I cannot believe how insightful this was. This article applies so far beyond publishing - anyone could apply these concepts to their industry/their way of looking at things. I'm simply stunned Anna! You are a wise potato.
I’ve been living in the ’70s since 1970. I inherited my parents’ 1976 “ranch house” after caring for them for seven and a half years, so right now I’m sitting in a room with wood paneling and a stone fireplace and what used to be known as an acoustic ceiling, now sometimes vulgarly called a “popcorn ceiling.”
The 1970s were the first decade labeled “The Decade of Diminishing Expectations,” and it’s been rather disheartening, over the past half-century, to watch every succeeding decade plagiarize this title. The ‘70s didn’t seem like much at the time, but for a member of Generation Jones, it’s interesting to watch the era grow in stature—especially among people who weren’t born yet.
Was it a better time? The ‘70s were great in the way that anybody’s teenage years might be considered superior to the self-involved blandness of—what—a midlife crisis? The disappointing complexities of adulthood?
We listened to 8-track tapes, which loudly went CLUNK when changing “programs,” and one time I was making out with my girlfriend and the music went CLUNK and we thought my parents were coming through the front door, and we fell out of the chair because we were scared. This innocence differs significantly from the two-way paranoia of your parents scrolling through your phone.
There was no social media, so unless you were Norman Mailer or Zsa Zsa Gabor, it was impossible to self-dramatize in front of thousands of people, and if you were going to be bullied, it had to happen on playgrounds or the streets, and you could identify who was doing it.
In 1976, Jimmy Carter and Jerry Ford ran against each other but soon became good friends. Politics wasn’t nasty. Nixon was nasty, but even his own party and the Supreme Court agreed that he was a criminal, and they forced him out of office—he enjoyed no “immunity for official acts.”
Fast food was relatively new—it tasted good and it was edible—it wasn’t generally known as fast food, though it was fast and it was food. The interiors of Burger King and the International House of Pancakes (not IHOP) were sort of fancy-looking, not generic like they are today, and it was kind of special if your parents took you there on the weekend.
There was a strong environmental movement, and unless you lived on Love Canal, the planet wasn’t killing you yet.
There was a strong feminist movement—women were getting more rights without more backlash. After 1973, safe and legal abortion was actually available in all 50 states.
College and housing and automobiles were much more affordable than they are today, though everyone in the ‘70s complained about inflation.
People didn’t walk into schools or churches or grocery stores with guns and start killing other people.
I could go on and on, and still be more factual than nostalgic.
Even in an immense city like Los Angeles, you could walk down the street to the railroad tracks, hand-in-hand with your girlfriend, and walk across them into the multicolored flowers on the other side. Now there’s a wall in front of the tracks, and homeless people live there.
The ‘70s weren’t perfect. But you might have liked them, Anna.
'You’re never too late; you’re never too old; and it’s never, ever the right time to write or publish a book, which is both terrible and wonderful news'. For some reason I find this oddly comforting in a let-the-chips-fall-where-they-may kind of way.
Happiness is not a hot potato. Happiness is a baked potato served at a reasonable temperature. It’s humble, relatively inexpensive, and not hard to come by for those looking (especially in an atmosphere of relative economic privilege).
Beautiful. Many similarities in psychotherapy and agenting! Also, what are those creepy braids on your wall? Loving the little peek into your home office slash psyche 😎
This is making me think of a meeting I took with an editor who complained about what he called “apartment fiction.” My next short story, which I never finished, was set outdoors…
“There’s a reason why agents’ Manuscript Wish List (MSWL) suggestions almost never result in successful book deals. Books…are like moss: they grow best organically and in situ…” —Just let is grow how it is, where it is, where it wants to, that’s the marvel of art. Excellent post!
As a therapist, I was delighted to read this. As a writer and human being, I was both humbled, intimidated, and woefully aware of how much I resonated.
I cannot believe how insightful this was. This article applies so far beyond publishing - anyone could apply these concepts to their industry/their way of looking at things. I'm simply stunned Anna! You are a wise potato.
And I did it wearing El Cosmico!! ❤️
lol
I’ve been living in the ’70s since 1970. I inherited my parents’ 1976 “ranch house” after caring for them for seven and a half years, so right now I’m sitting in a room with wood paneling and a stone fireplace and what used to be known as an acoustic ceiling, now sometimes vulgarly called a “popcorn ceiling.”
The 1970s were the first decade labeled “The Decade of Diminishing Expectations,” and it’s been rather disheartening, over the past half-century, to watch every succeeding decade plagiarize this title. The ‘70s didn’t seem like much at the time, but for a member of Generation Jones, it’s interesting to watch the era grow in stature—especially among people who weren’t born yet.
Was it a better time? The ‘70s were great in the way that anybody’s teenage years might be considered superior to the self-involved blandness of—what—a midlife crisis? The disappointing complexities of adulthood?
We listened to 8-track tapes, which loudly went CLUNK when changing “programs,” and one time I was making out with my girlfriend and the music went CLUNK and we thought my parents were coming through the front door, and we fell out of the chair because we were scared. This innocence differs significantly from the two-way paranoia of your parents scrolling through your phone.
There was no social media, so unless you were Norman Mailer or Zsa Zsa Gabor, it was impossible to self-dramatize in front of thousands of people, and if you were going to be bullied, it had to happen on playgrounds or the streets, and you could identify who was doing it.
In 1976, Jimmy Carter and Jerry Ford ran against each other but soon became good friends. Politics wasn’t nasty. Nixon was nasty, but even his own party and the Supreme Court agreed that he was a criminal, and they forced him out of office—he enjoyed no “immunity for official acts.”
Fast food was relatively new—it tasted good and it was edible—it wasn’t generally known as fast food, though it was fast and it was food. The interiors of Burger King and the International House of Pancakes (not IHOP) were sort of fancy-looking, not generic like they are today, and it was kind of special if your parents took you there on the weekend.
There was a strong environmental movement, and unless you lived on Love Canal, the planet wasn’t killing you yet.
There was a strong feminist movement—women were getting more rights without more backlash. After 1973, safe and legal abortion was actually available in all 50 states.
College and housing and automobiles were much more affordable than they are today, though everyone in the ‘70s complained about inflation.
People didn’t walk into schools or churches or grocery stores with guns and start killing other people.
I could go on and on, and still be more factual than nostalgic.
Even in an immense city like Los Angeles, you could walk down the street to the railroad tracks, hand-in-hand with your girlfriend, and walk across them into the multicolored flowers on the other side. Now there’s a wall in front of the tracks, and homeless people live there.
The ‘70s weren’t perfect. But you might have liked them, Anna.
'You’re never too late; you’re never too old; and it’s never, ever the right time to write or publish a book, which is both terrible and wonderful news'. For some reason I find this oddly comforting in a let-the-chips-fall-where-they-may kind of way.
Just dropped my hot potato on my foot and kicked it under the bed. BE GONE!
Quote of the day!
Happiness is not a hot potato. Happiness is a baked potato served at a reasonable temperature. It’s humble, relatively inexpensive, and not hard to come by for those looking (especially in an atmosphere of relative economic privilege).
Great post.
Beautiful. Many similarities in psychotherapy and agenting! Also, what are those creepy braids on your wall? Loving the little peek into your home office slash psyche 😎
They are — wait for it — Braided Sweetgrass! From near the Ojibwe reservation my husband’s late sister came from.
I had thought perhaps they were braided horse mane or tails. Beautiful, the braids, your walls, your words. Thank you for sharing.
So cool! Sorry for my initial skepticism. ❤️
No no, without context they very much do look Buffalo Bill adjacent
I read about Braided Sweetgrass! I love that you have them 💓
Genius.
This is making me think of a meeting I took with an editor who complained about what he called “apartment fiction.” My next short story, which I never finished, was set outdoors…
Great piece. Thanks for writing it.
“There’s a reason why agents’ Manuscript Wish List (MSWL) suggestions almost never result in successful book deals. Books…are like moss: they grow best organically and in situ…” —Just let is grow how it is, where it is, where it wants to, that’s the marvel of art. Excellent post!
Another great insightful post. Thank you!!!
So insightful and thorough. “Happiness is not a hot potato” - I’m going to be repeating that one for a long time. Thank you for all of this.
You told not one lie!!!!
As a therapist, I was delighted to read this. As a writer and human being, I was both humbled, intimidated, and woefully aware of how much I resonated.
Thank you for the necessary reminders.
Great, as always.
1. As a fellow author and Swiftie, love the Tay Tay analogy, so true!
2. Whaddya mean book publishing isn't at all like how it's portrayed in Hallmark Xmas movies? 😅