Seattle Bookfest, and trickling down in Eugene, OR

I had a busy weekend. I went down to Eugene, Oregon on Friday to participate in a Society of Professional Journalists conference at the University of Oregon on "The Future of Journalism." I was on a panel with other bloggers discussing the challenges of shifting from print to electronic journalism. We had a great audience, mostly journalists and j-students. It was actually helpful to hear how other people are dealing with the struggles of making a living doing what we love to do in a media arena that is wide-open, unformed, and has not revenue model that is sustainable for most people. (Photographic evidence I was at the conference can be found here.)

One of the points I made was that influence, money, audience: everything seems to some in trickles. There's no one way to fund a website, but if, like Crosscut.com, you derive some revenue from donors, membership drives, advertising, grants, foundations, you might just be able to get enough from each stream to make a river. Same with readers: each link, each person drawn by a single story or a niche focus, adds to the whole. As a writer, you freelance for different outlets (in my case, Crosscut, Seattle Magazine, Washington Law & Politics) and hope that is adds up to a modest living. It's a very different mindset than working as a staffer for an established media outlet. 

I drove back on Sunday in time for a Pugetopolis reading to close the Seattle Bookfest on Sunday afternoon (Oct. 25). The Bookfest was great, held in an elementary school in Columbia City and in the classrooms there were tables for browsing books for area bookstores, authors and publishers. I attended a highly entertaining reading by Robert Ferrigno, the noir author who has written a trilogy about the Islamic take-over of America. In the first, short excerpt he read, there was one hand-job and three slayings. Not for the kiddies. But he shared some interesting insights about faith and fundamentalism, and also about his own writing methods.

My reading at 5pm was standing room only and people were very responsive. Some old Mount Baker friends came and we went out for drinks afterwards at Lottie's. Columbia City restaurants and bars were hopping, even on a rainy Sunday eve. One thing I love about the district is that it embraces change but within the context of the past: the old buildings there have been preserved and give the whole commercial district great character. The places I remember as a kid (the old post office, the five-and-dime, the men's shop) have been adapted to new uses and they look like they're working beautifully.

Congrats to the people who put on the Bookfest. I heard nothing but good things about it and appreciate the chance to read there.

Tim Egan, Elliott Bay's crisis, Audubon talks and more

A couple of things.

First, I attended Tim Egan's Elliott Bay Book Co. reading for his new book, The Big Burn, which I finished last week and it's terrific, another saga of man-against-nature (wildfire) and the consequences of government action and inaction. It's a compelling short course on the creation of the conservation movement, tracking the careers of Teddy Roosevelt and the eccentric and passionate first head of the Forest Service, Gifford Pinchot, all against the backdrop of one of the worst forest fires in American history. It all has resonance today, of course, as the forces of resource exploitation are still at work, and the courage of the people who created our National Parks and Forests is something we should never take for granted because the task of keeping them is never done. Tim, by the way, wrote the introduction to Pugetopolis. He's now off on a national book tour.

And speaking of Elliott Bay, I've written a piece for Crosscut about the implications of their possible move from Pioneer Square to Capitol Hill, which is being motivated by financial difficulties. I think the move could be a real plus, perhaps rejuvenating their business model, though it would also be tough on the Square. But most of all, I do not want to see Elliott Bay go down. It's a tremendous institution and nationally respected and a fine damn bookstore.

Second, I had a great time in Tacoma this morning, rising in the wee hours to catch the Sounder train at 6:10. I was the keynote speaker for the Tahoma Audubon Society's annual early-bird fundraiser breakfast. There were some 300 people there and they were amazingly awake. I reminded them that that great Tacoma writer Murray Morgan once described waking up on a damp, Tacoma morning as feeling like you were inside an oyster! Anyway, the Tahoma Audubon Society is doing great things in Tacoma and Pierce County, the speech went great and I sold out of books (they ordered 50 and we took orders for 10 more). All proceeds to the Society. Anyway, my thanks to the Tacoma greens who got out of their shells and gave Mossback such as warm and friendly reception. 

Speaking of Audubon, I will be reading at the Seward Park Audubon Center on Thursday, Nov. 5th at 7pm

Lastly, this Saturday (Oct. 24) I'll be on an SPJ Panel at the Communications School at the University of Oregon in Eugene, sharing time with Josh Feit of Publicola and others discussing making the transition from print to online journalism. 

Reading at Columbia City's Seattle Bookfest

The old Northwest Book Festival is being revived in Columbia City, which has to be one of the great ideas of the year, not only for Seattle book-lovers, but for the neighborhood. One of the chief organizers of Seattle Bookfest 2009 is Paul Doyle of the Columbia City Cinema. It's a volunteer effort. The festival will be held the weekend of October 24-25 at the Columbia City Event Center, a short walk from the new light rail line.

I'll be appearing, along with some 100 other authors and speakers. I'm slated to read from 5pm-6pm on Sunday, Oct. 25th. My publisher Sasquatch will also have a booth at the fest. 

For me, the event us doubly exciting because I grew up not far from Columbia City. It is part of my old stomping grounds. The wonderful old library there was my first public library and I still can smell the oak and dust. It is also forever part of my internal landscape and remains the archetype of "neighborhood library." (It's been restored and expanded, but retains much of its character.) 

I plan to share some work related to growing up in the Rainier Valley. I hope you can make it Oct. 25th. Admission to the event is a $5 donation.

Fall Readings and Events for "Pugetopolis" and Beyond

I have a number of Fall readings and events coming up for my book "Pugetopolis," and also some panels on the topic of changes in journalism. Here's a quick run down.

For "Pugetopolis":

I'll be talking about my book at the "Hospitality Mixer" at The Rainier Club in Seattle on Tuesday, Oct. 6, which mixes, among other things, my book and drinking, always a good thing.

I'll be speaking at the Tahoma Audubon Society fundraising breakfast in Tacoma, at 7:30 am (!) on Thursday, Oct. 22.

I'll be giving a book reading in my natural habitat as part of the Northwest Authors Series at the Seward Park Audubon Center in Seattle on Thursday, Nov. 5. A number of essays in "Pugetopolis" are based on events at Seward Park, which I have been exploring since I was a tot. For those of you who haven't been able to make a Seattle reading, this is a great chance in a wonderful setting.

Journalism events:

It seems like this fall is full of media navel gazing, and I'm gazing along with everyone else. I've been asked to share my perspective on being an independent journalist and blogger on a variety of panels, including:

The "Future of News Conference" at Seattle University, Saturday, Oct. 10 at 9am. I'll be on a panel with Michael Parks of Marple's and Art Thiel, formerly of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, discussing "Building Your Brand as an Independent Journalist." The all-day conference features an all-Star cast of Northwest journalists. Admission is $50; $15 for students and the unemployed.

Panelist on "Life after print" at the SPJ journalism conference, Saturday, Oct. 24 in Eugene, OR.

Panelist on blogging for the Public Relations Society of America's  non-profit seminar on Thursday, Nov. 5 at the Northwest Rooms at Seattle Center at Noon.

I hope you can make it to one or more of these events.

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Pugetopolis' first year in the big leagues

This summer I've been working on a project for the Museum of History and Industry taking a look at Seattle's modern history, that is the events and trends of the past 30-40 years. One of the themes that keeps coming up is Seattle's yearning to be a "big league" city, a phrase used before "world class" city came into vogue during the '90s and '00s.

Our big league status has been in flux of late: We lost our NBA franchise, the Seattle Supersonics, to Oklahoma City, but we gained a major soccer team with the popular Sounders. Turns out that part of major-leagueness is flux: Look at cities like New York and Los Angeles and you see that teams come and go. There's nothing permanent in the changing world of sports, where careers can be over in an instant, where teams can appear and vanish within a heartbeat.

An example of the latter is the Seattle Pilots, our one-year wonders and first major league baseball franchise that played here in 1969, only to go belly up and find themselves reincarnated at the Milwaukee Brewers. I wrote about this for Crosscut this week because on August 29, there will be a Pilots reunion of sorts in Bellevue, Seattle and at Safeco Field. Those of us who are old enough have been remembering Woodstock and the moon landing this summer, but for me, the big event was the coming of the Pilots. My dad and I went to the opening game against the Chicago White Sox at Sick's Stadium and it was a big deal for father-son relations.

Pilots (and former Yankees) pitcher Jim Bouton wrote a classic baseball memoir about his year with the team, and in it he captured some of the difficulties a sports franchise in Seattle would have, one being that it is so beautiful and so ideal as a jumping off place for outdoor activities, that sports might have a hard time getting a grip here. In his book, Ball Four, he describes how Seattle's natural setting could be both a distraction and a consolation to Pilots players.

"That's the great thing about our ballpark," he writes of Sick's Stadium. "When a home run hit off of you disappears over the fence your eye catches a glimpse of the majesty of Mt. Rainier and some of that bad feeling goes away," he says of dealing with the pressures of baseball. In Seattle, nature itself is Big League, and it's tough for anything to compete with it.

Summer Pugetopolis update

Not much to report on the book front. I've taken the summer off from readings and events, but the fall calendar is starting to fill in a bit. A couple of things of note:

I'll be part of the Northwest Authors Lecture Series at the Seward Park Audubon Center in November, which will include a reception, reading, discussion and signing. As readers know, Seward Park has been a hang out of mine since I was a toddler and experiences there form the basis of a few chapters in the book. I'm thrilled to be part of the program.

In October, I'll be appearing at the Rainier Club's "Hospitality Hour" to talk about Pugetopolis and wander the halls of a club that my grandfather belonged to. It's been all downhill since.

There's also some talk of an appearance at my alma mater, The Evergreen State College, in the fall. No date set yet.

I have done a few pretty cool things this summer. I served on the citizen's panel for AIA Seattle's Future Shack awards, selecting projects that represent the best ideas and practices Washington architecture. The results will be published in the Seattle Times in September. You can see my story about the process here.

I also had a chance to speak to the Museum of History and Industry's Summer Teacher's Institute, where I did a presentation called "Googie, globes and atomic power," a look at what can be learned about local history from three, modern architecture preservation projects. It was an honor to get to talk to teachers and share what I've learned from reporting on the Ballard Denny's, the P-I Globe and the UW's Nuclear Reactor Building.

Another project: Getting on Facebook. I've been warned that it's "the world's biggest time suck," but if you want to find me there, I am ready to receive friends.

Books are trumping the tube

I've been writing on Crosscut about my decision to not go digital and allow my broadcast TV to fade to black. I'm watching more DVDs, but less TV. If you want to read up on my decision and updates, you can find posts here, here and here.

Less tube-time has also been good for my summer reading, and I thought I share some thoughts about a couple of books I've read recently.

The first is not yet published, but I had a chance to look over the uncorrected galleys of a book slated to come out this fall from my "Pugetopolis" publisher, Sasquatch Books. It's called "The Collector," by Spokane author Jack Nisbet, and it's a stirring account of the naturalist David Douglas's expeditions to the Pacific Northwest in the early 19th century.

Douglas, whose name is attached to our region's iconic Douglas fir, was in the enviable position of being one of the first men of science to get to roam and explore the region at will. He was a horticulturalist sent to find plants that would delight English gardeners, but his discoveries and contributions to science did so much more than that. A pleasant, energetic Scottish bachelor, he kept extensive journals from which Nisbet has been able to reconstruct his journeys. Keep your eyes peeled for this book if you have any interest in seeing the Pacific Northwest as it was, with its bison herds, grizzly bears and giant condors. The only meaningful density issues back then: thick forest and rivers choked with giant salmon.

I also greatly enjoyed Curtis Ebbesmeyer and Eric Scigliano's "Flotsametrics and the Floating World," which I reviewed on Crosscut as the ultimate in beach reading this summer. Ebbesmeyer is a Seattle oceanographer who has made important discoveries by become the world foremost authority on flotsam and jetsam by studying how sea-borne junk moves around the planet. If you are interested in weirdness, like why do Nike sneakers float and what to make of those tennis shoes with feet in them that have been washing up in our region, this book has the answers. One piece of good news: you still have decades to look for those classic, old Japanese fishing floats because Ebbesmeyer's computer model predicts they'll continue to wash up for years to come.

A footnote: Ebbesmeyer sings the praises of legendary Northwest beachcomber Amos Wood who was the father of Japanese fishing float collectors and whose works have proved invaluable to those studying flotsam, jetsam and ocean currents. Back in the 1980s, Wood gave me a magnificent large float that he'd found, much like the one pictured here. When I edited Washington's Almanac years ago, I used the float as a crystal ball to make predictions with. It still sits in my study as I write. Thanks to Ebbesmeyer, I have a better sense of the journey it took to fall into Wood's hands.