For those interested in the
NZ Society of Authors there has been a record number of comments at my original post about “What’s going wrong at the NZSA” and still
they come. There have been dozens of emails and Twitter/Facebook messages too,
all in support, saying versions of “That’s exactly what I think.”
Correction: almost all comments on
the blog have been in support. Jenny Argante wrote on Saturday morning:
Well, Stephen Stratford didn’t
get all his facts right (not uncommon, I hear) . . .
I replied 10 minutes later asking
her to supply specific examples of inaccuracies. At 10:55 on Monday night I am still
waiting. And I wouldn’t mind an explanation of the smear “not uncommon, I hear”.
So here are Television,
from their 1977 Marquee Moon album,
with “Prove It”: ;
Wilko Johnson, a QUQ guitar hero, in the April Uncut on being diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer:
When we left the hospital, I
felt elated. That’s the word. You never know what your reaction is going to be
and at the best of times I’m a miserable so-and-so. I’ve suffered from
depression all my life since my teens. So feeling like this was a bit unusual, but
this elation remained all day and was still there when I woke up the next day. I
realised there’s nothing to be hung up about, because the past, the present,
the future: it doesn’t mean anything. So this elevation of spirit remained. You
walk down the street just tingling, man, and you feel so alive. You notice
every little thing – every bird against the sunlight, everything – and just
feel absolute calm. At times it amounted to euphoria.
Eugene Doyle doesn’t enjoy his evening out in Wellington at an oratorio (I’m
guessing: a work with orchestra and choir, anyway) about Captain Cook. He’d
have been better off reading Graeme Lay’s new novel The Secret Life of James Cook which enters the bestseller list this week at #3.
David Thompson on deadly biscuits. Apparently these are a problem in England.
More English food as Jeremy
Clarke in the Literary Reviewconsiders breakfast:
I eat anything. Wipe its bum and
chop the horns off, ho ho. I'm not fussy. The average number of taste buds in
the average gob is between two and eight thousand. I have about twenty. But
when my full English arrived, the mere sight of it turned my stomach. I prodded
the bacon rasher with my fork. The factory-bred sow, raised in China in
conditions only slightly more cramped, I guessed, than those in which she was
served up, tasted, rejected, then thrown in the bin, had lived and died in
vain. The flesh was bright0 pink, barely cooked, barely even tepid, and had a
fleshy nakedness about it that was faintly obscene. The anaemic egg was a
tragic poem. The themes of the poem were artificiality, incompetence, waste and
quite possibly blasphemy. The tomato was a product of that strange impulse of
the Spanish to export scarce water from the Costa del Sol to northern Europe in
spherical, thick-skinned packages force-grown in sterile conditions under
polythene. The triangle of fried bread was a saturated sponge, sweating cold
grease. The sausage was a budget bag of (at a guess) snouts, intestines,
eyelids and hepatitis C.
Via Tim Blair: how to write a novel. This is Joseph Heller’s outline
for Catch-22:
If I have done this right you
should be able to click on the pic and read the text. If not, go to Tim. It is
worth it. And finally, the Legionaires (Graham
Brazier, Dave McArtney, Harry Lyon, Paul Woolrich and Lyn Buchanan so yeah nah,
basically Hello Sailor), in May 1983 at Mainstreet with “I’m a Texan” and “No
Mystery”. That’s me in the audience, somewhere. They were a great muscular live
band: Graham was a bit out of it on the night – fancy! – but good to see Dave
again and be reminded how cool Harry was. The clip is introduced by Karyn Hay in
mega-80s hair and some sort of clown suit. I still see her and honestly, she
hasn’t changed a bit*:
*She has changed a bit, actually.
Shame, but there you go.
Apologies in advance: what
follows is of no interest to anyone who is not a member of the NZ Society of
Authors and/or is not interested in watching a car crash.
This afternoon members received
this email urging them to vote in the election to choose a new president:
There is only one week left to
vote for the next National President of the NZ Authors!
So far only 13% of our
membership have voted. We urge you to get on line and vote – or return your
Ballot Paper to PO Box 771, Wellesley Street, Auckland 1141. Exercise your
democratic right and vote for the person you want to lead us into the future!
I have asked each nominee to
prepare a pitch which was to address the following questions:
The literary sector is
undergoing its biggest reformation since the invention of the printing press.
This is changing the way books are published and therefore the role of writers.
What role do you think NZSA should play in this changing environment?
In these challenging financial
times, members are questioning value for money when joining the NZSA. What do
you perceive members want from their membership that they are not currently
getting and what future ideas and initiatives do you have for improving
services to members in the current environment?
The NZSA is facing challenging
times in relation to funding and resources. What strategies would you employ to
ensure the longevity and fiscal security of the organisation?The NZSA is
undergoing a strategic and governance review in 2013. What are the key issues
that you feel should be addressed in this review?
Since that email went out, my
previous blogpost on this issue, How to Steal an Election, has had
almost as many visitors as yesterday’s one about Jesse Mulligan, which is this
year’s all-time top-rater. Something is up at the NZSA. I wonder what.
No I don’t. I am in touch with
unhappy members from Dunedin to Northland but none of them has an outlet. Well,
I do, so here goes. When I joined 20+ years ago in Auckland, the monthly
meetings were attended by CK Stead, Maurice Shadbolt, Dick Scott, Daphne de
Jong, Kevin Ireland, Graeme Lay – big names, pro writers. It’s not like that
now. To be cruel, it’s more for hobbyists than professionals. That’s fine,
there’s a place for that, but the rise of the Sunday painters is one reason why
the rest of the sector doesn’t take NZSA seriously as a partner any more. As
one major publisher said to me last month, “None of my authors are members – so
why should publishers treat NZSA as if it represents authors?” I couldn’t
answer that.
A discussion is underway about
establishing a new organisation that might better represent professional
authors, eg the textbook writers who earn the bulk of payments from Copyright
Licensing NZ and the many novelists who also regard it as a waste of time;
there is another conversation in Auckland about setting up a loose organisation
of writers and editors, perhaps designers. None of these people, all
professionals in the book trade, feel that the NZSA represents them. I was on
the NZSA’s national council for maybe seven years as a branch chair and then
vice-president, so I don’t encourage these moves– but I can see why they are happening.
Add to this the confrontational
approach the NZSA takes to the rest of the sector. Most members understandably
have no idea about this, or how NZSA is no longer seen as a partner to engage
in constructive dialogue but as an adversary. Personally, I find it
embarrassing to go into meetings with publishers/funders/etc and be shown
letters and emails from NZSA and have to answer a question like “What the hell
are they on about?” (“Hell” being a polite substitution.) One member who does
know about this, an old leftie from the UK, complains about what he calls “the
Scargillite attitude”. If a union has lost the old lefties, it has lost.
And then there is the money. One
member who understands the financials better than I do writes:
They are using reserves
to fund operations without a plan which is a road to nowhere. If I read it
right, there is only $11.3k left of the $30k reserves from six or seven years
ago. Reserves should be used for capital purchases or special one-off
purchases, not operating costs. Looking at the 2011 P&L there has been an
increase in membership fees of $13.5k, decreases in grants of $20k, a decrease
in sale of publications of $15.5k and decrease in workshop revenue of $6k. On
the expense side an increase in contractors of $6k, bad debts of $13.5k. Over
all there was a deficit of $8.7k. Put that together with the drawdown of
reserves of $10k for the 2012 year there is a total of $18.7k of reserves gone
into operating costs.
Not good. If my friend is right, this is really, really
not good. At the AGM in Dunedin the weather will be bracing. Let’s hope there
will be some equally bracing questioning about the accounts and the, for want
of a better word, culture of the organisation.
So here are Cream in 2005 with
“We’re Going Wrong”:
UPDATE
I have had many emails in support about this, comments on Facebook etc. Most people wish to stay anonymous so as not to get offside with NZSA, especially people who hold official positions, but Mary Egan has kindly agreed to let me post her Facebook comment which is representative of what I’m hearing:
I can’t agree more with you
Stephen. It has become a joke; an insult to us professionals who want to do the
best by authors. It’s become partisan, aggressive, sadly lacking in planning
and brings little intelligence to the changes happening in our industry. I
remain a member, only just, but that is because I am committed to the idea and
not the reality. We have to speak up, loudly. Speaking quietly doesn’t work.
The Otago/Southland branch of
NZSA has linked to the post on their Facebook page, and individual authors have
tweeted and retweeted the link. We’re going viral.
Via Peta Mathias on
Facebook: this is the best clip I have ever seen, a mash-up of scenes of Rita Hayworth
dancing in the movies, to the sound of “Stayin’ Alive”. Brilliant. I wonder how
many hours went into the editing.
I saw many of her movies on early to mid-60s TV, Sunday Matinee, I think it was, when I was entering adolescence. Formative years, obviously, and
I am not sure I have ever got over her, especially in You’ll Never Get Rich and Gilda.
The Wintec Press Club meets for
lunch three times a year in Hamilton: guests are the students of the Wintec
journalism course, important media types from the Waikato and Auckland, some people
from Metro, other persons of interest
such as Conservative Party leader Colin Craig, and me.
After a very funny introduction
by Steve Braunias, who teaches part of the Wintec course, Jesse Mulligan spoke
for 20 minutes or so about his life and career, a bit about radio and stand-up
comedy but mostly about Seven Sharp.
This is TVNZ’s replacement for Close Up
with Jesse, Alison Mau and some chap I have honestly never heard of. (I am of
the same view as Noël Coward, who said that
television is for appearing on, not for watching.) Seven Sharp was attacked in the press during the two weeks before the
first episode and for many weeks afterwards but seems to be rating OK now.
In his introduction, Steve was very
rude about Martyn Bradbury and there was no argument from the audience.
As the main course, Jesse was
terrific. He was funny when he wanted to be but was mostly serious about his work
and about dealing with criticism, especially from anonymous people on Twitter.
He was good too at answering questions from the journalism students, and very
open about which aspects of the job/career are hard, and about things he has
done – e.g. replying to stupid tweets when tired and cranky – which he could
have done better. He was especially interesting about how the MSM uses social
media. I am sure the students got much more value from him than they did from
the raving egotists Holmes, Peters and Laws.
I was seated between Auckland
media mavens Sarah Sandley (magazines) and Caroline Vennell (TV/radio). Both
said they thought that Jesse would have a long career because he is good,
funny, serious and thoughtful. (What they didn’t say was that he is quite
handsome, which can’t hurt either.) But what really impressed the three of us
was how he described taking the knocks, admitting mistakes and keeping on so
that the next show would be better.
And then Steve joined us three.
He had said in his introduction that when he read Jesse’s first contribution to
Metro, a string of one-liners, he had
thought, “Wow, she’s really funny.” I said that in the late 80s and early 90s I
wrote the jokes in Metro (with James
Allan) and when I saw that same piece I knew it was by a bloke and thought,
“You bastard. You are better.”
Rubbing salt into the wound,
Steve then suggested to Dr Sandley – who is the chair of the Auckland Writers’
Festival board – that Jesse would make a good chair for a session next year. This
year’s festival is the first one at which I am neither a chair nor a panellist,
so that’s another job of mine he can take over. Face it: he is younger, handsomer
and funnier. As Steve says, we should all hate him but we can’t.
Well, maybe just a bit.
On the way out I got talking
with an attractive young blonde, as one does. She ascertained that I was a
writer and asked if I would be available for freelance work. “Always,” I said.
“Who is the client?”
Last month I noted that CK Stead (b. 1932), Kevin Ireland (b. 1933), Peter
Bland (b. 1934) and Fleur Adcock (b. 1934) all have new poetry collections out about
now. Then last week came a new collection, Us,
then, from Vincent O’Sullivan (b. 1937).
Now I learn that Elizabeth Smither (b. 1941) has a new poetry collection out too, The Blue Coat.
Tomorrow’s visit to Unity Books in Auckland will be
expensive.
I have a problem. My old PC is
dying, it won’t let me do back-ups, my new PC is awesome but I can't get old
emails/email addresses over from the old to the new – have been using Opera, a
non-standard program, and can’t figure out how to copy the old data over. Can’t
even find the files. Did it last time I changed PCs but looks impossible now.
Anyone who would like to stay in
touch, please email me - no message necessary, just so I can put you in my new
address book. But if your email address is something like skyfeather@loopy.com,
rather than a sensible one like mine, stephen.stratford@xtra.co.nz. perhaps add
in your name so I know who the hell you are.
Thanks in advance, he said
hopefully.
So here is Al Green in 1972 with “Let’s
Stay Together”:
In the Spectator of 27 April Lady Thatcher’s biographer (and former Spectator editor) Charles Moore devotes his whole “The Spectator’s Notes” column to her and the
book. Here is the second item:
There was also a startling late
entry for the book. On the day after Lady Thatcher died, I received an email
from Haden Blatch. Mr Blatch’s father, Bertie, was the chairman of the Finchley
Conservative Association when it selected her in 1958. I had asked Haden for
information before, but he had not got round to it. Now he revealed that his
father had come home from the Finchley selection meeting and explained that Mrs
Thatcher had not really won the vote. Her rival, Thomas Langton, had just
pipped her. Blatch senior, however, was very keen on Mrs Thatcher, and thought
that Langton, who ‘was born with a silver spoon in his mouth’, would easily get
in somewhere else, whereas she, being a woman with young children, would not.
‘I “lost” two of Langton’s votes,’ he told his son, and he announced her
victory. If this is correct, Mrs Thatcher (unknowing) was set on her political
career by a fraud. To get this story into the book, I was not allowed any more
lines: I had surgically to remove 150 words, and insert 150 new ones.
This story reminds me of an AGM of the NZ Society of
Authors twentysomething years ago in Auckland. We elected a new president, and
I seem to have been the only person to notice that the new president had been
one of the two scrutineers. The other scrutineer was a friend of his. This was
fine by me as it was a good result, but perhaps not best practice going forward,
as we say these days.
The NZ Society of Authors will have its 2013 AGM in
Dunedin next month, at which a new president will be elected. I have every
confidence that the Otago-Southland branch, which will host the event, will be
on the lookout for Auckland-style sharp practice. I also have every confidence
that the members attending will have scrutinised the accounts and ask some
questions.
How does $35,000 sound?Could be yours. All you have to do is present a serious proposal for a serious
non-fiction book to Copyright Licensing New Zealand, which hands out the dosh,
and you’re away.
If you win, you will be in good company. Previous published winners include Paul
Millar (No Fretful Sleeper: alife of Bill Pearson), Lloyd Spencer Davis (Looking for Darwin), Jill Trevelyan
(Rita Angus: an artist’s life), Judith Dell Panny (A Plume of Bees: a literary biography of CK
Stead), Martin Edmond (The Zone of the Marvellous), Hazel Riseborough
(Shear Hard Work) andPeter Wells (The Hungry Heart).
There are two awards available. CLNZ encourages all writers of non-fiction to apply,
whether their subject is science,
business, Maori and
Pacific studies, the arts or, like, whatever. You do have to be a New Zealand citizen or permanent
resident and a writer
of proven merit.
You also have to deliver: not every winner has done so. I
am involved with various trusts, boards and other funding organisations – including
CLNZ – and they are losing their patience and beginning to share information.We all understand that
projects can fall over despite the best of intentions – but some writers are
developing a record of non-delivery. To misquote Lady Bracknell: failing to
deliver one project may be regarded as a misfortune; failing to deliver two looks
like carelessness.
But if you are serious, go for it. I would if I could. Applications close on Wednesday 26 June and full details are here.
Last month I noted that CK Stead (b. 1932), Kevin Ireland (b. 1933), Peter
Bland (b. 1934) and Fleur Adcock (b. 1934) all have new poetry collections out about
now.
This morning’s post brought a new collection, Us, then by Vincent O’Sullivan (b.
1937). There is also a new collection of short stories on its way: I have read
it and think it his best yet.
I rather fear that the 30s-born generation is showing the rest
of us up.
