Generally speaking, this blog is about the writing world, and the writing world is a large entity not just made up of books, magazines, and creepily specific dream journals. Within the confines of said blog, I try and talk about anything in that whole new world associated, connected to or living with good writing and sometimes those things involve television. To be fair, I don't actually watch much TV. I watch most shows on DVR, and yes, occasionally dabble in the live action of The View...and my roommate and I tend to leave the MTV JAMS continuous stream of music videos involving  Beyonce on when we've been overserved, but all in all, TV isn't one of my huge vices. But when I find something on the television to be passionate about (The Wire!), I feel the need to express my gratitude. And, friends, gratitude needs to be expressed via a show called Mad Men. Now the reason I'm writing this currently--the time hook, if you will--is because NY Times Mag just ran a cover story about the show, before the start of the second season, and I've realized that I need to get on the record about it before saying that you like Mad Men becomes synonymous with saying you like candy, rainbows or babies--in other words, just something that everyone takes for granted.

I came across this show when the Soprano's was ending and I knew that one of their writers-- a genius named Matt Weiner-- had got his gig with Soprano's essentially by showing David Chase the pilot he wrote for Mad Men, a show that HBO eventually passed on. The show is about the NYC ad world in 1960-- a place filled with white dudes drinking martini's and whiskey at lunch and making vaguely to explicitly offensive remarks about anyone who is not in their highly self-prized social bubble. The beauty of the show is the slice of history you absorb watching it--you feel like you're watching a documentary from a time that feels just as dated as when Paul Giamatti is dressed in a wig on John Adams--and that definitely makes it cool, but the best part of it--as always-- is writing characters that feel so, so real. There is a slimy Sales Rep from an old NY scion of power fam always trying to make moves, a 50s style beauty-queen wife who realizes she's married a man strictly for his paper resume and doesn't have any idea what she actually wants and a main character--Don Draper-- so elaborately complicated as to be possibly be the human version of a Rubrik's Cube. I watched the first season with a thirsty abandon I haven't felt since, ahem, The Wire, and I encourage you to. But like anything I write about here, I think ultimately watching this show helps me become a better, more visual, more complex writer. And here are two excerpts from the NYTimes mag article, the first with Weiner discussing his process of writing and the second a cute section about the importance of his wife's opinion when writing:

“I have a very good memory for dialogue and for conversation,” he said, “and if you tell me a personal detail about yourself I will never forget it and probably steal it. So a lot of me working out the story is me telling the story. My favorite people to tell the story to are my wife and Scott Hornbacher.” He is Weiner’s co-executive producer and creative partner. “If I can see their reaction, I can see what works and what doesn’t,” Weiner said. “That was not something I did on ‘The Sopranos,’ because it was so secretive, and I couldn’t bring in a stranger and dictate to them. But when I wrote the ‘Mad Men’ pilot seven years ago, I dictated it to Robin Veith, who is now a writer here. I wanted someone to be there so I would have to show up. I can write a huge amount that way if I have a good outline. Then I rewrite. That’s when I sit at the computer.”

Weiner married Linda Brettler, an architect, after he graduated from U.S.C. They have four sons. She supported him when he was broke, and she is now his most-important sounding board. “Every single script goes through my wife,” he said. “She inevitably says, ‘What is it about?’ We talk about it and I’m always angry when she’s talking.” He didn’t look angry, he looked glad, as he always does when he talks about his wife. “She’s chewing gum and taking her time,” he continued. “She went to Harvard, she’s really smart and I just stand there literally with my hands out like — ‘What?’ I argue with her, and I always swear I’m not going to show it to her again because I’m so defensive. I mean, my writers come up with lots of good ideas, but she is really something."

Anyway, I guess my point is this: watch the first season, embrace and absorb the characters, their arcs, fears, and most importantly the way they talk, etc, read the article-- especially the quote about Weiner not believing in bad guys--“Everybody has a reason for doing what they’re doing," and then move on to the second portion of the play, which involves relaying your favorite bits of dialogue from books, mag stories, tv shows, anywhere you feel necessitates a shout-out. I want me some good dialogue. Dialogue--after all-- is hep stuff.

Please leave these items in the Comment deposit box. A gift receipt can be made available upon request. Now sit back as Jewel decides who is going to help you out with your soul issues.

Who Will,
Save Your Soul

Jewel

I just read an article in the NYTimes titled "Small Publishers Feel  
Power of Amazon's 'Buy' Button," in which they talk about how Amazon--
in an effort to try and get an increasingly more favorable cut of the  
profits from publishers-- will take away the "Buy now with 1 click"  
button on many of the titles that that publisher puts online (which  
includes free shipping) unless they bend to their demands, forcing  
people to go through to the Amazon marketplace (and pay for shipping)  
to purchase the book.

The first thing I thought when I read the article was "wow, we're  
getting upset because we actually have to click the mouse at least  
three more times to purchase a book" and then I thought "well, three  
times is kind of a lot," and then I thought "especially when you cut  
your pointer finger moving an air conditioning unit." But after  
reading it over again (I'm thorough!), I realized the main point:  
Amazon is not being cool.

On one hand--and this hand is small, fragile, and needs its nails  
trimmed-- I understand Amazon's move. They are a business, and  
businesses make money, and money is what you need to buy Playstation  
3's, even if you're only using them for the Blu-Ray disc drive. Of  
course a business is going to try and gain a more favorable financial  
foothold, especially if their place in the market has increased.  
That's just Econ 101, a class I never took.

But Amazon touts itself as "Earth's most customer-centric company"  
and customers shouldn't be forced to get punished financially for  
liking titles that just happen to be published by companies who are  
not assenting to Amazon's demands. More importantly, I use the "buy  
now with 1 click" button all the time to make impulsive purchases,  
and then rationalize the purchase by telling myself that it's too  
late to take it back because it's already been shipped (free!), and I  
don't want to feel like I'm supporting someone who is being a jerk to  
people in our literary fraternity/sorority/society. So I'm (kind of)  
conflicted.

This remains just another example of the (business) man keeping me down.

But, friends, yours and my time would be wasted if I didn't have a  
solution for said situation. And I don't, which I feel bad about, but  
I think you can help. You're all smart, savvy, aesthetically pleasing  
people of various Interweb knowledge, so I figure you can provide me  
(and you) with the names of all other online book retailers that you  
use and think offer sweet deals or at least fair purchasing rights  
with moderately few clicks. You can provide these names in a section  
of the blog I have named "Comments" and then we will use that  
knowledge to better our lives. This is what economists call "very  
chill."

So let's do unto others as they'd do unto us in the Comment section  
and let the Tony Rich Project carry us home with another sweet sweet  
ditty from the year of Bob Dole. After all, he's missing you and nobody
knows it but him.

Nobody,
Knows

The Tony Rich Project

First of all, I mine-as-well get this out of the way: I saw the Sex  
and the City movie and it wasn't not good. I know, I know-- I want  
very badly to say that I was forced into it, that I had no choice but  
to see it bc (Insert Pseudo Interesting Art Film here) was sold out,  
but, friends, that isn't how it went down. I kind of like Sex and the  
City. And the movie was an emotional rollercoaster (with nudity!).  
With all the women decked out in cocktail dresses, I kind of  
felt like I was witnessing a female version of the dress-up  
fascination of Lord of the Rings, but with sluttier outfits on the  
hobbits. If I was a movie analyst--and I should be--I would say that  
movie is going to make at least 3 billion dollars (Canadian).

Anyway, I'm back in the designated driver's seat of my book, whipping  
off the final version before I send it out. And when I say whipping  
off, I obviously mean occasionally writing small edits at night,  
after re-watching portions of The Real World Hollywood. But I realize  
that I need to get the book out, and I need to do it this week,  
because of a crucial event immersing this weekend social calendar: My  
fifth year college reunion.

Fifth year reunions are the 18 plus clubs of the reunion world:  
everyone is too young, looks the same, and probably got drunk  
beforehand. But they do offer a crucial look at the success rate of  
your peers. And--aside from making sure that no one else's distressed  
status jeans are more expensively nonchalant than mine-- I have just  
one question that I need to answer: Is anyone else a more successful  
writer?

In college, I was a political science major, so I wasn't dialed in to  
who was in the creative writing workshops. And, although I wrote a  
column for the paper my senior year, I didn't actually ever go into  
the Trinity Tripod newspaper office. So I don't even know who to  
ultimately try and look down upon when comparing myself.

My plan is this: buy a pair of non-prescription eye glasses (to take  
off and absentmindedly gnaw on when I am trying to make a point) and  
immediately delve into the "so what are you up to nowadays" game.  
Hopefully, after I drop my several-time thought out, faux-self  
deprecating response ("Oh me? Hmmm, not much, just writing for some  
(national!) magazines, getting a book that probably won't sell out to  
my agent, you know... typical boring writer stuff,")  then I will  
delicately prod people to reveal if anyone else works in the  
"industry." People do this naturally: "Oh really? You should talk to  
Ramsey--he's also writing," etc, etc. And then I will find that  
person, provoke a convo and hope to the Lord that my writing stuff is  
cooler than their writing stuff. Then I will play beer pong, eat  
Lucky Charms and sleep in a dorm room.

I know I shouldn't care. I know I should take this as an opportunity  
to network with the other potential writers in my beloved class. I  
know I should be happy if anyone "made it" in such a hard business,  
especially because that speaks well of my school and opens the door  
for the younger generation of writers coming in after us. And when I  
think of it rationally, I do feel that way. But I am also  
competitive. And insecure. And really, really tired. And the dirty  
truth of the matter is that I want to be the only one. I want  
everyone else to be impressed by the fact that I actually am doing  
what I said I was going to do when I left school. I want street cred.

I am not normally like this, friends. I love hearing stories about  
other people's success. You know that. But there is something about  
the pool of people you went to college with--especially at a small  
school like mine-- that brings out the lion, tiger and bear in me (Oh  
my).

So hear you me, Trinity College (CT) Class of '03: Do you have a book  
published? Are you writing for Esquire or the New Yorker or, even,  
Redbook? Have you ever called the Internet a "fad" on a radio show?  
Do you have to wear pants on a daily basis? Do you like that?

If so, and you see me at the reunion, do me a favor: Please don't  
tell me.

Reunion stories, writing trivia, and jpegs from Sex and the City will  
be provided in the Comments section. Refreshments will be served.

Till I Hear it,
 From You

Gin Blossoms