As any writer
knows, it is very hard to get published. A vaunted role such as a columnist
is an impossibility. This is my story.
Literary talent is subjective; therefore talented writers must have an
extra advantage. I have made a study of success in literature from 1650
to the present. The findings are consistent throughout every era. Brilliant
writers are related to, or, are sleeping with their editor and/or publisher.
I
came to Los Angeles with a gleam in my eye that was soon blackened
by the Philistines. Esquire, Confidential, Variety, Hush-Hush
and even Bazoombas
turned me down. Not one of them wanted my column about hot jazz, champagne,
fine art and silk stockings.
You
can trip me but you can’t stop me. One night I was in downtown
Los Angeles at a huge art event, a happening of hundreds of artists,
joyful and free, when I stumbled upon an ugly act of violence. A ham-fisted
accountant-type was badgering and shouting at a bespeckled, shaggy
haired artist in a striped tee shirt. The ugly man was screaming about
slander
and slight. With increasing aggression, he was calling out and threatening
the young man who answered back in a clear and steady voice.
I recognized the young Lincoln as Mat Gleason, editor of the most lauded
and hated art magazine in the nation. Some Westside-nut-job was hounding
this art world titan. A crowd was beginning to form around the combatants.
Suddenly, with a howl, the bean counter lunged at the editor. I was
impressed with the way Gleason parried. Obviously, this was a smart
man who knows
you never strike first. Anyone with street smarts knows if you swing
first you go to jail and anger management. I liked this Gleason.
The bully accountant was flying fists and blubber, really throwing
his weight around. Gleason was soon overcome by the ferocity of the
ugliness.
I sensed an opportunity. I dove into the fray and separated the two.
The attacker who had been saved from his own hubris continued to
bluster and steam scream.
Gleason was a little unsteady after several blows to his head.
Realizing he might be woozy, I introduced myself and whipped out
the column that
I always keep in my back pocket. I tucked it into his.
Gleason
had a hard, smart face, but he was addled and disabled. When my ethics
did a two-step backward, I stepped in and shook
his hand.
Excitedly, I said, “I am so excited you like my work. Thanks
for lunch. Next time is on me. I’d
be proud to be a columnist for your fine publication.”
Gleason was obviously confused but in no condition to figure it
out. Concussions have their benefits. I smiled, ran off and a week
later
I sent in 1200 words.
And
that’s how I became a brilliant columnist without ever
having to sleep with Mat or marry his sister.
___________________________________
GORDY
GRUNDY is an LA based artist. ‘Fetish Fortuna’ the fourth show
in his series the Fellowship Of Fortuna can be found at: www.LuckyFortuna.com