Jack and Irene (and Mayapriya too)

A Saturday Rant 3/11/00
I was in San Francisco earlier this week to see three prospective authors.
Late in the afternoon I stopped by one of my favorite bars, (in a city of
great bars) known as the Royal Exchange. It looks very much like the tavern
in Cheers, a circular bar with tables around the walls. It’s been around
forever, and has always been a hang-out for both the young financial types
all in their yuppie blazers and power silks, as well as a watering hole the
"I got mine" crowd in their designer suits.

This is not a writers or publishers bar. In fact, I don’t believe they even
let Democrats or liberals in. Most of the young crowd were on the make,
looking for a suitable member of the opposite sex that might be from the
upper strata of the gene pool. The older customers were either with business
associates hoping to wash away their day with a few good belts, or were
alone, like me,  having a quick drink waiting for the traffic to thin out so
they could get over the Oakland (there is no ‘there there’) Bay Bridge,
which you could see from the front window. I was still fuming over the posts
of two weeks ago when I was taken to the "woodshed" for castigating people
for being on the Gundry list. However, I had good meetings with the authors,
I saw a few publishing friends, and found it amazing how a few sips of a
martini (stirred, not shaken and with three olives) can take the edge off.

In walked Jack and Irene Darling. I couldn’t believe it. They looked around,
saw me, and walked over.

"You may be surprised, but we’re not," said Jack, sitting down while he
surveyed the room for the scenery. Once a babe-hound, always a babe-hound.

"I was here to attend a lunch meeting of the Northern California Publicists
Association and ran into Peter Masterson, president of the Bay Area
Independent Publishers Association. Pete told me he saw you this morning and
that you would be here," Irene said, oblivious to all the young men who were
looking at this striking women standing in front of me.

She is just one of those women that people can’t look at enough. And when
she took off her white linen blazer, she had the attention of every male
boomer/yuppie in the place. Wearing a black, form-fitting turtleneck and
with a long gold chain down to her tiny waist, you could tell that Irene was
serious about keeping herself in shape. And her almost shoulder length dark
hair made her look much younger than her 50 years.

Jack, only a few years older, was his usual GQ self with a  blue shirt that
had a small picture of a polo player where the pocket should be (for guys
too important to carry pens in their shirt), a red Brooks Brothers tie, a
black blazer (all the rage in CA, black being even more popular than
venerable navy blue) and neatly pressed gray trousers which broke correctly
over his Allen-Edmonds. Unlike me, Jack did NOT get his clothes at Lands
End.

If you didn’t know better, you would believe that Jack and Irene were movie
stars, not writer and publisher. Irene, the major stockholder of Faranganar
Press is the personification of "bounce", beauty and brains, a rare
combination in the publishing world where so many people are beat-up
looking, and  burned out from low pay, hard work, and the constant failure
of good books that don’t sell. And Jack, a successful ex-lawyer, ex-college
professor (economics), and now well-known novelist, enjoys the role of the
so-called "absent minded" writer, but is a hell of a lot smarter than people
give him credit for. It is a good performance and he is a good actor.
However, the ego is no act.

Looking up at the 20 something waiter who came to take the order, I knew
what was coming. "Young man, this is your lucky afternoon as you are graced
at this very table with an author of national stature who has had two
national bestsellers," Jack pompously said in his deepest radio voice, just
loud enough for the next seven tables to hear.

"Oh, Mr. Limbaugh, you don’t look anything like your pictures!" gushed the
ashen-faced ditto-head. "I read both your books and you are right on about
Clinton. Nobody is going to believe that I served Rush Limbaugh! Wow!"

"Look, let’s just keep this between us, lets not tell anyone, OK?"  Jack
whispered before he ordered a Compari and soda for Irene, and a vodka-tonic
for himself.

"Well, one thing is certain. Jack has an ego as large as Rush Limbaugh,"
Irene said smiling. "Alan, dear, are you still smarting about the beating
you took two weeks ago about the Gundry list?"

Ever since college days, Irene could read me like a book. I didn’t want to
discuss this, as I was just starting to feel good. But when Irene was on the
trail of something, there is no stopping her. I was hoping Jack would change
the subject.

"Well, I can’t imagine how any self-respecting publisher can be on that
list. Or writers either for that matter. Some people just don’t have any
self-respect. It’s just that simple," said Jack trying to imitate Ross
Perot’s famous ending line.

Irene nodded as the waiter brought their first drinks and a refill for me.
"That’s one of the problems with the small press sector. We don’t have
anyone to represent us, to stand up for us, to even act as a role model.
What? PMA? SPAN? Jenkins Group? There is no one there."

"We writers have the National Writers Union, and while I’m not a big fan of
unions, I must say these folks have done OK by us, especially in the area of
electronic rights issues. I don’t understand why independent publishers don’
t have something like it," said Jack

Of all the bars in San Francisco, why did they have to pick this one, today?
I didn’t want to talk publishing. Anything but publishing. Weather. Don’t
these people have weather?

"Well I think PMA tries," said Irene as she tasted  her drink. As Irene give
the waiter a ten and told him to keep the change, the expression on his face
said that he would trade his sister into slavery for a chance to go home
with Irene. (And so would every other gen-Xer in the place!) "But that is
just not their charter. They are really a seminar and co-op mailing house,
and while they may have some four thousand members, by and large they pretty
much stay out of publishing politics. I love Jan. She is a sweetheart. And
she has a "wooden leg." She and Jack once did a pub crawl at the London Book
Festival. Jack said she put away  two yards of ale and pretty much carried
him back to the hotel."

"The woman also knows wine. I think she has a bumper sticker on her car that
reads ‘November was a good month.’ She is a hell of a party girl, that’s for
sure," Jack said with admiration. "I’ll bet you thought something was going
on between us."

"Oh, right. In your dreams! But you know that she is now a single woman
again, so maybe I should be concerned?" Irene laughed. "And I suppose that
you thought there was something between me and Steve Forbes. You remember
the evening I spent with him during the campaign two months ago?"

"Oh, not Forbes. Don’t hurt me like this. Irene, if you are going to have an
affair, please do it with your pal Dan Rather or Ted Turner or at least
someone I can really be jealous of," Jack said with a wide grin on his face.

Knowing that this bantering could go on for hours, I tried to pick up were
we had left off. Anything, even discussing publishing politics,  was better
than hearing the two of them do a New York cocktail party "I’m wittier than
you are" dialogue. It’s great the first time, but not the five hundredth.

"Well if PMA is not empowering, what about SPAN and The Jenkins Group?" I
asked. "Do you think they will surface as leaders."

I knew Irene would pick up on this as she was good friends with all of the
players. "SPAN is interesting, in that my old friends  Marilyn and Tom Ross
are doing all they can to copy PMA, but not improve on it. I haven’t spoken
to either in years, but I believe their philosophy is that they can do what
PMA does, but can do it better. And their newsletter is the best thing out
there… always full of neat tips and useful marketing information. I love
it and always find good ideas and contacts. But between you and me, I’m sure
they are in it for the money… let’s face it, there’s a good living to be
made in putting on seminars as well as selling ‘benefits’ to the great
unwashed hordes of wanna-be publishers out there."

Jack waved for the waiter. "But can either SPAN or PMA compete with Jerry
Jenkins. Hey, the guy  IS a steamroller. He has a slick operation, a seminar
business, a publishing arm, and a special sales division. This guy wants to
be the Bill Gates of publishing."

"Well he at least WANTS to see something change for us" Irene said as the
waiter came over. She and Jack ordered refills along with another martini
for me. "Alan, dear, in your Saturday Rant of a while back, you called for
people to join you to explore the concept of an advocacy group called the
Independent Publishers Action Committee. What happened to that idea? And I’m
surprised that PMA or SPAN has not taken you up on it."

Jack was not going to save me. No weather here, just politics. "But you have
to see it from another viewpoint,  that of other vendors like the PMA and
SPAN associations. I mean, what is the worst nightmare of any trade
organization, vendor, or interest group?"

"Having John Ingram  as president of PMA is one of mine," said Irene, also
feeling no pain.

"No, sweet wife, the worst nightmare of any organization is winning. That’s
right. Winning. It is important that the goals and dreams of the
organization and the membership never be realized because after all, if they
are, what do people need the organization for? Look at what happened to the
Sierra Club in 1992 when Clinton and Gore were elected. Their membership and
income plummeted. They had to lay off staff and cut back on lots of
tree-hugger programs. And look what happened two years later when the
Republican Huns were swept into the Congress. Membership soared and money
came rushing in. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Sierra Club gave secret
millions to the Newt-wits to help them win. Without a real threat, who would
be interested in the Sierra Club?"

Irene was not impressed. "So, Jack, you are saying that PMA, Jenkins, SPAN
and others, don’t REALLY want to see a level playing field for small
publishers? That they just want to keep the status quo? I don’t know.
Sometimes I think you live on one of the moons that circle planet Zardo"

"Honestly Irene, look at the facts. Why do you think that PMA, SPAN, or
Jenkins don’t have a committee or a task force to address problems like
returns, slow pay, promotion of literacy, discounts, etc. that have been
plaguing the industry since Johann Fust? Because it is not in their
‘ultimate’  best interest, that’s why. I mean, who is going to spend the
money to attend one of PMA’s seminars or pay for a PMA mailing if everyone
has free, easy, and open access to the distribution chain, or if all of a
sudden the publishing business started running like the computer business,
where sales were sales, and bills were paid? Vendors are selling you
"insider tips," "special knowledge," "little known secrets," to help you
overcome the obstacles to this business. And you need these services right
now. But take away the obstacles and you take away part of the allure of the
vendors, as well as the associations," Jack said in his best professorial
tone.

"Well, Jack might be right, but I think people would still join
associations, if nothing more than to exchange knowledge at the various
conventions and conferences," Irene said turning to me. "But I still wish
you luck with your IPAC idea. The concept of a "virtual" organization that
would take one or two issues a year, study the hell out of them, come up
with ‘white paper’ recommendations, and then publicize the hell out of those
to try to get some new ideas adopted by the big houses, indeed to sway so
called ‘public’ opinion in this industry, really appeals to me. I’ll bet
that if an IPAC did an in-depth study on the returns problem, came up with
some recommendations, and did all they could to jawbone the big houses to
make some policy changes, that real change could occur. At least it wouldn’t
hurt."

Irene could sell ice to the Eskimos and I was glad she approved of my
concept. "Well, the idea of IPAC still needs lots of work and discussion," I
said. "But I think it might be beneficial. I sure wish PMA would do it
instead, but I’ve fought that battle before. It definitely will not happen
so long as PMA is a closed shop with no election for any of the officers or
board members allowed," I added, with an air of resignation.

"Well, old man, you got the WANDA project started. There’s no doubt you can
get this one going as well. I volunteer Irene to be the first director of
IPAC," Jack said.

"Sure, just what I need, because I don’t have enough to do already, right?,"
protested Irene. "But I’ll tell you what. I’ll be glad to participate in the
discussions. Let me know when you get a private listserv for this new group
so you don’t clutter up the already cluttered Pub-Forum board. And as for a
leader, try to get Pat Bell. Very few people know this business as well as
she does, and her Pre-Publishing Handbook is still one of the best books on
the subject. I refer to it all the time. And you think Jerry Jenkins is a
‘steamroller’? Get in Pat’s way and you’ll think you were run over by a
Sherman tank. You’re talking about one tough old bird!"

"I have a better idea," Jack said with his air of authority. "The person you
need is Mayapriya Long of Bookwrights. First of all, she’s a book-babe…
right up there with Mardi and Victoria of ForePlay…. oops, I mean
ForeWord. Second, she has the rank of a black hakima in Aikido so she’ll
kick ass. Third, even though she is a graphic artist, she doesn’t have the
"pit-bull" attitude that so many other have. Everyone trusts Mayapriya.
Unlike you, old man, she THINKS before she posts.  I mean, who better to
represent publishers than someone like Mayapriya who has over 128 years of
publishing experience… I know because today is her birthday and I spoke to
her this morning to apologize for not sending a card."

"I think both Pat and Mayapriya should get together and form a group that we
could all get behind," Irene said.

Jack looked around. "Yeah, and she has a great behind too. Everyone thinks
she’s Asian because of her first name, but she’s a blonde bombshell
homecoming queen. If I weren’t married…"

"Jack! What am I going to do with you," Irene said in mock disapproval. "I
can’t take you anywhere!! And when did marriage ever stop you? Anyway *I*
marked down March 10 on MY Palm Pilot as her birthday and sent her an email
for both of us. I hope everyone on Pub-Forum sends her a birthday greeting.
I know she is too modest to post a birthday introduction. Hell, with her
background in this biz, it would be as long as War and Peace. I’m going to
get on the list and ask everyone to send mayapriya@bookwrights.com and post
to the list a nice birthday message. She contributes so much to that list
that she should get a word of ‘thanks’ from everyone."

I wanted to crawl under the table because I had ALSO forgotten that it was
her birthday. And I should have known better since I’ve been a victim (I
mean client) of hers for over six years. And I’m the one who told Irene that
SHE needed a Palm Pilot to help HER remember dates and appointments!
Besides, Mayapriya looks very much like Irene, but a bit shorter and with
ligher hair… she is not easy to forget for reprobates like me and Jack. I
can’t wait until I run into her at BEA. She’ll say "So you’re the
asshole-client who forgot my birthday… take this…" as she sends me
flying through three booths with an Aikido throw. Well, Happy Birthday,
Mayapriya. Wait until you reach 50 like me and your mind turns into
something resembling green Jell-O!! I guess this is not a good time to ask
when my project will be finished???

Irene, as usual had a joke for us.

She said that at a recent computer expo Bill Gates reportedly compared the
Computer Industry with the Auto Industry and stated "If GM had kept up with
technology like the Computer Industry has, we would all be driving $25 cars
that got 1000 miles to the gallon."

In response to Bill Gates’ comments, General Motors issued a press release
stating (by Mr. Welch himself, the GM CEO):

If GM had developed technology  like Microsoft, we would all be driving cars
with the following  characteristics:

1. For no reason whatsoever your car would crash twice a day.

2. Every time they repainted the lines on the road you would have to  buy a
new car.

3. Occasionally your car would die on the freeway for no reason and  you
would just accept this, restart and drive on.

4. Occasionally, executing a maneuver such as a left turn would cause  your
car to shut down and refuse to restart, in which case you  would have to
reinstall the engine.

5. Only one person at a time could use the car, unless you  bought "Car95"
or "CarNT," But then you would have to buy more  seats.

6. Macintosh would make a car that was powered by the sun reliable,  five
times as fast and twice as easy to drive, but would only run  on five
percent of the roads.

7. A single "General Car Default" warning light would replace the oil,
water temperature, and alternator warning lights.

8. New seats would force everyone to have the same size butt.

9. The airbag system would say ……….. "Are you sure?" before  going
off.

10. Occasionally for no reason whatsoever, your car would lock you  out and
refuse to let you in until you simultaneously lifted the  door handle,
turned the key, and grab a hold of the radio antenna.

11. GM would require all car buyers to also purchase a deluxe set of  Rand
McNally road maps (now a GM subsidiary), even though they  neither need nor
want them. Attempting to delete this option  would immediately cause the
car’s performance to diminish by 50%  or more. Moreover, GM would become a
target for investigation by  the Justice Department.

12. Every time GM introduced a new model, car buyers would have to  learn
how to drive all over again because none of the controls  would operate in
the same manner as the old car.

13. You’d press the "Start" button to shut off the engine.

We were on the floor howling as she read off each item.

Irene gave the waiter a twenty for the last round of drinks, and she and
Jack got up to leave. "We’re staying the night at the Mark Hopkins," she
said. "I’m meeting with someone about selling Faranganar Press, but I’m not
saying a thing about it to you, because I don’t want to see it in your
Saturday Rant until it is a done deal, if it’s a deal at all. And besides,
you wouldn’t like the people who are interested in buying." She kissed me on
the cheek and started walking away from the table while putting on her
jacket, again with eyes of all the men (and a few women…this IS San
Francisco) on her.

My head was spinning. Jack shook my hand. "Don’t look at me! I don’t know a
thing. She won’t tell me either until we meet them. Jeez, maybe Pat Gundry
is going to buy her out! Who knows?," he said over his shoulder.

I decided to have some coffee and wait an hour or so while my head cleared
and until the traffic over the bridge cleared as well. Irene selling
Faranganar Press? To Pat Gundry? No, I didn’t hear that

It wasn’t the martinis.

It had to be the olives.

I must stop having so many olives.

Alan N. Canton
Adams-Blake Publishing
http://www.adams-blake.com

[Copyright 2000 by Alan N. Canton. This material may be re-published on any
Internet listserv or Usenet newsgroup without prior permission by the
copyright holder. Any other re-publication is prohibited without express
permission of the copyright holder.]

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