Kevin Allman

"I Committed Adultery in a Diabetic Coma"

Peter Carlson, "Magazine Reader" at The Washington Post, has written a funny column about the history of True Confessions, True Love, Black Confessions, and all those "true-life" magazines. Seems the whole sob-sister genre was invented by one Bernarr Macfadden, a health-food nut enthusiast who found gold in overwrought "true stories." (Bernarr's biographical page is worth a read all by itself; he also created "true detective" magazines and a slew of Hollywood cheapies.)

Once, inspired by the great essayist Florence King (who had supported herself with sob-sister submissions while she worked on her "serious" books), I looked into the possibility of augmenting my income à la King. Boy, was that a disappointment. The true-life "he-man" magazines were all dead and gone. And the pay scale for making up sob-sister confessions was $0.03 per word, and the turnaround time for the editors to even reply to a query was a full year. A year.

So much for my dreams of getting rich by turning out "My Personal Trainer Saved My Life...Then Held Me Hostage!" and other giants of the literary form.

Carlson cites several current true-magazine headlines that are obviously works of the masters; I particularly liked "The Night Jesus Was Born...THEY MURDERED MY SON" and "RUNAWAY WIFE: I Found Love in an Amish Man's Arms."

But Miss King, one of the best and most honored essayists of the 20th century, still captures the gold for her immortal true confession: "I Committed Adultery...IN A DIABETIC COMA."

Slow day in Dallas

You kinda expect stories like this from the Mayberry Gazette, but the Fort Worth Star-Telegram?

4 towels, ashtray taken from Motel 6

...A police report states that a 28-year-old Watauga man who had been registered to the room from which the items were stolen was questioned by police officers in the motel's parking lot.

Patrol officers interviewed the man after noticing that he had been sitting in his vehicle in the parking lot for a long time.

In his vehicle were the missing towels and ashtray, reports state.

Worth noting:

A police report did not have the dollar loss in the theft.

And best of all... the Star-Telegram actually printed a map of the crime scene:

The Portland tram and "blipsters" in the New York Times

The New York Times has a decent story today about the new Portland tram and its opening weekend, complete with a rundown of all the various controversies (the cost overruns, the $4 ticket price). The piece also speculates as to whether the tram will become a local icon:

Some say it will give eminently livable Portland an aesthetic exclamation point it lacks, something like the Golden Gate Bridge or the Space Needle in Seattle.

What, Mt. Hood's not a good enough "aesthetic exclamation point"? I think the city's skyline against the West Hills is a much more enduring image than a couple of spindly lozenges in the air. The view from the tram is probably the real aesthetic exclamation point.

Also in the Times today...an embarrassing trend piece that purports to discover a new trend: some black people enjoy rock music:

There is even a new word for black fans of indie rock: “blipster,” which was added to UrbanDictionary.com last summer, defined as “a person who is black and also can be stereotyped by appearance, musical taste, and/or social scene as a hipster.”

"Blipster." "Blipster." Now there's a word that needed codifyin' by the Gray Lady.

Sometimes I wonder just how out of touch major newspapers can be with their black readers--and writers. Years ago, at the old L.A. Herald Examiner, I worked with Elvis Mitchell before he went on to NPR and the Times. He stormed into the newsroom one day, furious, because a copy editor had changed his reference to the '80s funk group Jesse Johnson's Revue. The editor, a white woman, assumed that it was a typo (and didn't bother to check!), so Elvis' byline graced a story about "Jesse Jackson's Revue."

I wonder if either of the Jesses is a blipster.

Why writers need websites

I was captivated by this story in today's Portland Tribune: Writer Rene Denfeld investigated a murder in the Portland homeless-youth subculture, got caught up in the story, spent years doing interviews, and ended up writing All God's Children, which sounded like both a true-crime thriller and a sociological study. (Street kids and their issues aren't a problem endemic to just Portland, but it's certainly epidemic here.)

The writer of the Trib story, though, had left me wondering about a couple of things, and I didn't want to wait for the book to find out the answers. Sure enough, Denfeld had a website with contact info, and within a few hours I not only had the answers to my questions, but also a very nice letter that really made me curious to find out more about her experiences.

Editors like Miss Snark are adamant in their belief that every writer needs a website. So are most agents. But the real connection, the important one, is the one with the reader (aka potential customer). If I wasn't sure I wanted to read Rene's book before this, her letter cinched the deal.

And she didn't have to sit at a card table in a bookstore, hoping that someone showed up, just to make the sale.

Willamette Week: great cover

The new issue of Willamette Week has one of the best covers I've seen in a long time:

This is everything a cover should be: sharp, witty, an eye-grabber, and a perfect snapshot of the story it illustrates (a profile of Oregon's medicinal marijuana growers). Well, well done.

Metroblogging New Orleans on John Derbyshire

Richard at Metroblogging New Orleans has very kindly linked to my story about John Derbyshire's visit to New Orleans that appeared in National Review. As Richard put it (and I agree):

I don't wanna imply that there's not room for plenty of critiques of Our Fair City--goddess knows she ain't what she should be these days--but anyone who starts his review of New Orleans with a thinly veiled attack on blacks and queers has clearly landed at the wrong airport.

Hell, yeah. This was such a profoundly stupid piece, so thoroughly clouded by preconception and prejudice (in its purest definition as preconceived notion), that I think it would've gotten more play if the city hadn't been preoccupied by the Saints in the playoffs and the citywide crime march. Oh, and that Katrina thing.

White House Correspondents' Dinner, Part II

The New Yorker's Jeffrey Goldberg interviewed Rich Little about his upcoming appearance at the 2007 White House Correspondents' Dinner:

He promised to use mostly political material, though, along these lines: “They said we’re going to send jets to Israel this year, but what the hell would they do with a bunch of football players?” Iraq jokes, however, are out. “I do have a funny line on that,” he said, and he began to imitate the current President: “George W. Bush here. I tell you, I’m between I-raq and a hard place.”

Little paused, and said, “That’s funny. But, believe me, you won’t hear the word ‘Iraq’ out of my mouth the whole evening. They know I’m a safe bet over there at the White House.”      

None of this reflects badly on Rich Little, who seems like a nice guy.

What it says about the White House Correspondents' Association is another matter, and if they don't think it reflects on their work ethic, they're even more clueless than they're portrayed on both the left and the right.

Still waiting for some reporter to come out and say "Hell, no, I wouldn't go to that thing if you paid me."

Abolish the White House Correspondents' Dinner

Why does the White House Correspondents' Association Dinner continue? And why doesn't some scrupulous editor (I know, I know) finally just forbid his or her employees from going to this sham?

Once again, the annual Capitol Hill black-tie kissy-kissy dinner is an ethical mess, and it hasn't even happened yet. Like last year, the problem is the entertainment. Last year, it was Stephen Colbert who caused the controversy. This year, it's...Rich Little, which is kinda like going from Nirvana to the King Family.

Of course, Little was hired simply because Colbert was such a controversial choice last year...and, of course, the head of the Correspondents' Association is denying it:

Organizers admitted they wanted a somewhat more "safe" choice after last year's subversive routine by Stephen Colbert, which took direct satiric aim at the Iraq war and President Bush (who sat nearby).
 
But how safe? The Las Vegas Review-Journal now reports that Little claimed he did not plan to even mention Iraq or to attack the president, implying that these were the wishes of the inviters. But Steve Scully, president of the White House Correspondents Association, told E&P Friday that the organization never asked Little to avoid subjects like Iraq or back off criticism of President Bush.
 
The Las Vegas paper had reported that Little said organizers of the event made it clear they don't want a repeat of last year's controversial appearance by Colbert. "They got a lot of letters," Little said. "I won't even mention the word Iraq....They don't want anyone knocking the president. He's really over the coals right now, and he's worried about his legacy."
 
But Scully, a senior produce at C-SPAN, replied: "I cannot be more clear that we never mentioned Iraq, we never gave him any guidelines. The only thing we told him is that we want to follow the policy of the Gridiron Dinner, which is 'singe, don’t burn'."

Why don't they get it? The only thing being 'singed' here is the credibility of the White House press corps, and the credibility of journalists in general.

Years ago, I worked for a newspaper that was so stringent on public displays of partisanship that the office code forbade partisan bumper stickers. Not just political ones, but also issue-oriented stickers. No Planned Parenthood. No Operation Rescue. Most staffers didn't even feel comfortable with something as simple as a peace sign or an American flag, so they didn't put anything on their cars. Which was fine.

So why is it acceptable for people who cover Capitol Hill to break bread with the men and women they cover?

You'd think they would've learned something from last year's debacle, during which Colbert Ginsu-ed the press corps with as much finesse as he did the politicos. But no; in an online chat this week, The Washington Post's Congressional reporter, Jonathan Weisman, had this to say:

Oh please, it's a party. If you want to criticize, critique what you see (or don't see) in the newspaper or on television news, not what reporters do in their free time.

Oh, please, yourself, Mr. Weisman. When you're sitting down and yukking it up with the very people you're supposed to scrutinize, that's not your "free time." And it doesn't exactly inspire public confidence. You're certainly aware of the presidential approval ratings; have you seen the approval ratings for the press corps lately?

At a time when Congress is attempting (however maladroitly) to impose its own ethical reform, why don't journalists try to do the same?

Judith Regan Books: another O.J. victim

First Judith Regan was fired from HarperCollins after the O.J. Simpson/If I Did It debacle. And now they're scraping her name off the door and the parking spot:

News Corp.'s book division, HarperCollins Publishers, said Wednesday it's shutting down its Regan imprint in the wake of last month's firing of founder Judith Regan, whose attorney repeated a threat of imminent litigation in the matter.

"Effectively immediately, the Regan name will no longer be used and an interim logo, HC, will appear on all books published through summer," the company said.

In addition, the Regan office in Los Angeles will close as of March 1. Key operations had been moved there to allow the imprint to integrate book deals with film and TV productions.

Cal Morgan and several senior members of the Los Angeles office will return to the HarperCollins New York office, the unit said. Suzanne Wickham will stay on board as publicity director in Los Angeles.

In September, all books previously developed under the Regan umbrella will be assigned to appropriate HarperCollins imprints, the firm said.

Normally I feel sorry for a writer when he/she gets shuffled off to a new editor, but given Regan's stable of celebrity literati, I guess Kathie Lee Gifford and Rush Limbaugh will have to muddle on somehow.

(Good luck to Suzanne Wickham, who is a genuinely nice person...)

Great new blog

I'm really impressed with Hey, There's a Dead Guy in the Living Room, which not only has a snappy-clunky-funky-memorable title, but also a roster of interesting publishing-world types, all from the world of mysteries:

The idea is to cover every aspect of mystery book publishing, so we've assembled three authors, two freelance editors, an acquiring editor, a publisher, a bookseller, a publicist, a mystery fan (at least one!) and a book reviewer, all in eight people. We'll discuss everything about mystery publishing, as well as anything else that enters our diseased little minds (and if you think I'm kidding about our minds being diseased, read the name of this blog again).

HTADGITLR is only about a week old, but so far there's been something new every day. And I'm looking forward to the second installment from Sharon Wheeler, who's already had a couple of interesting insights about the business of book reviewing.