Month: January 2020

Some days (nights) I have no ability to focus on one thing for any considerable time. It is at these moments I fall upon the structure of Some Thoughts in order to fill the ten minute term. Tonight is such a night.

Some Thoughts:

1. The Kobe death continues to resonate. I am not going to write about it all that much other than to say that it does remind me of the fragility of life on the one hand and of how we never really accept death as part of life until we are late in life or if we’ve dealt with death far too often as young people.
2. It strikes me that the above feels like a very American way of viewing reality.
3. Speaking of reality, I am more and more convinced that we are not the only sentient species in existence. The idea that space, while possibly finite, can have so many goldilocks planets that we can observe and have no life anywhere is silly. Imagine how much we CANNOT observe.
4. The more I prepare for this novel, the more I recognize that religions are largely built to preserve existing power structures and tend to enable the worst of us. Furthermore it allows for a certain type of person to be oppressed and controlled. I’ve been thinking about this in regards to the novel and in regards to magical orders.
5. Big word blitz this weekend. Need to cover 7500 words.
6. Settling into the job. Loving some of it, and hating some of it. I refuse to turn into an ass in this place or let it overwhelm me. I also refuse to do a crap job or kick the ball down the road.
7. What bugs me most is that I don’t feel like the things I am most excited about in this opportunity are practically meaningless to the leadership. I don’t really believe that leadership wants to be there.

When entering a new workplace it is important –very important– to understand what the leadership is ultimately looking for. Often there is a problem child in the mix that leadership either wants to fix or remove. I’ve found myself in both situations. In truth I’ve never entered into a workplace where there was not a problem child. In truth if you’ve never entered into a workplace where there is not a problem child then it is probably you.

Problems come in many forms. The worst, in my opinion, is the manipulator. I’ve been in places time and again when an individual manages to fail up and as a result creates a great deal of social discord in the workplace, which eventually leads to a huge division between the workers and the individual. It also is really tough on the new guy who comes in impartial and unbiased but, recognizing the issues at play almost instantly realize the depth of the dysfunction, is stuck in a really hard place between trying to maintain the peace and trying to do a job made so much harder by the impediments.

This is my life as such. What I am struggling with most of all is the fallout of it all and trying to remain a positive figure in the midsts of all of the dysfunction.

Some Thoughts:

1. Every workplace is going to have problems. You gotta make a choice between ignoring those problems and playing nice or doing what you believe is best to make the place work right.
2. I made my choice.

I’m about to dive into a new novel in a few days. It is a fantasy novel that tackles the idea of displacement and a protagonist who is not actually a good dude. I like the challenge of it. I don’t know the protagonist yet. I did, but the pages and pages of notes on the thing were written two years ago. Why did I wait so long? I don’t know, but here we are.

Before that happens I need to finish up some contract work and that means either burning through a ton of words before Sunday or doing some things simultaneously. I’m not opposed to writing multiple projects at once, but I am concerned about maintaining a balance between this, work, life, and the start of a new youth football season. In short, there is a lot of stuff going on in my life… as usual.

The novel is written from the perspectives of two separate protagonists so far. I am considering a 3rd but I don’t really have a reason for a 3rd. I suppose I just like the odd number and envision it as a way to tell more about this world. I am writing about a world of overcrowding and extreme poverty in some cases and the arrival of steam technology. Yet this is not steampunk. This is something else entirely and lives in this space in between levels of tech where blades are still how troubles are settled and magic defines the aristocracy.

I am also telling a story about who gets to write history. This is a land where the history was written by those in power and all other versions of what happened have been stamped out. It feels timely. It is not literature in the sense of being that rarified sort of style, but it is a way to talk about what is happening now and what has happened through a lens that I feel comfortable with and is far enough removed from reality to make an argument yet still be enjoyable.

Kobe Bryant died in a horrible helicopter accident yesterday. At first I didn’t think it was real, because it was reported by TMZ and because these things are entirely unexpected and frankly unbelievable. The man was younger than I was and far more famous and wealthy. People of this nature often seem beyond death. Then one day they are not. I would like to speak on his legacy, and Waiver Wednesday will address that. However, today is more about the way his death brought up the allegation of rape he faced years ago. Some of the earliest reports of his death made quick mention of this allegation, and I find that incredibly troubling.

When our President is mentioned he is not generally mentioned in the same breath as, the man accused of rape. It does happen, because it did happen multiple times. Several prominent figures have been accused of rape, but this particular figure quite literally has had the accusation follow him to the grave. Bryant was accused of rape by a then 19 year old hotel employee. They both agreed that sex occurred but the consensual nature of the act was in question. He was briefly charged with the crime but those charges were dropped. She later sued him on different grounds and they settled out of court. What happened next was a matter of people placing their own opinions and beliefs on the matter. In this sense Kobe Bryant remained what he has long been, a larger than life representation of what we want to believe about the people we look up to. For some he was the hero that could never have done this. For others he was another example of the false idol that athletes represent.

What bugs me about the entire thing is that this event, while a relevant portion of his life, was allowed to be placed front and center in a moment where we should be remembering the best parts of him and not working hard to marr the good that he did. Yet here we are. It goes to show that people have a story they want to tell about you and that story is always more relevant than who you actually are.

Had a chance to watch Where did you go Bernadette this evening and it moved me. It felt like another hard shove in the direction of production. I loved the film both as an exercise in storytelling and a catharsis of the lost creativity and feelings of being trapped by fear and responsibilities. As a writer who ain’t writing I find my way in and out of a lot of excuses. This film showed me something I’d forgotten: the power of deep and lasting creativity. Guess what? I miss it.

I miss the idea archive. I miss pouring myself into a world and a story so completely that I understand the nuance of how and why people make the choices they do and why those are realistic choices. I miss the joy of grinning over a particular turn of phrase. I miss loving what I write and writing what I love.

I miss the slow anticipation of a story release. I miss the powerful sensation of a good idea. I miss feeling like I did something that lasts—that matters. Simply put, I miss telling stories.

these thumps. These moments of recognition and clarity have become signposts driving me back towards a place of knowing and understanding my connection to the story verse. I’m still not there—I don’t feel it in my bones yet. However, I’m closer than before and close enough to know it is time to start calling out for it with words and writing to build a tether to keep me there as long as I live.

I have been wallowing. This muddy pool of laziness and self pity has a deep end that I can drown in, but I tend to stay close enough to the edge that I can still breathe, if barely. It took a thoughtful text from my partner to help me realize exactly what was going on and why it needs to stop.

She said, “How can I help?” It was the kind of lifeline partners throw as a reflex. It is built into the very idea of partnership that what you are is connected and if one is struggling then by definition the other is struggling. This in turn helped me recall that I too am her partner and my struggles–my inability to do more than wallow as of late–brings her down. This, oddly, is where high school physics kicked in.

There’s this experiment online that shows a teacher explaining gravity (and space/time to high school students. It’s here if you want to check it out (you should. As he loads more balls unto the field it becomes clear the impact one has on another. It occurred to me that I have a fairly large reach and I can be extremely impactful to others as a writer and an educator and that impact has not been positive as of late. My personal gravity has been sucking others down into this well of not goodness. That realization matters.

No, I’m not going to instantly become super productive and bright and sunny. Gravity is a force that moves slowly over time, but realization is also a force. It can work towards pushing me back into a better orbit.

I have a responsibility to use my platform and reach as a writer, a parent, an educator, and especially as a partner to bring light. Stopping short of some Jedi-level nonsense, I feel myself to be a positive presence. I just need to get off my butt and do something with that presence.

There has been some considerable conversation as to whether or not I am still actually a functioning author. Well, I just saw a proof of a story that is going to drop this summer, so yes. That being said, the process to create that story was extremely taxing and pushed me far out of my comfort zone to the point where I have not actually written anything of worth since. This is of course assuming the piece in question was of worth. Tough speculations aside, I am not really writing.

I spent the evening curled up on the couch listening to the boys gleefully play while I watched bad tv. I didn’t read. I did not watch good tv. I just sat there bored and lonely and wasted more of the dwindling moments of my life. I worked for a few moments. I sent an email. I distractedly played a game. Then it was more bad tv. It is some sort of disease or illness I feel I have with such things. I fall into dark periods of nothingness between the words. I used to call it recovery, but now I think it is just the natural resting state for me as a writer. As we know, an object in rest…

Coming out of such a fugue state remains extremely difficult. I don’t know how to do it short of another deadline (note: It turns out I actually have one). I also lack any real ability to string these productive periods together together. I feel like a victim of bi-polar disorder whose highs are very very short and very very shallow; a wading pool for toddlers level of depth.

I’ve started to look into this novel project of mine. I’m about to undertake the 6 month writing of a fantasy novel beginning on February 1 and going through till August when I expect to be done. It is a massive undertaking and one I am taking far more lightly than I probably should. If my 100 push ups experience is any indication, I’m going to strain a brain muscle in the process. Unlike the push ups, I believe I can will me through this one.

What is different here from previous novel writing efforts is… level of skill? No, nothing is really different. I am not entering this project with any more awareness beyond knowing that this story is that dangling thread that needs to be tugged, which I will indeed tug. It feels like something that needs to be done.

It also feels like a project that is being done before everyone else does it. Much of what I dream up to write gets written by another writer as I am imagining it. So, doing this now and in a contained time frame allows me the chance to actually get it out first. There’s some joy in knowing that could happen.

I’m going to take a brief moment to rant about 8 yr olds being treated like they are the world’s next greatest athletes. There is a kid who already has a scholarship, several actually. There is a kid with an Under Armour contract and muscles so defined that I have to wonder if the daily work will in fact stunt his growth. People are legit doing the Batman level training (Robin, actually) with their kids. It is a serious thing for a lot of adults to train their kids to the point of physical peak. I train my kids, but not at that level. I try to expose them to different sports and push them towards a life of being active and fit. I want them to not be couch pirates like their pop has become. They’ve been engaged in a number of sports and opportunities for awards and experiences.

This all leads to today’s wrestling tourney where my mid kid took 3rd. He wanted first and is dissatisfied by the medal. This is entirely my fault as I have pushed him to the point where he feels winning is the only option. Maybe that is a message to me to help him learn how to enjoy the sport more than simply be all about the win.

Winning is awesome, but so is the game. Enjoy the opportunity to experience it.

Presently reading I Found You by Lisa Jewell. She is the author of 18 best sellers and it is clear early on why this is the case. See, Jewell has mastered that slick trick that keeps readers engaged throughout books and throughout series. She is the master of Meta Suspense.

This is my term. I use the term to define a type of suspense that applies to the crux of the story but is played out between the writer and the reader and not actually the characters themselves. The really good writers have a knack of drawing you into a conflict by using different characters to form a mystery that directly pertains to the core problem of the story but forces you to guess early on what the answer is and then strings it out tightly throughout. In the case of I Found You, the story centers around a missing person. We first meet a woman whose husband has gone missing. This is one of three stories being told simultaneously. Hers is the first. The second is about a woman who finds a man on the beach. This man has lost his memory. Of course the assumption immediately is that this is the same man. This is where Jewell’s skill comes into play. She introduces a 3rd narrative told in 1993. This narrative features two men and throughout the book we are left to wonder which of the two men are eventually going to become this missing husband/amnesiac or if the two men are actually the same after all.

Suspense, yo.

I’ve been thinking about the power of Meta Suspense and how to incorporate that in my writing. It is a skill to be sure, and in the absence of the novel I was writing (now lost to the annals of the apple repair queue) I will be attempting to incorporate this Meta Suspense into the narrative of the story I will be starting tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow! First chance to actually write has at long last arrived.

If I do it well enough I may be able to construct that master meta suspense that spans an entire series. This is the thing that made A Song of Ice and Fire tick.