To borrow, to use... to steal?
And no, not as in, "Goodness, officer, I have no idea how these lovely Nike Tailwind trainers ended up under my coat. Are they magnetic, perhaps?"
Recently, an old chum who I have little contact with has called together a number of writing professionals and activists for a brainstorming session for a project she's working on. This evening, I received The Itinerary for this meeting, which I expected to be a casual exchange of ideas and possibly groundwork for this publication. It seems I was wrong.
After reading The Itinerary (which was graciously slotted into 15-minute slots including arrival, introductions, etc), I discovered that the bottom-line plan is to have the editorial planned -- story ideas, regular sections, etc.
I have the sudden feeling that my brains will be harvested for someone else's project. A sort of "thanks for your ideas... sucker!" At no time has she mentioned actually inviting people to work for her. Or how she's planning on funding the thing.
And this woman has control issues up the wazoo. So what was previously supposed to be a fun, casual exchange of ideas has been solidified into a formal editorial meeting avec gavel-thumping. I suddenly find myself wanting to avoid the whole thing. And keeping my mouth shut.
Which is a difficult task for one such as myself.
I mean -- we're writers, for fuck's sake. We talk, we curse, we gossip... and most of us couldn't give a rat's fart about sticking to The Itinerary. (Although it could be interesting just to watch the personalities clash. Fight! Fight!)
Perhaps I will be suddenly struck down by a terrifying and temporary strain of the Bubonic Plague, which will keep me in bed from 8-10 pm tomorrow.
Recently, an old chum who I have little contact with has called together a number of writing professionals and activists for a brainstorming session for a project she's working on. This evening, I received The Itinerary for this meeting, which I expected to be a casual exchange of ideas and possibly groundwork for this publication. It seems I was wrong.
After reading The Itinerary (which was graciously slotted into 15-minute slots including arrival, introductions, etc), I discovered that the bottom-line plan is to have the editorial planned -- story ideas, regular sections, etc.
I have the sudden feeling that my brains will be harvested for someone else's project. A sort of "thanks for your ideas... sucker!" At no time has she mentioned actually inviting people to work for her. Or how she's planning on funding the thing.
And this woman has control issues up the wazoo. So what was previously supposed to be a fun, casual exchange of ideas has been solidified into a formal editorial meeting avec gavel-thumping. I suddenly find myself wanting to avoid the whole thing. And keeping my mouth shut.
Which is a difficult task for one such as myself.
I mean -- we're writers, for fuck's sake. We talk, we curse, we gossip... and most of us couldn't give a rat's fart about sticking to The Itinerary. (Although it could be interesting just to watch the personalities clash. Fight! Fight!)
Perhaps I will be suddenly struck down by a terrifying and temporary strain of the Bubonic Plague, which will keep me in bed from 8-10 pm tomorrow.
posted by /hg | 11:14 p.m.
4 Comments:
No, don't stay away. Go. Go and muck up the itinerary as much as possible, but don't contribute any valuable ideas to the proceedings, lest you be usurped. Go for the enjoyment of seeing the controller lose control and for the camaraderie of other writers with like-minded disdain for pigeon-holed time frames. Go and enjoy yourself.
I've thought over your suggestion... and the thought of mucking up such an iron-clad plan does indeed fill me with a sweet kind of joy.
And at the very least, I will be fed for my trouble.
Well that settles it. A free feed trumps a moral indignation boycott any day.
It's true. Though the food was somewhat disappointing. Ah well... never look a free meal in the horse's mouth, or something like that.
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