The Wish Gods

Sometimes I feel like this guy.

I was nine when I understood what people meant by, “Be careful what you wish for.”

I’d wish for my dad to get married. Well, okay. Maybe the expression should be, “Be careful what you wish for unless you’re very, very specific.”

If I’d known that at nine, I’d have wished for my dad to marry someone nice who won’t cause me to leave home and to steal my own stuff.

Perhaps the wish gods are the most wicked of all the gods. The wish gods work in tandem. The first one plants the wish in your mind. For example, you might suddenly realize you wish to be a writer.

The wish grows. The wish roots itself deep in your mind and your soul. By the time you realize you might have been had by a wish god, the roots are so deep, you can’t rip it out without ripping yourself apart.

And then perhaps comes the other wish god who gives you what you want.

Oh. In the meantime, other wishes have been planted, and you are a big wishing mess. And no god has created a big enough wish weed whacker to get this under control.

Okay, enough of that.

I’ve gotten my wish, and that is a great thing. I just hope I know what I’m doing.

And don’t get me started on the hope god.

Investaphobia

All my eggs in one basket?

No one in the history of the universe invests money in a company knowing they’re going to lose all said money. Oh, some people may invest in losers because they know how to actually get more money later–yeah, real estate nightmare, anyone–but the plan is to make money eventually.

People lose money of course. Plans go awry. Hopes are dashed. Dreams are deferred.

I don’t really understand any of it. I confess a deep suspicion that making money without actually making anything in return feels wrong. This sort of thinking gets me nowhere and I’ll probably be a hair’s breath from living in a box and eating beans out of a tin when I’m old. Well, I’ll draw pictures on my box, so there.

Anyway, I want to be a writer. I guess I am a writer? (How does one even know? It’s not like I got a certificate saying so.)

And this has required the craziest kind of investment. Do you want to be a writer? Well, here is Book Street. How much are you going to invest?

How much time? I’ve written 8 novels and at least 80 short stories. That’s taken years. How much money have I made with my writing? $10. That’s less than a dollar per year.

(Thankfully, I like baked beans.)

Well, if you count the cost paper, ink, and postage, I think that $10. is, well, not going to cover it.

But I’m finally, FINALLY!!, going to have my first novel, The Blue Jar published. I am happy. Happy about this fact. Make no mistake. The feeling that I’m dragging my battered carcass over a finish line is nothing compared to the feeling of knowing I have reached that finish line.

Although, it isn’t a finish line, is it?

I’ve got all those other manuscripts, and more I want to write. And I’ll write even if they move the finish line across an ocean on fire and on the other side of a mountain of knives.

But it’s a lot to ask my family. Hey, sacrifice all this money and time on my dream! But else does a person say? Don’t mind me. I’ll give up my dream because you’re here.

No. Not going to do that.

There are no guarantees. No one can predict how a book will sell. My book could sell thousands of copies or next to none. All this work, time, and money and I could still be left with an unread book. And several never-going to be read books.

What kind of investment is the writing life and why do we do it?

I think Wall Street is too risky, and yet I do this.

Hope springs eternal. And foolishly. Gloriously.

“The point is that writing, for lack of a better occupation, is good. Writing is right, writing works. Writing clarifies, cuts through, and captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit. Writing, in all of its forms; writing for life, for money, for love, knowledge has marked the upward surge of mankind. And writing, you mark my words, will not only save my life, but that other malfunctioning part of me called my soul. Thank you very much.”*

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*Totally lifted from the Gordon Gekko speech in the movie Wall Street. (Though I’ve never actually seen the movie.)

Bad Stories and Good Fans

The other night I watch a documentary about a movie I haven’t seen. Well, the title Best Worst Movie caught my attention. And I had, at least, heard of Troll 2.

Have you seen Troll 2? Even if you haven’t, watch the documentary.

At one point, people in the film talk about how something badly done is still great if done with passion, love. Though they also say that is true of a film, not of a book.

I’ve heard people say a movie is so bad it’s good.

Does anyone ever say that about a book?

Do you love a movie that is so bad it’s good? A book? Anything?

Another moment from the documentary I could discuss–if someone were hear to listen to me!–was George Hardy’s reaction to the horror film fans. (Hardy is a dentist who starred in Troll 2.) Now, I don’t like horror films, but I love those crazy fans. Sci-fi fans, horror fans, fans who wait in lines, fans who collect insane amounts of memorabilia. They have passion. I don’t like apathy, and these folks are not apathetic. Even if I don’t get what they love, at least they love.

Good for them.

The other day someone on facebook–good ol’ facebook–posted about how he thought people who write fanfic are wasting their time. Well, okay. That’s his opinion. But he said he spent a lot of time trying to convince the fanfic writers how wrong they were to write their fan stories.

Would you try to convince these people they’re wasting their time? Is that true? Have you ever written fan fiction?

If you had (have) a novel published, and someone out there loved your characters so much, that person wrote more stories about the world you created, how would you feel? (And I don’t mean people who steal your work and call it their own. Maybe you still call it stealing, but if they’re honest about–hey, this is fan fiction–would you be bothered or flattered?

I’d be flattered.

A Mermaid Story

I came across a site I quite like, and the fellow over there is having a flash fiction writing challenge–a fairy tale upgrade in less than 1,000 words. The site is terribleminds.

The fairy tale upgrade is this.

The Mermaid

There are other fish in the sea and June Mintz is a fish that keeps getting reeled in. She tells herself to swim on by, to ignore the bait, but there is a weakness in heart that makes her bite.

Trent O’Connor lives to sail the sea of love and he is not a man who throws fish back. He has a smile that charms, but that is not what catches June the first time. He looks at her and says things like, “Tell me about that.” He says, “That must have been hard for you.” He says, “You’re a strong person to have gone through all your problems and survived.”

June believes the things he says means he cares. She thinks he is interested in where she has been and where she is going. She hopes that she is going into his arms and into his heart. But these are not the places he wants her to go.

Trent sees the harm he causes no more than a fisherman sees the blood on a hook. He notices, but he forgets. He says he remembers the important things.

This summer is long and hot. No breeze stirs the water. June stands on the pier and looks at the shadows of fish darting under the surface. Trent is talking to another girl back on the grass. The girl is pretty and young, shining in the heat.

The water shows the empty blue sky. June sips her wine and tries to remember why she accepted this party invitation. What fish has ever caught a fisherman?

She wonders how the ocean would feel on her skin. The girl’s laughter drifts over the grass and out over the water. The hot air is hard to breathe. June thinks about how there are so many fishermen in the world with nets and hooks. Every breath gets harder standing on the pier.

Trent is watching the shimmer of the girl’s hair, when the hostess taps him on the shoulder. “Have you seen June?” she asks.

“June? Oh. She’s on the pier.”

“No. Her glass is on the pier. And her purse. But I can’t find her anywhere.”

Trent, the girl, and the hostess walk onto the pier. They stare at the water. Something splashes off in the distance. “Look,” says the girl. “Did you see that fish?”

“I didn’t think there were any fish that size this close to shore,” the hostess said.

“Maybe it’s a mermaid,” Trent said. “I’d sell my soul to catch one of those.”

The Light around the Corner

Sending your work out into the world is an adventure–no matter the path.

E-publishing is a widening path these days, but that doesn’t make it easy.

Friend and colleague, Niamh Clune, launched her book a few weeks back, and due to technical difficulties, has had to launch the book again. Many lessons learned, including–Amazon isn’t as easy to deal with as it leads one to believe.

But when you’re putting your work out into the world and asking people to take part in it, you have to keep the faith. Things go wrong, you could take it as a sign that it isn’t meant to be. You could see it as a sign that you must really want what you say you want, that you must persevere.

I’ve seen women and men come to a speed practice, and never come back. Maybe the realized skating as fast as a person can wasn’t for them. Maybe they let the fear of the corner get the better of them.

Why do we say that anyway? Get the better of someone. Seems to me if you get what is better, they should come out shining, right?

Ah, language.

So, Niamh has worked hard and seen her efforts reach the light. See where it shines.

Find her book at Amazon.

Thank you. And keep writing. Don’t let those corners get you.

The Perplexity of Others

one of my son’s projects

A fellow human being does something you don’t understand, how do you react?

It depends, probably.

Maybe you get confused, angry, or sad.

Maybe you tell yourself to keep an open mind, but maybe you’re clear on right and wrong.

I try to open my mind to another possibility. Sometimes I manage it. Sometimes not.

Now, if you read my blog, I assume you read fiction. Am I wrong?

But in the real world, I meet people who say things like, “I don’t read fiction. I only like true stories.”

A student of mine recently said she doesn’t watch movies because they aren’t real and therefore are a waste of her time.

Stories. A waste of time.

Okay, I realize I’m a fiction writer, and so my reaction is self-serving. Fine. Whatever.

And part of me does want to be reasonable and say, “Well, everyone is different and likes different things. That’s okay.”

But a less generous side of me exist. (Don’t you have such a side?) And this side says something more like, “What? What is wrong with you?”

Because, if I’m honest, that’s what I really think. Something is wrong with these people.

Don’t like fiction. What?!

My good-and-noble side battles with my I’m-right-you’re-wrong side. I fight the urge to shake these people. What did your parents do to you?!

Is it okay not to like fiction? What does liking or not liking fiction mean?

And this doesn’t even begin to touch on the people who don’t like fantasy or science-fiction. It’s not real, they say. I only like real stories.

One of my least favorite lines in the English language. I only like real stories. No matter how rationally a person says that, I hear it as only a whine.

And I know that deep in my heart I think something is wrong with that person even as I scold myself for being a jerk.

I recently watched a TED Talk (can’t remember which one at the moment) that talked about how we feel when people disagree with us. First, we think something along the lines of, “That person is stupid.” If we realize that person is not stupid but still disagrees with us, we think, “That person is ignorant. If they had all the facts, they’d agree with me.” Then we realize that the person is not stupid, has all the same facts we do, and STILL disagrees with us. We conclude, “That person is evil.”

I’m not saying I think you’re evil for not liking fiction…but…

I do think it is important to realize that normal, good people can get the same information and come to a different conclusion–and not be evil. Hard to put that into practice, don’t you think?

But I still think you’re living only half a life if you don’t like fiction.

Measuring Your World

Do you know when you’ve gotten better at writing?

I don’t.

Sure, if you’re published you could look at sale numbers, but that’s not he same thing as getting better. That’s getting more popular.

my skates

Anyway, three days a week I go to quad speed skate practice. I used to be one the slowest. Well, the coach doesn’t say slow. We line up fast-to-fastest.

Recently I got to move in the line to closer to the middle. The other night, a skater who used to pass me couldn’t.

I was so happy. Such a feeling–a year of three-days-a-week practice, and now I’m faster. I can feel it. Others can see it. I hit the curves and feel happy.

Next year I’ll compete in Nationals. I doubt I can beat women who’ve been skating for years, but it will be an experience. Over 40 and competing in Nationals!

Writing though…I write and write and write…am I better? Must be. Right?

How do you measure that? How can you see it?

And what do you do in life in which you can measure your progress?

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Measuring facebook numbers here.

Brimming Over

don’t stay in the cup

Sometimes the mind just brims over with ideas. Do you ever have trouble deciding what to focus on or what to pursue?

I’m going to pursue as many as I can.

One is the idea of a princess detective. I want to try to write a princess that isn’t what most people think. I’m writing about her over at The Fairy Tale Asylum.

Another idea goes back to my love of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks and Agent Dale Cooper. Cooper is one of my most favorite characters on television ever. Twice readers have said that my writing reminded them of Twin Peaks! I don’t know why since I don’t have a murder nor do I write about the northwest, logging, or the FBI–but my character do drink a lot of coffee.

Anyway, I’ve started another blog for a character in love with Agent Dale Cooper and determined to find him in the real world. For her travels and travails, read searching for Agent Dale Cooper. If you want to help her find her man, feel free to leave a comment.

I’ve got an art show coming in October as well. Projects will be posted over at Words Are Art.

And finally, there is always facebook.

What projects are you juggling in life?