Matthew Wayne Selznick

As you know, Bob, I work for Mahalo.com, the Santa Monica, California Internet start-up backed by Sequoia Capital (and others) and run by Jason Calacanis. Mahalo.com is a human-curated search site that strives to provide high-quality results for the terms most people search for the most often. Examples are all over this paragraph. Here are some more.

Part of my job involves screening and helping train the freelancers that make up part of our editorial team. Right now, I’m looking for about a dozen freelance writers who can commit twenty to forty eight hours per week.

This gig is not for every writer, and there is a learning curve. The right freelancer has excellent writing skills, including the ability to write fast and concise copy from a neutral point of view. In addition, they are experienced Internet researchers who can tell high quality sites from spam, advertorials and scraped content harvesters. Familiarity with AP style and mediawiki markup is a plus.

It occurs to me… I know some writers. Those writers know writers. It also strikes me that most writers are looking for ways to make money with words. If that’s you, freelancing for Mahalo.com is something you should look into.

Questions? Contact matt @ mahalo dot com after you read this.

Pass it on, share it, re-blog it, microblog it, and so on. Thanks!

Just in the last month or so, I’ve reconnected with several folks I haven’t heard from since elementary and high school. This has been a special pleasure — a real treat. I realized I should catch these people up on what’s been going on with me for the last twenty to thirty years… and then I recognized that this is probably going to keep happening, so why not do it once, here?

So… my family left Glendora for Mission Viejo in… 1978? I got there in time for sixth grade. I don’t recall much, except for having a crush on the little red-headed girl (Charlie Brown, much?) and experiencing the effects of one of my best friend’s parents’ divorce (he had to move away.) Junior high school was interesting — I broke both of my wrists (at the same time) and so spent a good part of one semester with casts on both arms. Awesome.

In the summer of 1981, between junior high and high school, my friend Matt Maxwell and I collaborated on a “novel” called “Devastator.” It took everything we loved about comic books and science fiction and, well, smeared it with fourteen-year-old enthusiasm and inexperience. Somewhere, I still have my copy. Matt has threatened to kill me if it ever sees the light of day. Fair enough… but the baby universe we created with that manuscript has expanded to influence a whole lot of my creative output since then. These days, Matt is actually in the comics industry, and I’ve written a novel and a bunch of other stuff.

High school… I went to Capistrano Valley High from 1981 - 1985. I remember Karen Wynn (journalism, yearbook, photography) and Paul Pfleuger (contemporary world problems) as my favorite, most positively influential teachers. I started playing bass guitar in high school, when I was sixteen, and picked up the acoustic guitar two years later. Me and my friends talked a lot about starting bands, but nothing serious ever happened until the tail end of my senior year, when me and Roger Huff started up an acoustic duo that had many names and incarnations over the next few years.

Of all my friends from high school, I still keep track of my best friend (though we are rarely in direct contact despite the fact that we have very similar interests and passions) and my longest steady girlfriend. Through the magic of blogs and other threads, we can trace each other’s lives even if we rarely get in touch. It’s comforting to know they’re out there, though.

My first job out of high school was at the Tower Records in El Toro at El Toro Road and Rockfield. I worked in the video department for a year and a half. That was an eye-opening experience. I met many people who would be very important in my life for years and years to come — people who, through the lines of connection hindsight gives us, truly changed my life. I go into that in more detail here. It’s enough for now to say that the eighteen or so months there went a very long way to making me the person I am today.

In the late eighties, I had played my first live gigs in real bands. Psychopathway was the first, with Theresa Copell, Tony Lekas, and Steve Harvey. We played around San Clemente, San Juan Capistrano, Doheney Beach, and a couple of parties in Los Angeles and Davis. I played bass and shared vocals and songwriting duties with Steve and Theresa. After that came Loveless with Gus Contreras, Kyle Hall, and Marco Solferino. We played pretty much all the same places Psychopathway did, plus the occasional gig in Costa Mesa and Anaheim. I played the legendary Linda’s Doll Hut while I was with Loveless, a place I would play many more times with other bands.

In the late eighties, I moved a lot, had a steady string of relationships, a series of jobs (mostly retail), partied a lot, played a lot of music, and lived several movies I have yet to write. In other words, I was in my early twenties.

In between bands, I played a lot of solo acoustic shows — singer / songwriter stuff. I also wrote, here and there, but didn’t have much discipline for it. I enjoyed creating the settings — what’s known as worldbuilding — more than the actual writing. I recognize it now as a form of procrastination, which is another name for not wanting to face the possibility of failure. Still, I was very creative in those days, if scattered.

At the beginning of the nineties, I met the woman who would become my first wife. We married in 1995. She was a good friend, but I think we both came into things with far too much baggage and I, for one, was not mature enough to properly deal with it all. It’s a long story, of course, but we separated in October of 1999 and were divorced by August of 2000.

From 1995 to 2005, I worked for Borders, a worldwide chain of book, music, and media superstores. It was, overall, a very positive experience. While they are a dying company as I write this, in the late nineties it was an amazing place to work — open, ambitious, and compassionate as a corporate culture can be. I wouldn’t take back the time I spent there for anything.

Music kept happening in the nineties. From about 1993 - 1995, I was in a band I formed that, to date, was my most satisfying creative experience. Called PIGBAT, it was a power trio featuring drummer Jon Strunk and guitarist Kris Shine. I played bass, sang, and wrote most of the songs — though it was, musically, a very collaborative effort. Our drummer left to take a job offer in San Francisco, and while we continued briefly with a different drummer (Jeff Senske, now with Bright Men of Learning) it just didn’t last. I played dozens and dozens of acoustic solo gigs, formed two short-lived duos (Widdershins and Wednesday In The Barrel) and, toward the end of the century, joined with Gary Fitch, Erin Foster, and Tony Dare to form the power-pop Running Erin. Running Erin lasted until 2002 or or so.

The Internet, you will recall, happened in the nineties, too. I think I first got online in 1996 or so. I remember exploring Gopher and using the Mosaic browser, if that gives you some idea. Webcrawler was the search engine everyone swore by. I was entranced by the whole thing.

In 1998, I read a particularly bad tie-in novel featuring Marvel Comics’ X-Men characters. Now, as mentioned above, I’m a long-time fan of the comics, but this book was just… so… very… bad. I told myself I could do better, and set about planning a universe of my own wherein I could tell super-hero stories. Gradually, the idea grew to become a web-based magazine called Sovereign Serials. From 1998 until 2002, with varying regularity, I used Sovereign Serials to tell episodic stories set in the Sovereign Era, when “individuals with remarkable abilities change the course of human destiny..!” I also invited other authors to tell Sovereign Era stories in the magazine, and ran two or three.

By the end, I realized I had written more than sixty thousand words over the course of almost four years. I could have written a novel! I shelved the floundering Sovereign Serials to do just that. There were a few false starts. During this time, people wrote me to ask if I would ever finish the stories in Sovereign Serials — one story in particular. I began to write the book that would become my first novel, “Brave Men Run.”

In February of 2001, I married a second time. I know, that seems like tight timing, but we had known each other a few years, although not well, and had the occasion to spend a great deal of time together in a very short period of time. We fell in love — that’s how it happens sometimes..! We lived in her apartment in San Pedro for a time, and bought a house in Hesperia, a community in the High Desert of San Bernardino County in 2002. We’re here still, with our four cats, two dogs, and a turtle.

In 2004, driving “down the hill” to work in Pasadena, I heard an episode of Leo Laporte’s “The Tech Guy” call-in talk radio show. His guest was Adam Curry, and they were talking about this crazy new media thing called podcasting. I was inspired. In less than a week, on October 15th, I released the first episode of the MWS Media Radio Show. That podcast, now called the DIY Endeavors podcast, has had sixty five episodes to date. The first sixty were very nearly weekly. These days, I record one when the mood to create a mix tape of excellent independent music strikes me.

Podcasting is another one of those things that has changed my life in a major way. The people I’ve met, the things I’ve learned, the opportunities presented to me… let’s run down a few:

• When “Brave Men Run” was finished, I knew I would self-publish in keeping with the DIY ethic. I also decided to follow the example of the handful of people who put their books out as free podcasts. At the time, those people were Tee Morris, Scott Sigler, Mark Jeffrey, and Paul Story. “Brave Men Run” wasn’t the first podcast novel by any means, but I’m pretty sure it was among the first dozen. It’s been in two different top ten lists at Podiobooks.com perpetually since it came out, and donations from listeners — people who listen under no obligation to pay anything, mind you — have surpassed royalties from the print, e-book, and CD audiobook versions of the book.
• The day after Thanksgiving in 2005, I left Borders and embarked on fifteen months of promoting “Brave Men Run” and doing freelance work. I did some fiction editing, but my biggest clients wanted me to help them with their podcasting. While my first run at being a freelancer didn’t have long-term sustainability, if you will, it would have been a much shorter run if not for podcasting.
• I’ve become a recognized authority, which has led to speaking engagements at several conventions. I’ve been profiled in “Tricks of the Podcasting Masters” and on About.com , and interviewed on scores of podcasts and websites.
• Through my friendship with two podcasters, I was brought on at Mahalo.com , which is proving to be a challenging, enriching, and fun experience. We’re doing social search on the Internet in a way that hasn’t been done yet (or still.)
• The best thing podcasting has given me is a far-flung network of friends. Podcasting has given me my tribe, and that’s worth more than anything.

We’re pretty much caught up, folks. As I write this, I’m working at Mahalo.com, writing my second novel, “Pilgrimage,” and taking a hiatus from recording podcasts until the book is finished and ready to launch.

How are you? It’s very cool to hear from you again.

Do you know how many web sites I have?

Close to a dozen. About half a dozen are active. Last year, my business card had more words on it than some pieces of flash fiction, trying to fit all that stuff on there. It was a little out of hand.

My card now has three sites on it. This one, MWS Media, and MWS Media Podcasts. ‘Cause really, that about covers it.

Last year, my “freelance year,” my life and my time was open, and fluid, and pretty undisciplined. Now that I’m at Mahalo, at least thirteen hours of five days every week is locked down. I love my job, but this means the remaining hours of the week have to be utilized in the best possible way. The Hobos put it best: “The Day Shall Not Be Wasted.” Indeed.

See, here’s the thing. I had some fifteen months, give or take, without a full-time day job. Creatively, it was perhaps the least productive year I’ve had in a long time. Apparently, a bit more structure is needed in Mister Selznick’s life. I have that now, to be sure. Now comes the time to, as much as possible, centralize all the scattered pieces that make up my work habits, my internet presence, and my bizarre, networked social life. It also means letting go of some obligations, both legitimate and assumed.

I’m very open to hear how others have dealt with this kind of compression, this transition, if any of the little dinner party who reads this blog have something to offer. For now, here’s what I’m gonna do:

• Bring my writing projects — past, present, and future — over here to Matt Selznick.com. See a recent post at Pilgrimage for more thoughts on that. Essentially, bravemenrun.com, “Pilgrimage,” and the woefully overdue “Wordhouse” will all redirect to their own pages over here, as well as a-brewing projects.
• Streamline my mailing list by (gasp) utilizing a third-party service rather than rolling my own. “But Matt, that’s so un-DIY of you!” Rule number one — a rule I sometimes neglect for various complicated psychological reasons — is “Never let the tools get in the way of the work.” Using PHPList or Dada or some other script slows me down because they’re more of a pain in the ass than, say, Yahoo! or Google Groups. So that’s coming up.
• Let go of freelancer Matt. I don’t have the time to work a full time job, create my own art, and do freelance stuff. Oddly, I feel a weird sense of guilt when I have to turn down a job, especially when the work comes from clients who gave me the bulk of my jobs in my Freelance Year. This, again, stems from some very interesting psychological stuff, like it being easier (safer) to do stuff for other people than take risks making my own stuff. ‘Nuff of that.
• Close MWS Media Hosting to new accounts as of July 1st. You heard it here first. I’ll keep existing clients, and I hope they hang around a long time, but I’m not going to add any new ones after the end of June, 2007. So if you want some really cheap web hosting with reasonable uptime, act now, callers, ’cause this offer won’t last forever!
  

All of this is going to require some work, and some thought. For example, what does the MWS Media web site become if the hosting and freelancing shingle is taken down? A portal of sorts, I guess… or perhaps it serves no purpose at all? Why couldn’t it redirect to yet another page on this site? Gotta keep the domain going, of course — it’s the first one I ever registered, way back in… 1996? Can’t recall. Been a while.

This has been another one of those “read along while Matt puts his ducks in order in public” posts, but I appreciate your reading, and your feedback and best practices and ideas — I’ve been thinking about this stuff for a few weeks, but only typing it out and releasing it has really given me the drive to do anything about it. So thank you, dinner party.

Time to go to work!

• dropping out of two freelance jobs… just not enough time these days. #
• @SFEley dry off and check your Skype. #
• that headache just never went away. phhht. #
• and it’s Monday! #
• song in my head: Minutemen: Felt Like A Gringo. #
• Adam Curry lost deal with Sirius… I’m restaining the urge to smirk and spout cliches about karma and things going around & coming around #

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Wow. Apart from a brief bit about a Husker Du song, it’s been a couple weeks, I think, since I wrote a proper blog post regarding what’s going on in my ever exciting life.

Longer, maybe.

Back on the 21st of March, I took a step away from my freelancer lifestyle (which wasn’t much of a lifestyle, actually) and returned to the last place I held a real job, Borders. I took the Training Supervisor position at the Rancho Cucamonga store. Sure, it had been fifteen months since I’d worked for Borders, but I have over a freakin’ decade of time with that company. I was a little rusty, but I can teach people how to sell books.

I took this job with a good (outward) attitude but a real (inward) feeling of stepping backwards. However, it was time… my wife has been essentially supporting the both of us, our cats, our dog, our turtle, etc. since December of 2006. Time to take the pressure off. And indeed, I fully expected to take on a salaried manager role at the store in a couple of months, meaning more money and very, very familiar territory. Do-job-in-sleep territory.

Happy to be back at Borders? Bittersweet. I liken it to moving back in with mom. You love your mother, but…

And then.

A friend of mine — a colleague, someone with whom I work on a mutual ongoing labor-of-love project — announced he’d be visiting California to meet with his new bosses. We agreed to meet for dinner one night while he was out here. Very pleased to meet face-to-face for the first time, and excited to break my routine, I very willingly made the ninety mile trek down to Los Angeles and met him and another mutual friend of ours. We went to dinner. Chatted about what was up in our lives.

My friends, it turns out, were working together on the same project. They were very excited about it, but since it wasn’t public yet, couldn’t really talk about it. Much. I think my own slightly glum attitude about my own state of affairs might have swayed them into revealing a bit more.

Before the night was over, I had a job offer with a new start up with solid backing and a lot of very familiar, very respected and like-minded people involved. In two days, I had a phone interview with one of the principles. It was a good chat — we share a commitment to the importance of service, and, I think, a desire to make an impact on the world. While no offer was made, he said he looked forward to working with me.

The offer came in another phone call fifteen minutes later. Boom.

I gave my boss at Borders a week’s notice. Short, yes — two weeks would have been better — but at that point, I hadn’t even worked there for two weeks. Frankly, I felt more of an obligation to not be an ass to my boss than I did to keep my good will with Borders. So they got a week. My boss understood. He might even be envious.

So. A day and a half left at Borders. After this, I’m never going back there. It is the past — a valuable piece of my development, and a huge chunk of my personal history… some of the most soap-operatic, to be sure. But it’s the past.

I start at the start-up-that-cannot-be-named on Monday the 16th. Eventually, I reckon I’ll be able to tell you more. Like when I know more, for example. And when I have permission to speak.

Meanwhile… all of this (a full time gig, a commute from Hesperia to Santa Monica) means that I will be cutting way, way back on my availability as a freelancer. My time is about to become very precious, and I still want to write another book one of these days, y’know? Not to mention the three podcasts… and a new one… one I’m very excited about.

Writers Talking debuts on April 21st. Check out the site; all the details are there. It’s new territory for me in several ways:

• The initial recording is live, in real time, with guests and phone-ins
• The podcast is monetized.
• Half the proceeds will go toward just about the bestest non-profit ever.

I really hope it turns into something amazing.

Then there’s con season. It’s creeping up mighty fast… in fact, Balticon 41 is just a month away. DragonCon is in August. New Media Expo is in September. I’m on panels at all of them, pretty much. Three weeks of time away from home (and away from the new job) in the next five months. Exciting… but will I be able to keep this pace next year? Hard to say. Hell, maybe I’ll have a new book to pimp next year. (said that last year….)

Hm. Time to go back to work. For another three and a half hours, and another seven hours tomorrow. Then, no more. Soon, new, new new stuff.

Oh… and I’m on Twitter now, ‘cuz I wanna be cool and I’m a sucker for the time sink. Be my friend. Follow me and I’ll follow you. (No more Phil Collins / Genesis quotes… probably ever… I promise.)