Pop: Chapter 11a

     I begin skimming the article for the part that mentions my Dad and what he wrote.

        Recently, author Christopher Burton appeared on various morning news programs

 to promote the release of his latest work in trade paperback.  He also used the it as

a blatant opportunity to show off his fiancé, who happens to work for one of these shows.

While one could begrudge the author, these "informational pieces" are just another 

attempt of someone showing off their money and influence in a total disregard to true

literary mastery and a disrespect for the real art.  Burton's work, a novelization based on

a once-popular yet troubled roleplaying game, is just another showing of how popularity

is overshadowing true literary expertise.  While Burton does show some comprehension and 

writing skill, his choice of topic is ultimately just a showing of how true art is being forgotten.

    Wow.  This guy.  Wait.  Yeah, a man, really doesn't like me.  He doesn't know a thing about me or my work.  

    First off, those 'information pieces' were more about how my life had changed since I was reunited with my father.  My book was secondary, and release of the paperback was only mentioned in the live interviews.  Only the spot on Today mentioned Addie, and that only because she works for an NBC affiliate.  If you want to blame someone for that, blame the producers.  Or, maybe Thad had more to do with that than he's letting on.

    As to the 'money and influence,' if this guy had actually done more research, he would have known that I grew up without much money, only getting some inkling in my last semesters of college of what the Burton family once had.  Yes, my great-grandfather had a fairly big corporation that made lots of money.  However, by the time my grandfather died, the business had pretty much been lost in mergers and acquisitions.  The family still makes lots of money, even after taxes, from being shareholders, but everything is handled by accountants.  My Dad is not on any boards or in the decision making process of what the original business has become.

    And forget about influence.  When I first posted my chronicles online, with the barest hints of what would become my novel, no one knew who I was.  Literally, as I was using various handles, such as DayDreamer54.  It's a standard measure online.  I'm not entirely sure how I got noticed, but I did.  I was lucky, plain and simple.  Any influence I had was with my Dad's representatives.  Without them, I wouldn't have had a such a great first step.  

    As to the game, it has had waves of popularity over the decades.  It was never much more than a niche line, frequently overshadowed by bigger companies.  Still, it has fans.  The property has been traded and bounce around so many times, it is a wonder that it still around, and that my novel has given it a showcase that it desperately needed.

    At least he is acknowledging that I have talent.  I have a degree after all.  Maybe not from a flashy school, but I have one.  I'm sure my professors will take some comfort in knowing that their teaching has paid off.

    I skip around until I see my Dad's name.

        This struggle between art and the masses has been around for many years, decades, 

even centuries.  As luck would have its, Christopher's father, Jonathan Burton, once wrote for 

this paper.  The older Burton was an artist of some repute, particularly in certain circles.

Twenty years ago, he wrote occasional pieces on the art scene.  While his sentiments 

focus on the visual arts, this selection works equally well for literature.

        And now the fun begins.

Pop: Chapter Eleven

    The session went by faster than I thought it would.  Barely an hour for a light full-body workout, just for maintenance sake.  Hard to believe it once took me over hour to do the same routine at half the weight for the same number of reps.  Still, it's better than nothing, and it will tide me over until I can get back to better equipment. I still have to call the movers to take this old stuff away.  In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have kept the previous owners exercise equipment, but it really wasn't that old, at the time.  Now, it is just an eyesore, taking up space needed for the remodeling. 

    I barely work up a sweat, but I shower anyway.  I should wait until it is closer to the signing, but I want to put off reading the editorial as long as I can.  The water still hadn't fully gotten hot from when Jim was here, but that is fine by me.  Colder showers don't really work that way, but they still feel better after I exercise.

    I finish drying, for the most part.  I'll shave and finish getting dressed closer to the event.  For right now, I just put on a fresh pair of boxer-briefs.  Let the air finish drying me off before I put anything else on.  Before looking at my computer, I check my phone.  After last night, it needed a good recharge.  I wasn't down to fifty percent yet, but with all that is happening today, I didn't want to take any chances.

    I boot up the Mac and wait for the mail to come up.  I prefer to read my mail off the Mac, due to its bigger screen.  I get to see everything all at once, as opposed to just the snippets from my phone.  Thad was right about one thing, though.  I would've checked my messages and mail sooner than I'm doing today.  Then again, Jim.

    I had actually checked my messages though.  Just before Thad would have texted.

    There is was, right at the top.  My only new mail since Tuesday night, actually.  I try to keep as little email as possible, but it wasn't easy.  Most of the secondary, subscription based stuff gets sent to a secondary account.  Or sometimes a third.  This one, my newest, primary account, was business and close friends only.  It saves me time, really.  I check the other accounts later in the day, on the days I decide to look at them.

    I open Thad's attachment.  I barely look at the topic and message, as I already know what is happening.

What Is Pop Culture, and Why It's Not Important 

    I can already tell that this is not going to be pretty.

Pop: Chapter 10b

    "Dad wrote for The New York Times?  Why didn't I know that?" Sam asks.

    "You were probably still a baby.  Thad said that they used parts of one of Dad's old articles for a hatchet job relating to my recent television appearances."

    "Good.  You needed taking down." Sam shoveled yet another huge bite of food into his mouth.

    "It wasn't my fault.  Dad made the decision to move all on his own." I have to tell him the whole story, and soon.

    Instead, I ask him a question.

    "What will you be doing today until the dinner?"

    "Nothing.  I already checked on the municipal pools.  The nearest ones' opening are delayed until next week. I don't really know any of the neighbors, and I don't feel like I need to either."

    "You could always get ready for your orientation meeting at UK tomorrow.  It will be more than just physicals, you know.  You will be meeting with some of the coaching staff and the team.  You'll be taking a tour of the athletic facilities. Maybe even get to check out some of the classrooms.  This is a really big deal, considering how late your acceptance was."

    Sam gives me a snide look, puts his fork down, and gets up to leave.

    "Whatever."

    To think, just two days ago he would have put the dirty dishes back.

    "Remember.  The dinner is being moved up to six.  Maybe earlier if everyone can make it. " I yell back at him.  Sam turns just before he gets to the living room door.

    "Addie called earlier.  There could be some storms this evening, maybe severe.  We'd like everyone to be safe."

    "I bet," Sam goes back to walking out the door.

    "Just be ready on time.  For Dad, if not for me and Addie."

    I go back to the kitchen to finish breakfast. I wash everything down with. a protein shake.  Unfortunately, the banana mix is back in New York, so I have to settle with strawberry with a half scoop of vanilla.  Supplementing is a drag, but it does make me feel and look good.

    While cleaning up, I decide to wait to read the article.  I'll do a quick total body workout session first, then read.  That should still give me enough time to get ready for the signing at Pulse.  Anything to put off the bad news.  Literally.  When was the last time that paper did anything really great?  Okay, so they aren't all bad, but I only looked into it for the bestsellers list.

Pop: Chapter 10a

    "I didn't know you even had my landline, Thad"  Things must be bad if he had to use my last resort.

    "Well, I tried your cell, then Sam's, and I even tried you father.  What else could I do?  This could become an emergency."

    "Dad's rarely up this early any more, although he should be waking up soon so he can get here for the dinner in time.  Sam usually has his phone, even this early, but he doesn't seem to have it right now." At the mention of his name, Sam perks up then shrugs his shoulders and goes back to eating.

    "I used my phone at lot last night.  It needed to charge more.  What's this 'emergency' that is happening?"

    Thad continues. "Did you ever get to watch you Today interview?"

    "A little of it.  From what I saw, they cut most of the Addie portion.  Why?"

    "Well, The New York Times has a piece of that interview, as well as Tuesday's on CBS.  Basically, they are saying you're only famous because of your family's money, and these 'puff pieces' (I could all but tell Thad was using air-quotes.) just proves it.  To emphasize their point, they reprinted an editorial your father wrote on pop culture and its effects on greater society."

    "Wait, Dad wrote for The New York Times?! When, how did that happen?"

    "He wrote some art reviews and some historical pieces about twenty years ago on shows and museum exhibits.  Apparently, this article on pop culture was originally written about some controversial artist or something.  Much of it is out of context, but that made it work for your novel somehow."

    "My family's money.  I didn't even know about my family until four years ago.  Sure, I had a nice little account, but I thought that it was from my grandmother.  I didn't know she had been hoarding it away from me.  I definitely didn't know it was from my Dad's family. And I used an online handle when I first posted my fan fiction. No one knew who I was or what my family had.  Even when I signed my contracts, the 'Burton' family name didn't make a difference.  Our heyday was years ago.  Sure, it may have meant something once, but no longer."

    I take another look at Sam.  If only I could tell him exactly what it meant to be a 'Burton,' maybe he wouldn't be acting out.  I've got to talk to Dad about Sam.  Sam needs to know the truth.

    "Chris, are you still there?"  Thad asks.

    "Sorry.  What has to be done?"

    "I've sent you the editorial, as well as the excerpts from your father's piece.  I'm going to handle things at this end, but I think you will have to have a formal response.  The publisher will be issuing something later on today.  I'll try to coordinate things so that we share the same message.   I know you have your rehearsal dinner tonight, but try to have something this evening."

    "It might not be long, but I'll try."

    "Good.  And make sure your phone's available next time.  I'm out."

    "Good-bye," Thad had already ended the call.  I don't think he even heard me.

    I put down the receiver and head back to the kitchen.  Sam has already started on his second serving. He has to be going through another growth spurt at the rate he's eating.