What, Me Scribble?

There are certain moments when I know that I should just stick my big nose into it and see what happens. 

A friend of mine - a freelance writer, playwright, mother and fellow scribbler - send me a link over Facebook about the demise of the writing profession.  This time we can blame it on technology (too much free stuff out there).  After reading the piece, I was accused by the same friend of not actually reading it carefully.  Then I sent back a quote from the article which I will share with you here:

I ask you to take the long view, to look a generation beyond where we are now, and to express concern for the future of the book. I ask you to vote that the end of "the book" as written by professional writers, is imminent; and not to be placated with short-term projections and enthusiasms intended to reduce fear in a confused market. I ask you to leave this place troubled, and to ask yourself and as many others as you can, what you can do if you truly value the work of the people formerly known as writers.

I figured it would look better larger and bolder than my own thoughts.  And I have just gotten over the sense of deja vu which has haunted me since I have read it.

Yes, I understand.  Being a writer is very hard work that does not always pay well.  But when has that not been the case?  Ancient Rome or Greece?  Elizabethan or Victorian England?  The simple answer is always.  And some of the greatest books and articles ever written were created without the promise of any type of financial reward.  John Milton only received five pounds for "Paradise Lost".  Samuel Johnson, creator of one of the first great English dictionaries  - a decade of labour with very little help - did not receive a pension for his work until he was much older and frailer.  And history is full of such people who did great things with less to show for it (see William Blake or John Keats).

Now, the issue of technology.  This much I do understand.  But I will not become a Luddite just because there is a way to put words in front of a reader that is not the same method used by the greats of the past.  And would somebody please pose the question as to whether or not it is in a company's best interest to create a computer device that can carry books on it in a very portable and convenient method?  Why would they even think about books when they could be selling music or video games?  I am no fan of the Ereaders I have seen (yet), but if I hear that kids are now trading illegal downloads of Shakespeare and Dickens, I will cry happy tears.

So, keep writing if you want to write; keep reading if you want to read.  I have barely made a single penny from this blog, but I cannot stop. 

A sign that I am a true writer?  Anyone?

What to do with what they did...

“A Terrible Beauty is Born” – W.B. Yeats (“Easter 1916”)

I have been watching the payback over the riots in England and wondering to myself if the British understand the concept of real justice.  Yes, I know, people want to punish the ones who have burned and destroyed whole sections of their towns and cities.  I would not be too happy if I had to clean up the site that used to be the store I spent a lifetime creating and operating because it is now an ash heap of burnt timber and broken bricks and glass.  But I am becoming more and more disturbed by the reaction of the current government to the uprising.

Yes, I have personal reasons for caring about what happens in Merrie Olde: I visited the country when I was about 14 and spent six weeks visiting family, seeing the sights that I saw, but also traveling on my own.  The best moments were the ones where I did get lost and found things that I never expected to see.  And I am not surprised that rioting could take place in such a country.  There was plenty of racist graffiti, ugly scenes of conflict on the street and in the general mood of certain people, and I did stay for part of the vacation in the East End of London (Plaistow): I was enough of a city kid to know that I did not want to leave the apartment after a certain level of darkness hit those streets and blind corners.

I just received an email from a relative who works on one of the city’s fine councils as an advisor, and she told me that the conflict was no surprise to her.   She had plenty of time to see what the cuts made by the government would lead to and that any incident could have sparked the anger she felt from young people who really believed they had no future and nowhere to go.  I know that there was a shooting, but it could have been any type of friction between the police and the faceless youth they were outflanked and outfought by over a long and violent week.

Final notes: I went to work yesterday and had to listen to people share their delight in seeing Will and Kate in the flesh and how wonderful things are now that they are married and seem to be such a delightful couple.  Not a word about the riots or what that delightful couple cost the country in financial and emotional costs. I made a point of leaving the office without saying a word.

 

England will have to reconsider their own ironies…                                                                                

What a life...

Dear people who still bother to read this:

Another summer is about to end and I am exactly where I was almost four years ago and moved into this place and thought that it would just be a temporary stop between things.  Still on my own, except for a relationship I developed through Alikewise.  Still dehydrating in this room as I type and it is an endless struggle to get things printed up on my laptop when ever the mood to put something on my blog strikes me.  Only real news is the fact that the summer semester is almost over and I will have fewer classes for the fall.  Not complaining...  Just more time to write (I think that I am sensing a theme)...

The guitar is still a partner in crime, and I have had some inspiration this past week.  I went to see a free show in the local park  (Montreal's own So-Called - look him ), and I then noticed someone walking up the side stairwell.  Not making much of this, I kept sitting down and finished my drink...and then he returned.  He was Win Butler of Arcade Fire.  I really did not want to disturb him - I let an overeager fan sitting next to me do that- but I did shake his hand, get that autograph, and left the place floating.  I also remembered that the group practiced in Parc LaFontaine when getting started and that there will be a free show on the 22nd of September for Pop Montreal.

So, I guess the summer is not an entire loss...