An Introduction of Sorts

Prologue

To start putting up work on Substack fills me with irrational exuberance and anxious trepidation.

I sit here with my dogs and laptop thinking about finally finding an audience for what I write while knowing, at the same time, that it is almost impossible to find monetary success with essays. But success with this newsletter isn’t so much about money, as it is about sharing some writing with friends. Ed Abbey said that he wrote to entertain his friends and anger his enemies. While I have a good deal more friends than enemies—ditto.

Like many folks, I have a couple hundred essays stuffed in file drawers, most of which have only been read by a few people. I’ll note the ones that have been published elsewhere. But with this newsletter, I have the potential to get those essays out in a digital form that might last beyond my life, if of course, my executor keeps my account current.

But what if I post essays and still no one reads them? What if I’m a poser writer who is lucky enough to have two dogs and a laptop and not have to live off of my writing? Am I good enough to keep readers coming back for more or am I just kidding myself?

I—maybe we—are going to find out.

Some Backgrounding

My best friend, Blue Eyes, and I found some good jobs in Seattle and moved out there from Boulder. I ended up as Director of Sales and Marketing at Mountaineers Books and she held the same position at Sasquatch Books. We had good jobs, Mack the Portuguese Water dog who refused to swim, a house on Bainbridge Island with a huge flower garden, and view of the Salish Sea.

Perfect.

But not quite Boulder. So, after six years, we quit and moved home. Once home, Blue Eyes was recruited by Interweave Press and I was recruited by Mountain Sports Press, a startup offshoot SKI and Skiing magazines. Blue Eyes’ tenure was longer than mine. She went on to become publisher of Interweave Press.

At Mountain Sports Press we had verbally agreed that it would take about four years to reach profitability. Two years into building the press, the big boss, who always reminded me of a large shark, called me in and did an odd crossed hands thing and said, “We are at a crossroads and are going to close down Mountain Sports Press.”

Great.

One of the books we published was “When in Doubt Go Higher” and anthology of great pieces from Mountain Gazette. I got to work with the publisher, M. John Fayhee who was already somewhat of a legend. First for restarting Mountain Gazette and second, for an off-the-wall discursive writing style and a prodigious output of fine writing that is somewhere between Frederick Exley, and Ed Abbey with a small amount of Hunter S. Thompson tossed in.

John offered me a part-time job at Mountain Gazette then based in Frisco, CO in a ratty office just off Main Street. I showed up a couple days a week. I sorted through submissions, making a pile of pieces worth considering for John to read, worked with the ad guy to establish and service more accounts, and in general did whatever needed to be done including arguing with John because I was older than anyone else on the crew and not at all fazed when he got cranky.

Times got tougher, John and I liked each other but simply didn’t get along in a business atmosphere. After we finished an edition late one night I quit and asked for my check. John was pissed that I would quit. We didn’t talk for four or five years.

John sold out to an entrepreneur who couldn’t find his ass with both hands and then got the Gazette back and sold to a monthly outdoor magazine publisher based in the North Carolina.

 They said they were going to take Mountain Gazette online and asked if I would do a monthly blog for them. I think I was among ten or so regular contributors to Mountain Gazette who were asked to write monthly blogs.

That’s how Mountain Passages came to be. Over the next couple of years I’ll rewrite some of those blogs and post them here.

Naming the Newsletter

I chose the word ‘mountain’ because I have lived at the base of mountains or in mountains most of my life. As alleged inanimate objects, mountains have influenced a great deal of my life and more than half of my writing. I’ve lived most of my life in Colorado, so mountains are part of who I am. I look up at mountains and see permanence, possibilities, and an active lifestyle that comes with being part of a mountain environment.

The word ‘passages’ has a good number of meanings. I like the ambiguity of words with multiple meanings; just as I like prose that can be interpreted on different levels. One of the magical things about writing is to finish an essay, put it away for a couple weeks, and find something entirely new and unintentional in the words.

The first definition of ‘passage’ that comes to mind is an easy way to get over or around a mountain. Certainly easier than climbing straight uphill, or scrambling over a boulder field, and particularly easier than slogging through a steep scree field.

The second definition of passage has something to do with a narrow way from one place to another such as a hallway. What comes to my mind is sloshing along the the streamed of the Paria River in northern Arizona where I could reach out and touch red sandstone walls on either side of me that slanted inward and seemed to come together above my head.

In the written world, a passage is extracted from a piece of prose or a speech and then used to make a point or support a point of view. So if a backcountry skiing partner proposes an avalanche chute crossing and ends his pitch with “We have nothing to fear but fear itself,” an appropriate response would be from Marcus Aurelius, “Death smiles at us all, but all a man can do is smile back.”

There are other definitions, such as a ship’s journey, a transition, an opening and more.

In short, a passage is way to someplace. It my wish that Mountain Passages entertains you, takes you someplace you haven’t been before, of if you have been there, it renews a memory. And If I’m lucky, Mountain Passages will make you think about an experience, a place, an old friend who deserves a call, or an idea that enriches your life.

Epilogue

Writing for this newsletter can be participatory. My job is to write essays, edit, rewrite, send the essay to my editor (who tries not to be sarcastic about my stuff…mostly), rewrite again, and then post it.

Your job is a little less straightforward. At a basic level, you can just read an essay and move on, as we do with our nightly newsfeeds. I simply appreciate the fact that you read my essay.

But if you have a thought about a piece that you would like to share, send me a note. Mark Twain’s suggested that elderly parents often look at their middle aged children for signs of improvement. I’m clearly in need of improvement, just ask Blue Eyes. So send along your comments, queries, cat-calls, or whatever.

But if you really like a piece, send it on to two friends with a note. The best publicity in the world is word of mouth; a recommendation from a friend.

I’m starting with this introduction and will build out a complete newsletter over the next couple of months. The free section of Mountain Passages will be short essays of around a 1,000 words. Some will be new, and occasionally political, some will be older essays that I’ve rewritten. The subscription section will also include new essays and stories, but will focus on longer pieces that may drift over to other subject areas and maybe even include a novel.

If you really like what I’m doing, pass the piece on. It will not cost your friend anything to subscribe and read. A paid subscription is much appreciated.

In the excitement of starting out, I plan to post something once a week. As with all plans born of enthusiasm, we’ll see if I can get this done.

Thanks for the read,

Alan

Why are you sitting there hacking around on your laptop when we want to go play?