Far Muse
June 2010
Transition
By Ted Kalvitis
Transition
I have a wholesome, nostalgic story that's been hanging around for a number of years. Since it was about a gun and hunting, I eventually sent off a manuscript to one of (if not the) most prominent magazines that has covered outdoor sports for more than a century. I had more or less forgotten about my submission when I received the returned manuscript with a rejection letter.
If you've never received one of those letters, then let me inform you that publishers are usually considerate enough to let you down easy. Not only are these letters polite, they're often kind as well. The assistant editor who wrote the letter also included a copy of her correspondence with the editor in chief wherein they decided that years ago, when their magazine still carried nostalgia stories, I would surely have had a sale. Still, there was something that interested them about my style.
I wrote back to say that I would like to hang around a while. Though the more edgy adventure type of stories that they now feature aren't what I usually write, if they would send me some back issues I would try to get into that frame of mind. The magazines arrived just days later—three back issues and the current issue, with another kind and encouraging letter.
I had established a dialogue with an editor—that's how things can really get rolling. I read the current issue cover to cover, including the ads, in great detail.
I came away terrified. This high-tech assault on nature was not hunting as I knew it. Hunting guns were becoming outrageously technology-laden and hideous.
The ads advocated shooting deer at 300 yards. I don't care who you are or what gun you have, unless you're on Mars there is no such thing as a safe 300 yard shot with a high powered rifle. This was tragically brought to light with the death of a 23 year old female college student who was shot, while walking on college property, by an experienced hunter who was sure that he was shooting a deer. Range 100 yards.
Another terror was the casual reference to following the blood trail of a wounded animal. There's even a special scope made to highlight blood on the ground. I've long ago lost count of how many deer I've harvested, but I have yet to follow my first blood trail. If they're not close enough for a clean kill, don't fire. Works for me.
But no, these guys are after the horns—a trophy buck, not just meat on the table. They're willing to risk the long shot and follow the blood trail to obtain this trophy and demonstrate their prowess over wild animals hunted with satellites. It makes one wonder if they're trying to compensate for something. Oh, and that subject too is adequately addressed in the ads in the back of the magazine.
There were numerous articles on how to get your big trophy buck. These usually involved people moving in a deer drive—that is, hunters walking abreast, chasing deer into a line of waiting, stationary hunters. One may want to debate the ethics of this method, and indeed in some states it's illegal. Another consideration is that friendly fire incidents are almost inevitable.
Basically, the idea is that animals are stupid and predictable, thus if you apply enough technology and systems dynamics models you'd certainly get your prize deer . . . so go to your local sporting goods superstore and buy a bunch of stuff.
Studying the deer visible from my studio, I cannot establish a predictable pattern. They just go in the woods and eat stuff.
Another amazing device is a sort of dog monitor that works with a special collar in conjunction with a Global Positioning System (GPS). With this hand held wonder you can monitor the location of up to ten hunting dogs. There's even a little digital dog on the screen that shows you whether each dog is standing, running, pointing, or playing poker with his buddies. If the dogs catch on, it's only a matter of time until they figure out that it doesn't require opposable thumbs to flip you the bird.
I wrote and submitted a piece about how to extend your deer hunting season by growing seedling apple trees where deer are sure to damage them, thus obtaining a special permit to kill a few deer. I'm sure it won't be published—I was a little too critical of those hunt club commandos who come out here from posh suburbs and cities to hunt, shoot up farm equipment and drunkenly proposition our wives. These folks are the magazine's most devoted readers and the advertisers' best customers. I don't have a chance.
While all this was going on, Pat Ertel wrote a very timely editorial in Antique Power magazine. In the editorial, Pat described the difference between writing for the reader and writing for the advertisers. Ah, now I get it.
There's more pleasure and artistic fulfillment in writing for the reader. I'm sure that when terms like “artistic fulfillment” get thrown around you're aware that there is less money involved.
So, how do I afford the time for adventures such as this? Well, some of it does pay a little. Of Grease and Chaff is a paid column though the amount, by the publisher's own admission, is token. The Traveling Mechanic is unpaid but since it relates directly to the tractor repair business I'm able to write off writing and photographic costs as advertising. Articles in the Reiman Media Group magazines pay about tenfold what Antique Power does, but their acceptance is random and the articles' production entirely at risk. Following the example of such great writers as Jules Verne and Dr. Laura, I get up extra early to write, then I go and fix tractors as my “real job.”
Lately, though, writing has been cutting into my billable time. The following journal entry is an example. This is June 1, the Tuesday after Memorial Day. The previous Friday was devoted to a PBS filming (unpaid) at the Beavers' farm.
6/1/2010: Weather lately has been a series of hot, sunny days with thunderstorms. Did my two mile self-inflicted forced march. My departure to the repair route was delayed somewhat by my making a sign to post near the environs of one William McKay of Warren County, Virginia. He stopped at North River Mills last fall and asked if the Bailes family wanted the chimney repaired at the Miller Place. Mr. McKay prefers not to use a computer or a telephone; hence the sign.
Didn't leave until mail time. In the mailbox, found my proofs from Antique Power, for me to read and approve today. Also found a letter from a writer in Arizona requesting permission to use the story “Crank Call” in a fire apparatus collectors' publication.
Saw Steve Slonaker at the store, talking to someone in the parking lot. I had to stop and chat about the upcoming PBS filming that I'm trying to arrange on his farm. He told me an old tractor story about when he and his dad went drawbar to drawbar—Massey Ferguson 175 and Oliver 99—and succeeded only in digging four big holes in the driveway. Ila (Steve's mom) was quite surprised. Good, that's the kind of stuff PBS is looking for. I think.
I'm beginning to wonder if I have time for a tractor business with all this show business going on. (I consider North River Mills, chasing down Mr. McKay, etc. to be show business related)
Moved on toward the Valley, trying to read the proofs while driving. Decided not to risk a wreck—stopped at 7-11 and read the story, making only slight changes, and called it in. As usual, the conversation with Peggy at Antique Power was, of necessity, lengthy, as we compared notes on various ongoing and future projects.
Moved on to Solenbergers Hardware. Remembering that the pin that holds the toplink on Fulgrinn Farm's Kubota was bent, I bought an air-powered cutoff tool. Picked out some good used tires at the Waterloo Exxon and called my voice mail. Rachael from the Loudoun Times-Mirror was seeking some follow-up information for her article about the filming last Friday. Found a quiet place to park (she has a soft voice) and did a phone interview.
When the interview was over, I was finally able to go to work. Oh, yes—still have to post that sign. Did a drive-through at Sandstone Farms; I can usually tell at a glance if anything is wrong with the machinery. Everything looked good. Moved on down Route 624 (Red Gate), went through Rockland and posted the sign, clothes-pinning it to the back of a road sign at Benny's Beach road. From there, went to nearby Fulgrinn Farm and reassembled the Farmall Cub that I had split in order to install a new clutch shaft.
We'll stop there. See the problem?
Though my day started at 5 a.m. I still didn't get into paying production until mid-afternoon. Most of this delay was due to writing relaxed efforts and requirements. Though I'm not paid for the PBS documentary, they've promised me a studio interview to promote my book Of Grease And Chaff—The Three Seasons Of A Country Mechanic, due out later this year. Hopefully, you'll buy the heck out of it and help me complete this transition from a tractor mechanic who writes to a writer who fixes tractors. It doesn't sound like a big leap until you find your self in mid-air, which is where I am now.
Meanwhile, it is important that you take advantage of my surplus photo sale advertised in Antique Power. Those who have seem quite satisfied—like getting a personal coffee table book from the author (I usually go overboard with description and commentary).
For those who aren't familiar with this deal, here's how the ad reads in Antique Power:
AS A TRAVELING MECHANIC . . . . I have thousands of unpublished photos (okay, they're rejects) from my tractor repair route, late 1980s to present. Most contain old tractors, trucks, and pretty places. Too many photos to store in my shop. $1 each, randomly selected. Please include SASE for photos and a blank piece of paper for description and commentary. Ted Kalvitis, HC 78 Box 86AA, Augusta WV 26704.
Publication rights go with the photos. I don't need to be credited with the photo, though it may be to your advantage to do so. If you credit yourself with the photo, I'll wonder about you but hey, you bought it. (Folks will probably recognize it as one of mine anyway)
I reserve the right to publish photos similar to the ones you bought, taken a few seconds earlier or later, or at a slightly different angle. No exact duplicates exist.
The original Old Black Truck is also for sale. Price: $2,500. More info is available elsewhere on this website.
As for the story mentioned at the outset, it made the rounds to a few more publishers but came back. The managing editor of Shotgun News, Robert W. Hunnycutt, is an Antique Power reader and sent me the kindest, most encouraging and humorous rejection letter I've ever received. I guess running into yourself in the publishing world is kind of a milestone. I hope it means that this long internship will soon be over. The story is kind of seasonal, so I'll be running it on the website in the fall, when hopefully I'll be too busy promoting my book to write a Far Muse column.