02/13/2007: "STEROIDS ARTICLE TO APPEAR IN ESQUIRE"

Hello all,

A few months ago, well many months ago now, I told anyone who reads this blog that, as a sort of Hunter S Thompson-esque, participatory journalism-style exercise in straight-up idiocy (the style of idiocy I excel at), I took steroids whilst writing, or in fact editing, THE FIGHTER. It was such an awful experience that I thought I'd write an article about it, too; a pretty candid, sordid sort of piece, describing all the woeful physical and emotional weirdness that descended upon me while I took drugs for the first time in my life.

So I wrote it and sent it to my editor at Penguin just for a looksee and she liked it and it sort of floated around the Penguin offices and I was happy to let it be, having no particular intentions for it at that point. But a few weeks ago I figured, hey, why not send it out and see what happens? It's been years since I've personally submitted anything and what was the harm?

I chose Esquire magazine, because I love Esquire and I met the old fiction editor, Adrienne Miller, when I was in France and she had some interesting stories about her time there and most of all, because when you're submitting your work the rule is to always pick what you feel to be the best market and work your way down. It was a total flier. All it cost was some paper, ink, an envelope, 3 bucks postage. A message in a bottle sort of scenario.

So I get a call today from an editor there. Lo and behold, looks like they want to publish it. So, very cool. A stroke of luck, no doubt about it. It's a 7,000 word piece, so it'll have to be cut pretty heavily (3-4,000 words in the end draft), but still, it'll see the light of day in a really good publication. And replete with the aforementioned photos of me jamming needles into my pasty ass (I hope, anyway).

I feel good about it, mostly because I now feel like I've done something to help Soho publicize the book. I did what I could for Penguin and now I can rest somewhat easier knowing I ravaged my body for my US publisher, too. I don't know what I'll be able to do for my UK publisher (I do hear Irvine Welsh might write a review of it, though, so that's wonderful if he's willing to, I'll owe him my soul), which just leaves France. I can go fight a big Frenchman, I guess. We can break baguettes over each others' heads. Zut alors!

I of course will let everyone know when it is published (and while it seems pretty much a done deal pending edits, I've come to the opinion based on past experiences, and one touched on by the editor at Esquire himself, that nothing is quite 100% until you see the book or magazine on the shelves. But in this one instance I'm going to put aside my pessimistic view and look at things in the rare strange light of optimism. Watch it bite me in the ass!), and you can go to the newspaper stands and grab a copy, or at least leaf through it and laugh at my chunky naked ass with a big needle poking out of it.

Hopefully I can cultivate some sort of good working relationship with the magazine, have them send me out on assignment:

ESQUIRE: Davidson, we're sending you to Borneo. We want you to stick your head in a hill full of fire-stinger ants.

ME: Yessir!

ESQUIRE: Don't ask me what sort of social ramifications we expect this to have, what our readership might possibly glean from it, we just want it done. And you're just the sort of melonhead who'll do it.

ME: Hey, you don't have to sell it---you had me at "fire-stinger ants"!

All best, Craig.