By now, you've probably heard that Borders is closing. This isn't welcome news for readers, writers or publishers. And it's definitely not welcome news for those of us in the Ann Arbor area, where Borders is a local business.
It's too late to save Borders. Those lemons are, sadly, already shriveled and rotting on the ground. But that doesn't mean the entire tree is waiting for the axe. There are still lemons to be squeezed with sugar and mixed with iced tea or vodka.
Now, if you know me, or happened to read my previous posts about my well-intentioned attempt at participating in a farm share, then you know any recipe I provide will be an easy one. So, here goes: Go to your local bookstore and buy books.
This recipe can be butchered. If you click over to Amazon, it's like substituting Crystal Light for the fresh lemons and real sugar. You'll still have something to drink, but it's not the same. All of those things you love about bookstores -- the browsing, the community, the random stuff for sale that has nothing to do with books but you can't resist buying anyway, the happily employed people -- you can only get that if you directly support those stores.
If you think about it, lemonade stands are the epitome of small business perseverance. It's something we all associate with the old days -- sepia photos of badly dressed, awkward little kids who would grow up to be our grandparents. Then again, Gwenyth Paltrow and her creatively-named kids just raised money for the RSPCA with a lemonade stand. So, it's still in style.
And so are books.
The bottom line is this: I'm not one of those people who believes the publishing industry is withering and dying.
Sure, things are changing, and we've established that Borders closing is Very Bad News. But I don't see ebooks and small presses and self-publishing, and all the other changes that have people doing their best impressions of either Chicken Little or Madam Cleo, as portents that we're entering an era of illiteracy. They're proof that people still love to read and will find new ways to get their hands on good stories. And they're proof that people still love to write and will find creative ways to get their stories out there.
Still, having places where you can go browse and buy books is important to communities and the industry. It's up to those of us who love books to learn from Borders before more stores go sour. Buying local matters.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Recipe for Turning Borders News into Lemonade
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
The Return of the Killer Comment: Tips to Save Your Internet Life
I love the internet. Really, I do. But after a year and a half of working for a website where people let their passions fly, not to mention watching various friends and strangers flail as they learn to swim through Facebook and Twitter, I've seen some pretty cringe-worthy internet behavior.
The things you post online can come back to haunt you like Michael Myers, the Poltergeist, and that creepy girl from The Ring all rolled into one. It's not that one lame comment on a news story or an awkward tweet will doom you. But as a writer, you are your brand. And if you're here from the activist crowd, the other side is just waiting for an excuse to discredit you.
So, here are a handful of tips that should help you avoid falling in open graves, whether you're building an online presence or being chased by zombies:
1) You never know when they're watching you.
Your worst nightmare could be lurking behind the trees of that blog post or peeping at your Twitter at any time. You may post 79 times a day, but that one time you let your crazy show could be the time when an agent or editor pops over to your page. It could be the time when a reporter or council member decides to see if you're worth an interview or a meeting. Don't let that be the moment when you're caught in the port-a-potty with your pants down. (Ten points if you got the Jurassic Park reference.)
2) There's no good way to get rid of a psycho serial killer.
The internet has a short memory. Except, of course, when you want it to forget. That's when your rant gets immortalized in reposts, caches and screenshots. You can bust out your arsenal of chainsaws, hand grenades, holy water and delete buttons, but oftentimes, the damage is done. And just when you start to think it's safe to go out, it will rise again. So, think before you post.
3) Don't go in the basement. Don't check out that noise. Don't swim in the sharktopus*-infested waters.
Usually you can see disaster coming, as long as you don't ignore the warning signs. So, if you find yourself firing off a response to something that made you attempt to throttle your monitor before you've even wiped the foam from your mouth or, say, posting when drunk (in other words, the equivalent of going for a stroll in the graveyard at midnight wearing only your nightie), it's time to rethink your plan. Step away from the keyboard before you do something you might regret.
4) Make it to the sequel.
All of this isn't to say "go forth and be boring." Being an extra in a horror movie never pays off. In general, especially as a writer, you get bonus points for personality. Just be aware of what you're putting out there because anyone could be watching, and you don't want to be defined by your death scene.
*Here's the Sharktopus trailer, just because it makes me laugh every time:
The things you post online can come back to haunt you like Michael Myers, the Poltergeist, and that creepy girl from The Ring all rolled into one. It's not that one lame comment on a news story or an awkward tweet will doom you. But as a writer, you are your brand. And if you're here from the activist crowd, the other side is just waiting for an excuse to discredit you.
So, here are a handful of tips that should help you avoid falling in open graves, whether you're building an online presence or being chased by zombies:
1) You never know when they're watching you.
Your worst nightmare could be lurking behind the trees of that blog post or peeping at your Twitter at any time. You may post 79 times a day, but that one time you let your crazy show could be the time when an agent or editor pops over to your page. It could be the time when a reporter or council member decides to see if you're worth an interview or a meeting. Don't let that be the moment when you're caught in the port-a-potty with your pants down. (Ten points if you got the Jurassic Park reference.)
2) There's no good way to get rid of a psycho serial killer.
The internet has a short memory. Except, of course, when you want it to forget. That's when your rant gets immortalized in reposts, caches and screenshots. You can bust out your arsenal of chainsaws, hand grenades, holy water and delete buttons, but oftentimes, the damage is done. And just when you start to think it's safe to go out, it will rise again. So, think before you post.
3) Don't go in the basement. Don't check out that noise. Don't swim in the sharktopus*-infested waters.
Usually you can see disaster coming, as long as you don't ignore the warning signs. So, if you find yourself firing off a response to something that made you attempt to throttle your monitor before you've even wiped the foam from your mouth or, say, posting when drunk (in other words, the equivalent of going for a stroll in the graveyard at midnight wearing only your nightie), it's time to rethink your plan. Step away from the keyboard before you do something you might regret.
4) Make it to the sequel.
All of this isn't to say "go forth and be boring." Being an extra in a horror movie never pays off. In general, especially as a writer, you get bonus points for personality. Just be aware of what you're putting out there because anyone could be watching, and you don't want to be defined by your death scene.
*Here's the Sharktopus trailer, just because it makes me laugh every time:
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Staring Down the Blank Page
Hello, Blank Page. So, we meet again.
Starting over is what writers do. Every chapter, every manuscript. Still, the blank page does its best to bare its fangs and act intimidating every time. The world of words doesn't operate by "if you build it, they will come." But building is what we do. So here goes.
This is a new blog, but this isn't the first time I've blogged. This shiny new blog will replace the old personal blog. Why the mulligan? Mostly because that pretty, website-matching blog requires design skills I don't have to update it. That's why we're now on blogger. New look, and I'll throw in a new commitment to try and blog more often. No extra charge.
So, welcome (or welcome back). If there's anything you'd like to see (or see more of) on this blog -- thoughts on writing, books, animal welfare, wacky animal news, etc. -- don't be shy. Comments are our friends.
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