Steph, the period in which I was actually writing poetry, more than prose? Same flash thing, precisely. Prose prose prose, song lyrics (which I've always done, being a musician and singer) and suddenly WHOOMPH! poetry and there's a rose in the garden and it's shining specifically and entirely at me and I say so.....

Wow. When that hits? You just have to go with it, methinks.

Wow. When that hits? You just have to go with it, methinks.

Yup. If you don't, it'll plague you and keep you from sleeping, OR it'll lead to writer's block, if you keep insisting on writing prose but poems want to be written.

Obey the broccoli.

(That's from Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott's book on writing, where she refers to a Mel Brooks sketch, where he is a psychiatrist telling a patient to "listen to your broccoli, and your broccoli will tell you how to eat it." She likens it to writing -- listen to your broccoli, and it will tell you how to write it.)

Yup - I did a few panels with Annie, way back when; Sam wasn't conceived then, that's how long ago it was.

No kidding? I mean, I know she lives in/near SF, but DAMN. I just adore her.

wow, I'm impressed.(Not that you, yourself, aren't impressive.) And I'm loving Ethan/Peel.

No big, nothing to be impressed about, honestly, and we never became good buddies or anything like that; I doubt she'd remember me. We were both members of the same California Women Writers Association thing (along with my then-agent), and we had these monthly dinners, and a bunch of us would do these round-robin things. Mostly fun, occasionally stressful, and I really miss the food; for some reason, we ate a lot of Basque.

Hey. Once again, delving into this thread with original Nonfiction, but hey. What the heck?

I've been thinking about writing a piece for the American Journalism Review, whom I've written for a few times, on my column being canned.

Here's the rough draft. Suggestions welcome:

The Kubler-Ross of Losing the Column

-Victor D. Infante

Losing the column was a shock. As a veteran of the Alternative Newsweeklies, I was well aware how transitory these things could be, but still, I can honestly say I didn’t see it coming.

“Infante’s Inferno,” the column I’d been writing biweekly for The Worcester InCity Times for more than a year, was everything I had wanted it to be—satirical, caustic and, modesty aside, well read. It was difficult to walk into a Worcester coffee house, comic book store or record store and not find myself in a conversation about city politics or whatever I had turned my caffeine-addled limited attention span to that issue. Often, I found that my readers—the sorts you’d run into in coffee houses, record stores and comic book stores--gave great feedback, and pointed me in interesting new directions. If it was never the major source of my income, (and it wasn’t) it was definitely fun, and I did love it.

So when editor/publisher Rosalie Tirella called to tell me she’d set up an appointment for me to interview the city manager, Tom Hoover, I was cool with it. We’d been meaning to do it for some time, and I just hadn’t gotten to it. But then she told me she wanted to sit in on the interview, and that I wasn’t so cool with.

For me, having an editor peering over my shoulder while I’m interviewing a public figure would wreck the intimacy I’d need to get anything new or unique for the story. Indeed, she had done this once before, and I’d said “yes,” and it was a mistake, making everything awkward and difficult. This time, I said “no.”

She was furious. I tried to explain my point of view, but she’d have none of it. I told her she should just do the story herself if she felt like that. Then, cooling down, I said “why don’t we talk about it in a few days?” After all, we had some time. She said OK, and hung up on me.

A few minutes later, she left a message on my voice mail, informing me that the column was canned. She hasn’t returned my one phone call back.

What happened afterward is an almost classic example of Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’s stages of grief. 1.) Denial & Isolation. The cancellation was so entirely unexpected and without warning, the preceding spat so seemingly trivial, that I had no way to prepare for the shock. I sat there in my home office, stupefied, muttering, “I can’t believe she dropped the column.” 2.) Anger. Actually, “anger” is too mild. More like “White-Hot Fury.” I’d stuck through that paper since near the beginning, accepted weeks where paychecks just weren’t possible, and filed stories on time that the editor had always seemed pleased with. I’d never, ever been so insulted in all my ten years of journalism experience. Never. I wanted to call her up again and leave, “You’re a rank, arrogant amateur with no business in journalism, and you have the emotional maturity of a blueberry scone” on her message machine, but then I realized that was unhelpful, and worse, basically pirated form Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Thank God for the super-ego.

3.) Bargaining took place as a sort of negotiation, as I began contacting colleagues to, in the first place, re-assure me that this behavior was bizarre and, in the second, to seek advice on starting the column elsewhere. At the time of this writing, that process is still ongoing. 4.) Depression was, thankfully, short-lived, although, as I replayed the entire odd situation in my brain, I kept looking for something I did, some sign that I’d screwed up. Part of my brain was trying to assume the responsibility for this, and frankly, it shouldn’t. Having worked for dozens of periodicals, and having interviewed numerous public figures, I’ve never once had an editor even want to sit in on the interview. It’s invasive and, frankly, weird. That’s my opinion, and I’m sticking to it. I then ran myself over the coals for a bit, feeling like all the effort I’d put into the paper was a waste of my time. I haven’t quite shaken that one yet.

5.) Acceptance may well come soon, but I haven’t moved on yet. Probably won’t until I know whether the column is moving to another paper, or online, or ending altogether. What I have accepted was that I was right to stick with my principles, to conduct the interview in a manner in which I feel, as a journalist, best suits me. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chunk of this I’ve missed, something I did horribly wrong (although if disagreeing with an editor is a firing sin, than there’s be no journalists left.) I honestly don’t know.

But I do know this: The creation of a story, whether it’s a newspaper column or a magazine feature, is—perhaps more than we admit—a collaborative effort. Writers and editors need to work to make each story the best that it can be. That’s a dire responsibility to the reader. But when the editor’s demands begin to undermine the story, then it’s time for the writer to stand their ground, even if it means being shown the door.

I'm sure you'd get a lot of response on that, victor, from other writers and editors, especially those who have been in your position. And you must leave the Buffy bit in. Slowly, slowly, our obsession slips into the public zeitgeist (and, gosh, I hope I'm using that word properly and not in a fit of misguided pretension).

Victor, that's a damned good statement of perception there. Also damned well-written, but I'd expect no less.

A couple of quick touches, cosmetic:

Hyphens. Could you make them consistent? We have this "Often, I found that my readers—the sorts you’d run into in coffee houses, record stores and comic book stores--gave great feedback" where the first part of the insert is a single hyphen usage, but it closes with a double. That made me go back and look for something I'd missed. I'd also suggest turning one particular hyphen into a colon, since it designates a list ("everything I had wanted it to be—satirical, caustic and, modesty aside, well read").

I love the rest. And BTW? KICK her ASS.

Looks good, Victor. The only grammarish thing that stuck out at me was

Bargaining took place as a sort of negotiation, as I began contacting colleagues to, in the first place, re-assure me that this behavior was bizarre and, in the second, to seek advice on starting the column elsewhere.

The repetition of the "to," and that "in the first place" splitting the sentence awkwardly. Maybe it could be

Bargaining took place as a sort of negotiation, as I began contacting colleagues, in the first place, for re-assurance that this behavior was bizarre and, in the second, for advice on starting the column elsewhere.

Other than that, it's great.