Tag: capitalism

books = art

A close-up photo of a fountain pen nib partway through writing on lined paper with black ink..
~ Will Forrest ~ Leave a comment

I just read a post on That Subscription Site Full of Fash (not linking to it, see under Full of Fash), where the writer argued that writing isn’t art because we sell it like a commodity.

I’m sorry, what?

Books (e-books & print) are reproductions of a larger piece of art. Saying books aren’t art is like saying a lithographic print isn’t art. Just because it can be replicated and sold in small, affordable versions doesn’t lessen its artistry. The original art – the carved plate – will never be seen by the public, just like a manuscript will never be seen by the public.

The art of a book is in its totality, from the first draft to the cover design to the font choice. Art isn’t special and should not be treated like some far away thing that only clever people do while us plebian slobs consume it. Art is everywhere, everyone can be an artist, and getting over the Big-A art concept is important to undo this idea of virtuous consumption that comes with it, this idea that calling it Big-A Art elevates it above our mortal plane. I would argue that selling things at a price only wealthy people can afford is a moral failure. You’re catering to the literal worst people on earth. Anyone who can drop a million bucks on a single piece of art? Must be nice, now fund a library or go away.

Sorrynotsorry but if you sell it, it’s a commodity. Big, expensive art that exists as a singular piece is still a fucking commodity. You expect money for it. You didn’t do it for fun or for your mom but to sell. It’s art but it’s still a commodity.

I am an artist.

This is not up for debate.

Thank you for your attention.

Four poems about fire: #4

A young man is celebrating, his white shirt decorated with pinned-on money.
~ Will Forrest ~ Leave a comment

In May of this year I wrote four poems. I forgot to post this one, which is both typical and interesting. It stands in juxtaposition to ‘Dirty Money,’ one of my earlier poems, which was quite popular but now feels too naïve.

It matters what kind of energy (scientists, did you just laugh) you choose to circulate. Bad mojo shouldn’t be passed on. It should be burned at a crossroads at midnight then buried under a sycamore.

Poem #4

(Dirty Money: A Retraction)

What is money?

is it food

is it hope

is it will

is it desire

is it disgust

is it denial

is it worth it

is it someone else’s problem

is it death

is it real

is it you

(2023)

Balance is bullsh!t

~ Will Forrest ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
How do you balance work and home life?
View all responses

It’s funny that this came up as a prompt the other day. I’ve been thinking a lot about how to accomplish my goals both professionally and personally, and as much as we all laud the concept of balance I’m starting to think it’s a joke.

When I think about balancing, I picture someone on a tightrope. Arms extended, eyes locked on the horizon, physically committed to a ludicrous, massively dangerous task for other people’s entertainment.

I did just write a novel about a tightrope walker, so yes it’s a strong echo in my mind but that also means I know what the metaphor means. And I don’t know if it should be a goal.

For one thing, it’s fucking impossible. You can do well, giving yourself more or less equally to all your wants and responsibilities. And maybe that’s a neurotypical thing, to be able to plot your life carefully then follow it through, but that’s not in my wheelhouse, to employ boardroom language. I can’t actualize that paradigm.

I’m losing interest in the idea of balance. It’s really difficult to relax while balancing. Balance is a state of tension, of holding in place. It requires hyperawareness of the body and the ability to ignore everything around you. If you find a place of stillness, you cannot move from it or you will collapse. That sounds–that is–exhausting.

That sounds like capitalism: find one thing and do it till you die, never quitting or questioning, while faithfully replicating your DNA to provide capital with more human resources and supporting the rentier system of the 1% that holds the rest of us hostage by giving them back in the form of household spending and debt all the money they loaned you as wages.

The ideal work/life balance is No Work, All Life. I don’t mean, let’s all be unemployed.* I mean, why is work not life? Why are jobs so shit? Why have we bought into this massive system of pitting our economic needs against our human rights? Who the fuck wants to be an actuary? I would expect a single digit percent of actuaries chose that career because of some deep inner calling. For everyone else it was because they weren’t pretty or clever or rich enough to get to do what they want with their lives, and so they put on a suit and sit in traffic and eat a packed lunch and try not to jump out the office window. If that’s your life why even be alive? So you can give your children the very same future?

TL:DR Modernity is delusional. Baked into the core of our culture is the idea that *this world as it is right now* is the best we can do. That Starbucks and Exxon Mobil are natural and inevitable, that the only improvement possible is making the whole world like America. Delusion, delusion, delusion.

Fuck the work/life balance. It’s a joke, it’s a yoke, it’s a rationalization for letting capital skim the cream of labor’s efforts. For our collective good we need to seek a way of life where our work is worth living for.

An ideal work life balance? The least work possible at a job that won’t cost me my life.

*We can talk about health care and education as necessary jobs as long as you want to discuss why we underpay and understaff both these professions.

Who owns us?

~ Will Forrest ~ Leave a comment

Way back in the wayback, I started this blog by talking about Cory Doctorow.  He really is a smart person, and in this guest blog for indie author legend Brian Sanderson he brings his ethics and intellect to bear on how Amazon is ripping everyone off.

The problem with Audible is not that it makes a wide catalog of audiobooks available through a convenient app. The problem is that Audible uses technology, accounting fraud, and market power to steal vast fortunes from creative workers and the audiences who love their books.

Disclosure: I’m an author who uses Amazon as a sales platform, but in this insular space I feel safe in expressing my deep concern that we have let a single corporation insert itself into so much of our daily lives. I’ll let Doctorow himself speak to that.

GUEST EDITORIAL: CORY DOCTOROW IS A BESTSELLING AUTHOR, BUT AUDIBLE WON’T CARRY HIS AUDIOBOOKS

I don’t have any audiobooks for sale. Authorship and publishing take so much attention that I haven’t had any to spare for yet another aspect of it, so I can’t add much commentary.  But Doctorow has nothing to gain by refusing to list his audiobooks on Amazon. In fact: 

my agent tells me that it cost me a fully paid-off mortgage and a fully funded college savings account for my daughter.

w

If more big-name authors were prepared to starve Audible of their content, would Amazon cave to pressure and make the deal fair for everyone?  Or is it going to take another few election cycles before President Warren (don’t laugh) demands the break-up of this predatory company? 

Until then, I’ll keep listing my books on every platform I can.  There is another way.  We can and must find it.  For everyone’s sake.

the violence

~ Will Forrest ~ Leave a comment

I heard they have a plan in America

to replace all the human beings

with self-driving cars with neflix subscriptions

in a landscape of drive-thrus stretching from

sea to sea

the most efficient system ever

to eat their own people alive

“thank god for the river or those people from down south would overrun us”

she said, watching them pull three point turns

in the parking lot of homeland security

that night after we’d blown the rainbow bridge

cruelty has purpose

the violence just is

a live grenade in a hospital lobby

a ship on fire

all hands on deck

“I don’t understand why you’re so unhappy”

he said when I showed him where the swimming pool tiles had cut my face

like I was meant to thank him

that was the day we lost Bruce

what did you expect

a guy like him

getting lost in his own neighbourhood

though all the houses do kind of look the same

a wall of tanks

shedding sparks on the way to put out a fire that isn’t burning

(2023)

The Player of Games

~ Will Forrest ~ Leave a comment

I did it. I played the game. I did the tricks, I sat up, I begged. I scheduled my posts. I groomed my hashtags. I added IDs for the visually impaired.

I featured an image. I added a quote. I cross-posted. I rained content.

I should have just had a nap, because I’m exhausted. And I got nothing.

And I wondered in my delirium if maybe if posts weren’t suppressed and artists had reach and fans saw all your content and we didn’t have to pay for even the barest shred of eyeball time that maybe we would all be making money and wouldn’t mind paying.

Twenty bucks says this gets more views than any of my carefully curated content. This Luddite mumbling, this petty little whinge. Better feature an image, keep the variables constant.

And prepare for nothing.

(In the meanwhile, read my previous post, it’s nice and long and has a bit about KJ Charles.)