Father's Day--IRON MAIDEN TONIGHT IN CONCORD!

Yes, Iron Maiden fans, it is "Up the Irons" night in Concord, CA!! Finally. A dozen hours from now I will be rocking with thousands of others to the greatest, smartest, and most amazing rock band to ever take a stage. Thirty-two years they have been performing, and it is hard to believe some of them are older than me and move around like they are 25. (I suggest reading this entire blog post before going back to hit the links.)

I first saw Maiden in 1982, but then life (and law school, marriage, kids, and a mortgage) got in the way. I saw them on their Somewhere in Time tour (sort of a greatest hits extravaganza) in 2008 in Concord, and tonight it is The Final Frontier tour.

If you are unfamiliar with Maiden, they are an acquired taste, but nothing like most people think. Forget the speed metal pure noise crap so many heavy metal bands these days put out. The vast majority of their songs are about historical events--battles, wars, explorations, philosophy, and so forth.

The guitarists are amazing (and love to play in minor thirds), and their founder and bassist Steve Harris is simply jaw-droppingly good (as a bass player myself, I find it very challenging to come close to repeating what he does.) How six guys can play so tightly, so crisply, every song, song after complex song, is a real mystery. Listen to most bands live and you see immediately what I mean.

One of the Iron Maiden classics is Aces High, about the epic WWII air battle of Britain against Germany in 1940. Click here to see Maiden open with that song, kicking off the 2008 tour in India. It has some great behind the scenes footage as the band prepares to take the stage. They start with Churchill's spine-chilling speech about defending the beaches, etc. I recommend reading the lyrics so you can see how deep the band gets into this. Other great tunes include Alexander the Great, The Trooper (Crimean War), Run to the Hills (about American Indian Wars), and one they will play this tour, Passchendaele, about the terrible WWI battle.

One of my favorite live songs is one absolutely remarkable 13-minute opera-like masterpiece called The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (based upon Steven Taylor Coleridge's magnum opus poem) about a lost ship of souls. Maiden performed it in 2008 (they rarely do it live) and was a stunning spectacle (especially part 2). You can watch it here: Part 1 and Part 2 (at 2.00 minutes in Part 2, when Steve Harris starts the resurrection of the souls on his bass, I always get shivers. It is simply breathtaking to see live.)

They have only released one song from their new album (which won't come out until August) called El Dorado, about the search for the lost city of gold. It is the only song they will play on this leg of the tour from the new album.

The lead singer, Bruce Dickinson, is a commercial airline pilot and flies Maiden's 757 jet. In the picture below, he is in the Space Shuttle simulator at the Houston NASA space center. He got to fly it. One of the lead astronauts and many of the people there are huge Maiden fans, and they invited the band for a private tour. You can read about it here.

I might not be in Monday. . . . OK, I will be in, but I won't be at full throttle. But I am confident Maiden will be tonight.

UP THE IRONS.

:)

--tps

Authors Take Note: Part 2

Recall that in my last post about "Scott," I emailed him with a few options on how to proceed back on May 10. One of the choices was to shred his manuscript. Of course, I did not get even the courtesy of a reply.

Today, nearly one month later, I received a SASE for the return of his "manuscript." Were the enclosed instructions a carefully composed letter thanking us for our time and trouble?

No.

Did it say I am sorry I can't send you what you need to evaluate the manuscript at this time?

No.

Instead, it was a sheet of blank paper with a hand-scribbled note that read: "Please return the XXX manuscript priority mail. Thank you."

Handwritten. No "Dear Publisher," or "Dear Mr. Savas," or whatever else would suit the occasion. He did not even sign it.

I won't even tell you what I scribbled back across the bottom.

Authors--please do not emulate this person's social skills when asking to have sometime take hours and evaluate your work.

--tps

Authors Take Note: Yet Another "How Not to Get Published" Story

An author (let's call him Scott--not his real name) sent a query to us through the proper channels about a Civil War manuscript he had been working on for quite some time. I won't mention the subject, but let's say it is on a topic long overdue. He claimed to have conducted extensive firsthand archival research from coast to coast, and that his work was, he hoped, as definitive as possible.

Realizing the topic had not been covered for decades, and that Scott's work would fill a giant void in the literature, I promptly replied and asked to see his manuscript. Truly, I was excited to read this one.

Scott thanked me for the quick reply and asked if I wanted a hard copy or digital. I asked for the former.

One month passed without a word or a manuscript.

I emailed and asked the status of the manuscript, always of course using "Dear Scott" and all proper etiquette as is appropriate in formal business communications.

His reply, without a salutation or a signature, read simply:  "I've been really busy. Thanks for the continued interest. I will send it to you on Friday. Thanks again."

OK, I thought, a bit casual (it has long bugged me when people don't use a name or sign an email), and a month had passed, but this manuscript sounds worth it. Now . . . I know what you are thinking. No salutation or signature? Big deal! So what!

Well . . . having been around the block a few times, I can spot the tiny red flags in the distance that tend to signify small issues that invariably usher in larger ones. Seriously. At this stage of a business relationship, it signals a type of a personality that can be . . . challenging. At least, that has been my experience.

I sent back a slightly more casual reply to put him at ease (though always with a signature) that he should not sweat typos, and that we are simply reviewing the manuscript in a more general sense.
 
Five days later, this arrived (same format): "Manuscript in mail. Look for it Wednesday."

Again, too flippant and off-the-cuff for my tastes at this stage of the relationship, but . . . a good manuscript would make up for that. And, I tried to convince myself, I was reading too much into a couple emails. Still, something did not feel right. Somehow this was not going to end well.
 
The manuscript arrived. Suffice it to say I was shocked when I withdrew it from the envelope and found it rather . . . thin. What he had been touting as the Second Coming should have been several hundred pages. It was but a fraction of that. I glanced through it with grave disappointment, read a few pages here and there, and then checked the notes--or tried to. There were none. Nor was there a bibliography. Nor was the manuscript the full study (as best I could tell). And worse still, it was a polemic, not a balanced treatment of any kind.
 
So after all that, I spent my time reviewing a partial "I am going to set the record straight" manuscript with no documentation. Worse, much of what I did read was wince-worthy. I sighed, clicked open email, and replied by explaining that no publisher can evaluate a partial work in this field without seeing the notes and bibliography, and he did not advise us that he would be withholding them.
 
Instead of an apologetic reply and an offer to submit what he had, he shot back a rather terse (unfortunately I accidentally deleted it) answer that he was not willing to share his research in fear it would "get out," or words to that effect. He then asked where his physical copy was located.

Again, I took the time to try and help explain to him how this process works, and offered him a choice on how to move forward. My reply:

Dear Scott,

It is sitting on my desk and not going anywhere.

We don't evaluate manuscripts piecemeal, David. You have an outstanding opportunity to produce the book on Rosecrans that deserves to be written, but if you make it a polemic, the original research you performed for so long will be lost the negative reviews you will receive about forming an idea and then crafting a book to support your thesis.

At this point we can:

1) review your entire work;

2) Shred what you sent us;

3) You may forward a SASE and we will return it to you.


That was May 10. I have yet to receive a response. On June 10, the manuscript will go into the shredder.

 
--------------
 
Author Lessons:
 

1. Use the name of the person you are addressing in any and all correspondence--especially when you don't know them, and don't have a contract!
2. Don't waste an editor's time by promising or implying to send one thing, and then playing it cute and sending something else altogether different. This burned a few valuable hours of my work day, and I don't look upon that very kindly.
3. Finally, reply to all emails/correspondence politely, timely, and thankfully. The historical publishing world is a much smaller community than most people outside the industry understand or appreciate. If this author submits this work elsewhere, I will almost certainly hear about it or be asked about it--or even  be asked to review it (I do that on occasion).

 
--tps

Another OT: Childhood Memories. What are Yours?

Six years or so ago I wrote a regular column for a local paper. One of them got a lot of interest, and I still get requests for copies. Since summer is nearly upon us, I thought I would reprint it below, and ask you for your recollections of how life has changed for kids. You can decide whether it is better . . . or not.

When We Were Free to be Kids

    My son asked an interesting question during the endless summer that ended this week: “Papa, when you were a kid, what did you do in the summer?”
How do you tell a 7-year-old who has almost everything that it was better way back when without almost anything? That we perfected the art of doing nothing for days on end—and loved every hour?
    How do you explain we enjoyed ourselves without Gameboys, Playstations, computers, TVs in cars, and portable cd-players? How journeys of exploration and adventure did not include a hand-held device on a sofa? That off-limit swimming holes were better than swimming pools in the backyards of homes we would have considered mansions available only in our dreams?
    Can he possibly comprehend that when we left the house at 7:00 a.m. in cutoffs and a T-shirt, mom never asked where we were going? That catching pond frogs and building tree houses with rope swings was better than having 471 TV channels? That staying out all day and doing whatever we wanted was (gasp!) normal?
That our summons home was the street lights popping on and not a call on a cell phone?
    Would he believe that we hoofed around town or rode our bikes (spray painted cool neon colors) with friends seated between the handle bars, holding on for dear life while trying to keep their toes out of the spokes as we flew down Virginia hill? Or that those same spokes made the coolest Atat-tat-tat” sound if you attached a playing card with a clothespin? That no one had heard of a bicycle helmet, and that we would not have been caught dead in one anyway?
    That digging for night crawlers so we could fish in a muddy creek for bullhead with a bamboo pole and a red and white bobber (with your brother yelling at you for tangling his line) beat the pants off sitting in an air-conditioned house playing Nintendo?
    Can you imagine the damage I might inflict on the psyche of a modern-day El Dorado Hills child if I told him our idea of pure drinking water was letting a garden hose in a stranger’s backyard run for several seconds before taking a warm sip? Or that “organic food” was eating Mr. Weydert’s corn raw off the cob before washing it down with milk straight from a cow’s utter?
    That nothing was more fun than a roundtrip sneak attack on Mr. Bogart=s apple tree, hiding amongst his leafy branches happily munching green apples while stuffing another half dozen in our pockets and planning our getaway? That spine-tingling terror could be had by crawling on our hands and knees into old lady Taylor’s backyard (we thought she was a witch), pushing aside a large piece of slate hiding a well, dropping in a rock, and being brave enough to stay put long enough to hear the splash?
    Today, kids can’t play in their own front yard without adult supervision. We played king of the hill on the large dirt and rock piles left in someone’s driveway blocks away. When we got hurt, we went home for a band aid and iodine (and a good and well-deserved old fashioned belt-to-bottom spanking) instead of to the lawyer’s office with dad to sue the homeowner.
    Can today’s children conceive that we waged war from behind stacked up Culligan salt pellet bags with REAL WWII rifles our dads brought home from Europe or the Pacific, decked out in authentic German and American helmets and canteens—and it was more fun than playing Age of Empires or Call of Duty on a PC over the Internet with a stranger? Would they believe that every 9-year-old had a BB gun, every 12-year-old a .22 or 12-gauge, and responsible use was shooting cans off a fence or an egg-stealing blackbird—but never a robin?
    Would he appreciate that sleepovers meant Jiffypop popcorn on the stove (burned black), kick the can in the backyard and, if you were lucky, a scoop of vanilla ice cream with Hershey’s syrup? Or that bed time meant squeezing into the hot top bunk with your buddy (no one had air conditioning) while his two brothers crammed into the bottom bunk?
    How could I explain all this in a way that made sense?
    “Long ago,” I began . . .
    “You mean back in the olden days?” my son interrupted.
    "Yes, way back when,” I smiled.
    “When what?” he asked.
    My smile melted away and I sighed heavily. “When we were free to be kids.”

OT: My New Favorite Slew of Songs (Slash's New Effort)

Those of you who know me know I enjoy good heavy rock, with Iron Maiden at the top of that list (I will see them again June 20 at the Concord Pavilion with my son and brother and his son).

A musician I never fully appreciated is Saul Hudson (i.e., Slash), the former guitarist for Guns N Roses. His former band Velvet Revolver did some good work, but his new solo effort is outstanding, with each song featuring a different lead singer. (Hat tip to my brother Ants, who has been pummeling me with Slash's music for a few years now.) Some of Slash's new songs are hard rock, some blues, some instrumental. Here are three very different songs. Listen to each one twice (click the title to get to Youtube), and you will be hooked.

1) Starlight (featuring Myles Kennedy--best singer on this collection; his range during the chorus is amazing. Myles was selected as lead vocalist for Slash's tour this year.)

2) I Hold On (featuring Kid Rock, who sounds a lot like Rod Stewart here.)

3) Beautiful Dangerous (featuring Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas--a band I cannot stand and would not see if they paid me to attend; didn't know she could actually sing. She can perform this sort of soulful rock at this level, and chooses to stand a look like a fool with BEP?)

A prior Slash musical act, Snakepit, produced some outstanding music as well. Here are two songs:

1) Serial Killer (listen carefully to the words, and the guitar solo--hauntingly good . . .)

2) Landslide (takes a few earfuls, but it catches on.)

Enjoy

tps

Advice for Authors: Persistence

In today's installment of Media Beat, bestselling novelist and attorney Scott Turow recalled his early days as a struggling novelist before he published Presumed Innocent. He revisited those characters in his newest novel, Innocent.

He recalled his early failures as a novelist: "Presumed Innocent was written over a six to seven year period with intervals in between where I was figuring out the end of the book and writing other stuff ... My life as a writer was carried on against the odds. I had written four unpublished novels by then ... as a writer of fiction I hadn't gotten very far. I just wanted to do it. It was my dream as a kid to be a novelist and I wanted to carry on with it. And I did. The truth of the matter is that the people who succeed in the arts most often are the people who get up again after getting knocked down. Persistence is critical."

 

Indeed. It is in all walks of life.
 
--tps
(hat tip to Kevin A)

"Schooled" by Another Clueless "Aurthor"

I haven't posted on this subject for a while because I have not experienced any real odd balls recently in this department. Is there a full moon out there?

John Smith (not his real name) submitted a manuscript proposal via our website, and followed most of the instructions as set forth.

The idea was not at all what we are looking for, and I rejected it--kindly, of course, with some additional information that might help him publish it elsewhere. That is what I always do. I try to help authors (and everyone, frankly) as best as I am able.

He shot back an email: "Mr. Savas, are you kidding? You are turning down a project like this? Maybe you were replying to someone else, and this is a mistake. Please check your records and get back to me!!!"

I made it clear in a return email I was rejecting his manuscript and wished him well.

He called. I thought the name sounded familiar and I took the call. (I need a better memory.) Below is what transpired, to the best of my ability to reconstruct it.

JS: This is Savas? You rejected me yesterday? I sent the manuscript about XXX."

TPS (inaudible groan): Yes, it's me, and your submission does not offer us what we are seeking. I sent quite a long email with other suggestions. I suggest---

JS: Do you realize what a magnificent opportunity you are turning down?

TPS: I suggest you read my email, and see if there is--

JS: Do you have the manuscript proposal there in front of you? Let's go through it together! I think you are making a big mistake!

TPS:  . . . and see if there is anything that can help you, Mr. Smith. I am afraid I don't have the time to continue talking about this, but I ---

JS: And I have heard you guys are author-friendly! What a joke. Fine, I will take it elsewhere and you will be sorry when it wins about 10 awards!

TPS: ...but I hope my email provides you with some assistance. . .

[slammed phone]

(Sigh)

--tps