A Writer in Yosemite, Part Seven: A Pirate's Life for Me?

Pirates peer at a scalawag's blog...

You might ask, “What’s it like being a literary pirate?” To some folks I’m just a blogger with a big spoon, stirring as I make my way across the golden Tules and foggy valley grasslands. To others maybe I’m more of a swashbuckling pirate of literary shenanigans, lopping off suspenders and watching drawers comically drop around ankles as I go.

After all, it was Malcolm who looked at me, red wine swishing around the very whites of his eyeballs, and said, “My reputation is in your hands…”



Come now, pirates are entertainers, and we all entertained so well at the Yosemite Writers Conference. There we were: writers, bloggers, a web developer for literary web sites, novelists, a literary consultant, and even a renowned California publisher legend in Malcolm Margolin—a pirate in a commercial sea, yet so loved that even his vessel was allowed to dock in Yosemite. I think his boat was allowed so that a strange pirate beggar like myself could Jolly Roger my way, waving alongside, and happily thumb my nose at the very sleek cruise ship of publishing, that I, well… want to publish the likes of me.

But forget about all that. When you’re with pirates, you practically forget your own name. It’s like when a fight’s about to break out in a schoolyard. Doesn’t matter that everyone has someplace better to go. Everyone sticks around to watch the pummeling of the combatants and then gives their two cents: “Dude, I would have raked her head over the asphalt, then tied her hair to her shoelaces…” Admit it, you once gawked.

(I’m telling you, if I grew up in Central Valley farmland like chingpea, I would have stayed for the animal bloodlust too).

Those of us at the pirate table were very into the conversation. Matildakay got called a Goth. I drew swords against a writer who politely sidestepped. And then there was the big Berkeley pirate battle that rocked our ship of rebel-hearted fools. Malcolm sat across from a rapscallion named Laurie—she was dept at lawyer-speak—and in a moment of cleansing her life from literary rejection, launched into an anti-Berkeley tirade that had even the polite Malcolm raising his voice. Two literary agents sitting at the next table seemed to enjoy the fracas as voices raised to the point that nearby redcoats almost made the entire table walk the plank.


A pirate battle begins... notice the agents in the background


No, not an imitation of a famous painting, but hands in finger-pointing stances


More pirates and Cinema of the Lords on the puter... are you a filmmaker?


The true mystery of room 239 surrounded this plate of cheese

And then the next day, for a few moments I had to turn off the pirate swagger. Gone was my argumentative nature and pirate flag waiving; gone was my thought that I was a great American novelist wrapped in a world where I might see success. I was now just another writer in a crowd of a million writers, and I was checking in with a couple of literary agents to see if my work had enough gusto to interest the commercial world of publishing.

My first meeting was with Irene Webb, one of the most prominent film representation and literary agents in her field. I entered a room with small tables. The room itself seemed a bit stale. I don’t know, what was I expecting, flowers?


A volunteer in the pitch room


Erin Hosier and Irene Webb: two cattlemen rounding up the literary herd

Agents sat talking to prospects while a volunteer organized schedules. I caught a glimpse of Erin Hosier of The Gernert Company and Irene Webb talking and soon made my way to an outside table. Next to the table sat Bonnie Hearn Hill talking with a novelist who I think writes Christian romance stories (I might be wrong on that one). As Irene walked up Bonnie said, “You’ll like Irene, she’s very nice.”

Irene smiled while I just tried to break the tension. “Bonnie winked,” I said.

I sat down and pulled out a stack of thirteen ideas, some finished, some not. “Some of these ideas are OK,” Irene said. Is that good? After we talked for a few minutes she asked which stories I thought were most important.

“That’s a tough question,” I admitted. Aren’t they all? Oh man… That put me on the spot. Eventually we discussed some books I thought were important.


Irene Webb ponders my stories...

“Send me a few chapters,” she said. Was this a good sign? Does this mean she was interested? She must be or she wouldn’t have asked, right? Later, Cindy Wathen said, “Nick, you need to be more positive.”

Gulp. She’s right.

My next meeting was with Erin Hosier. Erin is interesting to look at and to speak with. She’s a bit dark in dress, though fashionably so. She’s hip. She likes quirky, decidedly dark fiction. I write decidedly dark fiction, I told myself 150 times before sitting at her table. Go figure; I never actually said out loud to her that I write decidedly dark fiction.



What I did talk about was my Paperback Writer blog, my novels, and about one of my novels that really grabbed her attention. “Send me a few chapters,” she said.

I got up from the table, shook her hand, snapped another photo, mumbled it was sexy and made my way out into the Tenaya Lodge hallway, wondering if I had just made headway in my literary career. She did say to send a few chapters, right?


Erin Hosier ponders our brief meeting...

In fact, that’s that Malcolm ended up telling me about one of my books. “Send me a few chapters,” he said.

The pirate consultant ended up saying, “I’m passing this book onto an editor who I know… after I finish reading it…”

So that was good too. Four opportunities. Four leads. Four doorways. Four windows. And it’s all because I never give up on my dreams and goals no matter what people have said to me. Sure, pirates have dreams, just sometimes rebellious ones. Doesn’t make us bad people, just maybe indicates to others that we don’t bathe enough.

Driving home from the conference I kept rethinking the weekend. Was every writer from the conference rethinking the weekend? What could I have said differently? How could I have better spoken with agents and writers about who I am and what I write about? As I passed endless farmland and a strange golden grass-covered area, I swore I could hear Malcolm’s voice saying over and over, “My reputation is in your hands…” while I imagined red wine and goldfish still swishing around the very whites of his eyeballs.

Matildakay reports:

A great literary weekend
What's your type?
The Mary Wong Lee Memorial Scholarship
Malcolm Margolin is Posh
Hanging out with the Pirates of Yosemite and setting the record straight
Kill Your Darlings

N.L. on Paperback Writer reports:

A Writer in Yosemite: Part One
A Writer in Yosemite: Part Two
A Writer in Yosemite: Part Three
A Writer in Yosemite: Part Four
A Writer in Yosemite: Part Five
A Writer in Yosemite: Part Six
A Writer in Yosemite: Part Seven
A Writer in Yosemite: Part Eight

This entry was posted by N.L. Belardes, on Monday, August 28, 2006. You can leave your response.