Why Bother?
In a recent post (Bibliomania Revisited), I told you about getting a copy of my first published book (The Resource Guide for Food Writers)—and the fact that it needs constant updating. Every month, for over twenty years, I’ve sent those electronic updates to subscribers. There’s also a copy of the original book, on my computer, that I’ve been updating as well. The book gets additions and subtractions, as new entries appear or disappear, or corrections when old sites change their URLs or content.
There’s no way of knowing if I’ll ever get to publish that expanded and corrected edition, but it’s on my hard drive, ready to go, should an opportunity arise.
A sensible person might reasonably ask, “Why bother?”
After all, between card catalogs and search engines (like omniscient Google)—used by the right hands—everything I’ve posted over the years can be found without my help. The trick, naturally, is knowing how to ask the right questions. A search that delivers a hundred thousand answers is no better than one that finds no answers.
But there is something else to consider.
I was never a fan of Donald Rumsfeld, but he did—just once—say something that was both memorable and apt:
“…there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say, we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns—the ones we don’t know we don’t know. And… it is the latter category that tends to be the difficult ones.”
I like to think that my little book, and the updates that it spawned, exist to help others find their way to some of those unknown unknowns—the little bits of information that they never knew they needed. These might include answers to questions that haven’t been asked yet, or they might initiate unexpected projects.
When you visit a library that has open stacks, or a great bookstore—especially a great used bookstore—there’s always the chance that you’ll find something that you never imagined had existed. Something that sets you off in an unexpected direction. Something like the little patch of mold on one of Alexander Fleming’s petri dishes, something that makes you say, “Hmmmmm… that’s curious…”.
Something that makes you curious.
The book and its updates were originally intended for people who write about food, but I have a lot of subscribers who just find the linked sites interesting—even if they have no intention of writing. Some subscribers think about food and drink, or writing and editing (not just about food and drink), or how to get published. Others merely seek something new to read while avoiding actual work.
My people!
I could (if I was showing off, alliteratively) refer to the links in the book and its updates as “centers of serendipity”—but it would only remind me of a famous ice cream parlor on New York’s upper-east-side. Being reminded of its concupiscent curds leads only to intemperate noshing. It doesn’t spur any sort of significant productivity (other than the production of unneeded adipose tissue).
If you’re not already on the mailing list for the updates—but would like to be—visit my website: On the Table. At the top of the left-hand column, you’ll see a subscribe box. Just type in your e-mail address, and you’ll receive an update every month. It’s completely free—and it’s safe (I never share my subscriber’s data with anyone).
You can read back issues here. Try it out. If it’s not for you, it’s also easy to cancel. You won’t hurt my feelings (‘though it might require a palliative pint—or three—of ice cream).
Paid subscribers to these substack pages get access to complete editions of two of my novellas. Noirvella is a modern story of revenge, told in the style of film noir. Unbelievable is a kind of rom-com that forms around a pompous guy who is conceited, misinformed, and undeservedly successful. Both books are sold by Amazon, but paid subscribers get them for free!
Also, substack pages (older than eight months) automatically slip behind a paywall—so only paid subscribers can read them. If you’re interested in reading any of them, you can subscribe, or wait until they are re-released in book form (something I’m in the process of considering).
Meanwhile, it is easy to become a paying subscriber (just like supporting your favorite NPR station). It’s entirely optional, and—even if you choose not to do so—you’ll still get my regular substack posts—and I’ll still be happy to have you as a reader.