When I worked in the music business I used to dream about working in publishing when I grew up. Unfortunately I never did. Grow up, I mean. Hence the straight path to writing children’s literature. It’s amazing how clear everything is once you step back and look at your life. If ‘d known I was going to end up being a writer maybe I wouldn’t have spent twenty years shilling records for artists who by and large were undeserving. On the other hand it’s given me a wealthy of material and it will all end up in books eventually. And of course it was really, really fun for a good long time.
Anyway I always had a yen, a yearning, an affinity for the days when publishing was a smaller business, an all-encompassing world where everyone knew each other and great literary discoveries were just around the corner.
Alright, maybe it was never like that but it’s nice to dream isn’t it? And I have talked to long-time agents and editors and they do have stories about the mythical hand-written manuscript, a sheaf of pages filled with scribbled words so beautiful that hardened, cynical literary agents were known to cry.
But what I’m really talking about is very similar to the way the music business used to be. When it was actually run by a bunch of geeks who would sooner cut off an arm than give up their first pressing of the first Velvet Underground album or their collection of Rough Trade seven inch singles- which incidentally I had to sell after I was in a car accident to help cover my medical expenses. I still cry over that sometimes.
Anyway, not to glorify anything but I was after all only seventeen when I started (this was the mid-80’s) and it was heady getting into clubs for free and hanging out with the Replacements and the Beastie Boys (who graffitied all over my desk) and drinking beer early in the afternoon if I wanted to (and other things which I won’t describe explicitly because this is a website for children), and there were the people in the business who were almost as cool as the rock stars whose records we sold. And by the way, two things. Firstly the rock stars were grateful to us, and secondly there were a lot of women working and holding executive positions, which is hardly the case today.
There were the smoky, exclusive backrooms and getting front row seats to Metallica’s Ride the Lightning tour and having to sneak out into the cheap seats because they were just too damn loud and can I mention standing in front of the speakers at a Motorhead show in a small club in San Francisco (The I Beam)-not my smartest idea. And hanging in the VIP booth with Ice Cube and Ice T who was quite the ladies’ man. And on other occasions with Donny Osmond and George Clinton and 2Pac and Patti LaBelle, but not at the same time. It was glitzy and over the top and exciting and rock ‘n roll and a non-stop party until it stopped and the industry became just that- an industry run like any other big business by lawyers and accountants.
And the publishing biz used to be like that too.
When we first moved upstate my husband who is good man helped a fellow with his broken-down car, and this man turned out to be Peter Mayer who was the head of Penguin in the glory days. A warrior of a man, eccentric and well-educated and more of an adventurer than anything else. Old school.
And sitting in his office talking with him and looking at the rows of books he’s published through his own imprint Overlook Press, I caught a whiff of the excitement, the liveliness that has to do with reading and books and writing and authors and the important things we can do with our lives. Or maybe just living instead of watching the days slip away like they don’t mean anything. And I remembered how it used to feel listening to a 45 from some new band. And I’m so thankful that twenty years down the road, once again I’m doing something I love.
Lucky me.
Sorry for the sprawling blog. Obviously I didn’t know what I was going to write about until I wrote it. And I’m still not sure so let’s call it musings.
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