Never let it be said that The Guild Of Outsider Writers doesn't open its pages to a great range of opinion. The following piece by a writer who calls him/herself Dissonant Ole Bastard gives us all a few things to think about. Including: should we give everyone who thinks they can write the tools to do so? (Only kidding O.D.B., you've got the right to your opinion, just like any other whack job.) (JDF)
Notes Of A Dissonant Ole Man #1
Not to be rude. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Dissonant Ole Bastard, AKA the O.D.B.. It’s not my given name, so sue me if you can find me. In this world of high tech surveillance this pen and pad may be the only safe place. Seems like Bush, Cheeney, Gonzalez, or whoever is constantly up our asses. Or at least someone would like you to believe that.
Somehow, I overlooked the fact that there wasn't a bookstore within an hour's distance of the town we moved to. After I read everything on our shelves, I started to go crazy.
I know, I could always buy my books online. I don't know, I just like touching a book before I buy it. New or used, I don't care. I just have to touch it!
I've been really lucky to find great books from second-hand stores, moving sales, garage sales, etc. I love the fact that most of them are out of print. It makes me feel like I'm keeping some sort of secret from the rest of the world.
Last night I curled up with an anthology published in 1987, titled More Stories by Canadian Women. It even has the sticker from the original bookstore it was purchased from (of course I googled the store to see if it's anywhere remotely close to my home--no results).
Maybe I'm a cornball, but I love the history of books. I like finding books that are signed from one family member to another--a holiday gift? A birthday present? Where did they come from before they hit the box on someone's lawn, only to be whisked away to my bedside?
One of the short stories featured in this specific anthology was written by Carol Shields, who unfortunately, lost her battle with breast cancer in 2003. "'Mrs. Turner Cutting the Grass" contained all of these rich-comedic scenes. It was fantastic!
Like Shields, I went through urban-to-rural migration. We're both from the United States and settled in the Canadian prairies. There's this feeling of wonder that comes from her writing. It was really obvious, to me anyway, that she packed these characters up in her brain and unleashed them into different landscapes.
"Mrs. Turner," the main character is this short story, represents the woman that every female is afraid of becoming. Ironically, we often wish her fate on ourselves aloud. There have been many times that I've said (aloud) "I wish I could turn my brain off," or "I wish I didn't care what people think of me." Rationality finally sets in and I realize that I don't want to revert to child-like naivety--I won't lie, sometimes rationality is a little delayed..
Not this leading character. This is how Mrs. Turner lives her life: Poisoning the ground with Killex while wearing shorts that reveal cellulite, she waves to the young girls that fear for their future. Mrs. Turner is your neighbor, your sister, your wife--a shadow of a young girl that once touched the surface of the world--content with just that.
In one way or another, we all represent Mrs. Turner. I just pictured myself, an American, shopping at a Canadian grocery store each week. I stand at the deli counter, with thumb and index finger extended saying, "can I have this much?" of a specific sandwich meat. For the life of me, I can not convert pounds into kilograms.
When I fill up my gas tank, I can not fathom how the Canadian gallon is larger than the American gallon. Do they not both hold four liters? No, the Canadian gallon is based on the imperial quart. Which makes the Canadian gallon one quart larger than the US gallon--or so I've been told. Just call me Mrs. Turner.
It's very rare that I read a poem or a short story written by a woman that makes me re-examine my role as a woman and a foreign citizen and think about how I'm perceived. I raised an ironic eyebrow last night--before I fell asleep with the book on my chest.
What does wet, chunky dog and cat food have in common with modern mainstream publishing?
Both come out of a can and both are something humans should not consume.
Dog and cat owners went through a huge scare recently when some pets got sick—and a few even died--after eating wet and chunky food products made by Menu Foods. To quote from its website, Menu Foods is the “leading North American private-label/contract manufacturer of wet pet food products sold by supermarket retailers, mass merchandisers, pet specialty retailers, and other retail and wholesale outlets.” It produced, apparently, the same dog and cat food product using over 90 separate names—names including everything from Best Choice to Great Choice to President’s Choice.
Of course, there actually was no choice.
The issue is not only with pet food. Throughout our society what appears to be a choice is no choice at all. We've heard this before--that all VCRs and DVD players are made by the same four companies. And here it is again, in our pet bowls.
Now think about the largest mainstream publishers, which are often departments themselves of much larger conglomerates. Is a thriller from Random House really any different than one from HarperCollins? Do they not churn out the same "products".
And think of ReganBooks and other "imprints". They appear to be from different publishers, but actually, like the wet and chunky pet food, they are simply corporate subdivisions of a larger publisher. Is there any real difference in personality or style? Are not the multitude of “imprints” from each major publisher simply a relabelling of the same “product”? Are not the novels, poetry and non-fiction produced by the "imprints" just like Menu Foods’ creations: all the same, “product” and not art?
How did we get from Chaucer to here?
When you aim for the mass market, when money is your bottom line, is anything else truly possible?
Publishing used to be dominated by independent publishers, each with their own vision. Some were big, some small, but none were a link in a long chain. Now you have large bureaucracies where decisions are made by committees. A book decided upon by committees will--surprise!--look like a book decided upon by committees. It will be the product not of individual editors with individual visions, but a "product" that survives the internal politics of the bureaucracy. The very process reduces the writing to the lowest common denominator--what will sell to the most people--leaving writing which has had any sense of reality shredded from it.
Pollyanna, sunny vision of the mainstream, smiles even when her legs are broken.
Readers deserve more than dog food. They deserve more than wet chunky stuff that will make them sick.
My writing is not in the mainstream because it sucks (my writing or the mainstream?--no, the mainstream, which sucks for not wanting my writing—no, that's arrogant, no, wait a minute….)
Well, that title could’ve gone on a lot longer! But let’s get out of the bold type face and into the plain: is that what “underground” writing is all about, not good enough for ‘the show’?
If OJ can get (almost) published (until the world justifiably puked) with his “If I Was More A Than Retired Football Player With One Concussion Too Many, And I Killed My Wife, Her Boy Friend And If They Paid Me Enough To Say It, Hell For Another Million I'd Say I Killed JFK, Here Is How I Would Have Done It As Long As They Are Paying Me And Someone Else Writes It And Where Is My Money?”, why not me, uh, us?
Why do millions of readers want to see Stephen King’s latest (Stephen King is a good writer), but not mine (is Stephen King coming to my defense, after all of the nice things I have written about him—will he say something good about me to his agent)?
Are Outsider Writers wannabes?That you ask such questions only demonstrates your ignorance.No wonder you aren’t buying my stuff (assuming I could get anyone to sell it of course).
Like most Outsider Writers, I was born a writer.Who can explain why we write?It’s a drive, it’s on automatic without a low gear.We write because we ‘have to’.Speaking just for myself (although I would be happy to speak for you, and apparently have already done so several times already) I started writing when I was six or seven, andnever stopped.Slowed down at times, but never stopped.If I do not write something (preferably something “creative”, but at least something) every two or three weeks, I start getting angry, irritated, unsettled.Life has less and less of a point.I am, on some fundamental level, not fulfilling my function, my reason for being.
Note: I never said my writing is good.Good is not the point.Writing—that is the point.If the writing’s any good, even better, but not necessary.Good is gravy.
However, me aside, most of Outsider Writers’ writing is very good.That is why small publishers are willing to mortgage their homes to publish it.So.If it is so good, why is mainstream publishing not full of it?Uh, that is, why is mainstream publishing not full of Outsider Writers’ writing (and try saying that ten times fast)?
Two reasons.
Reason A:Mainstream publishing is similar to what it was ten years ago, a hundred years ago, or for that matter, ten minutes after the printing press was invented.The public that mainstream publishing caters to does not always want to be challenged, provoked or, well, have their face rubbed in real life.A lot of the time readers want to be entertained, they want to relax after a long day, they want an escape (all those are different, by the way).Outsider Writing, by definition, wants people to think. It wants to provoke, to challenge.It is edgy, uncomfortable.It does not want you to accept the world, it wants you to change the world.
Of course, sometimes mainstream publishing puts out some very good stuff, and sometimes independent publishers put out greeting card poems.
Reason B:Mainstream publishing is nothing like what it was ten years ago, a hundred years ago, or ten minutes after the printing press was invented.It has all changed—for the worse.
Yes, there were always big publishers and little publishers.Big publishers were always interested in the mass market (which generally means the less controversial the better), while small publishers were always interested in an independent vision—what mattered was whether the book was good, not whether it would be a best seller.
But today? Oy vey.
Big publishing houses are often a “department” in a larger company.One part of the company publishes books, another makes movies, a third television shows, a fourth garbage trucks.This is called vertical integration.One of the big ideas in vertical integration is that the departments work together; so, for example, books can be published by a garbage truck.Or maybe it’s that the books go straight into the garbage.Often it is hard to tell.
The pressure on a big publishing house to make money was bad enough when it only had to report to itself. But now it has to not only turn a profit, but when another department in the company fails, it is expected to help make up the loss.The end result?The invasion of Iraq.No, wait, that’s from another kind of vertical integration.
This is all only a small part of the whole problem.Another time, we’ll get into how hard it is to get your writing to that larger audience.Mainstream publishers generally no longer accept ‘unsolicited’ manuscripts, the larger agents often won’t accept ‘unsolicited’ manuscripts, last week the post office refused to even mail my manuscript.
Outsider Writing does not fit into mainstream publishing because mainstream publishing does not think it will sell enough books—mainstream publishing is wrong, but this rant is already too long to begin with, but not long enough to end with.
The following piece got the absolute minimum of editing, as sometimes the medium is part of the message and to clean things up too much would dilute the passion that Frank put into his rant. (JDF)
Trying to understand poetry and writing movements by Frank Reardon
Put in some thoughts of your own. Let me first say I am going to ramble, SO PLEASE don't knock the grammar.
I am a fan of the "New Movement". Growing up and discovering good or decent literature in the late 80's early 90's, I can remember saying "Who the fuck is this Kerouac guy?" Picking up on the road (wich in my head was going to be some dull johnny apple seed book) I read it and not so much the content (on the road is not my fav Kerouac book) Though the difference of it. Thanks to Kerouac I was able to discover William Burroughs, who is and always will be my idol . Others I found where Ginsberg, Corso, Snyder etc. Though my enjoyment of the beats slims out, I don't like alot of them, I like a handful. Later on in life I discovered Bukowski who in turn wrote very simple about simple things. Branching out from there I discovered other drunks and gutter whores in all aspects Like Hunter Thompson etc.
Later on I got into that whole "French-American" thing, with writers like Sartre and Anais Nin, Henry Miller (i know some americans I call it french, because the main stories where writen there) also discovering Camus and Celine. Because of this main core of writers I was subjected to others like Will Self, Tom Robbins, Dylan Thomas, EE Cummings, Knut Hamsun, Blaise Cedrars, Leonard Cohen etc. etc. followed...
I wonder to myself outside of a few kick ass writers and a shit load of good ones "un noticed"... I wonder if we will have a new movement of our own "Outside of Myspace" where we travel to states, read, Help eachother out, Change the dynamics of life and literature and culture. Not to our own selfish ways but each one of us contibuting to something. I mean things in France, The Beats, It has all been done, Those are our idols (or some). We have a chance to do something good. I want more than anything (personally) to change the feeling of current literature (you see whats popular) I need say no more. You see the culture. Everytime I feel something is going to happen, I realize this is the virtual world, Im glad on some sides to know "The virtual" People, poets, etc. In the end it is fake communication "not a movement" If the movement is to be virtual only! I want no part of it!
I have great respect for "slam" Poets Though I am tired of that and hip hop running the gambit on the poetry scene, I am tired of doing readings with a bunch Poe and Keats (lets get one thing straight ! I love those writers, but I am tired of the scene) GOD If I dressed Like a narcotic agent at every reading you would know I am immitating Burroughs, I have no want to. I am just tired of Nothing but slam, I am tired of the same redunant crap . I have met such a nice handful of brilliant writers. I will BE DAMNED If I dont read with all of you or get drunk etc. One day in my life. My Purpose is to help a change happen, My purpose is literature, My purpose is feeling. Does any one else feel that way? I can fucking taste it man! Lets try to make it fucking happen! Don't be the fucking lazy generation that always disappoints. GIVE THEM BREAD AND CIRCUS AND THEY WILL BE HAPPY! IS that how you want to live your life? Just one seed at a time. Why hold back Just fucking blow up!
Frank Reardon is a small press poet located on the East Coast and he runs Hand Grenade Publishers ("A New Place For The New Style Of Writing"). Check out what he's about and show him some respect at: http://www.myspace.com/handgrenadepublishing.
Click below to learn more about OW's first book and the winner of the Jack Micheline Memorial Award.
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The Naked Opinion 
