to think it fine but felt I had a mathematical point wrong.  I don’t think I did but afterwards changed my text a little for him.  He seemed an okay guy.  I think I ought to get along fine with him.

Wednesday  29 January 1992  Hudson Luce’s first Factsheet Five arrived.  I was relieved to see it but a little disappointed with my column, which appeared sans illustrations, and with a dumb but minor typo that wasn’t mine but which I had a chance to catch when Gordon sent me a copy to proof but missed.  The magazine looked okay.  Marc Bloch, I was a bit peeved to see, ruled over seven or eight pages.  He did a pretty good job, though.  He reviewed David T. Roberts’s last Streetfighting Aesthete, but with a brief summary only that listed the zine’s contributors, including me.  I got mentioned several times throughout the issue, as a matter of fact–and the new Poetry Reviewer favorably but unpenetratingly discussed My SpringPoem No. 3,719,242 as well as Geof’s Ghostlight and Karl’s Charged Particles.  Hudson wrote an informative editorial that said he’d taken over rather than bought Factsheet Five–Mike had simply decided to stop publishing it.  I get the distinct impression that he’s going to have trouble keeping it going–he said he needed to triple (to 5000) the number of paying subscribers in the next few months.  Uhn.

Meanwhile I’m musing over the possibility of trying to get a twice-weekly column into the local paper again, this time because Barbara Whitcomb, one of my buddies in the writers’ club just recently gotten taken as a twice-weekly columnist for the Englewood edition of said paper.  I feel what I’d have to do is get 50 columns done in advance, and submit ten or so.  That’s probably much too much work, but if Factsheet Five were to fold, I should seriously consider it.  Once I got into the swing of it, I could probably do two columns in a day without much trouble.  I’d aim for 500 words or so on a variety of cultural topics, including reviewing local art exhibits, stage performances, etc.

Friday  31 January 1992  Later note: Geof called and we chatted for about an hour.  He said he thought (the second edition of) Of Manywhere-at-Once improved.  He filled me in on his ongoing projects.  Told me Ben Gordon and Hudson Lane had had a fight over a partly negative article on the new Factsheet Five set-up that Gordon got from some Maine editor.  Hudson is very thin-skinned.

2 March: One letter I got today was from Joe Lane, fellow Factsheet Five columnist.  It seems he’s interested in starting a magazine that be a side publication to F5–but it’s a secret from Hudson Luce.  Lane is afraid, as are we all, that F5 is about to take the full count.  I replied after cards with Mother this afternoon.  Basically, I’m interested but want to hold back till we know more.  It’s a delicate situation, to be sure.  Unfortunate to find out I’m not the only one connected with F5 who is in the dark about what’s going on.

23 March 1992 phone call from Jim Knipfel.  He wanted to know if I’d heard anything about Factsheet Five lately.  No.  But he himself had spoken a few times with Hudson over the past month or so and is confident that there will be at least one more issue.   According to Jim, Hudson’s goal is to make another  Utne Reader of the magazine.  Ugh, but if it keeps going, and I am allowed to keep writing for it, I don’t really care that much.  Another thing Jim said is that Factsheet Five is now going to be a quarterly.  He liked my latest column, apparently.  He said he had gotten it and found nothing to change.  The deadline for it won’t be till 1 July, so I’m way ahead of schedule.  The next deadline I need to make, assuming the magazine lasts, will be the first of October.  One piece of gossip from Jim particularly interested me: Hudson was much taken with Mark Bloch, talked a lot about him, gave him a good deal of space in the last issue, and sent him twenty copies of it–but Mark, whom Jim has recently talked to (they both live in New York), is now as cut off from Hudson as the rest of us.  Hudson, by the way, had to go to Kansas for a while to take care of the estate of an aunt who had died.  He’s living there now but is expected to return to Atlanta.  There was more to the conversation, which was a good one, but I can’t remember more than a few bits and pieces.  I feel better about the situation but it still doesn’t appear that  Factsheet Five will keep going too much longer.

6 May: two phone calls, one from Jim Knipfel and one from Bill Paulusakis.  Jim said that the next issue of Factsheet Five wouldn’t be out until June at the earliest, and that Hudson is continuing to make changes.  I’m still in it, though.  Screw magazine has done a bad review of the last issue but Jim knew nothing more about it than that Hudson said it was bad, and that the writer had accused Hudson of using an assumed name.  Two issues hence Factsheet Five will have a new name.  All this doesn’t sound good to me.  And poetry, comic books and something else will be dropped.  Bill, when he got hold of me, said he himself would continue (he’s been the poetry editor), but would be concentrating on experimental poetry, which is okay, I guess– why, I don’t know.  Bill and I gabbed for almost an hour. Mostly bullshit but entertaining enough.  He’s unhappy with the way Factsheet Five is going but intends to hang on.  I think he might have been feeling me out for starting a mutiny or something, but I’m not sure.  We certainly came to no agreements as to future actions, except to stay in touch.  And that was the day.

2 June 1992: a letter from Jim Knipfel saying that Hudson Luce will not be publishing one last issue of Factsheet Five, but will switch immediately to V.  Later: I called Jim Knipfel and this time got him.  Not much new data.  Apparently Hudson doesn’t yet know about this “final issue of Factsheet Five that Joe Lane wants to publish, and which I’d contribute to if it had Hudson’s blessing.  And Hudson definitely has junked Factsheet Five, in part possibly because of postal suits against him for not fulfilling subscription agreements.  It irks me that people would sic the authorities on him for that.  Hudson is now living in Lawrence, Kansas, and Jim has his doubts that he’ll publish any issues of V.  One other tidbit: the Village Voice ran a favorable review of
the last issue of Factsheet Five, but the news of this didn’t sway Hudson.  Jim’s going to send me a copy of the review, as well as a piece on the magazine that he himself did for, I take it, a newspaper.  It doesn’t look like I’ll be contributing to Joe Lane’s spin-off but maybe I should put together some kind of miscellany of reviews.  It couldn’t hurt since I could use them elsewhere if they don’t go to Lane.  In the meantime, I have to start thinking about where to get the two columns I did for  if V doesn’t appear.

Saturday  22 August 1992 Geof wrote that Hudson Luce had turned Factsheet Five over to some guy in San Francisco.  Luce had called Geof about it and  asked him  to tell me and Mark Bloch, which makes me suspect I’ve been dumped and Luce didn’t want to be the one to tell me.

Entry 94 — MATO2, Chapter 2.02

February 3rd, 2010

Thought of 12 September: that to become a Great Writer one needs to do five things: master one’s craft; achieve a reasonably full under- standing of existence as a whole; become an expert in at least one significant field of knowledge; fashion a reasonably large body of work (whether published or not) and, last, get a position in the world where one can be heard by a reasonable number of people.  If one was born with sufficient gifts, recognition must eventually follow.

This thought occurred to me because, after Hudson Luce’s call I’ve been feeling like I’ve finally gotten to where I must become successful as a writer if I have the goods, which I of course believe I do.  If I haven’t yet mastered my craft, I never will.  I certainly have as full an under-standing of existence as anyone in the world, unless there’s a hugely greater gap between such an understanding and the deeds resulting from it than than I believe.  I am also, I believe, an expert in the field of literature (which is different from being able to write)–and one in esthetics and psychology as well.  There are many other fields I would count myself a near- expert in, too, including even economics, though my expertise there only amounts to common sense and the ability to think about goods and services without being muddled by some political bias.

My body of work is objectively large, consisting as it does of the equivalent of ten unpublished, full-length plays, a published book, published essays and poems, and scattered other pieces that haven’t been published.  Lots of letters, too.  And, with my position at Factsheet Five secure, and other avenues to visibility opening up such as the space won at Modern Haiku and Small Press Review, I feel I have a position in the world from which I can be heard by a reasonable number of people, too.  So it’s just a matter of time before I’ll be recognized.  Urp.

Saturday  12 October 1991  The big excitement of the day was getting a letter from my new Factsheet Five editor, Ben Gordon.  It arrived with an edited version of my column.  At first I didn’t like what he’d done to the column at all, but I gradually changed my mind.  He made some good deletions, and few so-so changes, and one or two slight blunders, but did a good job.  Of course, he missed some nuances I intended, but the hell with ‘em.  He also seems more concerned with punch than full responsibility–for instance, he changed a line I had about Kaldron and Lost & Found Times’s being the only magazines doing otherstream material that were older than Mallife–”that I know about.”  He, in Time/Life fashion, chucked “that I know about.”  He doesn’t like my interjections of self-descriptions for comic effect, either.  Oh, well, I can live with that.  As for the irresponsibility of some of the things the column will now be saying, I can blame it on my editor.  I called said editor (Ben Gordon) about my changes to his changes and ended talking to him for about a half an hour.  He seems bright and enthusiastic.  Also young.  I enjoyed the talk, though, and think we should get along fine.

(2) The only magazine I’ve been doing a regular column for changed hands, and the new editor kept only two of the old columnists, out of ten or so: me and another guy.  A minor triumph, for sure, but reassuring.  The magazine is Factsheet Five and is actually sold in record shops and bookstores.  It’s not too certain how much longer it will last.  The first issue to be published by the new owner has not yet appeared and it was due out last month.

Tuesday  17 December 1991  One other item in the mail was a form letter to “all columnists” from a guy named Jim Knipfel who is abruptly my new editor at Factsheet Five.  Ben Gordon “flew the coop,” according to Knipfel.  No word as to whether the latest Factsheet Five has hit the streets yet or not, but I found out that my next deadline is 20 January, which is a relief.  All in all, I wasn’t happy to hear Gordon had severed ties with F5, for I felt I would have gotten on well with him.  I have no idea how I’ll get along with the new guy.  He sounds like he wants to leave the columnists alone to do their thing–but he also said something about not trying to find new columnists to write about things nobody understands as, Knipfel says, Gordon was doing.  This suggests he might not be as keen on my far-out intellectualism as Gordon was, or appeared to be.  What a world.  I just hope the magazine keeps going, and that my last column will be in the forthcoming issue as scheduled.

Entry 93 — MATO2, Chapter 2.01

February 2nd, 2010

Not only wasn’t Of Manywhere-at-Once helping me up to whatever the next level of literary visibility in the BigWorld was, my literary career started downhill in 1991.  As readers of volume one of Manywhere-at-once will know, I began, in may 1987, to write a regular column about otherstream literature, mainly visual poetry, for Factsheet Five, a nationally distributed periodical whose goal was to review the micro-press in its entirety.  I actually got paid.  Well, that pretty much ended, abruptly, in August of 1991.  Some excerpts from my diary tell the story.

Saturday  24 August 1991 A rather disconcerting form letter arrived in the mail from Mike Gunderloy: he’s sold Factsheet Five–and dumped his columnists, or so it sounds.  We columnists are to submit “samples” of our columns to the new editors.  Since I got no personal letter from either Gunderloy or the new editors, it doesn’t look good for my column.  I’m sad about it–it looked like Factsheet Five would be y only potential avenue into knownness.  I plan to go ahead and write my next column as planned and send it in.  If it is accepted, fine; if not, I no longer have any deadlines to worry about (and I have a good piece to try elsewhere); and I have interesting material for volume two of Manywhere-at-Once.  I’m disappointed with Gunderloy, though; up to this point, he’d seemed the most considerate of bosses.  I feel he ought to have sold the magazine with the proviso that all his employees are kept on.  Why not?  Surely the columnists aren’t holding the magazine back.

3 September 1991  A letter from Len Fulton turning down my offer to do columns for his magazine, Small Press Review, but saying he’d like to run an slightly extended version of the sample column I’d sent him as a guest editorial.  Sounds okay to me.  I also got a short form letter from some editor wanting a response to Mike Gunderloy’s getting rid of Factsheet Five.

Tuesday  10 September 1991 I had a Very Important Phone Call: Hudson Luce, the new proprietor of Factsheet Five called at around five, just as I was finishing a nap of about a half an hour.  He said that he’d been reading my columns, was very interested in mail art, and wanted to continue the column.  I liked that, needless to say.  I made sure he understood that the column wasn’t just about mail art, though, and he said he was also interested in experimental art, and thought it was important that Factsheet Five continue covering it. Somewhere along the line, fairly early in the conversation, I mentioned that I’d been doing the column in every other issue; how often would he like it in–every issue he said without hesitation.  And he wants it the same length it has been.

So, onward and upward.  We talked about several other things,  too, and I voiced a few opinions, even disagreeing with him mildly here and there.  I hope I didn’t go too far.  Looks like I and Joe Lane, who will be writing on the technical aspects of publishing fanzines, are the only columnists he’ll keep on the staff, so it’s a fair-sized compliment.  I was pleased that I’ll stay and Mark Bloch won’t but was a little disappointed that Annie Ackner will be dropped–though, as I told Hudson, I don’t think her column really is appropriate for F5.  (He had asked, “I suppose you’ll be disappointed that I won’t be keeping Annie Ackner’s column,” or something close to that.  I said I liked her writing and felt a kind of solidarity with my fellow columnists but that . . .  Felt a bit of a schmuck about that.)  He plans more interior color but isn’t too eager to cover poetry, and is against comic books entirely.  (Turns out he has a Ph.D. in chemistry, of all things.)  Interesting situation.  The analogy to corporate changes, and anxiety among department heads, and reactions to firings and non-firings struck me.  I felt pretty good about it, though–and hope to get cranking on my upcoming column tomorrow.


Entry 91 — MATO2, Chapter 1.11

January 31st, 2010

My book did well enough with my family.  My brother Bill even bought extra copies for his two daughters and his mother-in-law.  I sold a copy to Dr. Case, the foot doctor I was seeing for a bone spur in my heel, too–and he later told me he did read it.  As my visual poetry friends, just about all of them I sent copies to wrote me back about it during the summer of ‘90.  I got expecially good feedback about my sonnet from Jody Offer and Stephen-Paul Martin, revising it on the basis of what they said. Stephen-Paul also made a good point about the Canto of Pound’s that I discussed, one that I inserted into the revision of my book I soon was working on (credited to him, of course).

My local literary friends–by which I mean the dozen or so other members of the Port Charlotte Tuesday Writers’ Group, which met the second and fourth Tuesday of each month at the main local library, were supportive, too, several buying copies of it.  My number one such friend, Lee Hoffman (also my number one friend of any kind), had already helped me considerably through pre-publication versions of the book, but Nell Weidenbach, another member not only bought a copy but came to the meeting after she’d bought it with her copy, which she left with me, full of annotations.  Several were Very Sharp. She argued with some of the passages I’d put in hoping to engage the reader in just that way, which particularly pleased me.

Not what I’d call sophisticated about poetry, though, she told our group that she preferred most very traditional stuff to my later stuff, and to the work of Stevens, Pound et al!  She then recited my poem about wanting to run madly into the brush to the group, and they applauded.  Nell wanted to know why I didn’t write like that all the time.  I didn’t tell her I’d quoted the poem in my book to show the reader how far I’d advanced since it. (Although I have to confess I was fond of it).

At that meeting or another when we discussed my book, a lady named Carol who teaches writing workshops somewhere and seems quite knowledgeable and (proof of her acumen) wanted to buy a copy of my book from me, showed up for the first time..  She said when I discussed marketing of the book by appearing at writers’ clubs and the like, then expressing doubt as to my ability to carry it off, that I was “presentable,” and would come across well.  Alas, I never did appear at a such a club.  I didn’t even get my own club to organize a presentation although we’d had two such events for commercial writers (who weren’t members of the club).  I’ve never been good at pushing for things like that–if “only” on my own behalf.

Speaking of marketing myself, in July I did mail a copy of my book to the University of Pittsburgh, as well.  My hope was that they’d be interested in republishing it, Jonathan Brannen (I believe) having mentioned that they seemed interested in such material.  Three months later I got a not from somebody there claiming to have enjoyed reading it, especially the part about what I was then calling vizlature, but passing on a chance to do a reprint of it as it did not”suit the aims they (were) establishing for their series.”)  Manywhere had been sent them as a sample of what I could do, not a submission, but clearly if they were interested at all, they would have asked me to try again with a book nearer what they’re looking for.

Arond the time of the Pittsburgh rejection I got a notice about the annual Pushcart prize competition, and thought I might enter a chapter or part of a chapter from Manywhere in it.  Later I sent them the section on Geof Huth.  The inclusions in the Pushcart anthology went to the usual mediocrities–the ones in the small press, which the Pushcart people were famous for encouraging, who were doing excatly the same things mainstream writers were–not to the likes of me.

My one semi-successful attempt at publicity was getting the columnist, James Kilpatrick, to mention my coinage for “visual art,” then “vizlation,” in an early 1991 columnof his.  He didn’t mention my book, however, nor agree that the word could be useful, nor pay any attention to my one or two further letters about it.

The last name writer I wrote to about my book was James Dickey–because I liked his poetry and had read a collection of his criticism with enjoyment.  I thought he might be open to what I was up to–and considered it a good sign that his birthday was the same as mine, 2 February.  He didn’t so much as acknowledge receipt of my book, and Geof, a fellow alumnus of Vanderbilt with Dickey told me that he had once tried to get something from Dickery for an anthology of poems by poets who had gone to Vanderbilt and he had turned him down with a joke about his agent’s not letting him.  In short, a jerk.  Although, on reflection, I’m not sure how I’d react if students at Cal State, Northridge, my alma mater, asked me for a poem once I became as well-known as Dickey.  I’ve been totally ignored by CSUN since graduating. I think I’d send them a poem, though. If I didn’t, I’d explain why. I certainly wouldn’t ask for money.

One of my most quarrelsome literary friends through the mail at this time was Will Inman, a terrific Whitmanesque poet who, alas, didn’t merely dislike his friend Karl Kempton’s and my visual poetry but thought anyone involved with any kind of poetry other than his kind of free verse was an enemy of poetry.  I like people that committed to anything, and expressed admiration of his poetry, even publishing my veiw of him as a major poet, so he didn’t chuck me entirely.

In his first letter about my book, which I’d sent him, he blasted a lot of what I was trying to do, particularly my attempts to connect the discussions of various poems and poets with my sonnet.  These he called mechanical.  He didn’t like my Keats section, either, which surprised me.  I never thought anyone could consider it worse than innocuous.  But he praised my section on Roethke’s “The Shape of the Fire,” and said that if the book were like that section all the way through, it’d be his kind of book–like one I’d never heard of (by an author I’d never heard of) that he brought up.  He liked my theme and the idea of Manywhere-at-Once, though.

He had only gotten to page 85, so I was sure he’d have worse things to say.  He did, giving up entirely on the book 48 pages later–it was too “clinical and mechanical.”  Etc.  The usual anti-intellectualism of too many poets.  I should expect reactions like his, and be happy if anyone likes so much as a section or two of the book–but, of course, I want everybody to like every line of everything I write.  That couldn’t happen with a book as complex as Manywhere.

Almost all my other advanced literary friends seemed to like the book.  Doru Chirodea, for instance, even said he liked the part about my theory of aesthetic affect.  He was the only one who mentioned it.  Mike Gunderloy liked it enough to give it a complimentary capsule review in Factsheet Five in August 1990.  Crag Hill and Jonathan Brannen both gave me a thumbs up, but complained about the amount of terminology I cluttered the thing with.

John Byrum liked what I said about the writing of my sonnet but didn’t go along too much with the theorizing. Al Ackerman sent me a very funny enclosure along with compliments on my book, and John Bennett went so far as to agree with my blather about visual poetry and why his visio-textual poems probably weren’t.  I by then was 70% sure they are.

Entry 90 — Runaway Spoon Press Clearance Sale

January 30th, 2010

Read about it at the top of The Runaway Spoon Press Catalogue under “Pages” to the right.  25 titles for $50.