I don't think hounding the "slackers" will do any good, and may make things worse. These are people with the power to say "screw you", and shelve the whole thing if bugged too much.
Ding-ding-ding-ding!
This excerpt from
Ghosts and Ballyhoo explains that yes, people will pull the plug on everything and sacrifice the very success of their own publication or publishing house just for the pleasure they get in controlling and/or punishing you. As a writer, I'm utterly powerless. This is why I've decided that after this book is published, I'm going to strictly self-publish e-books and print-on-demand hard copies of my novels. I've had it with this.
I'm going to pay for a giant publicity blitz for
Ghosts in order to get some momentum. When you read it, you'll see that it has mass-market appeal. Since it deals with fate, reincarnation, destiny, the possibility of life after death, and my near-death experience (don't all memoirs of music journalists?) I'm fairly sure I can get an interview on
Coast to Coast, especially since George Noory is a music fan and I'm a good, funny interview subject.
This is my last hurrah in traditional publishing. I wish I could tell you the behind-the-scenes struggle that's taking place right now, but it would lead to the plug being pulled. That would actually be a blessing, because then I could self-publish, but I signed a contract, so I'm obliged to go through with it.
But let me tell every aspiring writer here: There is no such thing as two-way loyalty in the publishing industry. There is no such thing as building up a reservoir of good will. With every book you publish, you're a newbie all over again, with no respect shown you and no account taken of your suggestions, desires, and input. You're entirely a slave, which is why the big authors such as Stephen King and Anne Rice negotiate insane contracts with several-million dollar advances and the demand that their manuscripts not be edited. It's their way of putting the screws to the publishers for treating them like dirt for so long.
The industry is dysfunctional from top to bottom, which is why it's dying. I'll be extremely glad to say goodbye to it.
The Day I Shouldve Resigned
I wrote a long letter to the editor, complaining about our treatment of Anne Kadrovich, as well as the killing of other articles. I could understand killing articles from ones predecessor--a lie on my part; I had to try and communicate on this mans primitive level--but I simply could not fathom how a publication could survive if it continually did this to people whod given up valuable time and had consented in good faith to sitting down with me. I mentioned all the other sorts of bassists wed covered in the past, insisting that this had given the magazine a broader appeal. The editor sent me a letter in response.
Tom:
Thanks for the letter. I can understand your disappointment about the Kadrovich story, but the article I saw did not offer anything I consider valuable for readers. Yes, weve covered street musicians, circus musicians, etc.--players whose positions are either unique or who hold interesting bass jobs that other players might aspire to, (Though I cant say that all of the stories you might be referring to are ones I would have printed.) In the case of Anne Kadrovich, apart from what gear she uses, there was nothing in the story that indicated what kind of player she is, and there was nothing in her experience that I could see that would be instructive for other players. So my decision not to print it stands.
As for [withheld], it remains my prerogative to publish submitted stories in the form I think best serves readers. Thats my job as editor. As a freelancer myself I feel I bring passion to my subjects, but once I put a story in the mail it ceases to be mine. Call it zen mercenary if you like, but I cant imagine surviving as a writer any other way. I feel the same way when I play a recording session too (as do any of the actually successful studio players I know). You play your best, but once the signal goes into the board its out of your hands.
If I sound a bit inflexible on this, so be it. Its my duty to pull the various pieces together to make this magazine a coherent whole, and Im prepared to take whatever praise or blame comes my way as a result of my decisions. I can promise you that those decisions will be based on what I feel is best for the magazine and the readers.
The fact remains that you are a really, really good writer, and I fear trying to fit what you want to do into Bass Players narrow format may be confining. Nonetheless Id like for you to keep writing for us if you can accept these constraints. To that end its important we know where each other stands, so lets keep talking.
Best,
[withheld].
What I want readers of this memoir to understand is that he was absolutely right, and I was wrong. This letter told me in plain English that his control was more important than the actual content of the magazine; he was absolutely unreachable; and he didnt care about the success of the publication, its reputation, or the feelings of the artists we interviewed. He was also indifferent to whether I stayed or left.
I shouldve resigned on the spot and saved myself the next five years of idiotic rage and the damage it did to me physically and mentally. I was utterly wrong in not taking him at his word when he told me straight out that my services were no longer needed. He explained the terms of my continued employment as clearly as he could, and I refused to accept them.
