Recently, on artist Austin Kleon’s Tumblr he cited a New Yorker
profile by D.T. Max. The profile is about David Foster
Wallace:
[Novelist Mark] Costello remembers, “Junior year, David and I were sitting
around talking about magical realists—I think it was ‘One Hundred Years of
Solitude’—and someone said, ‘Pynchon’s much cooler.’ We said ‘Who?’ He threw a
copy of ‘Lot 49’ at us. For Dave, that was like Bob Dylan finding Woody
Guthrie.”
He goes on to think about that simple transaction… a book is casually
tossed, taken home and read, and it changes everything. Kleon says, “…usually
when we recall these transactions, the Somebody isn’t important, it’s the book,
or our hero who catches it, who’s important… but the Somebody, or the Book
Tosser, is the unsung hero here: if it weren’t for the toss, there wouldn’t be
a catch.”
I have been working on a play on commission for the Sundown Collaborative Theatre. I found out about SCT from my friend and colleague Chris
Taylor. Even though I submitted work to the organization on my own, Taylor
would be the person I cite with brokering the opportunity for me. My
acquaintance with him allowed my later connection with Sundown. My career is
filled with these connections.
One of my favorite collaborators (and people, for that matter), Chris Humphrey
down in Austin, was introduced to me by my friend Jeff Swearingen. In a way, he
was the book tosser for all the creative work Humphrey and I have done together
since then. These little interpersonal connections and transactions are
important. I’m sensitive to them. The busier one becomes the harder it is to
keep straight who lead who to what, but I try to stay aware of it.
Actually, I used to be overly sensitive about the whole
thing. I have been the book tosser myself many times. I was good at it. And
honestly, it used to chaff a bit when no recognition was thrown my way. I kind
of carried around this secret knowledge that because of me - because I’d introduced a person to something
or someone - they prospered, be it
professionally, creatively or practically. The person would never remember, of
course. Or if they did, they never said anything. If asked, it was that person’s
own personal victory. He or she had been in the right place at the right time.
It was all “them,” with no outside help whatsoever.
Anyway, that is how I used to be. And like I said, I realize
it has become more and more difficult to remember all these book tossers in my
life. In fact, I have built up a weird defense, in a way, against gathering too
many more.
I “discover” stuff on my own. It is a joke that one of my
friends will say “hey, check out this cool website…” I’ll either ignore it or half-heartedly
peruse it. Then six months later I’ll stumble on it and spread the same news
back to my friend about the awesome website I “discovered.” It is a bit of an
amusing running gag in my small, close circle, but I believe this habit did not
develop out of a vacuum.
In light of having both been burned in the past as an
excellent book tosser (kind of like what Malcolm Gladwell called a “maven” in
his book THE TIPPING POINT) as well as the fact that it is difficult to keep
who has done what for me straight on the other end, of course I’d be defensive.
And aware.
If any of my book tossers are reading this post… Thank You.
I couldn’t have done what I’ve done without each and every one of you.
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