All the Sad Young Literary Men
rich, lame-brained, overtrained, undereducated bitches
Since I’ve moved out of my New York apartment, I’m somewhere between Sag Harbor and East Hampton, on the bay side, sitting in one of my client’s empty houses, staring at the rain, and tying up all the loose ends on my June launches. I did try to walk to the water to swim, but it was too cold.
Most people in media know this, but pitching—for print magazines—starts at least six months before the launch or premiere. You can turn an entire campaign around just using web media in two-and-a-half months, but it’s not ideal. (About 1/3 of my clients are people who hire me right at the end to course correct someone else’s weak scoreboard.)
It’s weird always working one season ahead. It makes me miss being a waitress, where there’s an immediate feedback loop, a clock out time, and the stakes are low (you’re not ruining someone’s life if you forget the ketchup). Pretending my job matters is a trap though. One I fall into all the time! A hilarious way to check oneself: Read Office Politics by Wilfred Sheed, a biting and funny class novel about working at a small magazine of ideas, recently reissued by McNally Editions. (Even if the advances at McNally are as small as $5,000—as was reported to me; might be hearsay—you’re starting to be published in truly great company. Eventually to rival NYRB Classics, I think.)
The book follows a group of pathetic male editors, a couple of dumpy secretary types—and one Literary Lion, called “Twining,” about whom they all obsess, revolve, and worship, and detest. “Twining by the most graceful touches reminded him that he was still an employee with certain duties; but then, with exquisite tact, left the duties unspecified. George felt permanently harassed.” I suppose you’re supposed to call it a satire, but I’m always afraid to do that, because I think it stops people from reading. It’s much better than all that hollowness! One will recognize certain characters and characteristics: “the ferret-like cunning of the burnt-out writer”; “the sort of people who request to have their names removed from the Social Register, without success”; “rich, lame-brained, overtrained, undereducated bitches… sub-schoolgirls.” I greatly needed to be reminded of the futility of the modern workplace!!! Very relaxing, very amusing.
I wrote a piece for Bookforum ages ago about work novels. Something for everyone.
Stay in the house where they shot Black Moon! Watch Gay Cinema! Go to a Gardener’s World Event? Get your portrait in LA! Start reading Cakes and Ale.
