Perigee Bookmarks

Retro Revival: Celebrating Our Childhood Memories, One Pudding Pop at a Time

Posted by Gael Fashingbauer Cooper and Brian Bellmont

There’s a new Charlie’s Angels series coming this fall, and yet another Planet of the Apes movie due in August. A Dallas remake will feature the rivalry between Bobby and J.R.’s sons. Oscar-winning screenwriter Diablo Cody is making a movie based on Sweet Valley High.

The pop culture of the 1970s and '80s is rising again, which should be no real surprise considering that the kids who grew up with it are now adults, making marketing and spending decisions. We’re two of those kids, and our book, Whatever Happened to Pudding Pops?: The Lost Toys, Tastes and Trends of the '70s & '80s, celebrates the culture we grew up with, so long overshadowed by that of our older siblings, the Baby Boomers.

One of us, Gael Fashingbauer Cooper, grew up the only Generation Xer in a household with six Baby Boomer siblings and two G.I. parents. The other, Brian Bellmont, was one of four Gen Xer boys. We weren’t at Woodstock, but we sure liked him as a little yellow bird. We don’t remember the Moon Landing, but we remember Moon Boots.

While Baby Boomer nostalgia was draped all over our youth, our own childhood memories seemed to slip quietly away. Sure, Generation X itself had a brief flurry of attention in the early 1990s, kicked off by author Douglas Coupland, but that seems to be met only with negative backlash, ending in an entire generation being branded “slackers.” Who could blame Generation Xers for shunning that name, and further media attention?

But sometimes you can learn the most about a generation through the small things. Gael started her Weblog, Pop Culture Junk Mail, in 1999, sharing everything from bits about the royal family to musings on the comic strip “For Better or For Worse.” It was obvious from the beginning that her retro posts were those that found a most receptive audience. When she would write about the disappearance of the original taco flavor of Doritos chips, or reveal that Hostess Choco-Diles (think a chocolate-dipped Twinkie) could still be purchased online, comments and emails flooded in, even months after the original post. In the meantime, Brian was interviewing and writing about icons of our childhoods, from Adam “Batman” West to George “Mr. Sulu” Takei.

Kids of the ‘70s and ‘80s were out there, and they were wondering what the heck had become of their past. When we two college friends who always found a pop-culture kinship in each other decided to combine forces on a book project, remembering lost pop culture was a natural topic.

We soon found there were dozens of lively stories in the memories we were resurrecting. Jell-O Pudding Pops themselves had been hot during the 1980s, with uber-dad Bill Cosby hawking them in TV commercials. They vanished in the ‘90s, and made a surprising return in the early 2000s, but in a different shape. Jell-O had licensed the concept to Popsicle, and the once-flat Pops were now more rounded, and devoted fans claimed they didn’t taste the same, either. At least one regional dairy-product company, Kemps, still makes a version of the frozen treats, but they can be tough to track down.

Pudding Pops are far from the only childhood friend that was born again. Schoolhouse Rock released new videos in 2009. Doritos tried again with their (supposed) original Taco flavor in 2011. The owners of Benji are planning a new movie about the beloved pup.

Sure, pop culture items can be viewed as light and fluffy and disposable. But your memories aren’t. As we write in the book, it’s not the items themselves as much as what they meant to you at the time. Malibu Barbie may not be the best Barbie doll ever made, but if she’s the one you played with for hours on your cousin’s orange shag carpeting, laughing till your sides ached, then yes, to you she is the best Barbie ever made. The Evel Knievel Stunt Cycle may not be the highest-tech toy ever, but if you fondly remember winding it up and launching it across the room, over a checkerboard ramp and into your little brother’s diorama about the Civil War, then yeah: Best. Toy. Ever.

And sometimes, yes, there is a deeper sociological message in the items in “Pudding Pops.” Look at how television has changed over the last 30 years. Certainly a nation that only had five channels to watch had a more shared television experience than one with 500.

Gael likes to describe the process of writing our book as “redecorating the rooms of our childhood.” We can remember the big pieces, but it takes some hard focusing and sometimes research to remember exactly what book sat on that shelf (Free to Be ... You and Me) and what shows we eagerly awaited on Saturday mornings (Krofft Super Show). We hope this book will help readers do just that.

The Gift of Rejection?

Posted by Marian Lizzi

I stumbled upon this wonderful essay by Kathryn Stockett (author of The Help), which appears in a collection called The Best Advice I Ever Got. In it, Stockett describes enduring—and learning from—no less than 60 rejections from literary agents before the novel found an agent and, shortly after that, a publisher.

We've all heard stories of bestsellers that, at first, no one wanted. Harry Potter comes to mind—and I've published a few long-rejected projects myself, including Gavin Pretor-Pinney's The Cloudspotter's Guide, which was rejected by 28 publishers in the UK before finding a home on both sides of the Atlantic. Conversely, like every editor who's been in the business for a decade or two, I've passed on projects that went on to great glory (but let's not dwell on those).

In a way, these slush-to-success stories are like fairy tales for the creative set—and for anyone else who longs for things to finally take a turn for the better. Stockett's story also serves as a reminder for those of us who reject submissions for a living (OK, we publish them for a living, but in doing so we have to reject all but a select few). Within every submission lies the potential for a great success story. It might not be obvious. It might not be "fully baked." It might not be "for us." The potential might not ever be realized—or even have a fighting chance to be. 

But in the same way that a tough primary season makes a candidate stronger, more focused, and more battle-ready for a general election, the submission process, with its ups and downs (OK, it's often mostly downs) can help an author refine a proposal or manuscript in ways that can make all the difference.

If you read Stockett's essay, you'll see that she didn't simply re-submit the manuscript, in its original form, over and over until she found a willing agent.  Nor, for that matter, did she decide to self-publish it as-is. She revised and retooled, with painstaking persistence. In short, she never stopped working to make the book better.

If you're an author who hasn't yet gotten to Yes, think of this trying, humbling process as the best writing workshop you'll ever attend. It will require flexibility, humility, and determination. It will bruise your ego, consume your waking hours, and require you to shift gears and dig deeper at the very moments when you most feel like giving up.

While I can't guarantee you'll have a  mega-bestseller in the end (side note: the movie version of The Help hits theaters August 12), I can assure you that your book, and your writing, will be better for it.

Are You a Book Hoarder?

Posted by Matt Paxton

I’m the guy who cleans up the worst homes in the country.  If you have eight-foot stacks of newspaper and 20 years of old soda bottles in your living room, chances are you know who I am. I’m Matt Paxton and my job is simple—to help hoarders clean up their homes and encourage them to take back their lives.

Hoarding is defined as a mental disorder characterized by a compulsive need to acquire substantial amounts of stuff.  This may not sound bad, but if I mention the six feet of “recycled” adult diapers, 200 cats, or the six-foot rat’s nest that I’ve seen, it will give you an inkling of what true hoarding means. 

While the homes I clean for the A&E show, “Hoarders,” are extreme—that’s why they appear on television—most hoarding is a mental issue; it’s never about the stuff.  There is always a reason people hoard. I just have to dig deep enough to figure out why.

I’ve had to deal with some pretty high-level hoarders, but the real challenge comes when I’m working with average people who are not obviously pathological hoarders. It’s relatively easy to identify someone with 10,000 cookie cutters as a hoarder—and figure out how to help her cope. But a college professor who has several thousand books (plus a few years’ worth of professional periodicals) in a small office is another situation altogether.  

 
 
I know I risk a good stoning by bringing up book hoarding on my publisher’s blog, but let’s face it, a lot of us have a crap load of books.  Do we really need them all?  I assume that most people in the business of books (and most book lovers for that matter) consider their collection to be socially acceptable—and even a status symbol of sorts. But it is a fine line between being a collector and a hoarder.

Many of the people with whom I work defend their right to hold on to their personal items: their memorabilia, the drawers full of jewelry, the 16 blenders, the 40 unopened boxes of things ordered from a TV shopping channel—and their books.  My job is to help hoarders figure out why they keep all this stuff.  In my opinion, collecting morphs into hoarding when a collection takes precedence over health, welfare, family, safety, or common sense.  Is your office safe? Is the clutter impeding your work? Have your books become more important than your spouse, your partner, or your kids?

At the risk of alienating my publisher and his colleagues, “information” hoarding (books, newspapers, magazines, brochures, catalogs, etc) is an insidious thing. Even in this electronic age you can be an eHoarder—just do a quick scan of what is sitting in your computer now or count the number of times your mailbox is so full you can’t send or receive any new messages. While you won’t find the cameras from my show focused on your monitor, the pathology is very much the same whether you are hoarding physically or electronically. Unfortunately, our ever-expanding capacities to store information allow us to indulge in some very bad habits.   

You may be looking around your own office (or book-filled home) and asking , “Am I a hoarder?”

I am not suggesting you give the heave-ho to rare first editions, but why hold on to some trashy old paperback thriller that you have no intention of ever reading or lending again? There are so many places that will welcome your donations. (And paperback books are recyclable, to boot!)  

I’ve offered to buy coffee or beers for the most improved “book hoard,” but my publisher tells me I can’t run a “contest” on his blog at the risk of upsetting the lawyers. But if you are motivated to clean out your office or home library, I’d love to see your before and after pictures along with your comments. (Or, if you are or know a true hoarder who needs help, contact me at matt@cluttercleaner.biz and send along a photo.)

 

Monster Doodle Challenge

Posted by Christina Lundy

Here at Perigee we’re all about fostering creativity.  We have a soft spot for books that prompt us to think about things differently and tap into our creative sides, whether we’re sitting in a cubicle or out exploring the world. 

 
The Monster Doodle Book by artist Travis Nichols does just that.  Filled with half-finished drawings of monsters and other creatures, the possibilities for finishing them are endless (and nothing is as it seems).  The book forces you to answer the tough questions, like whether a monster’s appendage is a third arm or an odd-looking belly button, and what said monster might want to watch on TV.  So abandon the orderly world around you and start imagining everything that could be—on other planets, at the bottom of the ocean, or even under your bed.

 

Here’s your challenge:

1. Print the below image from the book. 

2. Get creative all over it. 

3. Scan your work and send it to me at perigeebooks@us.penguingroup.com by June 1. 

 

I'll post the author's favorites in June.

Happy doodling!

 

How to Open a Champagne Bottle with a Sword

Author Tom Cutler demonstrates how to open a bottle of champagne using a sword (or, if you don't have one on hand, an ordinary kitchen knife).  It's just one of many delightful things you'll learn in his book The Gentleman's Bedside Companion. 

Find this video and more episodes of Get Creative on Penguin's Video & Radio Network.

 

 

How Publishing Is Like Dating

Posted by Jeanette Shaw

 

One of the most important skills for an aspiring author to cultivate is how to handle rejection, because for most it happens a lot. But writers are not alone in this; editors have to deal with rejection and disappointment as well. I recently lost out on a project that I've had my eye on for more than a year and was crushed not to have the chance to publish this sure-to-be future bestseller. In this instance the deciding factor was money, but I and many of my colleagues have also been in situations where the money was right but the author chose to go with a different imprint anyway. Those are the times when I hang up the phone feeling dejected and just a little hurt, and am reminded once again of how often publishing reminds me of that other exhilarating, sometimes rewarding, often depressing pastime—dating.

 

There's the blind date: an out of the blue email or call between you and an agent, followed by a lunch where you anxiously wonder if you will recognize your dining companion or find yourself waiting across the room from them for 10 minutes before you clue in (which has happened to me more than once, sadly), then an often awkward meal during which each of you tries to put your best foot forward and hope that your publishing interests match up. Sometimes you are a perfect match and the agent happens to be going out with a submission that would be perfect for you; other times you never hear from them again and are left awkwardly running into them at happy hours.

 

There's the crush: a proposal comes in that immediately grabs your attention. This is the one, you think. This book is meant for me. All you can think about is that book. You talk to the author and try to dazzle him with your vision and enthusiasm. You run costs, plan a publication date, are already picturing the cover design and imagining "New York Times bestseller" printed above the title. But then you realize other people have their eye on the object of your affection as well. How dare they? you think. This book is mine. The author loves me! He knows I am the editor for him. Sometimes this is true, and you make the deal and do a happy dance around your office (or is that just me?). He likes me! you think. He really likes me!

 

Other times you lose out. Sometimes it's because of money. Those are the times it's useful if sometimes frustrating to have your publisher, much like a disapproving parent would, give you a reality check and a spending limit. I may have stars in my eyes, but my publisher is clear-sighted and ready to ground me if necessary. Other times it's because the author simply decided to work with a different editor. This is the beauty pageant stage, and you've just come in first runner up. Sadly, even if the winner is not able to fulfill their duties you still don't get to take over the crown. Those are the times I go back over every word of my conversations with the agent and author, and every aspect of my offer, trying to figure out just where I went wrong. Was I too enthusiastic? Not enthusiastic enough? Was my list not impressive enough? Much like trying to figure out why that guy never called you again, this is a futile practice. Some things just aren't meant to be.

 

If you make it all the way through the submission and offer and wind up with an acquisition, you have entered into the honeymoon phase of the relationship, but all too quickly just as in real marriage you'll find that this partnership involves debate, compromise, and occasional frustration. You and your author start to know each other's habits; some days you may be communicating like a charm; others you find yourself avoiding the phone and deleting emails before you say something in the heat of the moment. But in the end you know you have the same goal: you want this relationship to work. You want a successful book. And just like in romance, things don't always work out. But once in a while you find your perfect match. And the nice thing about publishing is, unlike romance, an editor can have more than one perfect match at a time—it's like lawful polygamy!

 

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go back to reminiscing about the One That Got Away.