Following Hope

Now that I truly have free time, no classwork, no papers, no lesson planning, no grading, if I truly want to be a writer, and make a living doing it--because, let's be honest, isn't that the goal--then I should probably take the advice that my friend, who works in the industry, gave me--especially since her opinion has been reinforced.  What's more significant is not that I have work to do to get it to a place where it is publishable, it is the fact that I do have something to work with, that is potentially publishable.  

I just need to overcome my stubbornness and get over myself and do what I need to do in order to get it to the place where it needs to be.  While it might take more of an overhaul than I have previously been willing to give it, if there are bigger possibilities on the other side of that then it is worth it to try. There is nothing definite, and it might not, in the end, work, but it has more a possibility of leading towards success than any other avenue that I can pursue right now as a writer.

At least I am nearly finished with grad school, where I will have the actual time to pursue it--even if I have to get a full time job.  I would rather work 40 hours a week some place and be able to come home and do whatever I want with my time than continue being a student where I have no free time.  I have my own studying to do, my own work to do, my own goals to pursue.  I find that it is easier working full time being a part time writer than going to school full time and being a part time writer.

That means I have to find a job.  That is the tricky part, actually.  On one hand, I will have a master's degree, on the other, I am in Ohio.  It could be worse, I suppose.  Ten years ago, I worked, and struggled, and had no degree, and no hope for the future, and now, my life is completely different.  That's something at least.  While I might not be as successful as I would like to be right now, the fact that I have progressed gives me hope.

One difference between successful people and unsuccessful people, besides luck, and connections, is persistence.  If I have an avenue towards success, even though it will take hard work, it is the way I must go.  I can either be stubborn and accept obscurity or I can follow that little glimmer of hope and see where it takes me.  Time to stop being stubborn and self-righteous.

Chinese Democracy

Nine Years ago I set out to write a 200 page book. Of course, I had no idea about page counts or anything. I was totally clueless. It has take a lot of editing and rewriting and formatting and designing---and research! So much research! But I am finally within hours of putting out my first novel. It turned out to be 56,996 words, which is 201 pages (including the title pages and all that).

Well, like anybody else, I originally aspired to go the traditional route and try to get published by a big name and move to New York and make lots of money---but that was before I knew anything about self-publishing or had given a thought as to the possibilities of having complete creative control. 

Hopefully all of the time and work that I have put into it over the years will pay off and people will read it and like it. While it will certainly take some more work---work of a different nature, but work, just the same---to get it out there , I am moving forward, taking the next step. For that, I can be proud. We'll see what happens. I am also finally finishing college (with my master's degree). Everything is happening all at once. 

While I know I probably sounded like Axl Rose about Chinese Democracy---that album is out. That is not to say anything about the quality of said album, but he promised it and it happened. I personally feel my book turned out better than I had thought possible, and I have really learned a lot along the way---and I have so many more ideas to try out and see what happens...

First things first, time to focus on school---for just a little bit longer.  In a short while, I will be graduated and looking for a job.  But for now, for right now, I am a novelist---that is not to say a "professional" novelist, but a novelist just the same.

*Pops cork on champagne*

The Final Push

I am in the middle of proofreading and it is going very well.  I am very confident in the design and the formatting.  The text itself turned out really nicely as well.  Of course there are a few small changes to make, but they are mostly small formatting errors and tweaking of the text here and there than typos.  In fact, I am finding relatively few typos, which is really good news.  

The formatting marks aren't too noticeable but I want it to look as professional as possible---even though I am only a one-person operation.  Those tweaks are mostly what I'm changing.  The typos I am finding are annoying but they aren't significant.  Basically, I feel like I am in good shape, even though I am also now balancing it with school.

Nearing the completion of this nine year project has made me nostalgic about it.  It is interesting how far I have come in the nine years since then---how I have slowly grown through my latter twenties and am getting ready to bloom in my early thirties.   

I have spent a lot of time working on this project and now is my time to make it through the final push and start getting it out to people.  It might take years, but in a few days I will have self-published two books, Out in the Garage and Tales from the Fringes.

While certainly it is not the same thing as getting published by some large corporation, I am hoping I can work those differences to my advantage instead of letting them be a disadvantage.  Of course I never really tried very hard to go it the traditional route, either.

It doesn't matter now.  I am happy with the route I have taken, and if it doesn't go as I plan, I can always try something different the next time around.  Either way, I have to get back to work---if I am going to make it to the next step.

Words Inspired by the Sound of Silver

The past few days I have really been listening to LCD Soundsystem a lot.  This came about after I watched the documentary, Shut Up and Play the Hits on Netflix.  Now I am listening to the album my interest has come to gravitate around, .

This album strikes me in a number of ways.  It is catchy, well-written dance pop with a soul.  The repetition of dance music really intrigues me---as some who uses a lot of repetition in his own music.  I wouldn't say that I listen to a lot of this type of music, or electronic music, in general, but there are a few that I am very familiar with, such as The Chemical Brothers, The Prodigy, Basement Jaxx, some Daft Punk...  I also really like New Order and DEVO.  Anyway, it the repetitiveness really puts me in a trance when I am writing and I get a lot of writing accomplished this way.

My music is more guitar driven, the more I focus on really learning the instrument and being able to play it halfway decently.  Whatever else happens in my life, I hope that I can always make music and write fiction.  As long as I can sell my product on the Internet, if I choose, when the time is right, in the manner of my choosing, I will continue to do it.  Perhaps I will make a living doing it, or, more likely, I will end up working some kind of job and continuing to do these things as a hobby.  Either way, I will be happy, because the joy that I get out of producing them is worth it.  While I may not be able to call myself a professional writer, I can always call myself an artist---since an artist continues to produce the art, no matter what.  Many of the greatest artists of all the different media are driven to do the art regardless of whether they are able to do it as a means to the end of making a living or not.  While greatest is not something I can decide myself (since it doesn't really matter as much what I think as a writer compared to what the reader thinks.  Rightfully, therefore, I will let the readers, or the lack of readers (or listeners, or lack of listeners) decide how to label me.

That's why the satisfaction of it must come from the doing of it, in the same way that life is a journey and not a destination, or however the cliché goes.  That way I have control over my happiness, or at least as much control as anyone can have over something intangible.

There is Nothing Like the First Time

It has been a long nine* years.  I lost track of how many versions I have written---probably enough to impress even someone like Hemingway.  Not to say that it is even comparable to Hemingway, but I do have to count The Sun Also Rises as an influence, and I have written at least as many drafts of mine as Hemingway did of A Farewell to Arms.

I began to write my first manuscript after I had been reading books like Fight Club, The Catcher in the Rye and The Great Gatsby.  I started writing it, and, after about 35-40 pages, it sat for a few years, through another haphazard attempt at college, which ultimately ended up in failure---me dropping out, a two-time college dropout.  I seriously began working on it again, on whim, but this time with more vigor than I had ever dreamed I would when I started it.  It became more than just a thing---it became the thing.

Also around this time, I met my wife, and she only pushed me to continue working on it, to pursue this monster that had suddenly become a dream---a hope for something more than slinging burgers or managing others doing so.  We moved to Chicago, on a whim, pursuing some kind of hope for a better future, neither of us with a bachelor's degree, or any real connections.  We just picked up and left.

To get out there, I worked at a Chipotle and she as a nanny---and we tried to make it work, but Chicago is expensive.  I started applying everywhere, sending out more and more creative versions of my resume until I finally landed a second job as a part-time recruiter's assistant at a staffing agency in downtown Chicago---suddenly, here I am, a two-time college dropout, working on the 19th floor, surrounded by skyscrapers, reaching out beyond my comfort zone and finding new ground.  I also left Chipotle and began  working at the FYE Superstore around the corner from the Chicago Theatre, as a supplement to my recruiter's assistant income.

We lived three blocks from Wrigley Field, on the northside, so I found myself riding the El every day to work.  I commuted about a half hour each way---or more, if the train was late, which it often was.  I found myself with about an hour to an hour and a half every day in need of something to do.  I think I wrote my first four to seven drafts in the two years that we lived in Chicago, most while commuting back and forth between home and work.  I even carried around a pocket-sized notebook and wrote during brief, free moments, while I was at work.  Ideas that I would later incorporate into the draft.  I would then take all my notes and handwritten chunks and transcribe it all to Word.

The Hemingway comes in after we move back to Northeast Ohio and end up in Akron.  I applied for more loans (I mean, I'm already in the hole, far, far below the surface---what's a few thousand more dollars in debt) to go back to college---since I might as well at least have something to show for my effort (and the money I will have to pay back, regardless).  This time, however, I did things differently.  I changed my major to English, with a minor in creative writing, and took all the creative writing/fiction classes they offered.  I wrote several more drafts during this time and found that I really excelled at English.

Finally, in December 2011, I graduated with my bachelor's degree from Kent State University, but it wasn't enough.  Nine months later I was back in school as a graduate student at the University of Akron, which is where I still am, about two years later.  We have moved to a nicer house in a nicer neighborhood, and I am four classes and my thesis short of getting my master's degree in Literature.  I have self-published a short story collection, and I am on the verge of publishing this first novel, nine years in the making.  It has become as familiar to me as the material world around me.  When I close my eyes, I am there, with the characters, living their lives, experiencing everything they experience.  The world is so visceral, so complete, I can't believe it came from my imagination---from abstract to manifestation.  I only hope others will won't just read it, but will also have an experience.

It fills me with happiness that, not long from now, this book, this realization of an idea that came from my brain, will start a life of it's own, and, while I will be moving on to the next project and the next project---there is nothing like your first time.




Note
*After thinking about it, I realized my first statement of seven years was wrong, since I actually started this book in 2005.

Leaving Prep City and Entering Reality

My main concern about being a TA is the possibility of it taking over my life.  I don't want to let it do that, in spite of the fact that teaching is a main component of my future, and this is my learning teaching on the fly.  I plan on treating it on the same plane as my other classes -- and any other aspect of my life that I deem to be as important.  If I don't put it on the same level as everything else, I will be negligent to the other parts of my life that I believe to be just as important.

Playing guitar might suffer, but that will push me to focus on the most important aspect of it, which for me is merely just doing it.  As long as I able to do just that, from time to time, when my schedule permits -- in fact, I find it to be a good distraction, when I need to hit the restart on my hard drive.

It is a new part of my life, and it fills me with exuberance.  Every day I can't wait to devote a chunk of my day to it.  It has consumed my time over the past week.  I guess that's what happens when you wait until the last minutes to get it all together -- not that I had a choice, since I didn't have much to go off of until I started reading the book and went to orientation.

I hope to find the balance that I need, though, which means I will have to be disciplined, in spite of my state of mind, which is more often than not, chaotic, messy, racing.

However, the more I work, the more self-consumed I am, and the more I accomplish.  It becomes all about setting goals and never giving up on them -- even after I have accomplished them.  It's all about patiently forward motion, building momentum, and hitting all the random tasks along the way -- kind of like passing a level in Super Mario Brothers.

The High Speed Police Chase to the End of the Semester

"It's 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark and we're wearing sunglasses."

"Hit it."

I get in my car and have someone weld the door shut.  I start the ignition, put my foot on the break, put the car in gear, and superglue my hands to the steering wheel.  There is a cardboard sign in my back window that reads, "May or Bust."

I can't stop.  If I don't spend virtually every waking hour on my school work, I will not make it there.

I can't let silly little things like sanity slow me down or stop me.  I've got to keep going.  Word after word, inch after inch, page after page, mile after mile, I must reach my destination or die in a fiery explosion.

Next week I have five presentations, three on Wednesday and two on Thursday.  Not to mention two paper proposals, and my regular reading and classwork.  The three presentations on Wednesday don't scare me, they are three of the same presentation, to three different college composition class, on writing research papers.  The one presentation on Thursday isn't a big deal, it is to my Melville class, which only has like 8 people (including myself), and is about our reading.  

The other presentation on Thursday, however, is at the University of Akron Student Innovation Symposium.  It's not a big conference or anything, but it is more official, and it is  based on my research of the Middle  English romance, Havelok the Dane.  The title of my presentation is "Class, Status, and Social Order in Havelok the Dane".  It is based on a paper that I wrote for my Middle English Lit class at Kent.  I am not nervous...Yet.  I volunteered to do the presentations on Wednesday so by Thursday (in addition to the ones I have already done this semester) so that by Thursday I will be a seasoned pro at presenting.

Hopefully this experience will then translate to me giving a presentation at the MMLA Conference next November.  That I won't find out about until June.  That presentation, if they accept it, will be on John Updike's Rabbit, Run, and my assertion that there is no subjective narrative voice in the text.  In addition to the experience, it will be cool to go to because it is in Milwaukee.

There is also a Shakespeare Conference in the fall that I would like to present at.

Right now I have to focus on getting my classwork done.  But all these presentations are good experience (and good to add to my CV, which is still rather bare), but I won't be going very far if I don't have good grades.  I already have two of my final papers somewhat figured out, and one more to figure out.  I have two proposals due and lots of research to do, which means that my weekend is over. Hell, my weekends for the next month are over.  Sorry, folks.  I'll see you all after May 10.

I *should* be finding out soon whether I am getting the assistantship. I don't know whether I will or not, but I do know that I am still in the running.  I am keeping my fingers crossed and my nose to the grindstone and hope that my application is strong (Hell, I know it's strong, but hopefully it is in comparison to the other applicants) and that the professors who are on the committee know me and believe I am capable of handling a position (because I know I am).  If I don't get it that will change my future plans (since I won't be able to get into a PhD program without it).

In addition, I have thought of a thesis topic and have contacted a possible adviser about it.  

This has been such an up and down semester.  Two weeks ago I was at the verge of losing my nerve and now I am more confident and reassured than ever.  This is the first time I have ever needed a Spring Break just to keep my sanity, but it worked.  Everything seems to be coming together.

Speaking of which, I am still trying to get Tales from the Fringes together.  I need to give it a thorough proofread before I am satisfied.  I don't have to make any major changes, and I am satisfied with the formatting and the content.  By the time school is out for the semester I will be ready to promote it like crazy.

I am still weighing my options about my novel.  On one hand I definitely have a great idea and it would be worthwhile to rewrite it; however, many of the criticisms from my professional reader I was prepared for, and these things didn't bother me necessarily, beforehand. I am thinking that I am going to self publish the current version and take that part that she liked and expand on it and write it in a more focused, detailed, and professional way.  

The main problem with my novel as it is now is that the style is out of date.  The publishing industry has a very narrow concept of what makes a good novel, and it doesn't necessarily mesh with the canon of Western Literature.  Then again, many of the works that constitute that canon weren't popular at the time. 

I'm not saying that I am that good or anything, but, as a student of that literature, particularly as someone who is working towards a PhD. in it, I am highly influenced by the canon.  If I limit myself to what currently constitutes "good" literature, while I am certainly more likely to get published, I feel like I am vastly limiting my creative possibilities.

I am not saying that I am not going to write books that fit within that narrow scope, but I am not exclusively going to do so, nor should anybody.  Maybe that is a part of the problem with the publishing industry.  Too few people get to decide what is relevant, and what they say is relevant doesn't match up with what is historically relevant.

While I am not against progress, I am against putting myself in a box, especially since, even if I meet the standard and I do get published, that doesn't guarantee any sort of success, which is why I am focused on trying to make a living in Education.  This way I can still do what I love and make some kind of living.

I just think it's illogical that many of the books that we define as great, that have stood the test of time and are still relevant today and are still studied widely all over the world, Melville for example (who is MORE relevant now than when he was alive), wouldn't get published today, because they don't fit in with what the INDUSTRY defines as good.

I am not saying that I am Melville, but, I am not saying that I am not, either.  Maybe my novel has faults, but it also, I think, has many strengths, too.  It is definitely a first novel, and it is well past due to be presented to the world.  I really want to move forward, and, since I am not delusional and have no intention of trying to make a living as a writer -- if it happens, it happens -- and I have already spent SIX years on this same goddamn novel.  I feel like I have been jerking off for the past six years.

I feel like I do owe it to my audience to put it out and make it accessible.  I will likely write a more focused, YA version of that one particular section, but there is no reason why I can't put out what I have.  What else am I going to do with it?

I don't know.  For now, I am going to get through school, get my short story collection out, build more of an audience and advance professionally.

I am thinking, I am really leaning towards, self-publishing my book as it is.  We'll see what happens.

I should get back to work.

A Hipster, Ranting about Music and Stuff

I love Pink Floyd.  I'm sure that's no surprise to anyone by now.  Seeing Brit Floyd last Sunday was awesome.  I would have loved to see the real Floyd on the Dark Side tour.  That would be a dream come true.  Brit Floyd was as close a facsimile as I can reasonably get.  Roger Waters voice, as often happens (see Mick Jagger), went to shit.  At least they have voices at one time.

My voice has always been shitty.  I can live with it, though.  It's what I've got.  That's why the weirder my music the more I can justify my terrible singing.  That's how the entire genre of punk was invented.  And garage music.  Once you learn the different forms of the pentatonic scale you are good to go.  That's what I love about Iggy Pop.

I don't know what I'm going to end up recording, but, I do have Spring Break coming up.  Perhaps I can experiment.  Maybe in the meantime I will work on a drum part on my drum machine.  Now that I have actually learned how to use it I can make some pretty good sounding drum parts.  I just essentially listen to a good drum and then try and rip them off as much as possible.

That's the great thing about the best music.  It's unapologetic.  It is what it is, no matter what it sounds like.  It's music for music's sake.  It could be anything.  Rock, pop, country, alternative, psychedelic, punk, prog rock, mariachi...  Whatever it is, as long as it is created from a love of music.

Not that musicians shouldn't get paid, but, they should make the music they make, on some level, whether it's just playing guitar in their bedroom on a Friday night, closing their eyes, and imagining an audience.  That's another thing about the best music.  It's for an audience, whether the audience has paid to see it, or just happens to catch it on a street corner, people donating whatever spare change they have in their pockets.

I don't care if it's popular, or not.  I used to care.  It used to seem like popularity equates with the worst music, and, sometimes that's true, but not always.  Sometimes there are some good popular songs too.

It doesn't really matter if it is all about the music.  The music is what's most important.  Too often, it seems like, people lose that.  I try not to lose that.  Music really is just the greatest thing in the universe.

That's just what listening to good music makes me think about.  Dark Side of the Moon never fails me.  I never get sick of it or am disappointed when it comes on.  I don't even have to be in the mood.  It's effect is that potent.  It's like a rattlesnake bite bite that makes you high instead of killing you.  The best music does that no matter what.

I don't know what that makes me or care.  I used to care.  But it doesn't matter anymore.  I don't care what type of fiction my fiction is.  I am supposed to care, I am supposed place some kind of label on it and stamp it for approval, but, it just is what it is.

Whatever, man.  Seriously.  Whatever people want to label it, that's alright with me.  Those few people who are even paying attention.  That's alright.  If they don't want to label it at all, don't care enough or whatever, that's fine too.

It doesn't change anything.  I am still going to publish it in some form, even if it is just so I can have a copy.  That might be narcissistic but it's true.  I wrote it, I might as well get some kind of satisfaction out of it, if all else fails.

Hopefully it doesn't, but I don't know what is going to happen.  Right now it is out of my hands.  Right now I can't do anything but focus on school and do well and hopefully make it through with at least a small portion of my sanity intact.

If not, I will certainly get a lot more writing done in that ward of the hospital.

Unlike Jack Nicholson, I won't be faking it, at first.  If it happens.  I'm not saying that it's going to happen, but I can't entirely rule it out, either.  I have know other people to crack (and I have a history of it, already).  It is difficult to stay positive sometimes, but, I try to find something that makes life seem great again, whether it is my wife or my friends or music or writing or cuddling and watching Star Trek with Cheech and Elliot.

I have have to get down to business this weekend and, really, these next two weeks, two papers, three presentations, lots of reading and regular studying, and as much ass-kissing as my poor chapped lips can bear.  I feel like I need some Clearasil from the lip acne from the assne from all the lip to ass contact.

Now is my opportunity to write a paper on Melville.  The last time I wrote a paper on Melville my professor read it out loud to the class after he graded the essays as an example to the rest of the class.  I about crapped when I heard the words I had written spoken by someone else.  That was cool.  Now I have to present my own paper to my class.  Last time I did that it was for my Updike paper and I think that went remarkably well.

That paper I sent a proposal to do a real conference presentation. I also want to do finish the long version of it so it is article length and submit it to the John Updike Society contest.  The conference version is only ten pages, my goal for the article version is twenty-one.

Right now I just have to focus on my classes.  I've got to figure this Melville paper out and get busy on the Shakespeare stuff.  I've also got to start practicing the presentation on writing research papers I am giving to a college comp class a week from Wednesday.  I am super excited for it.  I hope I will not sound like a complete reject.  I am starting to get a lot better at doing presentations.

I just have to distract everyone with a cool power point and explain my argument carefully.  It worked with the Updike thing.  I can even use that as an example.  It was certainly not a typical paper for me, since it was focused on the language.

Well, the album is about over for me right now, "Brain Damage" is leading into "Eclipse", the climax.

~

"...And all you create
And all you destroy
And all that you do
And all that you say.
All that you eat
And everyone you meet
All that you slight
And everyone you fight.
All that is now
All that is gone
All that's to come
And everything under the sun is in tune
But the sun is eclipsed by the moon"