I am typing this post between biting some ten-penny nails in half after reading at CNN.com that the Hatchette Publishing Group is paying Ted Kennedy an $8 million advance to write and publish his memoirs. Hachette claims the book will be "a valuable record for anyone who cares about our government, our politics, and our growth as a nation." Yeah, right.
Anyone who cares about our growth as a nation? Except for those who would like to hear the truth about Uncle Teddy's alcoholism and party lifestyle. Or who would like to hear the truth about his abandonment of Mary Jo Kopechne in a submerged car on Martha's Vineyard after he drunkenly drove it off a bridge - (why, Ted, did you swim to another island, go to your motel room, and not report the accident for several hours instead of going to a nearby house and seeking help? Why, Ted, were you never indicted or charged in Ms. Kopechne's death?) Or hear the truth about Uncle Teddy's involvement in a Florida rape case brought against his nephew William Smith? Or hear the truth about the death-grip of Uncle Teddy on his Senate seat despite his being an out-of-touch liberal who has been a joke in the Senate for years? Or, going back a few years, hear the truth about JFK, Marilyn Monroe, and the starlet's tragic death?
I would suspect that a substantial amount of ghostwriting will be involved, even in the limited look at his past this book will entail, because it is doubtful Ted can remember enough to put together more than a short pamphlet. Wonder what Ted will call his memoirs? Perhaps "Water Under the Bridge"?
No, actually I'm certain this will be yet another tired paean to the so-called "Kennedy Legacy" in yet another effort to resurrect memories of the "Camelot" era of American politics. It will probably also serve as a platform from which Kennedy can tout the liberal agenda and how he believes conservatism has ruined the United States. In other words, I would hope booksellers would shelve this tome in the Fiction section, rather than in History or even Biography.
This is the kind of book deal that steams me and should steam every other struggling writer out there. We work our butts off to bring to the world damn good fiction, poetry, history, biography, short stories, and the like, only to be told that publishers won't speak to us without a literary agent. We then go in search of a literary agent only to find that, unless we know someone or have some kind of foot in the door, we will be more rudely blown off than in just about any other endeavour in our lives, if we get a response at all. Along the way we have shelled out for countless "How to Get Published" guidebooks, internet listing and editing services, etc., most of which are outright frauds. We spend much more time pleading to be published than we do actually writing, only to see an alcoholic schmuck like Ted Kennedy waltz in and get a check for $8 million before he even has had some ink-stained wretch of a ghostwriter begin to put pen to paper.
That's why so many writers now self-publish as I did with Lest Ye be Judged. I was amazed by how many of the authors at the recent Kentucky Book Fair were self-published. We get to see our work in print and with some leg-work may even sell a few. We might even be picked up by a publishing house with a little luck - John Grisham and Vince Flynn both got their start this way. It is sad, though, that the publishing industry has become so jaded that it shells out huge amounts of money to any two-bit celebrity to publish memoirs, often before they're old enough to have accumulated any real memories, when there is a vast sea of untapped literary talent out there begging for just a little light of day. How interesting and potentially lucrative, not to mention a service to an increasingly illiterate society, might it be for a publisher to seek out new literary talent, rather than the latest tell-all by O.J. Simpson or the empty-headed memoirs of a lifetime political hack.
It takes very little time to discover how low the quality of writing in this country has fallen. Typos, mis-spellings, and grammatical errors abound daily in our print media, in advertising, and even in the scripts read by television and radio talking heads. The ability to write in an interesting fashion, to use devices such as sentence structure and vocabulary to create prose which is an art form in and of itself, are skills which we as a society have ignored and in some cases nearly lost. A large part of that loss must be attributed to the triumph of celebrity publishing over literary merit.
As the saying goes, the rich get richer. Count me as one who will not be pre-ordering Uncle Teddy's memoirs. Even if he does name them "Water Under the Bridge."
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