For Florida's sole remaining sex surrogate, love is a many splintered thing.
It's not just giant companies cashing in on America's defense industry.
How a throwaway idea at the Barkley ad agency became the "Sonic Guys."
A diner's guide to Texas's oldest Mexican restaurants.
Appropriately, Youth in Revolt became the subject of much interest in Hollywood, which sought to turn the novel into a TV series or a film. In 1996, Fox-TV actually filmed a pilot--starring Christopher Masterson as Nick and Jane Kaczmarek as his mother, both of whom would end up starring in Fox's Malcolm in the Middle--but so altered the premise that it would have been unrecognizable to the book's fans. Nick no longer adored Sinatra; instead, he worshipped Captain and Tennille. Fox declined to pick up the show, despite Payne's insistence that he kind of liked it, and MTV picked up the option. But the writer who penned the MTV pilot drowned in a boating accident shortly after he turned in the script, and the project has since withered at the music network.
Then, when Payne gave Doubleday the sequel to Youth in Revolt, Revolting Youth, the publisher declined; his old editor had been replaced by a man who had just bought a book about the history of the metric system. Other publishers had no interest in selling a sequel to a book they hadn't originally been involved in, so he was forced, once more, to self-publish. Indeed, all of Payne's subsequent works--including Frisco Pigeon Mambo and the forthcoming play Queen of America, which offers an alternate reality based upon George Washington's decision to become king instead of president--have been issued through Payne's own Aivia Press, based out of Sebastopol, California. Payne (who also maintains his own Web site, www.nicktwisp.com) shrugs off the series of disasters and disappointments: Just my luck.
But he knows why he is doomed to enjoy the accolades of the cult: He is a vestige, a comic novelist long after the form has withered on the shelf; as a result, he likes to say he was born 50 years too late, referring to himself as "a throwback." He spent the first 15 years of his writing career penning short pieces, which he would send off to The New Yorker--"and talk about being out of date," Payne says, chuckling softly. He racked up numerous rejections from the magazine, but did wind up selling it a cartoon that was illustrated by Charles Addams; it was a small reward for seven years' worth of effort. He also landed two stories with Esquire, which published only one before notifying him that the magazine was changing formats and would no longer run humor tales. That was in 1983, and 17 years later, Payne has in his possession a file cabinet of rejected short pieces without a market in which to sell them. From time to time, he will periodically visit that file cabinet, read some of the stories, and think to himself, "Those editors were right." He turned to writing novels only as a last resort; it was either that or go back to school "to study accounting or something."