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.

It came!

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.

The Distraction of Distractions: My New Set-Up

So I am not writing on top of writing (i.e. I am not writing fiction when I am supposed to be writing my thesis and burning myself out on writing), and because I do need a distraction that is distracting but not drawing from the same resource as what I am distracting myself from, this is the distraction that I am choosing while I make it through this semester and rocking out my thesis, which is my main focus now, more than ever.  I found two un-opened blank Type II cassettes so I am pulling out the old Tascam 4-track and going analog for this one.  It has enough space for about 55 minutes of recording, so I am excited.  It limits what I am doing in a way that forces me to be more creative with each part.  The results end up sounding minimalistic in a good way, and my performances turn out better (and I become a better musician) because each time has to be perfect.  It also forces me to do more pre-planning, due to the limitations.  I have already developed a cool rhythm pattern with my drum machine, and there are a lot of possibilities to explore with it.  I also have working keyboard and guitar parts.  I think my goal is to record something unique, interesting, and fun.  Ah, the possibilities...

Generating Heat

It's estimated that it's going to take nine days to get my proof.  I ordered it today so hopefully it will come early (it usually takes half that time).  I was hoping to have it by Friday.

If that's all that I have to complain about, then I must have a pretty good life.  I hope everyone is staying warm.  I was out in it earlier, and I can definitely understand what all the fuss is about.  It does seem kind of over-dramaticized by the news, but I guess they have to remind people since it has been like twenty years since the last time it was this cold.  I guess there are always those people who don't heed the warnings and put themselves or others, or pets, in danger.

I remember it being this cold growing up---but the house I grew up in had no insulation (or very little), so it always seemed cold.  When it was cold enough that there was ice on the insides of the walls, we were allowed to sleep in the living room.  When it was no longer safe to sleep upstairs.  Otherwise, it was pretty nice.  We just layered it up under a lot of blankets.  It was a good time for deep sleeping

I am more of a late night person, though, so I don't necessarily miss that.  I like being able to stay up until I can't help but to fall asleep.  Sometimes it's practically all night, and I sleep from like five a.m. to noon.  Other times it's like ten  at night, and I can barely stay awake---even with the lights burning my eyes.  It's nice to live somewhere that stays warm inside, warm enough to be able to do something other than bury myself under a pile of blankets and hibernate, and it's definitely something that I will hopefully never take for granted.

I guess that means I will have no excuse but to continue working on my thesis and my lesson plans. Or rocking out.  Hopefully, more of the former, but also some of the latter.  I still have time to record one song.  That's what I will continue telling myself---even probably the first week of the semester.  My goal, is to not get stressed about it, to just get done what I need to get done, get through it, and come out of it with my master's degree.  I have, after all, applied for graduation already!

If I continue working hard and writing my ass off, it will pay off.  It's by no means guaranteed, but I am going to keep trying and see what happens.  Hopefully this nine day wait doesn't delay the publishing of Out in the Garage, but, if it does, there are worse things happening in the world.  Either way, my job promoting it is only beginning.  It's not starting off very hot, but, there is no where to go but up.

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.