Dave's Fiction Warehouse

I'll tell you what: I'm getting tired of all these sob stories about newspapers shutting down. Not that I have anything against newspapers, which until recently afforded me a life of unimaginable luxury. But I cringe at the poignant and somewhat accusatory tone of stories bemoaning the demise of yet another big-city rag. You'll all be sorry when we're gone, they say; you won't have the Daily Bugle to kick around any more. And beware: If you don't have a newspaper, you don't have a democracy. Who'll afflict the comfortable without the Bugle's crack investigative team sniffing out corruption? Then again, the investigative thing and the corruption thing kind of fell by the wayside over the last decade or so. Surveys revealed that what readers really wanted were anecdotal trend stories, whimsical lifestyle pieces and 20-minute recipes. So newspapers went that route, realizing too late that the readers who answered the survey were already getting all that...

I drive an 8-year-old Subaru with average miles and a couple of dents. As of today, it's worth about 14,000 shares of Lee Enterprises . When I left the company in 1997, the same sort of vehicle would have been worth about 120 shares. Maybe Lee should have been selling used cars instead of newspapers. I worked for a Lee newspaper -- The Missoulian -- for 14 years. The highlight was the annual Christmas party, distinguished by a lavish buffet and easily counterfeitable drink tickets. As with all Lee papers, there was a stock-purchase plan. You bought stock through a payroll deduction at 15 percent less than the current value. Most of us then turned around and sold our paltry 15 shares and squandered the cash on a vacation or a VCR. The stock was always going up, but it always felt like we'd gotten away with something. Turns out, we didn't. Most of us were also putting as much as we could into the company's 401(k) plan. We all know how that turned out. The vacations and t...

So it has come to this for print journalism: selling souvenirs. Most of the time, the Wichita Eagle has trouble giving away its print product. Drive down any residential street late in the afternoon and you'll see plastic-wrapped Eagles still lying in the driveways where the carrier tossed them that morning. Then you get an historic event like the one we've just witnessed. Then people realize they don't have a hard copy of what they've just seen unfold via the magic wall and the fake holograms of CNN. On that one day, they're kind of glad they subscribe. As noted in the New York Times , most newpapers saw a huge spike in demand for their post-election issues. Demand remains robust: the Eagle is charging $10 for a paper that normally goes for 50 cents -- or three for $22. Other papers are peddling T-shirts with the front page on it, and framed copies to hang on your wall. They'd probably sell you some earrings, too, if the headline could remain legible. Some idio...

One thing about losing your job on the Andrea Doria, it lets you hang around at a safe distance and enjoy the spectacle as the vessel founders. There was a time when I might have been alarmed at the news that the Orange County Register is farming out some its copy editing and page design to India. These days, it just makes getting laid off seem a remarkably prescient move on my part. Especially when I read this bland justification from deputy editor John Fabris: "In a time of rapid change at newspapers, we are exploring many ways to work efficiently while maintaining quality and improving local coverage." Rapid change? You could say that -- and show me the newspaper manager who hasn't said it about a dozen times in the past five years. It's the part about working efficiently and maintaining quality and improving local coverage that doesn't ring true. Doing more with less -- that mantra has lost its meaning. The ship's gone down; now it's all about people...

After a long career in journalism, I'm back in the job market. For a limited time only. All I require are a company car, a five-figure signing bonus and a six-figure salary. If somebody could swing by and clean the house once a week, that would be great too. Until then, guess who's going to be blogging like there's no tomorrow. I've worked at various newspapers for the better part of three decades. I've been a reporter and an editor and there was a time in the mid '90s when I thought I was being very clever by learning HTML. I was thinking: Job security, baby; every newspaper will be on the Internet in a few years. I was right about the last part. But it turns out most people eventually questioned the wisdom of paying for what they could get free. Who knew? Then circulation and ad revenue headed south, and corporate boards figured they could maintain profits by shrinking the product and letting people go. Now circulation and ad revenue are Thelma and Louise: st...

If there were ever a book I'd buy just because of the title, Cancel Your Own Goddam Subscription is surely one of them. Fortunately, I don't have to; my wife also appreciates the sentiment it implies and gave me the book for Christmas. A collection of the most outrageous letters received at The National Review since 1968, paired with the trenchant responses of editor William F. Buckley Jr., this may be a book only newspaper people can really appreciate. Who among us has not fielded a damning letter or phone call and choked out some simpering semblance of civility when sterner measures were in order? Buckley skewered the great and small with equal aplomb, and with such subtle elegance that those of us who today would be wordsmiths can only shake our heads. Was there really a time when the phrases "Get a life" or "Get over it" or "Fuck you" were not considered adequate ripostes? Evidently so. Think what you will of Buckley's politics; the ma...