The Decomposition of Litkicks, or

I am not your typy monkey!

Let me take a few moments to discuss the once great and now late Litkicks.com.

I don’t know how broad their appeal was in their heyday, but I do know that, still, if you do a search in Google for Jack Kerouac, Litkicks.com will be one of if not the first site returned.

It used to be a conglomerate of message boards, well-designed in java and providing an infinitely welcoming feel for newcomers, intermediates and veterans alike. There was a board for discussing what people were reading, one for discussing politics, one for discussing the literary life, one about traveling/road literature and writing. One for talking about writers and genres. There was a haiku board, a story board, a spontaneous poetry board and a composed poetry board. There was even a board called “Mindless Chatter,” which was essentially an extended chat room for bored temps, angry young people, and aging hippies in cubicles or living rooms across the world. And there was also a flames board where, for the most part, members kept their vitriolic remarks, and even had a bit of fun about it. The focus, at least in theory, was on Beat writers, but members came from all walks of literature, and discussions abounded about everyone from Ayn Rand to Orwell, Harry Potter to John Fowles. It was great fun.

Late in 2003, Litkicks came out with a writing contest called the Quest. With everything otherwise rolling along smoothly, this new venture was created from a position of strength. Over a hundred members and newfolk ponied up 20 bucks apiece to join a month-long effort in writing exercises, and then voted for one another’s writing. Winners advanced to another round, where 6 writers were chosen as overall winners. The deal was, winners would be featured in an upcoming anthology of writing from the site. Yay! I should mention at this point that I was one of the winners.

The Quest was by and large a success. Litkicks then proceeded to continue these writing challenges, only now without “winners.” They also proceeded to organize their anthology. In order to populate this upcoming tome, they asked all members to provide nominations for pieces to include in the book. What democracy! Yay! Lots of people had things to say about this, and the nominations filled up quickly. Many of us were hardpressed to choose only the maximum of three nominations among the perhaps thousands of works of poetry, prose, essay, opinion or discussions posted to the site over the years. But we did it.

Then the editors went into a sort of seclusion. Nominations were considered, as well as the opinions of each of the three editors, who included the owner of the site and two former mere members who had generously volunteered their time to help manage and police the sprawling literary community.

Writers were told that they’d be contacted as the book choices were finalized and publication approached. What we actually received were mass emails to each selected writer asking for a brief bio. The editors expressly kept the choices to themselves, saying just that we’ll be surprised and that we’re sure to like the result.

Months went by. Then, during the summer of 2004, Litkicks suddenly shut down. The message boards, few of which went more than 15 minutes at any given time during the 24 hour day without activity, were disabled. Posts appeared by staff that Litkicks was taking a haitus. Hundreds of temps, amateur writers, angry young people, and aging and easily confused hippies were left to fend for themselves.

Litkicks returned in October 2004 with “October Earth,” a series of “questions” that created a more focused discussion. It wasn’t bad. But the first obvious change was that, now, if you wanted to post something, it didn’t appear immediately as in the previous version of the site. It was “submitted” to the editors first, who did what they felt they should do before actually posting it.

Then October ended, and Litkicks recreated itself officially in the same vein as October Earth, which is how it stands now. Every other day or so, one of the three editors/staff posts a question or a topic, and members respond (submit). Sometimes, it takes hours for a response to show up. Even minor comments about these responses are submitted, and can take hours to show up. Understandable, the staff has day jobs. But no one but them demanded the new format, which effectively sucked the spontaneity, which was the crux of the Litkicks experience, out of the thing, rendering it immediately stale and boring. They also began to censor writers based on content. Personally, my first experience on this was the day after the 2004 elections, when we were asked about our feelings about Bush having won another term. I responded with this:

America is stupid and I'm never voting again. Fuck Bush. Fuck the morons who voted for him.

As I drove to work this morning, passing elementary school busstops, I thought about how all those nice little children will make such good soldiers.

Live it up, morons. As sweet as it was, I'd have sacrificed the Red Sox victory, indirectly over that other Texan asshole, Roger Clemens, to have someone in the White House who can tie his own shoes.

I still stand behind those comments 100%. But the staff refused to post it, citing “name-calling” and “diatribes.” That may be the case (actually, it certainly is). But it's also the honest, spontaneous post by a veteran member of the site known for usually thoughtful and productive remarks. Is no quarter given?

I then embarked on a several week long haitus from the thing. I was upset; their reasons for denying my opinion seemed petty and pandering to the lowest common demoninator of literary thought, those who get offended too easily, so easily that honest, spontaneous opinions are sacrificed for the sake of pleasantries.

At about this same time, the Litkicks book came out. For many, it was a surprise. My fiancee had a piece in the book, yay, but it wasn’t either of the two that were nominated by other members. It was a more personal essay about drug addiction. Moving and powerful, certainly one of her best works. Another member had a work published that discussed in emotional detail the alcoholism of her husband. She had been excited for months that she was going to be published, but that was because all she knew was that she was going to be published. Once she saw what had been chosen, she ran into a massive family struggle because what she had written was too personal a thing for her to be boasting about, something all writers naturally want to do upon first publication of their work.

For myself, as a winner of the Quest, two of my four or five Quest pieces were published, in amongst dozens of other Quest writings, only a fraction of which were from the “winners.” The Quest winners werent featured at all, merely included.

Another key point is that, since the writers didn’t know which one of their pieces was being published, they had no input regarding how the pieces were to appear. It is standard practice to provide proofs and editing information to writers before publishing their work. It is also standard practice on a literary website to publish unfinished works, for feedback and guidance in their completion. It’s actually rare for writers to post the final product.

It’s understandable that Litkicks wanted to capture the essence of this new form, internet writing. In a way, they did this. But, in the manner that they did this, they destroyed a worthy tradition in literature, one that I feel deserves to be preserved regardless of medium, that the writer should control his words. Regardless of copyrights, contracts or disclaimers, writers should be (and usually are) given the privilege of consultation on the editing of their work. And the website contained hundreds of posts from hundreds if not thousands of writers. Some more composed than others, some written as throw-aways, some meant to be personal. Most members don’t even use their own names as identification on the site. They employ usernames, one large advantage of which is that this keeps their spontaneous, not-meant-for-public-consumption writing anonymous, and keeps it away from the possibility of creating undesired consequences in their daily lives. Writers did have the option of not being published, but if they supplied their bios to the staff, they still had no idea which one or two of the hundreds of posts were going to be used. Suddenly each thought they’d posted over the years was on one level of consideration. Throw-away diatribes were given the same consideration as composed works of prose. For some, this didn’t work out.

And now, I’ve just been edited again. Because I responded to a question about diaries with the subject line “Diary, ah”, to express a thoughtful response, and also to pun diarrhea, because, really, isnt that what diaries are? My response was formed around the idea that most of what comes out of diaries is useless, but every once in a while something can be gained from it. I didn’t feel the need to expand on the metaphor, so I kept it simple and unobtrusive.

So unobtrusive, apparently, that it slipped by one editor and was posted for several hours as I wrote it. Then, suddenly, with no note or email, the “ah” was deleted (they left in the comma, making it 1. more obvious and 2. clear that it was done in haste – and anger? and 3. look like I screwed up. Creating an error during editing is a cardinal sin, I think).

My response to Litkicks on this little thing is as follows, and I think serves as a fine wrap-up to this post. The bottom line is that they devote absolutely no respect for their own writers, treating them like conditional (tho willing) slaves to their own means. And I think this time I’m really done. I don't have anything personally against the staff, particularly the owner of the site. In fact, I've met him, and he's a very cool person, a great writer, and someone who I essentially respect. But the direction of the site is horrible, it's offending to writers (at least to this one), and well, and that's pretty much it.

I'd prefer, if you're going to edit anything I write beyond typos, that you consult with me first. You seem to take your roles as editors a little too seriously. If that's the case, you could at least afford the writers the same importance you provide yourself.

I think it's indicative of your approach to writers, actually. To publish the serious work of writers without even letting them know what you were publishing is, at least to me, pretty much immoral. It's not about you, it's about the words, and the writers own the words, despite whatever disclaimer you provide. Even tho that's a sidebar, I think it demonstrates a critical error in judgment on your part.

Anyway, it's probably better to just remove my entire post, seeing as it doesnt stand as I sent it.. If I had received the courtesy of a conversation or a message about what you found so horribly offensive, then maybe I'd approve of my copy being displayed here. Unfortunately, you've violated MY terms of service.

I suggest you lighten up a bit. If not, you're only going to keep the idiots and hacks. It's bad enough you've sucked the spontaneity out of this once beautiful place, but do you really have to dictate an entire community to your specific taste?

I mean, seriously, as my son would say, have you people lost your noodles? Chill out and smile a bit, yo.

- posted by seanmh @ 12:49 PM