Hey, we’ve made it up to p. 13 of The Essential Guide to Getting Your Book Published [EGGYBP]. The authors ask Why would anyone buy your book?

Fair question.

Beyond the usual suspects of family, friends, and former students, I think that most people would buy Lichtenbergianism: procrastination as a creative strategy because the hankering to Make the Thing That Is Not is pretty strong in humans.  As Ellen Dissanayake posits in Art & Intimacy and Homo Æstheticus, the creative spirit is evolutionary, i.e., not only is it genetic, it exists because it helped us survive and prevail.  The creative spirit is universally human.  And as I’ve already written, there is no shortage of books which will help you develop and improve your creative skills in every area of human endeavor.

Likewise, there is no shortage of books which will help you deal with your tendency to procrastinate.  Why, just yesterday I was contacted by a writer who is writing his own meditation on the subject and who felt compelled to get in touch with the Chair of the Lichtenbergian Society in order to find out more about us—just as I was editing the chapter on TASK AVOIDANCE.^[1] Ironic, isn’t it, that I got to put off editing that chapter in order to chat with and befriend my newest competitor?^[2]

However, Lichtenbergianism won’t scold you like most of the books on procrastination will, nor will it offer you tons of prescriptive exercises to free your creativity, which you will not do and then feel bad about.

No, a reader who buys my book will be soothed to find out that we do not expect him or her to flog themselves into creative genius or even to eat their creative vegetables.  Instead, we will offer him the soft, comfy chair of Lichtenbergianism, which gently teases him into greater productivity through the haphazard application of Nine (easy) Precepts.^[3]

Plus, it will have a cool cover.  What’s not to like?

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^[1] Coming soon to a blog near you.

^[2] He even may or may not be joining the Lichtenbergian Society in a couple of weeks.  He may out himself in comments if he likes.

^[3]  Sure, easy.  Creativity is always easy, right? We’ll go with that.

In today’s adventures in publishing, I was prepared to write an extended comic piece about dealing with Penguin UK in trying to contact Frances Hollingdale, representative of R. J. Hollingdale’s estate.  I had emailed her at an address I had hoped was correct, but assiduity is the better part of something or other, and so I sent out feelers to the original publisher.

The first person who responded directed me to the actual permissions department, which responded with an automated email with a form attached, along with a stern warning not to bother without a publishing date.  Since I knew that I was not asking Penguin UK for permission for anything but just trying to locate Frances, this was verkakte.  I went back to the first human respondent, who then directed me to Penguin USA, which I knew was wrong since they were in no way involved in the publication of The Waste Books.  (I will note that everyone has been very kind and trying to be very helpful in all of this.)  Mercy.

Anyway, it is a moot email chain,—and no comedy for you—since yesterday evening I heard from Frances Hollingdale herself, cheering me on in that polite British way and offering a very do-able fee for the 21 aphorisms I’d like to use.  The deal also includes my sending her two copies of Lichtenbergianism: procrastination as a creative strategy, one for her and one for her brother.  I think that’s sweet.

So that’s the major permission-getting done.  Yes, I could have translated the things myself if need be, but why bother when R. J. Hollingdale has done such a nice job already?

But wait—there’s more!

I also heard yesterday from Hugo Piet Hein, who responded to my request for permission to use Piet Hein’s grook “Twin Mystery.”  Again, very reasonable fee, and that was my second major permission accomplished.

Why, next thing you know, some agent will be emailing me and inquiring about the availability of this amazing new work.

As we continue our journey through The Essential Guide to Getting Your Book Published—and we’re just on page 9—we’re examining the marketability of Lichtenbergianism: procrastination as a creative strategy.^[1]

The question posed by the authors is Is Your Idea Publicity-Friendly?  The short answer is, “Are you kidding me?  Just watch this!”

First of all, Lichtenbergianism is the antithesis of The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.  I am the anti-Marie Kondo.  Instead of sternly ordering you to touch everything you love and to scrap everything that you don’t, I give you permission to admit that SLACK is critical to your creative life.  You’ll know when you need to give away that pile of lumber scraps that you thought you might turn into a garden sculpture… one day.  It doesn’t have to be today.  Or tomorrow.

So right away we have a media hook that would intrigue outlets looking for something to separate their content from the current fascination with “tidiness.”  Ride that pendulum, baby!

TED Talk?  Me, talk to an audience and charm them?  Without even trying.  You can book me for your garden club too, if you like.

Articles for blogs/magazines?  You mean like this blog?

Interviews?  I am one of the best subjects you will ever interview—I give good quote.

Now, I imagine that most of the publicity gigs will focus on the first Precept of TASK AVOIDANCE, because that’s the most amusing part of the whole book.  Plus which, time is always limited when one is speaking to the Rotary Club or the American Crafts Council convention, so trying to outline all nine Precepts would be a bit much—why not focus on the oddly counterintuitive first bit, and let them buy the book if they want to know more?

It looks as if my degree in theatre could finally earn me an income after all.

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^[1] No, it doesn’t drive me crazy to type these long titles—thank you for asking—because I have set up macros to do it for me.  I use a program called Keyboard Maestro, and it can automate just about anything your Mac can do. I can type Lichtenbergian or Lichtenbergianism or Lichtenbergianism: procrastination as a creative strategy with four keystrokes each: l-l-l-l gives me Lichtenbergian, etc.  Likewise, the footnotes—after seeing how the footnotes from a Word document translate to HTML, I set up macros so that I can do it practically automatically myself.  It’s a magical world.

More fun in international emailing.

In addition to trying Frances Hollingdale’s email—which may or may not be current—I have emailed the permissions department at Penguin Books.  (Note to Penguin: it took me five minutes of clicking through to find anything like a contact email.  Giving us the Underground stops near your three London offices and what the neighborhood used to be like and what it’s like now is… shall we call it quaint instead of twee?  Sure.  I’ll be sure to stop by when I’m on my book tour.)

But there’s more.

Way back in the 70s, I stumbled across an article somewhere about the Danish mathematician Piet Hein.^[1]  It focused on his winning a design contest for a traffic roundabout by using a curve that he called a superellipse. I seem to recall that the article claimed he “invented” the shape, but that is not the case.

The article also mentioned that Hein was a poet, whipping out these aphoristic little poems he called “grooks.”  I do not remember whether this one was in the article; I don’t remember where I came across it.  But it struck me very deeply, to the extent that I memorized it instantly and it has remained one of three poems that I’m sure I will be able to recite flawlessly in the Home.^[2]

At the risk of jeopardizing my standing in requesting permission to include this text in Lichtenbergianism, here it is:

TWIN MYSTERY

To many people artists seem
undisciplined and lawless.
Such laziness, with such great gifts,
seems little short of crime.

One mystery is how they make
the things they make so flawless;
another, what they’re doing with
their energy and time.

(To make up for this transgression, I offer links to go buy all of Piet Hein’s Grooks. Ironically, when I searched online to see if there were an official site I could link to for the poem, one of Google’s offerings was me, in the SHAKESPER listserv way back in 2001, when as a part of some long-forgotten discussion I posted it, targeting Terence Hawkes for some reason.)

Obviously I would like to include this little gem as a sidebar in the chapter on TASK AVOIDANCE, currently under revision.  The official Hein website warns me that there will be a fee involved.  We’ll see if it’s worth it.

While we’re waiting, go check out the Hein website.  Click on the Games & Books section.  I like the Super-Egg, the three-dimensional version of the superellipse.  Be advised: they’re only 1-1/4″ tall, which for the price (plus shipping) is something I’ll have to buy with my lottery winnings.

But also notice the Soma toy.  I had completely forgotten that Hein was the inventor of that one!  I had one, in blue plastic, and it survived long into my adult years.  In fact, it may still be up here in the study somewhere, just buried under the archaeological layers.

At any rate, we have more for our waiting game.

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^[1] Maybe Martin Gardner’s reprint of his article in Scientific American, Sep 1965, in Mathematical Carnival, 1977, although that seems late for me to have encountered it.  I thought I remembered the grooks in college; I am very probably wrong.

^[2] The other two are “Jabberwocky” and “Sonnet 18.”

Part of getting your book published is making sure that someone else hasn’t already beaten you to the market.  Today’s candidate is The Art of Procrastination: a guide to effective dawdling, lollygagging and postponing, by professor of philosophy John Perry.

If you squint at the subtitle, you can see an asterisk, which footnotes to the text under the path of the paper airplane.  It says, *or getting things done by putting them off.

Well.

You can understand my trepidation when I discovered this book, which only increased when reviews mentioned its wit and charm.  Is this the book I thought I was writing?

It arrived yesterday, and it’s quite a slim little volume—fewer than 100 pages, generously spaced—and therefore shorter than I think Lichtenbergianism is meant to be.  Quite readable in one sitting, which I sat down to do.

It is indeed witty and charming, delightfully written, and the basic premise is precisely the heart of TASK AVOIDANCE, the first Precept of Lichtenbergianism. “Structured procrastination,” as Dr. Perry has named it, is exactly what has led to the productivity of the Lichtenbergians: put off one project by working on another. As I say in the chapter on TASK AVOIDANCE,

This very book (at least at the time of writing this sentence) is being written to avoid the pain of writing music.^[1] Not only that, but in the process of writing every section of this book, every other section proved a suitable distraction. Stuck on the AUDIENCE chapter? Jot down that note in your head on GESTALT that has been doing its best to distract you.

So has John Perry beaten me to the market?  No, thank goodness.  His book is perfect, but it is not an overview of the creative process, nor does it fulfill Lichtenbergianism‘s goal of giving the Citizen Artist permission to free him/herself of the fear to create.

Whew.

It does mean I will have to rewrite Chapter Three: TASK AVOIDANCE to reference Dr. Perry’s ideas, and I really would love to get a blurb from him for the book.  (More emailing to be done…)  But although he is (like I am) humorously letting procrastinators off the hook instead of browbeating them to STOP IT like all the other books on procrastination are doing, we are not competing for the same market.

This book, however, concerns me.  I’ll report on it after it arrives.

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^[1] The opera Seven Dreams of Falling, which Scott and I are going to work on again soon.  Ish.

As you may recall, I emailed the permissions department of the New York Review of Books for help identifying the entity holding the copyright to R. J. Hollingdale’s translation of Georg Christoph Lichtenberg’s The Waste Books.

Yesterday I heard back from Patrick Hederman, who inquired as to the extent to which I would be quoting the book, as in “exactly how many  words.” Whew, I thought, that was easy: the little I intended to use could scarcely present a problem.

It was easy to determine: open up a new little file in the Lichtenbergianism Scrivener file and copy/paste all the aphorisms in there—let the software count the words. There were 509 words contained in 21 aphorisms.

Ah, replied Mr. Hederman, we don’t actually hold the copyright, but that little amount of text ought to fall under fair use.  My thoughts exactly, I replied, but I want to make extra sure.

Mr. Hederman did not know who the owner of the copyright was, but had the email of Frances Hollingdale, representative of the Hollingdale estate.  He also suggested contacting Penguin, from whom NYRB had subleased the work.

So yesterday I emailed Ms. Hollingdale and today I will contact Penguin, although my copy of the book states clearly that R. J. Hollingdale was the owner of the copyright.

I will also bookmark the original German text, just in case.

As I work my way through the text of my putative book on the creative process, you might like to read the rest of the text so far here.  Also, the rest of my meditations on the process here.

The Nine Precepts

To recap:

1. We are all creative.
2. Creativity is not genius.
3. Make the thing that is not.
4. Beware the impostor syndrome.

And what does procrastination have to do with any of the above?

Before we decided to give that seminar at GHP, there really wasn’t such a thing as Lichtenbergianism. The Lichtenbergian Society was just us Lichtenbergians doing our Lichtenbergian thing. But as I began mulling over exactly what we would be presenting in the seminar—you know, that pesky content thing—my over-organized mind found that within the Lichtenbergian membership certain mindsets and processes seemed to be the rule. So I categorized them into the Nine Precepts of Lichtenbergianism.

1. Task Avoidance [again, in the published book, these will be in small caps]
2. Abortive Attempts
3. Successive Approximation
4. Waste Books
5. Ritual
6. Steal from the Best
7. Gestalt
8. Audience
9. Abandonment

Each Precept is a loose collection of ideas and principles about the creative process, often overlapping into the others. Lichtenbergianism is incoherent, in the sense that there’s no rigor in its conception or application—you can pick and choose and ignore and embrace each part as it suits your needs.

Nor is it linear—you don’t “do” the Precepts in order. There is no “leveling up” from Precept Two to Precept Three. They all exist simultaneously in any project you choose to work on, each coming to the forefront of your consciousness as needed.

Lichtenbergianism’s value lies in its flexibility and its permission-giving: it gives you permission to create without the deadly threat of producing something “perfect.”

Only Mozart can do that—and he’s dead.

“Inspiration is for amateurs. The rest of us just show up and get to work.” — Chuck Close^[1]

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^[1] Currey, M., & Currey, M. (2014). Daily rituals: How artists work (p. 64). New York: Alfred A. Knopf.