LONG AND WINDING…

 

The book is done… for now. It will be shipped off to McFarland Publishers, not by Fed Ex or even US Mail, but electronically. Scary.

It is all done with “links.” Note the plural. There is a link to upload the manuscript (over 100,000 words, thank you very much) to which I must add the Table of Contents, the Dedication, the Preface, and the Acknowledgements (taking those 100,000 words to something north of that lofty number). There is a link to upload a document containing a list of all the photos, their captions, and their location(s) in the manuscript, yet another link to upload the photos themselves, and still another link to upload the permissions I have obtained to publish those aforesaid photos and their captions which I have already uploaded in the previously described second and third links; oh yes, and lest it be forgotten, I must add to the first link, along with the manuscript, in a prescribed cover letter, my suggestions for a Title, my thoughts for what I would like on the Cover and, finally (?) my ideas on how they might “sell” this book of mine, along with McFarland’s “checklist” form and a 150-word description of the memoir.

Are you exhausted? I sure am. The good folks at McFarland will take all this in, give the thing a read… maybe two… and come back to me with suggestions, thoughts, and my next assignment to get it all in shape for what could be a spring release.

Will I keep you informed? What do you think?

I am going to take a break from these long days of sitting in front of my word processor and take a drive. This time, not cross-country but up the East Coast from Miami to the Berkshires where the plan is for me to arrive in time to see my pal, Renee Taylor, perform her newest one-woman play, directed by the great Elaine May.

So…. It’s May and Renee, and I am (all but) on my way.

First, some business: I have been in front of my PC screen so long, there is little time for keeping up with the television, nor am I proving to be patient with much of it. Keep that in mind as I inform you that Black Snow (Amazon Prime) and The Hunting Wives (Netflix) are all but unwatchable. You have been warned.

There is some nice stuff that I tune in to from time to time: Etoile, A French Village (both on Amazon Prime), The Bear (Hulu) but the days of toil on the book make the work I have to do as a viewer of these shows more than I am up for. The News either on Fox or MSNBC certainly does not do it. Au contraire. What I do for relaxation is on Hulu:  Gilmore Girls…. Maybe three/ four episodes at a time.

I have written about this show and the brilliant Sherman-Palladino creative combo a lot. This is not their best work, but it is so good… so easy, and so pleasant to watch that I find it all but irresistible. I will not reiterate the list of characters, the stars, and their support. Suffice to say they are all wonderful.

Right now, as I bring the ordeal with my book to a close, I am in season six of the seven Gilmore Girls that were created for television about a quarter of a century ago. It was understandable, I thought, that the show was starting to veer a bit off course. Even with the top people still on board, the temptation to mess with what you have… to stretch a muscle or two… would be, I am sure, compelling.

Sometimes the shark is “jumped” and, as I watched, I feared that either that was happening to Gilmore Girls or, that the work on my book had warped my sensibilities as a viewer. Then came episode nine, season six.

Holy moly! I all but leaped to my feet in my living room to applaud. It took them a few episodes to set me up for this moment of ecstasy, but it was all worth it. Thank you, thank you, Palladinos. Sorry I ever had a doubt.

If you have not been paying attention, Gilmore Girls (not the Gilmore thing that is out now with that would-be actor Sandler character) but Gilmore Girls. It must be seen. Like Younger, and Bunheads, (only better than both) it is a precursor to The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel… one of the best things EVER made for television.

Moving along: my comments regarding Paramount’s Landman, starring Billy “Bob” Thornton, a terrific supporting cast, and that show’s creative maven, Taylor Sheridan, brought about some commentary strongly suggesting I look at Mr. Sheridan’s earlier work, Yellowstone. It is on Peacock. I tuned in, and it is… good… but, good though he is, Kevin Costner is not in Mr. Thornton’s camp as an actor and, in the interval between the two shows, Mr. Sheridan’s writing has gotten better.

All that said, Yellowstone is good. Better than good, in a way, because like any decent “soap opera” it is addictive. In that way it is the essence of what an old-fashioned series should be, giving its audience the opportunity to follow (indefinitely is the ideal) these characters and their interactive dilemmas (both moral and personal).

Believe it or not, I have written a little bit about that in my new book.

Did I mention it should be out this spring?

 

Barney Rosenzweig