The Marble Game

I'm not going to deal with a lot of corrections here, or going back. This is a post of excitement, vicarious excitement, which usually should be the case anyway.

I found this post from almost a year ago, and if you look at the folks mentioned at the bottom, it should also get you excited. And if it doesn't, well, that's OK too I guess.

Here's the deal.

Blake Butler has signed a book deal with Harper Perennial, and Shane Jones is having his first novel made into a movie. And it's being reprinted by Penguin. Oh yeah, the dude who made things happen: Spike Jonze. Check out the link. Big things around the corner.

It would be easy to cry a river and say, "I work hard. Why not me?" And that's what annoys me about many, many folks writing poetry these days (because I can't take the term "poet" seriously, and probably never will be able to). It would've been easier to get an MBA if you wanted to rack the greenbacks.

This isn't a post bashing poets, because I myself, if you didn't know, am a writer of poetry. And I'm guilty of being frustrated by writing poetry also. See my last post. Or many of them before that. But come on, people.

Let me finish by saying that I'm thrilled for Shane and Blake (if you couldn't tell).

If you've read their blogs, you know that they're indefatigable writers. They don't fuck around. They made these things happen for themselves. And it's completely inspiring. Because people are reading, and people do care about art. We're in this horrendous economy right now, only composition jobs seem to be available for PhDs, and people are getting guns and murdering each other, so it's easy to bitch and moan and want Vinny Chase's life. Or you can work your ass off and get people to read your work. It's not "bragging." It's believing. It's about hope. It's about inspiration. Effusiveness required.