07/28/2006: "Final Fight Entry for Awhile"

Hi All,

I have managed to get back to everyone who wrote me fight requests; if you sent me something, as I wrote you, I’ve sent it on to my publicist and things will go from there. If you wrote me and did not receive a reply, I would ask you to write me again (if you desire); as I said in a previous post, my hotmail account is very old and has become somewhat unreliable. I really should get a new one, if for no other reason than listing my contact email as craigiepops@hotmail.com has become increasingly embarrassing as I move forward into my 30s.

This will be my last “fight” post for awhile—unless, of course, my challenger is solidified or some big development presents itself, at which point, of course, I will let everyone know.

I really only have one thing to clarify here, but it is a complicated point of clarification, and is prompted by a few emails I have received. I can’t say they are hate emails, because they aren’t, or at least not exactly. I would say they were mildly disrespectful, but then that might sound as though I expect respect from anyone who sends me mail, which I do not. I would say that they misinterpreted me, my aims, and perhaps who I even am as a person—but again, that is not fair, because most people, including those who sent the emails, know me solely from what they read on this blog, or the impression they’ve picked from my stories, or perhaps the few parsed sentences they may have read recently in the Globe and Mail or The National Post. So I don’t hold anything against these emailers (there were only two of them, but perhaps many others think the way they do), and indeed I am happy to have received their messages, but I think it would do well to spare a few paragraphs to clarify my own reasons for why I’m doing this

I won’t post the emails, but I will explain each of them briefly. The first one had a subject line reading I’M SUPPOSED TO BE AFRAID OF YOU? and when I opened it up there was just a .jpg of one of my more unflattering publicity photos (“Which one?” I’m sure you’re asking yourself, “they’re ALL unflattering”). This may have been meant humorously, but since there was no message...well, I was perplexed. The other one basically accused me of being a publicity hog—which again, is not an accusation I can argue against, though I must say I never expected a single blog post to generate the sort of attention it did.

First off: Nobody is supposed to be afraid of me, obviously. As I said before, I’ve been beaten up plenty of times, and there’s a good chance I will get beaten up in the ring in front of a goodly number of people come October. I’m actually training, in that I’ve stopped lifting weights and am concentrating on running, trying to get my cardio up, so at least I can put on a decent display when the time comes. But you can’t train yourself to take a punch—you either take it or you don’t. And yeah, it’s very possible I’ll be flat on my back 30 seconds into the match, those little cartoon “X”s over my eyes, canaries flitting around my skull.

Does that prospect scare me? Yeah, a little. Maybe more than a little.

I’m still going to do it, but yeah, there’s a bit of apprehension. As there should be.

And I think some people might have this understanding of me based on the fact that my books have tough-sounding titles and rough-looking covers—which I’m not saying is an inaccurate understanding, or that anyone’s wrong for the way they think. But I guess if you knew me, you’d know that the titles and the covers—that’s not really me. I write about things that fascinate me, not necessarily things that I have any deep familiarity with. And I’ve always felt that one of my biggest failures as a writer is an inability to convey the sense that my characters are not tough men—not in the classic, Hemingway sense. My characters are like me—confused and questioning themselves, never entirely sure that they will do the right thing at the right time, the good and noble thing when it matters most. And the covers and the titles...well, books need titles and covers that place them within often narrowly-defined niches of interest. It doesn’t mean the writer himself is a mirror reflection of that cover or title, you know?

Second point: Craig Davidson, publicity whore. Listen, I wish I had the sort of personality that I’ve always associated with writers: highly intelligent, charismatic, brimming with confidence, a good conversationalist, comfortable in the company of strangers, a rakish charmer, etc, etc.

For you see, I am none of those things. I am a big redheaded galoot with few true social graces and zero fashion sense—exhibit A: The Deerskin Coat, which I still love—not at all charismatic and, if I could converse solely in grunts, I probably would. I only feel truly comfortable in the presence of about 10 select people on this Earth. If I ever charmed the birds from the trees, it would be because those birds had died, perhaps of boredom in my presence.

What does all this self-abasement prove? Only that I don’t possess the skill set that most writers, and perhaps most human beings, largely take for granted. Any success I’ve had, it’s because I’ve worked ridiculously hard, given up most other aspects of my life, and gotten terribly lucky at crucial junctures. This is mostly to say that I don’t feel I have the same paths available to me that other, more naturally gifted writers have—I have one path, and it’s a dark path leading through a haunted wood. But it’s still a path and I’m going to walk it.

And the path has led to this fight. Does part of me wish I had a more traditional book launch, one where I got to stand there in a turtleneck, hoisting a champagne flute? Maybe, but it wouldn’t really suit the book at all. And another huge thing is this: my publishers think it’s a good idea, and even if I DIDN’T think it was a good idea—I happen to think it’s a wonderful idea—I would do it anyway. And the fact that my publicist is stepping into the ring as well---soldarity.

I can’t quite explain the risk Penguin has taken with this book; people will have to wait for it to come out to see what I mean. I think it’s a pretty immense risk. It was too big a risk for WW Norton to take, obviously. I feel I owe Penguin. I DO owe them. Even if they never publish another book I write, I will always be grateful they stuck with me on this one. And so if they’d come to me and said, “Craig, we’d like you to wrestle a Bengal tiger to publicize the book,” I would’ve said yes. Really, considering all the things I would have done, a boxing match it pretty tame.

I know some people may’ve come to the end of this and are now saying to themselves, “Craig, that’s a pretty defensive stance you’ve taken over a few emails.” Which is true. And I wouldn’t want people to stop sending emails, good or bad; I am overjoyed to receive anything from anyone. And yeah, it is a bit defensive. I guess there’s something weird about people you don’t know, have never even met, walking around with this perception of you—a perception that, based on the evidence they’ve got, is rational and makes sense, but maybe isn’t a true depiction of you.

I think about things too much. It’s devilishly hot here in Iowa. It’s making me oversensitive.

All best, Craig.