Philippa Brophy
Philippa Brophy
Sterling Lord Literistic, Inc.
65 Bleecker Street
New
York, NY 10012
Dear Philippa Brophy:
I just finished writing a memoir called BLUE-COLLAR REDNECK: WHY WON'T NOBODY
HIRE ME TO BE A WRITER? The book ran 125,000 words and contained 60 pictures from
my collections and public sources.
The book is in three parts, like a job
application. "Employment History," "Education," and "Honors
and Awards."
I enclose a description of the book, a list of what I did
last year, "Calendar Year 2005," and the first 50 pages of "Employment
History." Plus three fliers for my last published book, Bukowski Never Did
This: A Year in the Life of an Underground Writer and His Family.
May
I show you the manuscript?
Jack Saunders
Garage Band Books
Box 10501
Panama City, FL 32404
One-line pitch: Underground writer makes good.
Web site: The Daily Bulletin: A Newsletter on the State of the Culture,
or, How To Write World Literature from Parker, Florida (www.thedailybulletin.com).
See "About Jack Saunders and The Daily Bulletin" (www.thedailybulletin.com/about/about.htm).
Literary Theory
Saturday morning.
I woke up this morning with the writing roaring in my
head.
This exchange occurred.
Q: There are only two plots in literature. (1) A man goes on a journey, and (2) a stranger rides into town.
A: That's one plot, seem from two different points of view. All literature is one plot, seen from two different points of view.
I added it to the copyright page of the MS as an epigraph to the book. I
revised the html file to include it, and uploaded the new file. So if you read the
entry for January 6 online yesterday it wasn't in there. If you read it today, it
is.
I also changed the No. 1 heading on p. 1 from JANUARY to THE PREPARATION.
I saw that the book is in four parts. THE PREPARATION, THE JOURNEY, RE-ENTRY, WHAT
I LEARNED.
I continued the conversation above in my head.
Q: One plot, seen from two different points of view, is a postmodern
novel.
A: Yes. I wrote the Great American Novel and it was a memoir. Now I am
writing an online journal (OLJ) and it's a postmodern novel, or PI novel, as I call
them.
For post-inaccrochable. What you write when you can't sell what
you write.
You say fuck it, and write whatever you damned well please.
If I can't sell it anyway, I might as well write what I please.
And that's commercial,
because it's new. Inédit. So fresh it smokes, as Uncle Warren said of the turkey
shit.
All I'm doing is following Brenda's advice.
She said to go
somewhere new, see new people, talk to them. Write about that.
Use my grant
for that.
Do something different. Do something. Besides sitting in my studio
and writing about how many jobs I have lost, books I have had rejected.
Q: What are you going to do?
A: Why, drive to Page and Palette bookstore in Fairhope, Alabama, for a reading. A book-signing. Meet the reader. Perform. Sell books.
Q: That's different.
A: Some lonely journalist will seduce me. She will look like Meryl Streep to my Chris Copper. At last, an authentic man. A primitive. A real man. A swamp-dweller, orchid-poacher, salvage-archeologist.
Q: So you could change the name of After BLUE-COLLAR REDNECK: An Online Journal (OLJ) to I Drive to Fairhope, Alabama: A PI Novel.
A: Yes. Just as I could change the name of BLUE-COLLAR REDNECK to WORKING MAN BLUES.
Q: Why don't you? That way you wouldn't antagonize (1) Yankees, (2) Black Experience Citizens, and (3) feminists.
A: Why did hippies call themselves freaks? I am a blue-collar redneck.
What other perspective can I write from?
Percy Dovetonsils?
Tennis, anyone? A Manhattan? Let's watch television.