This more bad commissioning than bad PR, however we are yet to set up BadCommissioning.com so this will have to do.
Now as a freelancer I'm generally happy to recieve emails offering an opportunity to write - particularly if it's a new magazine, however, this particular request was missing a few vital ingredients.
From: Tembo Caloglu
To: xxxxxxx
Sent: Sunday, September 28, 2008 9:25 AM
Subject: Contribution to 'Bolluk'
Hello, XXX,
Greetings, and I hope all is well with you. This is Tembo Caloglu, editor of 'Bolluk'. We were wondering whether you might like to write a small piece for us, some informed thoughts on a matter of moment in Turkey, only two or three pars, would not take you long (longer of course, if you so desired). Or maybe there is something that you never had published, such as poetry or literary criticism. We couldn't pay you for this, and you would not get a by-line (not our policy), but you could write what you liked, within reason. Do let us know,
Best regards,
Tembo Caloglu.
Now then, let's start from the beginning. Who is Tembo Caloglu? And is his magazine really called 'Bolluk'? Why does he think I know anything about Turkish current affairs? And just what kind of a publication would be willing to include my unpublished sixth form poetry?
The best bit though is his positively seductive pay-terms. No money and no by-line but I can write what I want... within reason. I've got a feeling there may be a two word article on its way to Tembo very soon.
Good PR
2 comments:
I had thought of writing a long rejoinder citing my extreme distaste for petit bourgeois ignoramuses, but I think that this implied criticism of your general attitude and world view - as exhibited in your pathetic post - will suffice. I leave you to mull over two poems, plus a reference in the Bible, which describe amply where I stand; you may be sure that I will never revisit this site:
Living is no laughing matter:
you must live with great seriousness
like a squirrel, for example-
I mean without looking for something beyond and above living,
I mean living must be your whole occupation.
Yasamak sakaya gelmez,
buyuk bir ciddiyetle yasayacaksin
bir sincap gibi mesela,
yani, yasamanin disinda ve otesinde hicbir sey beklemeden,
yani butun isin gucun yasamak olacak
The Middle Kingdom
In those days we spent our time
sitting quietly in softly lighted rooms
designed for that purpose, trying not
to let any involuntary line of thought
arrive at its logical (and, of course,
regrettable) conclusion: namely
that our days were numbered.
We were all well-fed and warmly clothed, and
experienced no misgivings on this account.
The oceans were calm and shallow,
the rivers stocked with salmon. Each spring
brilliantly coloured birds passed over
on their way to northern lakes and hills.
Poems were often penned concerning
their brief and glorious transit. When
they returned in autumn we succumbed
to appropriate feelings of mild regret.
Our figurative art gave no hint of the fact
that male animals experienced erections,
nor were children obliged to light the match
that would incinerate their families.
Similarly it was not considered necessary
to rip your opponent’s lips from his face
or force him to digest his ears.
How slow that time now seems,
how sweet, how gradual every graceful gesture!
But it is impossible to regret its passing
It was not a time of truth and realism.
The passage of migratory birds
did not accord to the facts, nor
the coming of spring, nor a man’s respect
for women, nor courtesy, friendship, honour…
Regret is impossible
(and, besides, nostalgia
is an imprisonable offense) now
that every issue is as clear as blood,
bright as tears, and we live
in understanding even as we die.
John Ash
Mark 6:11 King James version.
Goodbye forever.
Thanks for your comments and the poems Tembo.
They're the absolute dog's bolluks.
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