Number One: Caleb J. Ross and Pablo D'Stair:

Three dialogues on literature

By Pablo D'Stair

[Part 3]

This dialogue is presented over the next four weeks in a style of "progressive fragments." The exact order of inquiry and response as presented is not the order of inquiry and response as it happened between the two dialogue partners. Therefore, 'Statements' and 'Responses' from one week may not be directly addressed by both parties until subsequent weeks. It is the hope of both parties that the spaces between these responses allow readers the time and opportunity to more fully and experientially engage with the propositions, for themselves, rather than looking at the dialogue as a closed circuit.

Caleb JRoss:Isn't anything that is more difficult more inherently deserving of something? Even accomplishments that don't seem to result in success as traditionally defined (money and power, are deserving, at least, of respect. I think someone who navigates the various gatekeepers of legacy publishing should be respected for that act. This doesn't speak to the quality of the final product-and it shouldn't, to address your ending question-but does to the author's tenacity/determination/perseverance, whatever.

Marathons

Let's take an example out of the publishing industry for a moment, something that neither of us likely have any attachment to. Marathons. The top ten finishers in the Boston Marathon, who each receive trophies (though, I don't know if they actually do receive trophies) are inherently more deserving of something than the last ten finishers who decide to make or buy their own trophies.

The last place finishers could have been just as athletic, just as healthy, could have been vetted by doctors as having had just as good a chance, maybe even a better chance, but they didn't win. Why? The publishing parallel would be that the 10 winners simply kept at it longer.

Maybe they had connections (re: industry contacts) that gave them the edge on how to pace their run. Maybe they ran better because the crowd was cheering for their particular style of running (re: the book is of a more popular/sell-able genre).

It stands that the 10 winners did something that those "in the know" understand as incredibly difficult. They deserve to be respected for that, at least.

Again, the quality of their stride, you can't sell that. Only us nerdy authors/runners care about the stride.

I feel like I'm drowning in this metaphor.

Metaphors

Pablo D'Stair:Haha, metaphors are oh so easy to drown in-but really I can pick up from this nicely, we can further chart the gulf between your position and mine, I think.

But, before jumping into my play on your metaphor, I should just be blunt-No, I do not think navigating the industry, in itself, is deserving of any bit of respect, none at all. Like anything, it's something someone may or may not want to do and the amount of time they want to spend at it is wholly irrelevant-just as I do not respect a piece of writing, itself, more because the author decided to spend 1000 hours on it compared to someone else's 100.

Who cares? Success and navigating and accepting industry is, I feel, irrelevant and this irrelevance will be shown by time, once new models come in and the current industry set up is long forgotten (as previous set ups from days gone by are long forgotten).

The thing about your marathon metaphor, which is apt to describe a contemporary mindset I see a lot of, is that it sets the parameters too particularly-it neglects the runner who trains and runs the "distance of a Marathon" but never signs up for the Boston Marathon, or any Marathon in which prizes are awarded, and who runs the distance as quickly, as well, as often the only difference between this runner and one of the 10 who received a trophy is that the latter had a desire for a trophy. That is the whole difference.

Navigation

And this is why I don't respect industry navigation, at all, as I don't respect anything wholly prize, money, accolade driven. To respect some, even generally, for a theoretical construct is a bit absurd to me.

And, let me not neglect to mention that my position is that the "difficulty" in attaining a career or success as a writer is kind of a blemish, as is the same thing in all art. And the mindset that art deserves respect, measured in such terms, and that any artiste could be satisfied accepting prestige for simply doing what they want to do (or worse, just doing what some third party force dictates) is a kind of arrogance that I dislike.

If someone is full of swagger just based on thinking what they write is wonderful or whatever, that I like, but if someone is full of swagger because, yes, they think what they wrote is beautiful but then add to their swagger by pointing out that 10 million other people think it too...that's perverse.

Epictetus said something about that: "Be not elated at an excellence which is not your own. If the horse in his pride were to say, 'I am handsome', we could bear with it. But when you say with pride, 'I have a handsome horse', know that the good horse is the ground of your pride. You ask then what you can call your own.

The answer is-the way you deal with your impressions. Therefore when you deal with your impressions in accord with nature, then you may be proud indeed, for your pride will be in a good which is your own."

Rift

CJR:Good points, all, and I can accept them. It seems the primary rift between how we perceive art (as we are discussing it here) lies with the importance of context. I say that context defines a thing as much, or more, than the thing itself. You seem to say that context is (perhaps only ideally) irrelevant and that the thing should stand on its own.

So, the accolades of ten million other people, to me, contribute to the definition of a work. Not in a unanimously positive or negative way, just that it contributes in some important way. From your perspective, it would be best to be deaf to the accolades, absorb the work on its own. Is this accurate?

It seems almost like a sensory deprivation experiment; if you can shut off enough stimuli from the brain (the book) the brain (book) begins to become its own source of stimulus. But for me, sensory deprivation is scary. How could reading a book in, say, an airport not offer a vastly different experience and in turn, a different perception of the work, than reading a book outside in the middle of a snowstorm? Same book, same text, same language, very different context.

Lifestyle

CJR:If you think of being an author as a job (as many writers ultimately want it to be), participating in a lifestyle is just part of the job description. Rather than Must be proficient in Excel, Must be willing to travel, knowledge of SQL databases a plus, the author job description goes Must be up on industry trends, Must be willing to travel, knowledge of peer projects and releases a plus.

There could be a prejudice there with self-publishing, but I think if anything it doesn't come from the inherent title of Self-Published Author. Instead, it's a matter of resources. The guy with the SQL database job, hired at Company Y to fulfill the job description would definitely not get support from Company Y if he were to branch off and start his own company. There's no reason for Company Y to support him any more than acknowledging him enough to keep the overall industry healthy.

PD:I cannot argue with things broken down like that. But, I am dreadfully curious as to whether or not this is an actual impression you have of writers, or if this is just a rhetorical. Because reducing (to my way of thinking) a writer to a job, a publisher to an employer is kind a depressing thought.

Success

Not to dwell on that, though (my position is all too well established in other remarks) I wonder if there isn't something to our earlier question of success in this. Similar to our marathon runner having only a dubious, conditional "deservingness" of a prize, surely there are individuals who write who simply, for no lack of passion, would be unable to fulfil a conditional job such as you suggest, who would be "unavailable for travel" so to speak, who would not have the ability (again, not for lack of passion or desire) to fulfil ancillary tasks like attending readings, giving speeches, "touring" in general.

And certainly we should not think that a writer uninterested in interviewing to promote a work is not passionate, to an intense degree, about not only their own work but literature in general.

Of course I see why a publisher would not publish them (from a perfectly wonderful business view of things) but doesn't this reinforce that it is not the "best, most talented" etcetc writers who get the contracts, and so further bring into question the respect given to folks who attain "success" in such measure?

I mean, if an author had five children to raise, say, and so could not invest time to tour and brand themselves surely someone who does have time to do such things and through doing them attains a higher degree of success and exposure is not particularly deserving of more respect for doing so?

Would that not be the equivalent of saying someone who goes to university and gets, say, a PhD is inherently more deserving of respect than someone who does not participate in the university system but whose interests and personal pursuits run parallel to the subject in which the PhD was attained? That is, if two people are speaking on a subject, one with PhD one without, surely we don't just say the one with the PhD, for reason of having a PhD, is deserving of more attention and respect-or even of more success in a pursuit, do we?

Quality

CJR:Again, though, I don't necessarily respect the quality of the work that comes from a legacy publisher. Rather, I respect the implied journey. And once the author is there, my respect diminishes. One book or fifteen books, that's less relevant to me than having initially pushed beyond the gate.

The job comparison, sure it may seem depressing, unless you are lucky enough to like your job. Personally, I like keeping up on trends and knowing about my contemporaries. I'm a data nerd at heart. Or, maybe this enjoyment comes from my respect for context as I spoke about earlier.

Regarding the PhD topic, in a way, yes, I think the person with the PhD is inherently deserving of a bit more respect. (full disclosure: I do not have a PhD; not even an MFA). Having a PhD implies a level of dedication that cannot be implied otherwise. There is a willingness to participate in, and more importantly, contribute to a community.

The PhD and the Sans-PhD could be equally intelligent, but how many more opportunities (to teach travel) will the PhD have? Many, I would think. I respect someone who wants to share knowledge (however it is attained), who feels that the contributions of contemporaries are a valid context to help inform his own work; having a PhD proves this. Sure, the Sans-PhD may have the same embrace, but how would other people know? Two people at a party: One, you know has a PhD. The other, you don't. You want to learn something, anything. Would you not first approach the PhD? You may regret it, but that initial instinct to gravitate to the certified intellectual means something, even if only something small.

Morality

CJR:I don't necessarily start with my own morality, though the morality I do start from is likely influenced, even if only subconsciously, by my own. I normally start with a generalised notion of morality and explore what it is that makes it generalised. The story I referenced above, The Lipidopterist, starts with a guy collecting human lips. Obviously there is something morally...worrisome and potentially criminal about that. What does this say about myself?

That answer probably lies in the answer to the above questions: how much am I connected to my own belongings; how important are things if other people don't find them important; would I ever hate anyone so much that I'd destroy something they loved, even if that thing had no intrinsic value?

I'm sure the philosophers of old and the psychologists of today are correct. Of course, their doctrine also alludes, the unknowability of ones own morality. So, I suppose we'll all just have to assume that I collect human lips and murder babies. Oops.

Experience

PD:Now, do you ask yourself those questions, directly, or...explore what you personally feel about those questions? Or do you riff on them more in the abstract? This is more what I meant to get at.

Of course I don't mean the subject matter directly alludes to personal experience in any literal way-if I write a murderer being threatened with exposure (as I have) the murder aspect is fanciful.

Maybe even the direct threat of exposure is fanciful, but the headspace, the rationale I write is always just a costumed version of actual transgressions and shames of my own, so much that when I have a character "do something" I feel it as close to possible (the fiction taken as read) mirrors either what I have done or what I would do and certainly explores my own personal assumed responses.

That is, when you ask if you would "ever hate someone so much as to destroy something they loved," and say you thought "no, I would not" do you write the story in accordance with that answer or do you, for whatever reason (it's more interesting) write not in accordance with that, just exploring something you don't feel touches on your personal bent?

CJR:Both. Generally, I would explore my own personal assumed responses, but it depends on how interested I am by the protagonist by that point in the story.