Rare Birds
Mo' Betta Meta: Amid the clutter, Internet spawns exciting new forms of onlinewriting
Janet Flanner in correspondent's uniform
Janet Flanner reading The New Yorker
Janet Flanner
"This was a new type of journalistic foreign correspondence which I had to integrate and develop, since there was no antecedent for it." — Author Janet Flanner on writing her "Letter from Paris" for The New Yorker
Last Sunday, among friends after a few beers and a late night of making music, I described CultureMap to a fellow writer as “the Vanity Fair of Houston.” Now, please understand I wasn’t trying to be “snarky.” I like Vanity Fair magazine and obviously I love my gig at CultureMap. But yes, when I made that comment, I was thinking of editor at large Shelby Hodge’s “Shelby on the Seine” series. The description of the excesses of philanthropic high society folk was entertaining, though perhaps inadvertently threw into the relief (as if it were necessary) the disparity between rich and poor. Or perhaps, what parties I get to go to and what parties rich folks get to go to.
Cake and guillotine jokes aside, the series reminded me of how much I love the published collection of New Yorker writer Janet Flanner’s dispatches from Paris, “Paris Was Yesterday.” Embedded cross the water from 1925 to 1939, Flanner wrote not only about society, scandals and political upheavals, but also the new forms of art, including the experimental writing of Ernest Hemmingway, James Joyce, and Virginia Woolf.
In our time, new forms of writing are developing thanks in part to the nature of the medium of the Internet. Whether the subject matter is a fundraiser at the Louvre or exploring the mind through music, the potential for experimental online writing is there.
The temporal nature of writing on the Internet allows me to experiment with form, to push back against “every bright thing that files to the surface of the iPhone,” to imagine writing as a plastic art that can be shaped into new and heretofore unimagined forms.
But what do I mean by “the medium of the Internet?” My first professional writing gigs came from websites and blogs. Before being asked to write for a blog, I maintained my own, writing about music and interviewing friends in the creative field who particularly intrigued me. I wrote about subjects close to my heart, knowing that once the articles or interviews were up, they weren’t going anywhere. My blog is sort of a library of information for me. Not to sound like a snob, but I wasn’t (and I’m still not) interested in taking photos of what I was eating for breakfast and posting them in real time.
As soon as I started getting work as a freelance writer, where I had to pitch stories and calendar out deadlines, I realized that anything I wrote would sit in the “blogosphere” for about five minutes, be “liked” or “shared” by way of Facebook or Twitter, possibly inspire a nice comment from one or two readers I don't personally know and then — poof! — it'd be gone. Almost instantaneously, 10 or 20 new posts would go up to replace my five or 10-minute now old news and the cycle would begin again. This cycle can be frustrating for writers. But instead of simmering with frustration, I try to embrace nature of the ‘net as a challenge to my creative imagination and skills.
The temporality of Internet culture is addressed by author and critic Katie Roiphe in her essay, “With Clarity and Beauty, the Weight of Authority,” written as part of a series of New York Times op-ed pieces under the umbrella title “Why Criticism Matters.” The points Roiphe makes in the essay are applicable to all writers, not just book critics. She writes:
“If the critic has to compete with the seductions of Facebook, with shrewdly written television, with culturally relevant movies — with, in short, every bright thing that flies to the surface of the iPhone — that’s all the more reasons for him to write dramatically, vividly, (and) beautifully…The Critic could take all of this healthy competition, the challenge of dwindling review pages, the slash in pay, as a sign to be better, to be irreplaceable, to transcend.”
I believe, after reading her essay several times (it’s that kind of essay), Roiphe is talking about writing in its print form first as well as the same copy transposed without any additional bells and whistles to the Internet. She’s not describing creative use of embedded links, photos, sound and video, and/or typeface and layout. She’s talking simply and passionately about writing well. I believe that writing well includes the effort to push the form.
The temporal nature of writing on the Internet allows me to experiment with form, to push back against “every bright thing that files to the surface of the iPhone,” to imagine writing as a plastic art that can be shaped into new and heretofore unimagined forms. But just to be clear, I don’t put myself in the same category of James Joyce or Virginia Woolf. I'd need more than a few beers before making such a comparison.
I can’t write like anyone except myself. And I don’t have the skill set required if I’ve had a rough week and just want to “phone it in.” I’m stuck with my voice on the page, and however awkward it may sound to me when I read this stuff aloud.
Here are a few websites that offer a combination of great writing and creative use of the medium of the web, including its aforementioned temporal nature and bells and whistles. I know there are other examples out there, sites that are even crazier and perhaps even more literary in their writing. Send em my way, I'd love to hear about them.
I have mistakenly and then purposely mispronounced “Objectif” and “Ob-ject-teef” in my best fake French accent, as it’s one of these collective creations that recalls the spirit of Flanner’s Paris of yesterday. But the name comes straight out of hip-hop and its great tradition of subverting language and recontextualizing its meaning. The publishers of Objectif describe themselves as: “…denizens of the underground bumrushing the monoculture. We're insouciant, irreverent and we publish whatever the heck we feel like. Our bête noire is wackness.” Word! And the fact that this is a Houston/Texas venture REALLY intrigues me. The site is still coming together, but the variety of content that’s currently up is provocative and a joy for your eyes and ears.
It is not an understatement to say that Option Magazine back in the day kept me from losing my young mind. During the time after I graduated high xchool and before college (I took a year off), I worked at The Popcorn Outlet and later Kentucky Fried Chicken and wondered what kind of musician I was and where exactly I was going to fit in. Option at that time was writing about such iconoclastic musicians as John Zorn, Ornette Coleman, Diamanda Galas, Fela Kuti, Mark E. Smith, etc, etc. I read each issue religiously.
Years later, the magazine is back in an online format that looks GREAT and features intelligent engaging writing from a diverse group of volunteer contributors. The homepage currently features a link to an interview with honorary Houstonian Steve Earle. Check it out. Welcome back, Option!
I hadn’t visited saxophonist and composer Matana Roberts’ blog/website for awhile and I am digging the latest overhaul. Fanzine culture informs Roberts’ site, particularly in the immediacy of the writing, which covers issues regarding music, race, family and history, as well as the collaging of images both moving and static.
Roberts was a guest of Houston’s Nameless Sound not too long ago, and her blog entry about her Houston experience helped me to navigate my own arrival to the city not a few months later. She's an amazing musician and I hope she comes back to Texas soon.
