Enter the Free Press: One Door Closes and Two Years Later, Another One Opens

Here's the lede: I got a job! Starting February 7th I will be bookflacking full time for the Free Press, an imprint of Simon & Schuster.

Here's the background: I started this blog about 21 months ago to chronicle my efforts to publicize myself into a new position. The month that HarperCollins folded the Collins division and my colleagues and I were laid off--February 2009--about 650,000 other people also lost their jobs. The economy was such a basket case, the unemployment rate so high, and competition for jobs so fierce that I knew I had to do something beyond sending out resumes, searching job sites, pressing for "informational" interviews, and all the traditional things you do when looking for a job. So being a publicist, I decided to publicize myself.

I met with some significant success too. I was featured by CNN, Fox News Channel, BusinessWeek, U.S. News & World Report, the New York Post. I started this blog and another, Classics Rock! Books Shelved in Songs, hoping they would help keep me in front of the publishing industry. Those efforts also met with some success, getting me into such industry media as Shelf Awareness, GalleyCat, Publishers Weekly, the New York Times's "Paper Cuts" blog, CNBC's "Bullish on Books" blog, BookSlut, and Publishing Perspectives. I started writing for The Huffington Post, McSweeneys, and other outlets hoping this would be another way to stay visible, and that too has paid off. (A full list of these media hits appears on this page.)

So: Did all this self-promotion ultimately lead to the new job? Hard to say. In the end, it came about the way it often does--through a friend, who alerted me to an opening and connected me to the appropriate party. Still, I have to believe that the publicity I generated played a part, even if it was a subliminal one. No one ever said, "I saw you on CNN and I'd like to hire you." But I like to think that if someone in the industry was looking to fill a position, and my name came up, they would at least say: "Oh, yeah--I've heard of him."

It all goes to a point that I try to make with authors: Publicity isn't always about making the sale. Sometimes it's just about being visible and spreading awareness.

Thanks to those of you who've been following along. This blog long ago strayed from its original mission, and it will continue on an irregular basis, whenever inspiration strikes (or I get a major media hit!).

Here's the announcement from the Free Press, sent out by my new colleague Carisa  Hays, V.P., Director of Publicity:

I am very happy to announce that on February 7th, Laurence Hughes will be joining the Free Press Publicity Department as Associate Director of Publicity, reporting to me.  

Larry has proven himself, over many years in the business, to be one of the leading book publicists in our industry.  He has held senior publicity positions at several major houses, including: HarperBusiness/Collins, NAL, and Dell/Delacorte.  Most recently, Larry has worked as an independent publicity consultant  working with publishers, literary publicity agencies, and authors who have hired him directly.

In addition to his work as a book publicist, Larry blogs for the Huffington Post, and also writes two personal blogs:  Classics Rock! and Book Flack at Large.  He has written articles that have been published in The New York Times, New York Post, Publishers Weekly, The Author, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, and the anthologies Mountain Man Dance Moves (Vintage, 2006), The McSweeney’s  Joke Book of Book Jokes (Vintage, 2008), and Book: The Sequel (Public Affairs, 2009).

In addition to working on many of our upcoming titles, Larry will be responsible for  Free Press’s online publicity campaigns, which have become a  significant part of our overall publicity efforts.

Please join me in welcoming Larry to Free Press.

Belated Birthday Greetings for Edgar Allan Poe

[Today is the day after Edgar Allan Poe's 202nd birthday--time to revisit "Five Belated Birthday Greetings for Edgar Allan Poe," from The Huffington Post.]

"It is what Edgar Allan Poe might have called 'a mystery all insoluble': Every year for the past six decades, a shadowy visitor would leave roses and a half-empty bottle of cognac on Poe's grave on the anniversary of the writer's birth. This year, no one showed. Did the mysterious 'Poe toaster' meet his own mortal end? Did some kind of ghastly misfortune befall him? Will he be heard from nevermore?" - Associated Press, January 19, 2010

Hope you're not inclined to scold me, but a little birdie told me
That I missed your birthday, which I've never done before.
With the dawn I should have hurried to the place where you are buried
But the dawning found me napping, napping with a lusty snore.
When shall I next miss your birthday, napping with a lusty snore?
Quoth that birdie: "Nevermore!"

---------------
It's not 'cause I'm forgetful that I missed your birthday, surely!
I just went catatonic and was buried prematurely.
Which means I had to spend the anniversary of your birth
Clawing through a coffin lid and several feet of earth.
Caked in blood and dirt, and raving mad, I'm here to say:
So sorry that I missed it--hope you had a special day!

---------------
I know I'm late! I thought this year I'd take a different tack
And bring Amontillado, not the usual cognac.
I sought some from old Montressor, an amiable feller--
Until he chained me up behind a wall down in his cellar!
So on your special day I wished us both returns, we two:
That Montressor returns for me--and returns of the day to you!

---------------
I know I missed your birthday--a serious omission.
I confess, I didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition!
Imagine my surprise to find that on your special day
I was brought to trial, followed by auto-da-fé.
The pendulum swings lower and will soon cut me in two,
So I want to say I hope your day was really swingin' too!

---------------
True! Your birthday's come and gone with no cognac or roses.
The old man said they're wasted on someone who decomposes.
For that remark, I did him in! He'll bother me no more.
I chopped him up and stashed the bits beneath my humble floor.
And yet from underfoot I hear his heart's incessant beatings!
So, from both our hearts, we send belated birthday greetings.

Sanitizing Twain--To the Nth Degree

[From The Huffington Post]

When I saw the recent headline that Mark Twain scholar Alan Gribben was removing all the n-words from Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer, my first thought was: Good! Those narratives will flow a lot better without words like neologistic, numismatic, and nanotechnology cluttering things up.

Then I thought: What if he goes too far? Do we really want all the n-words removed? Would Twain's humor and stylistic charm shine as brightly without words like Nerf and nudnik? We might even want to add some n-words. I think Huck and Tom's adventures could be spiced up considerably by more frequent use of the words naked, nude and nubile.

I became alarmed: Just how far would Gribben take this crusade? It's possible that perfectly blameless words that merely sound like n-words would fall under his editorial scalpel. How empty and lifeless would Twain's prose be without words like pneumatic, knockwurst, and gnu? It would be a tragic case of lexicographical guilt-by-association.

I resolved then and there to counter Gribben by creating my own editions of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, which would consist entirely and exclusively of n-words. Of course, I'd have to change the titles to Nom Nawyer and Nuckleberry Ninn, and the author's name to Nark Nwain [née Namuel Nlemens]. I just hoped I could interest a publisher like NAL or Norton in the project. It might look silly coming from Nandom Nouse or Nimon & Nuster.

All that thinking and reacting and resolving left me exhausted. I fell back on my beanbag and tried to relax by moving beyond the headline and actually reading the accompanying story. There I learned that Gribben didn't have it in for all n-words--just certain n-words. In particular, the n-word. A word that can lead to violence, provoke outrage, inflict pain and reduce people to tears. A word used to hurt and repress. A word weighted with centuries of racial hatred and conflict. A word with more power to make your head explode than the Ark of the Covenant.

The word is "nigger," and it appears 219 times in Huckleberry Finn alone. In each instance, Gribben has substituted the word "slave" in his edition. "I found myself right out of graduate school at Berkeley not wanting to pronounce that word when I was teaching either Huckleberry Finn or Tom Sawyer," Gribben told the New York Times. "And I don't think I'm alone."

We've all heard that sticks and stones will break our bones but words can never hurt us. Of course it's nonsense--words can hurt deeply. But I've always believed that words, in and of themselves, only have the power to hurt us if we grant it to them. Easy for me to say--I've never been on the receiving end of the n-word myself (incoming for me is more likely to be "dork" or "jackass"), and history has shown that people who use the n-word are often perfectly willing to underscore it with sticks and stones and whips and chains and nooses and guns and fire hoses.

Still, there is some truth to George Carlin's observation that there is no such thing as a bad word--just bad thoughts, bad intentions. What were Twain's intentions? He wasn't being hateful in using the n-word--he was offering an accurate depiction of an idiom in use in the period and location he was writing about. As for his broader intentions--well, his depiction of Jim's efforts to get to freedom can hardly be considered an endorsement of the institution of slavery. But who can be bothered considering historical context or literary themes or the author's intentions? That just sucks up precious time that could be put to better use getting offended.

Of course, the n-word is hardly limited to Twain's work--there are plenty of other offenders around that might require attention. Charles Portis's novel True Grit is enjoying renewed popularity thanks to the new film version, and guess what? There's the n-word right on pg. 19 of my ancient Signet paperback edition--and again on pg. 84. Mr. Gribben--your next project! Unless it's a matter of degree. Portis's two references compared to Twain's 219 may not be sufficiently offensive to make it eligible for altering. Nor does the fact that, unlike Twain's work, Portis's is protected by copyright. Or that unlike Twain, Portis is still around to object.

Perhaps we could take on the rap music industry, where the n-word is ubiquitous--even celebrated--and then perhaps go after any number of stand-up specials on HBO and Comedy Central. And Jabari Asim, author of The N Word: Who Can Say It, Who Shouldn't, and Why--better watch out: we may be coming for you too!

Or we could take another approach: Just leave it alone. Once you start sanitizing it's hard to know where to stop. Huckleberry Finn is a product of its time. Hate it, debate it, deplore it, ignore it, but don't take it upon yourself to change it to suit your own mores and values. I suspect that if Twain were alive today, he'd have another n-word for someone who presumed to rewrite his work: Knucklehead.

Santa's Privacy Policy

[From McSweeneys.net]

At Santa's Workshop, your privacy is important to us. What follows is an explanation of how we collect and safeguard your personal information; the kind of information we collect; and your choices regarding our use and disclosure of this information.

Why Do We Need This Information?
Santa Claus requires your information in order to compile his annual list of Who is Naughty and Who is Nice, and to ensure accuracy when he checks it twice. Your information is also used in connection with delivering the kinds of goods and services you've come to expect from Santa, including but not limited to toys, games, good cheer, merriment, Christmas spirit, seasonal joy, and holly jollyness.

What Information Do We Collect?
We obtain information from a variety of sources. Much of it comes from unsolicited letters sent to Santa by children all over the world listing specific items they would like to receive for Christmas. Often these letters convey additional information as well, such as the child's hopes and dreams, how much they love Santa, and which of their siblings are doodyheads.

The letters also provide another important piece of information—fingerprints. We run these through databases maintained by the FBI, CIA, NSA, Interpol, MI6, and the Mossad. If we find a match, it goes straight on the Naughty List. We also harvest a saliva sample from the flap of the envelope in which the letter arrives in order to establish a baseline genetic identity for each correspondent. This is used to determine if there might be an inherent predisposition for naughtiness. A detailed handwriting analysis is performed as part of a comprehensive personality workup, and tells us which children are advancing nicely with their cursive and which are still stubbornly forming block letters with crayons long past the age when this is appropriate.

Our network of fully trained, duly deputized mall "Santas" file reports from the field, telling us which children are well-behaved, which are elf-phobic, which are prone to sphincter control issues, and which are squirmy beard-pulling monstrous little brats. Digital copies of photos taken with these "Santas" are automatically sent to our database for further evaluation, with particular attention given to the ones where the children are crying.

Santa also employs a paranormal method of observation known as "remote viewing." This enables him to see you when you're sleeping, know when you're awake, and know if you've been bad or good. He even knows if the cookies you're leaving out are homemade or store-bought.

What Do We Do With the Information We Collect?
Sharing is one of the joys of Christmas. For this reason, we share your personal information with our affiliates, non-affiliated third parties, and anyone else who has a legitimate financial stake in a successful holiday season. Mrs. Claus also likes to have a look-see.

Our affiliates include partners of Santa's Workshop who are actively involved in making Christmas happen. They include toy-making elves, flying reindeer, and Jesus. Non-affiliated third parties might include the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and Hanukkah Harry.

We may also share your information with mental health practitioners—especially if, as a child, you asked for a particular present every Christmas but never got it. This information gives your analyst a better understanding of why you sometimes feel sad at this time of year and why you resent your parents.

Occasionally we share your Christmas wish lists with professional lyricists seeking inspiration for a catchy holiday song. In the past this information has inspired such holiday favorites as "All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth," "All I Want for Christmas is You," "My Grown-Up Christmas List," and "Santa Baby." Should your wish list inspire a hit single, you may be entitled to royalties, payable in the form of sleighfuls of Christmas cheer.

Finally, we make note of the condition of your roof and chimney in the course of our Christmas Eve deliveries. We share this information with appropriate third-party contractors, who may contact you to warn that your aging roof will soon be leaking worse than Julian Assange, or that you will die in your sleep of carbon monoxide poisoning if you don't replace your chimney liner right away.

How Do We Secure This Information?
We secure your information by keeping it at the North Pole, one of the most remote, inhospitable and uninhabitable places on earth. It is stored in a secure gingerbread facility deep in the Candy Cane Forest, behind an impassable barrier conjured by Elven magic. The facility is guarded by a full brigade of life-size wooden toy soldiers armed with Nerf Blasters and Super Soakers. The area is also patrolled by ravenous polar bears.

You Have Choices
You have "opt out" choices regarding certain disclosures we make about you. Please indicate your preferences below:

____ I'll be nice. Please collect, collate, analyze, disseminate and disclose my personal information in any way you see fit. I understand that my cooperative attitude will be taken into consideration when it comes time to compile the Naughty/Nice list next year.

____ I'll be naughty. Please don't share my personal information with anyone. You may use it only to ensure that I get as many of the specific items on my list as possible. I understand that my uncooperative attitude carries the risk that a lump of bituminous coal will be deposited in my stocking annually, either for the duration of my life or until I change my preferences.

You may forward your completed form to: Santa Claus, c/o Santa's Workshop, The North Pole. Or you may retain it for your own records—it doesn't matter. Whether your form is on file with Santa or not, he's gonna find out who's naughty or nice.

Please allow twelve days of Christmas for your choices to take effect.

Steve Martin Starring in Rashomon

By now you've heard that Steve Martin's appearance at the 92nd Street Y in New York on Monday night didn't go so well. Martin was interviewed on stage by Deborah Solomon, who interviews famous folks for The New York Times Magazine and has also written extensively about art. Martin is an art collector and his new novel, An Object of Beauty, is set in the art world, so it seems like a natural, right?

But halfway through the session, a representative of the Y walked on stage and handed Solomon a note suggesting that she ask more questions about Martin's career as an actor and entertainer, and less about art. When Solomon read the note aloud to the audience, they cheered.

The next day, the Y offered refunds to everyone who attended the event (including those watching via satellite in remote locations), saying that "We, too, were disappointed with the evening."

In short, this was a disaster on par with the Spider-Man musical. Think of it as Steve Martin: Turn Off the Art. Or more appropriately, think of it as a spin on the classic film Rashomon, because no one can agree on who is to blame. Solomon and Martin seem to think the Y was out of line for forcing the conversation toward more celebrity/pop culture topics. The Y says they expected a more rounded discussion of Martin's career instead of an in-depth discussion of art. And some people who were actually at the event blamed Solomon for forcing the direction of the discussion and asking granular questions about Martin's novel, which presumably most of the audience hadn't read.

What we need is for video of the event to surface so we can know the truth. Kind of like the Zapruder film—we all know how that settled things once and for all regarding the JFK assassination. Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be any cell phone video available—the event was so tedious, even cell phones went into sleep mode.

Meanwhile, it's clear from Martin's Twitter stream that he is still miffed at the 92nd Street Y. It wouldn't surprise me if he canceled his Y membership altogether and joined Curves instead.