Half-Assed

Over the thirty-four years of our marriage, the wife and I have learned a hard truth. For DIY projects around the house, unless it involves stereo or entertainment equipment, I need to politely abstain. Why? Because I suck at them. #DIYFAIL It took a while before I learned my lesson, but when every household project I worked on turned out looking…well…half-assed, the continual disappointment afterwards was enough to seal my fate. You would never see a visitor admiring something I put together with my own hands, or inquiring as to “who did your work”? I could blame the outcome on second-rate tools and/or materials (because we don’t want to spend the money on the right tools or first rate materials, thus the DIY), but the reality was my lack of skills and general disinterest. I’m not like my neighbors, my co-workers, or it seems most of the home-owning world -- I simply don’t feel compelled to study the craft (whatever it involves…wood working, masonry, landscaping, etc.) enough to produce the result I’m after. So, I had two options, 1) spend a few more pennies to see our vision come to life the way I want it to, or 2) learn to live with half-assed. My answer - I’m okay with bowing to the expertise of others and accepting the added cost.

However, when it comes to the ultimate DIY project - my writing – nothing can be further from the truth. Back in my early days, blissful inexperience led me to produce material that had no business being seen in public, much less commerce. But that was due to ignorance, not laziness or lack of effort. Since then I have studied and worked hard to produce a superior product. I’ve taken this “hobby” seriously, devoting myself to strengthening both my voice and the technical aspects of writing, soaking up everything I could learn about the business-side of publishing, all for the dream of seeing one (or more) of my books on the shelf one day (via traditional publishing).

But there comes a time for hard truths…and this is one of them.

I’ve accepted the fact that circumstances in my life that have continually hindered me along the way, will not change. I suspect this is true for many aspiring writers, especially those who are trying to balance being a bread-winner with the pursuit of an art form whose financial reward usually leads to scrounging for bread crumbs. Between my 50-60 hour per week “day-job” and my family, there are precious few hours left to devote to my hidden passion. And when you steal hours from Peter to pay Paul, unfortunately it’s family time that takes the hit. No matter how supportive your family might be that time drain takes a toll and there is a price to pay.

I’ve always held the belief that if I could write full-time, I would not only become published in no time – but be successful at it. But writing full-time is an unrealistic fantasy…and therefore I’ve realized…so is my goal. Sure, there are plenty of writers who hold down full-time jobs and still get published. I guess they must simply be more talented than I am. My hard truth is this - I possess a writing voice that requires nurturing to reach the quality deserving of the attention of mainstream publishing, and there isn’t enough time in the day to do that.

Where does that leave me? With some questions and some answers.

Question number one – are any of my manuscripts publishable? My answer – yes! I (and others) believe that to be true and there is an audience for my stories.

Question number two – what is my next step? In my last post, I discussed self-publishing or seeking small presses, and those are still viable options I will explore.

Question number three – am I giving up on landing an agent? Yes. I won’t continue to chase the bouncing agent ball, instead I’ll probably seek out the services of a serious editor while simultaneously planning how to go about releasing my book into the wild.

What I won’t do is allow my frustration and impatience to release something I deem “half-assed” into the world.

Stick around and get comfortable because I’m not going anywhere. Things are about to get interesting.

☺

The Comfortable Silence

I’m back!!

After 169 weeks working on a major project (a new ERP implementation for our company), culminating with me being away from home 19 of the last 20 weeks, 14-15 hour days – including weekends – the grueling schedule has finally come to an end.  Thankfully things are slowly returning to a new-normal for me, and that includes my alter-ego. 

The writer part of me has been muted for the past six months, and it was absolute torture. Imagine being tied up and shoved into a sense-deprivation chamber for that long, except the opposite. The part of my brain responsible for fueling my creative juices and attempted to project those ideas outward through my writing – still as active as ever – had to be ignored. There was simply no time for it. Eight years ago, before I re-discovered my love of telling a tale, that wouldn’t have been a problem for me. But once you’ve swam in the pool of imaginative expression, there’s no going back. I sacrificed lots of things over the course of this project, missing my son’s soccer games and tennis matches, his birthday, getting his driver’s license, my wife’s birthday, not attending the DFW Writers Conference, WRiTE CLUB, and many many more, but having to turn my back on the characters and stories that pleaded for me to come out and play – that was probably the hardest.

I’ve had a lot of people comment about the toll it must have taken, being alone in a hotel room all that time.  Frankly, apart from missing my family terribly, the last year or so (when the travel was the heaviest) I rediscovered my affinity for comfortable silence.  Introverts don’t mind being alone…in fact they prefer it…so it should be no surprise that the stillness of an empty hotel room wasn’t a problem for me. What does surprise me is how many people find silence so uncomfortable, and go out of their way to drive it away. The worst is when they resort to banal conversation to eliminate our serenity. Maybe they’re afraid of what they discover if left alone with their own thoughts? Who knows, but for me, this turned out to be a surprising benefit of this project. I can’t remember a time in my life when things were that quiet. I’ve never lived alone (college roommates, shared living spaces, etc.) and once I got married…well…family life is the exact opposite of a quiet living.

You know another kind of silence I’ve adapted to? The non-existent rejection letter. One of the writerly duties I managed to continue during my self-imposed exile was sending out query letters for my already finished manuscripts. It seems that between the last time I queried (back when I landed my first agent) and now, more and more agents have adopted a don’t ask don’t tell philosophy. Meaning – they don’t bother to send rejection letters any more, they simply let the silence speak for itself.  While I don’t agree with the practice (to me, that’s just pure laziness), I have come to grips with what it says about my writing.

I don’t have what it takes to crack the crystal barrier.

That doesn’t mean I’m throwing in the towel. No sir! I might not have the skill to craft a query letter that will sway an agent my way. Or maybe my books aren’t mainstream enough to take a gamble on. Whatever the reason, I’m relying on feedback from countless CP’s and beta readers…and my own gut…all of which tell me that there IS an audience for what I’ve crafted. So…so long traditional path…and hello self-publishing.

Am I disappointed? Sure. You bang on a door long enough you begin to see your-self as part of the door…instead of just someone requesting entry. Many of the people I’ve become good friends with via the blogosphere have gone on to have their books published and realize their dreams, so it’s easy to feel left behind. But that’s something else silence provides…perspective. The circumstances of my life don’t fit the role of your typical writer, so my expectations need to change. And I’m okay with that.

More to the point…I’m comfortable with it.

Uncle

Growing up as kids I was known as the "stubborn one". That's the label you earn when you don't go along with the crowd or refuse to follow the path of least resistance. To illustrate just how uncompromising I could be, I once had an argument with my mother (which is constantly brought back up at family gatherings) over an exchange of money. She owed me $10 for my allowance...and I owed her $5 dollars for something she had purchased for me. She tried to just give me the net difference...$5...but I insisted that she give me the whole $10 and I would in turn pay her the money I owed her. Of course I knew that if I took the $5 I would end up with what I was owed, but it was the principle that mattered to me.  We argued for over an hour, until she finally relented.

On the playground I was the kid who wouldn't cry "uncle" with my arm twisted behind my back during ritualistic torture games us kids would somehow think amusing. Over time we stopped playing -- not because we grew bored -- but because everyone already knew who would win.

I told you...stubborn.

Today, I'm crying uncle.

NO -- I am not giving up my pursuit of publication. That is not what this is. What I am doing is recognizing that my current situation with my "real job" has made it impossible for me to temporarily keep doing certain things. Things like blogging, social media, participation in my critique group, and the hardest of all -- WRiTE CLUB.

The company I work for is installing a new ERP/EDI system this spring (one that I have been slaving over and continuously traveling for going on three + years), smack dab in the middle of when WRiTE CLUB would be going on. Through the end of May I'm anticipating long nights and single-day weekends, and I just won't have the bandwidth to give my beloved contest. So much of my writing-related activities, which includes WRiTE CLUB, will be on hiatus. I won't even be able to attend the DFW Conference this year. The only thing I will continue to do is send out query letters for my latest book. As slow as this industry moves, even if I land an agent it'll be after May before anything gets traction anyway.

This is not an easy decision for me - because I absolutely hate relinquishing the momentum my writing...and contest...has built, but it is the right decision.

Unless something dramatic happens in the interim, you won't here from me again until this summer.

Keep the fires burning for me!

Nuance

There are writers whose style is all about being in-your-face, bluntness, shock-and-awe, heavy on the action and sparse in the food-for-thought category. I’ve read them, I like them, I admire what they can do.

Then there are other writers who are more about subtle influences. Deft touch. Shifting pieces around on a chess board without explaining the motivation behind each move. A bit more cerebral if you may. I’ve read them, I like them, I admire what they can do.

I consider myself, as a writer, more in the second category. I love nuance. Setting a course by suggestion rather than pointing. For me, what isn’t said is almost as telling as what is.

But writing isn’t a black or white endeavor. Left or right. We can be ambidextrous. We can stomp on the accelerator to create as much chaos as possible, and still utilize understated symbolism to drive home a key plot point. Meaning is defined by much more than scale, and a light hand can sometimes resonate with a reader more readily than a banshee with a bullhorn.

At some point along the way we’ve all heard the phrase “trust your reader”. In a way it goes against common convention. Your readers are not equally intelligent, or insightful, or interpretive, so how can you shape your prose to universally reach as many as possible and therefore create that trust? The simple answer is you can’t.

All you can do is go broad and hope your nuance doesn’t get lost in the translation. 

That's my two-cents for the week. For those of you who celebrate it... 

MERRY CHRISTMAS!