"It was a good read."

Now... for those who care, I am just climbing back into my chair from having leapt out of it moments ago at what I just read. Seriously. Flew right out! Banged my knee and jammed my elbow on the desk. Why? Here’s why... I just received a personal email from the editors at GTS. Not one of those carbon-print responses, mind you, a real email. Check it out...

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Dear Scott,

Although we won't be publishing this particular piece, we do thank you for sending "Backroads". It was a good read.


Glimmer Train Press

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It was a good read?? Yes! Victory! Haha! I rock!

This place receives some 40,000 to 50,000 submissions annually. (Fifty-thousand!) And they send me an email saying, “It was a good read.” Not only addressing me by name, but including the actual title of my story in their response.

Validation without publication!

I almost don’t care it wasn’t published! Okay, I really do care, but this is amazing! Fifty-thousand, and I get a personal response.

Forget what I said yesterday...

Oh, and did I mention they said it was a good read?

What's wrong with it?

So I have to ask... what’s wrong with it? What’s wrong with that story? Bad writing? Bad story-telling? Too cliché? Doesn’t measure up? Lame? Something inflammatory? What? It doesn’t make sense that it’s, “Just not what we’re looking for right now.” That’s just a line—just something to say, reserved for when you’re breaking up and you don’t have a real reason for it.

Me, of all people, I can take criticism. In fact, I like to think I take it well, as far as that goes. I’m over-confident. Tell it to me straight. Several really did that while I wrote the piece and it showed in the story itself, I thought. The same people have told me to move on and focus on another project. I appreciate that kind of transparency, because I see the logic behind the comments. It takes guts to brave telling people what you think. For better or worse, I do that every day. That’s why I appear so certain sometimes. Because I have to believe in myself in order to offset the relentless “failure” siren deafening my sub consciousness.

Am I disappointed about the latest rejection? Yep. Does it make me think I’m not a writer? Yep. The real question is whether or not to move on. I worked a full year on that 12K word story. Here’s crux of it... before I feel I can move on, I want validation. (Don’t we all?) I want validation that my efforts will be worth it, and not just end up something I can hand my grandmother.

Yes, several people have told me they liked the story and thought it was strong. And that meant a lot to me, it gave me the inspiration that I could write a story. But that’s a step on its own, encouragement to push you forward. Catching an editor’s eye from the publishing world, that’s another step. They’re different. There’s encouragement and confirmation.

Don’t hear me saying I think what people have told me is worthless. Not true. It’s been monumental to getting me where I am. But the next step in this reality is being published. That’s where it all comes together. First the support, then the affirmation. There’s that unmistakable relief then—that feeling of: “Wow, I did it.” The excitement at realizing you have something someone wants to say, “Hey, check this out.”

Evidently the rejections don’t get easier. That negative cycle has already begun too. Write, rejected, revise, rejected, try again, rejected, give it your all, rejected, disappointed, rejected, disheartened, rejected, why bother, rejected, failure, rejected. Oh, here’s one... give up, rejected. Might as well settle for doing something else.

I’m not a person to waste a lot of time on worthless efforts. It’s been over a year I’ve tried to published this. I’ll press that big red button and get shocked if it’s something I desire, but not very long. Resentment will settle in and I’ll get bitter about the entire thing, if it hasn’t already. It all seems to amount to a self-proclaimed hobby. That’s it.

Yeah, I’m down. And ranting... But that's why this is here. All the daydreaming... sheesh.

Just in time for Christmas...

Enough about amps. Another pursuit of mine is writing—fiction, to be exact. I’ve written a short story or six. One of them, the longest (12k words) and most promising, I submitted to Glimmer Train Stories, [circ. 25,000] in early October. I read two or three issues mid September at The Inn at Aberdeen Lisa and I stole away to for an extended weekend. I felt good about my story fitting there at GTS. It looked right, you know? And their pay-out was nice as well.

Not the first time that story had been shopped either. In fact, EQMM (Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine) [circ. 750,000] rejected it. My manuscript passed through all their editors to the very end, after which they sent me a letter “...your story doesn’t meet our current publishing needs.” and all that. Good I guess it got that far at such a large outfit.

Anyway, just weeks before Christmas, I hear back from GTS. It’s all electronically managed... you set up an account, submit your story, and check back. The turn around is sixteen weeks. In that time you should receive two of three messages (the first shown immediately):

1. “In Progress” (self-explanatory)

2. “Complete: Although we won't be publishing this piece, we thank you for letting us read it.”

3. “Accepted for Publication”

So I login. It’s the twelfth week, and I’m getting anxious. Not to mention I could use the $$ with the whole amp thing. I’m expecting to see “In-Progress” just the same as it looked last week. But to my surprise, I find the status box reads: “Complete”.

They passed on it. No explanation, nothing—just a generic, electronic rejection.

Great.

My heart sank like some rusted Cadillac in a muddy swamp. Talk about a Merry Christmas...

The Mesa

I bought the Mesa!



When it came home, wow was that something. The guys got together in Keith’s basement and we jammed for hours. They loved it. Just ate up the thick sweetness. We could be heard up the street. Why am I not surprised?

Somehow now, I feel like a real musician with quality guitars and amps. Just seems so unrealistic, that, at any moment, I’ll find myself awakened by a buzzing alarm clock.

As for my sound? That’s the most astounding thing. My sound is almost unbelievable. Almost like what I hear in my head. Isn’t that something? The Solo 50 enhances every picking nuance (especially the mistakes!). There is some groovy tone in that amp!

Mine clocks in at 50 watts, which is perfect. You don’t really need more wattage than that to be “loud.” If that’s what you’re after, string up a tower of 4x12's and it will gladly break your arms.

I read a great description of the Solo 50 somewhere: "...this thing roars like an angry bear just poked with a big stick."

Anyway, this amp makes me feel like I’m as good as I sound... which may or may not be true, I just feel that way. Not to mention, it’s cool!

(Coming up: I get a response from Glimmer Train Stories.)

Amp Polygamy?

After I wrote the last post... I discovered Orange makes another head type... one performing what my Marshall couldn’t. The “AD30 model”.

The Ad30 has gain and EQ knobs for both channels (which is why I settled with the Mesa—it could mimic the Orange sound and give me gain on a clean channel). The Orange “Rocker30” version I played didn’t, it was just a “One Channel to Rule Them All” deal. On or Off. If I was playing one style and wanted another, I’d have to adjust knobs. The Rocker’s “Clean” channel was exactly that: one volume knob, no EQ band, no gain, nothing... just you, your guitar, and all the rejection you can take.

On the bright side... you’re certain to discover exactly how your guitar sounds. Unless of course you have an arsenal of foot pedals, which I don’t, just a hardshell pedal case with a wah, volume, tuner, and a few simple trick stomps (1974 Ibanez Chorus, Marshall BB2 boost, and an MXR Phaser).

Yet, since Orange looks so much more fun, I had to test the AD30... besides, indecision comes so naturally to me. I want both.

Coolness Factor

Mesa is a top end custom-shop amp builder. They don’t stock pallets full of ready-to-sell equipment in a mid-west warehouse, instead they hand-make their amps for each buyer.

The few shipped out to dealers are the only “stock” they carry. And there’s only twelve guys who make them. Twelve guys. That’s it. They all sign a rugged authentication certificate in felt-pen, which comes tagged to each amp and cabinet standard.

This is so cool. I’ve never been so pleased with getting a new amp. The only trouble is that the Solo50 doesn’t come equipped with Reverb, which I like. So if I wanted one, Mesa will have to build it for me.

Clem says it might take up to two months for it to arrive, unless the Mesa rep in town could get one. If I still lived in Nashville, I’d have the amp and cabinet already, but this is the mid-west... not well-known as a music community, unless you consider the sound of corn kernels pinging metal grain silos ands truck beds “music”.

Shopping

Tuesday and Wednesday I spent a combined total of five hours in CV Lloyd's (a local guitar shop), playing two different amps. Just two: a Mesa Single Rectifier/Solo 50 watt Head thru their closed-back 2x12 cabinet, and the Orange Rocker 30 watt Head thru the same cab (the Orange 4x12 there was out of the question).

CV’s staff was great, they didn't mind me playing. In fact, Clem Abercrombie (the sales rep assisting me) was impressed I brought in my gear and was testing the amps to see which I truly liked. (For those who care, I have been “playing” since early nineties.)

Anyway, evidently he's seen many "guitarists" show up and buy something based solely on its "coolness" or reputation. Not me. I don't work like that. I want to see if the equipment will bond not only with my playing styles, but with my other gear.

You hate to look at it this way, but buying musical equipment is a lot like finding a "mate". (No, I'm not going to "consummate" anything with the equipment, unless you consider the sound of the music...) My point is there's much effort in selecting the right stuff. If you get something that only looks cool but doesn't work in your rig, it might as well be furniture. Amps and guitars especially. Essentially, you are only as good as you sound. That's one means of how you're measured as a musician. And if you sound like crap... guess what?

Then picking the right gear is crucial, and that's what I set out to do. There were a few times playing in the shop that made my day.

The first time was in the evening. I was playing through some chops on the Mesa (being that I’m more of a lead/rhythm player than the other way around) and a crowd of window-shopping college students gathered around to listen for awhile. That was cool. I was cordoned off by three 4x12 cabs, and the heads, sitting on a stool in the middle and jamming my PRS Soapbar2.

After awhile they left. Sometime later, the sales rep fed me a line, half true / half sales, but still... he said I was making that Mesa sound better than anyone else that had ever come in and played it. The genuine tone in his voice is what I really heard.

Okay, I honestly played three amps that night, the third being a Mesa Lone Star Special combo, but it just didn’t cut it for me. It wanted to “fuzz” more than I could stand. I want a lot of crispness and clarity in my sound, especially while I’m pushing a lead. The Lone Star just wasn’t my kind of amp. (I’m no metal guitarist, more into hard rock and indie-style stuff. Blues is certainly welcome!)

The next day I took off from work to have my car door fixed because it wouldn’t shut. Turns out, the repair was quick (and free) and I found myself back in the CV’s playing the amps. You can never have too much of "Playing Amps".

At one point, I nailed a lead line on the Orange that just screamed. It wasn’t five seconds before the store manager guy ran—actually ran—over and said, “That was [expletive] awesome!” He stood around and hung out for a bit.

It was down to these two amps. I mean, they were good ones. WAY loud. Lots of head room. Here, think “Back to the Future” loud… you know, at the beginning, where he stands there in front of the speaker, and hits this monster chord, and is propelled across the room. With the Mesa, I could dial in “rough” sounds I liked within a few turns.

The Orange Rocker 30 head I plugged in, on the other hand, was like home. So much so that I almost walked away with it right there. But it was an OTP “One-Trick-Pony”. It did one thing well, which I already had with the Marshall and always felt restrained.

I wanted more options this time... versatility to play a number of sounds. So I bent the rules a little, and tried dialing in that “orange” tone on the Mesa. After nearly nailing it a couple minutes later, that was it. I knew what was my new amp. It’s setting me back a few nickels, but that’s okay. Like I said, I was (kind-of) planning to get a new amp anyway.

What's for breakfast?

Well, last Sunday I did it.

Instead of frying eggs, or pancakes, or bacon, like you’d expect at 7:45 am... I cooked my Marshall VSR combo not fifteen minutes before we were to play our set.


Oh, it was heartbreaking. I played it injured, like a real rocker (or a real idiot, however you want to view that), and wow did the amp make a terrible racket. The VSR endured both sets, and we’ll leave it at that.

Some good news: I'd been kicking around the idea of getting a new amp for some time. And now, well, I have to.