According to the Times, the Society of Authors, which represents more than 8,500 professional writers in the UK, fears:
Book piracy on the internet will ultimately drive authors to stop writing unless radical methods are devised to compensate them for lost sales.
Although primarily talking about “less well-known poets, authors of short stories and writers of cookery books,” the Society’s claxon is meant to embrace all writers.
While the publishing industry, like other entertainment industries, is facing change due to the Internet, I stand by my claim that the majority of serious readers still want their books delivered the old-fashioned way: ink on paper. It’s not only about the words; it’s about the smell and the weight of that wonderful antiquity, the physical act of turning pages . . . returning to a dog-eared favourite year after year, remembering when this stain or that miniscule rip were added.
For serious readers, books that take up physical space on our shelves remain our most treasured material possessions. Bits and bytes won’t suffice.
On 14 February, after 40 months, I finished my novel.
The truth was, I’d only finished my story.
Almost six weeks later, after long days of editing, revising, and sculpting, my Second Reader’s critical comments always on hand, I can now truly say that I’ve finished.
I can only hope that there’ll be future days of editing, revising, and sculpting for this novel. . . .
Another food-related thing I miss about Dallas? Brothers Fried Chicken.
This is the Promised Land for fried chicken lovers who covet thick, crunchy batter. Pronounced, but not overly aggressive, spicing adds extra zing.
When we didn’t want to cook on Sunday evening, we’d make the five-minute drive to Brothers, snacking on fried okra all the way home. Brothers is truly magnificent fried chicken.
From the New York Times:
The equivalent of 7 to 11 pounds of fresh fish are required to produce 2 pounds of farmed salmon, according to estimates. Salmon feces and food pellets are stripping the water of oxygen, killing other marine life and spreading disease . . . Escaped salmon are eating other fish species and have begun invading rivers and lakes as far away as neighboring Argentina. . . .
The only way to stop fish farms is to demand wild fish from your local megamart or fishmonger; to ask your waiter if the fish is farmed or wild and explain that you will never order farmed fish.
The real litmus test, however, should be flavour. If you’re not convinced, cook some wild and farmed salmon and let your taste buds be the arbiter.
Consumers have a voice; look how far grass-fed, grass-finished beef has come.
To continue this week’s theme of musical posts, news that the classic lineup of Return to Forever—Chick Corea, Stanley Clarke, Al Di Meola, Lenny White—reunited somehow passed me by until yesterday.
They’re playing in LA on 13 June, the Friday of my birthday weekend. You may think of better birthday presents but this one is pretty high up there for me.
Showing my age? Just good taste . . . Those who’ve mastered their instruments deserve our praise, not our scorn . . . we should all pursue excellence.
I like to keep up with Dallas news; hell, I lived there 26 years . . . most of my family and friends still live there. So it was with sadness that I read The Elm Street Bar has finally closed.
In the early ’90s I spent a lot of time at Elm Street . . . good times, bad times, and mostly forgotten times. But I’ll never be able to forget one special bartender. I know my fellow bandmates won’t, either.