Creativity Friday: Is Twitter making Oscar Wildes (or Dorothy Parkers) of us all?

As you can probably tell by the sidebar on this blog, I’m on Twitter. Initially I embraced it as a waystay for when I didn’t have the time to blog as I’d like—Twitter’s 140 characters or less microblogs are a far, far faster thing to write than churning out a 500+ word post. Twitter was my semi-apologetic offering to those blog readers loyal enough to visit here even when I went weeks between postings.

But after several months of microblogging, I found myself reluctantly drawn into the Twittersphere, especially when several friends joined me there. (Lisa, Diane, Joanna, this means you!) Twitter became my substitute workplace water cooler; I suspect other artists, authors and self-employed people think similarly. Then I began following other publishing professionals, many of which had the inside scoop on stuff before it hit the media. For example, there was a big layoff at HarperCollins several weeks ago. Instead of reading about it in Publisher’s Weekly, I heard it from a HC editorial assistant I’ve been following on Twitter—real time reporting at its most compulsive.

Soon I found myself logging on several times a day just to see what my friends and the publishing world were up to. I noticed that some people’s tweets (which is what you call those 140 character or less microblogs) were just, well, wittier than others. Yup, Twitter is all about social networking at its most viral. But there was also something about its abbreviated format which encouraged people to bring their A game to the keyboard.

Visiting Twitter felt like checking into a gossipy cocktail party minus the nasty alcoholic hangover. I began to wonder: What would a famed wit such as Oscar Wilde or Dorothy Parker do on Twitter? Would they share bon mots with us hoi polloi? Or disdain social networking as Luddites, leaving their virtual assistants to post book signing announcements? As for us latter day folk, is Twitter encouraging a culture of newly minted Oscar Wildes and Dorothy Parkers? (One can hope!)

Let’s examine their potential tweets. First from Oscar:

“Hard work is simply the refuge of people who have nothing whatever to do.” (74 characters.)

“I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.” (99 characters.)

“My own business always bores me to death. I prefer other people’s.” (66 characters.)

Now from Dorothy:

“This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force.” (85 characters.)

“You can’t teach an old dogma new tricks.” (40 characters.)

Even better and darker:

“Razors pain you, Rivers are damp,
Acids stain you, And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful, Nooses give,
Gas smells awful. You might as well live.”

(Ah, this one goes over 9 characters. But Miss Parker could have reposted it as so….)

“Razors pain u, Rivers r damp,
Acids stain u, And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful, Nooses give,
Gas smells awful. U might as well live.” (Exactly 140 characters! And not an emoticon in sight.)

So, what do you think: If Oscar Wilde or Dorothy Parker were living today, would they tweet? And how is Twitter impacting the way we parlay our wit (and wisdom) in the world?

BTW if you’re on Twitter and want to “follow” me, I’m at Twitter.com/kriswaldherr. Better yet, why not tweet me your comments on this post there? 140 characters or less, of course.

• Filed under be-mused, creativity | 9 Responses

defining moments – a resurrection

One of the blogs I read is Elizabeth Genco’s; Elizabeth is a writer who’s also fascinated by the mythic. She’s just written a thought-provoking post on defining moments which reminded me of a similar post I wrote approximately two years ago.

Anyway, I thought it would be fun to resurrect it from my archives, in answer to her request for others’ defining moments. Enjoy!

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I’ve been thinking lately about defining moments. (Maybe this phrase should be written with a capital “D” and “F”, to underscore their importance.) My life lately feels a bit like this right now. For the most part, things are in a welcome state of peaceful equilibrium, like the Balance card in the Goddess Tarot. I tell myself to remember this peaceful state and to cherish it. Having sold Doomed Queens, watching my daughter grow up into a beautiful little girl, feeling connected to a supportive community around me — it’s all good. I want to capture this defining moment, like a snapshot to be pulled out of my memory at will.

Though other defining moments I’ve experienced haven’t always risen out of contentment, they are equally important to me. They’ve helped me to figure out exactly I am, what my path should be. We all experience these moments, these quick-brilliant flashes of mythic living that illuminate our lives. What’s tricky is to recognize them for what they are before they fade into yet-another-detail to be cataloged.

One true story: I think I’ve mentioned in the past here that I lived for a year in England after I sold my first book. It was one of the most magical years of my life — it was the first time that I was able to devote myself entirely to art. And I was living in one of the most beautiful places I’d ever seen, surrounded by intensely creative and gifted people.

Sometimes it was hard. Even with a book contract, I still worried about making a living and whether I’d be able to sell future books. I also worried that my art would be beautiful enough to move people as I’d like it to. Would I’d ever be able to reach the artistic goals I yearned for? I pondered this intensely, wondering if I’d chosen the right path. Art can feel like an indulgent proposition, when so much of the world is in trauma.

And one day, the answer came to me when I least expected it.

Of all places, it was on the Underground, London’s equivalent to the NYC subway system. I was in London to show my portfolio around, in hopes of alleviating my ever present “can I make a living as an illustrator” anxiety. Though the Underground was crowded, I managed to score a seat — much welcome, since I was tired from walking around the city all day. I settled in, keeping my eyes low and body tucked tight, to avoid any contact with strangers.

Suddenly, I heard a woman’s voice. “You must be an artist.” Sitting next to me was a middle-aged woman, neatly dressed in business clothing. She continued, “I usually don’t do this, but look at your hands — they’re so long and graceful. You must be an artist.”

Stunned, I nodded yes.

The woman said nothing else to me during that crowded train ride. But what she said was enough.

And what about you? What defining moments do you value?

• Filed under be-mused, blogs we read, mythic living, news & muse, the art world, the world around me, travels | 3 Responses

Publishing Monday: How to tell you’re *never* getting published

It’s a snow day here, so my blogging schedule has been shifted about. (In other words, my daughter didn’t have preschool today. Welcome to March!) So my final post on getting to yes will have to wait until next Monday.* In the meantime, here’s some inspiration — or not, as the case may be.

One of my new favorite publishing blogs is Editorial Anonymous. It’s written anonymously (get it?) by a children’s book editor. I’m not sure if the blogger is a man or woman, but for the sake of simplicity, let’s call Editorial Anonymous a woman.

Anyway, her posts are wickedly funny and harshly realistic — ie: not for the faint of heart or easily discouraged. So consider yourself warned. That written, there’s a lot of great insider information that I haven’t seen elsewhere. I devoured her archives in much of a single sitting. I’m not sure what that says about me — maybe that I’ve worked in publishing for too long? — especially since it’s rare for me to read a blog all the way through in this manner.

One of Editorial Anonymous’s blog categories is the bluntly titled “how to tell you’re never getting published.” In it, she writes about everything from slush piles to query letters from hell. It’s strangely addictive reading in a “there for the grace of god go I” manner. My personal favorite: the book proposal about magical spaghetti that was painted in tomato sauce. One recoils to think of the stench. Ugh.

Oh, and while you’re there, make sure to check out the sidebar which enumerates the strangest items Editorial Anonymous has received in the slush pile. Dental x-rays, anyone?

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* To make up for it, I’ll do my best to make next week’s post an extra good one. And, as always, feel free to post any questions you’d like me to address about getting to yes in the comments.

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The above photograph of Brooklyn under snow is © Anna Kucsma 2000. Distributed under Creative Commons attribution. This is similar to what it looked like this morning in my neighborhood. And, yes, many trees grow in Brooklyn.

• Filed under be-mused, blogs we read, publishing, publishing 101 | 3 Responses