While the company paid for the first printing of The Spirit of Swiftwater we arranged the second printing with a university press just itching to publish a business book. That attracted the interest of several thought-leaders in the industry. I knew we’d struck gold when one of the world’s most influential virologists, a doctor who’d been working with WHO to contain bird flu in Asia, visited the company and accepted an autographed book.

Those of you who know me know that I live to write large-scale works that appeal to a wide audience. I think there are several reasons why an executive or an individual would hire a writer or a ghostwriter to create one of these: to promote the organization or the person, or to be more altruistic, to leave a legacy. I often tell the story of Marco Polo and his travels along the Silk Road. His father and uncle made the journey years before they took the young explorer yet few people know their names. Every kid who’s splashed in a pool knows about Marco. The reason is simple: Marco wrote about the journey.

If you’re fascinated with an elegant tool for marketing, or just a fleeting moment of fame, I have a few resources for you, including two documents that detail the rationale, project scope and budgetary outlines of a book-length project. You can download Brand New Day and Making History from this website.

Good luck on the journey.

It was an AP story reporting that the novelist had died in a motorcycle accident on his way home that day. He was forty-nine. The story sounded like something from his latest novel.

Gardner was well-known in and out of literary circles for his outsized characters and their philosophical rants. Some of his books, like October Light, made the bestseller lists. A few months before his death the New York Times led its book review section with commentary on his last novel, Mickelsson’s Ghosts, a work I had just finished reading.

I’d met him earlier in the year in a class at a local university. The professor had invited Gardner to talk about fiction and, as a bonus, he’d read and commented on the first page of our latest submissions. He had a shock of white hair that flowed over his forehead and small, wrinkled eyes. His pipe kept going out as he talked. Later the professor invited some of us to his apartment to continue the discussion. Sitting on the floor, our backs to the tiled fireplace, we listened as Gardner talked about his work.

Some of the discussion was funny. “Why did you sell the short story on Julius Caesar to Playboy?” “Because they offered the most money.” Other parts were more serious. Gardner didn’t give a toss about genres; he didn’t care whether people considered his work popular or literary, thoughtful or entertaining. He wanted to be known as a storyteller. He constantly courted the ancient arts, rewriting epic tales like Beowulf from the monster’s point of view. (Years later, Hollywood would turn his novel Grendel into a movie, the closest to populism the author ever got.)

Emerging from the dream
For emerging writers Gardner is best known for his view that fiction should remain a “vivid and continuous dream” in the mind of the reader, uninterrupted by extraneous detail. Yet his books were crammed with characters philosophizing about life. He seemed obsessed with philosophy and argued constantly against nihilism, a doctrine that nothing is knowable, that rejects all distinctions of moral value. In his work of criticism, On Moral Fiction, he called for books with “just and compassionate behavior,” art that “establishes models of human action.” He may have identified deeply with Grendel, the monster who finds himself cast out of heaven because he’s ugly, comes from a bad family and asks too many questions.

While his characters were not always models of behavior, Gardner was a kind and generous man, lending his time and name to aspiring writings. I met him that May in class and shared an evening with friends, but I wasn’t his student. Yet he invited me to his home in Susquehanna to discuss and critique my work.

I arrived on a fine spring day to find the novelist in a farmhouse on the edge of town, nestled in the hills the locals call the Endless Mountains, purplish gray and draped with mist like the webs of tent caterpillars. The clapboard house had curlicues over the porch; it looked like an old train station.

Inside sat Gardner’s son Joel, a photographer, and Susan Thornton. She and John were to be married—the week he died. A visiting colleague handed him a few short stories and a novel for comment. They talked about producing plays in Susquehanna and about a literary magazine on which he was working.

Gardner went into his study to concentrate on the story. His desk consisted of a door resting on two sawhorses, covered with pipes and papers. He hunched over the story, making quick notes with a pencil. Then he and Susan had to leave. He apologized over and over for giving me so little time.

A life in fiction
Back in the living room, I asked Joel how much of his father’s work was autobiographical—a questions many writers hate but I was too young to know at the time. Not much, Joel said, but then he opened the door to the dining room. It was long and sparking with new plaster walls and thick with beams. The mead hall from Grendel, the house from Mickelsson’s Ghosts. I felt a chill, as if the spirit of those characters were looking over my shoulder.

There were other similarities. The main character in that book, Peter Mickelsson, is a professor at the State University of New York at Binghamton who is battling a failing national reputation and the IRS, which is after him for back taxes. He lives in Susquehanna and is going through a divorce. That much mirrored Gardner’s life. But Mickelsson is going mad, his mind enflamed with the ghosts of Martin Luther and Nietzsche, his wife, his son, two lovers and a murderous couple who used to live in the farmhouse. Joel smiled at this and said his father made up most of the book.

The lion of literature
Whatever its condition at the end, Gardner’s career in fiction got off to a slow start. He was born on July 21, 1933, in Batavia, New York. His father was a dairy farmer and lay preacher, his mother a high school literature teacher. His first novel sold about 1,000 copies but The Sunlight Dialogues became a bestseller in 1972 and October Light won the National Book Critics Circle Award in 1976. He raced motorcycles, survived surgery for cancer of the colon and married twice. He lectured at the Bread Loaf Writers Conference. He settled in rural Susquehanna, on a thirty-acre farm. Writers sought his comments on fiction and his clout with publishers.

A gifted writer with a marvelous ear for dialogue, he had always written interesting books. But with Mickelsson’s Ghosts he reached the top of his form, merging his beloved philosophy with a strong story line. He also seemed to have mellowed from the harsh critic of his youth to a man who wanted to say good things about others. People said he was trying to find his place. Others found him humble and generous.

The day I visited him in the Endless Mountains he sat on the couch and chatted in a smooth and quiet voice about new projects. I told him I’d had trouble finding his work in the local bookstore. It wasn’t filed under “fiction.” Concerned that his backlist had gone out of print, I asked the clerk if she carried Gardner’s books and she led me to the back of the story. There they were, filed under “literature.”

Gardner threw back that great mane of white hair and howled with delight, much like I imagine Grendel might have done.

A pair of surveys from the Pew Research Center’s Internet & American Life Project shows a rapid decline in blogging among teens and young adults and a modest rise among people 30 and older. To quote the study: “In 2006, 28% of teens ages 12-17 and young adults ages 18-29 were bloggers, but by 2009 the numbers had dropped to 14% of teens and 15% of young adults. During the same period, the percentage of online adults over 30 who were bloggers rose from 7% in 2006 to 11% in 2009.”

Overall, blogging has leveled off among adults over the past few years, hovering around 10-12% of Internet users.

Amanda Lenhart, lead author for the studies, told me that among those under 30, the shift away from blogging follows their migration to newer social networks and technologies such as mobile devices. “We attribute some of the decline among young adults to the move away from MySpace, which made blogging a prominent feature of a profile, to Facebook, which does not offer the same opportunities to engage in an activity that the site terms blogging.”

Researchers elsewhere have measured the same declining interest in blogs, but for other reasons:

• A year ago Adweek reported that Internet use had reached a plateau and the growth of blogs had flattened. According to Forrester Research, the number of households with Internet access grew 3 percent from 2008 to 2009. Slightly less than 20 percent of respondents reported reading blogs, the same figure as 2008.
• That week ReadWriteWeb reported research from Universal McCann that showed blogging has reached a saturation point. “UM notes that 71% of users report reading blogs—an increase of only 1% since [2008].”
• In February 2010 HubPages’ Larry Freeman wrote that growth in U.S. traffic at major blogging sites WordPress and TypePad has flattened. The one contradictory statistic: U.S. traffic at Blogspot has grown by about 40%.
• In June The Economist reported that traffic at two of the most popular blog-hosting sites, Blogger and WordPress, is stagnating, according to media research firm Nielsen. “By contrast, Facebook’s traffic grew by 66% last year and Twitter’s by 47%.”

Anecdotal evidence from the B2B world supports the studies. In a post, Matthew Ingram says he knows of several entrepreneurs who have replaced their free blogs in favor of subscription-only email newsletters. And Michael Hickins reports on BNET that while the number of active communities at network storage company EMC has increased by nearly 30% over two quarters, the number of blogs has dropped by 70%.

What could lead to such a leveling of blog activity? Lack of time and attention to start. And the perception that the activity isn’t valued by others and doesn’t contribute to the writer’s income or ego. Maybe there’s a growing realization that, while anyone can become a publisher, not everyone wants to read our thoughts.

Citizen journalists are discovering what mainstream media have known for centuries: people’s attention is just as valuable and elusive as their time. Engaging it requires a lot more than a forum.

“I think the public will be quite amazed at just how many writers we have in the Poconos and what a wide, diverse array of genres and subjects are represented by the works of the authors at the expo,” said Rob Ramos, EMPL library assistant.

The event will feature two presentations: a panel at 11 a.m. with Gloria Mallette, Alissa Grosso and me entitled “Using Networks to Promote and Publish” and a discussion at 1 p.m. by author and attorney Michael Ventrella on “The Perils of Self-Publishing.” The rest of the day will be devoted to book sales and discussion. The event runs from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. The library is located at 1002 N. Ninth St.

Admission to the expo is free. Details in today’s Pocono Record. For more information call EMPL at (570) 421-0800, ext. 13.

When I was asked by Linda Koehler of the Times-News in Lehighton, Pennsylvania, to serve as one of the judges for the 2010 National Federation of Press Women Communications Contest, I thought the assignment would prove an easy one. Read the entries, create a rubric that encompasses the objectives and rate the contestants.

Simple but not easy. Reading the entries was a pleasure. Creating the rubric was fairly easy. It was the last part, rating the contestants, that proved a challenge.

The NFPW looks for the best writing and production values in virtually all forms of communication, from public relations and advertising to blogs and books. The organization requires entrants to submit a one-page summary of the project with details on objectives, audience and budget. Contest organizers provide judges with clear instructions to rate the entrants on whether they met their own objectives, not on one-size-fits-all standards. So far, so good.

There were 13 entries in the four-color magazine category. They included university, healthcare and tourism publications. All were very good, the scores on the rubric close. The winners were: Chelsey Baker-Hauck, Colorado, first place, the University of Denver Magazine; Heidi Jameson, South Carolina, second, Healthy Partners, a publication of the Spartanburg Regional Healthcare System; and Andrea Cranford, Nebraska, third for Nebraska magazine, published by the University of Nebraska Alumni Association. The Virginia team of Laura Beck and Mike Freeman shared the honorable mention for the Official Richmond Region 2010 Visitors Guide.

All of the strong contenders had one thing in common: they focused their coverage on the people who benefited from their organizations’ services and not the services themselves. The Richmond Guide showed portraits of successful residents engaged in enjoyable activities. Nebraska used people-centric articles to illustrate larger trends. Healthy Partners packaged those kinds of stories in a clean, accessible design.

All did well. But my favorite was Denver Magazine. Under the guidance of Baker-Hauck, the managing editor, the magazine met its objectives with style, producing a themed issue in the summer of 2009 that contained some of the liveliest writing I’ve seen in years. Much of the credit goes to Baker-Hauck for helping to develop the theme — the Western legacy — and hiring the people to execute her strategy. The rest goes to writers like Richard Chapman, whose pair of articles, “Colorado’s College War” and “At Home on the Range,” kicked like a bronco. His two opening lines: “University Hall crouches like a stone lion” and “It’s a chilly January morning five days into the 2009 stock show and the president and CEO of the National Western is pausing to chat with a hobo.”

Peer-focused stories, lively subjects, descriptive writing. And to top it off, Denver Magazine included the results of a readership survey that defined the target audience and showed that editors were meeting their needs. Good marketing as well as editorial.

I’ve saved the best for last. It’s Baker-Hauck’s Editor’s Note, in which she explained the reason for the themed issue and grounded it in personal experience. Here’s the first paragraph:

“My West — the West of my youth — was one of blue-ribbon biscuits baked for the county fair; gathering eggs, still warm, from under the cushion of a hen who would peck you ferociously on the back of the hand if you didn’t move fast enough; stalking through a silent, frosted autumn forest with my dad during black powder season; waking up to find the neighbor’s prize bull looking in our picture window, and later having to scrub the thick track of bull slobber off the glass with vinegar and newspaper. There was ample time for running wild in the nearby Uncompahgre River bottom land, tossing rotten duck eggs from the hayloft, wading irrigation ditches and baking mudpies in the mailbox.”

I’m here to tell you it doesn’t get much better than that. Except maybe the Editor’s Note in the next issue, where she writes about getting her face licked by a wolf. Why is this good writing? Because it’s detailed and vigorous? Yes. But above all, the work captures the spirit of a person, time and place. The details illustrate a larger truth. That’s a tradition NFPW honors, one that writers, publishers and clients can, too.

It’s an easy choice.

It’s only recently that I’ve begun to identify myself as a writer. I’ve written for newspapers for a few years and published a few short stories, but the prospect of having my first novel published next year makes it real for me. That said, in my family I’ve always been considered The Writer. As such, long ago I was charged with writing the story of my uncle and godfather.

My Uncle Doug has lived an interesting life, and there are seemingly countless anecdotes about him. In high school he skipped gym class for a semester and his grade actually went up. Also while he was in high school, he started an underground newspaper that lampooned many of the teachers and somehow managed to avoid getting expelled from school. In college he is rumored to have skipped class in favor of playing pool all day. With one of his friends he started a tow truck business. The truck got stuck in a ditch on their first job and the business fell apart shortly thereafter. Thus followed a seemingly countless series of jobs in just about every field imaginable.

Due to his interesting life, my family has always felt Uncle Doug was worthy of a book, and even had a title picked out, a direct quote from one of his friends, “There’s a Little Bit of Doug in All of Us.” Fiction has always been my first love, and as much as I love my Uncle and his crazy life, I prefer to make up stories. So, I never got around to writing his life story, though I did briefly toy with writing a fictionalized account that would also include aliens and perhaps some form of mind control. (I was reading a lot of Kurt Vonnegut and Philip K. Dick at this time.)

Of course, it may be that the time is just not right for There’s a Little Bit of Doug in All of Us. Every few months or so my uncle seems to add a new chapter.

The entrance is old school, reminiscent of the mansions that still dot the edges of campus in this post-industrial town. A glass door leads up several steps through a marbled entryway to double wood-and-glass doors and into a foyer, with a banistered staircase and silver mailboxes flanking the apartments. Hers consists of a living room, kitchen, bathroom and two bedrooms. Our daughter took the one in the back, facing the parking lot and a fire escape; her roommates will share the middle room.

The living room was barren except for what we brought: a fan, a floor lamp and a dresser my father used when he lived at a retirement home. The walls looked bare and forlorn. A cable for the TV curled on the carpet. Every 20 minutes or so a city bus would rumble by. I don’t think any of us remembered how empty an unfurnished apartment looks but gawking wouldn’t fill the rooms so we placed Dad’s old dresser along a wall in the bedroom and started lining its drawers with shelf paper.

While the girls shopped at Wal-Mart for supplies, two guys from a local furniture store delivered the queen-sized box spring and mattress, the clicking of their tools echoing from the plaster walls.

The girls returned with glasses, cereal bowls, silverware, paper products and a case of iced tea. While they made the bed and stocked the bathroom, I washed the dishes. Out the back door I could see a rusted fire escape, a dirt parking lot spotted with watery holes and an alley between the apartments and the cement-block building that serves as a laundry. Mercifully the alley looked free of broken bottles, tumbled garbage cans and strays, both feline and human.

I have mixed feelings about the move. As a parent I know my job is to help the kids grow into independent adults capable of functioning on their own. On the other hand, as the police say, our inclination is to preserve and protect. You’re not old enough, we think. It isn’t as safe as campus. Since you’ll have to cook you may not eat. Our daughter had no such doubts about the move: living here is less expensive than a dorm. She could choose her roommates. They’d learn to cook. In the end, it was our job to support her decision.

As parents we face a painful paradox: we want to protect our children from themselves and others and at the same time push them out of the nest. I guess that’s how it is: one day your child is helpless, the next day it’s your turn.

Starting on June 17, ESPN will display its broadcast of golf’s U.S. Open on trucks near sports bars and festivals in New York and Chicago. At 14 ft. by 8 ft. those digital displays will be hard to miss.

Separately, the New York Times is reporting that Automated Media Services is testing a system that allows agencies to buy commercial time in stores. By placing the 3GTV displays near the items being sold, advertisers hope to reach consumers as they’re making a decision to buy.

And finally comes word that digital will surpass newspaper advertising in the United States by 2014. Digital ads are projected to increase to $34.4 billion while the print equivalent will drop to 22.3 billion, the Wall Street Journal reports. The channels of choice? Your computer and smart phone.

Guard your eyes.