Before I get ahead of myself, let me tell you about a performance I’ll be a part of today.  River City Swing will be performing at American River Brewing Company today, from 4PM to 6PM.  The address is:

11151 Trade Center Drive
Suite 104
Rancho Cordova, CA, 95670

Having said that, it brings me to the topic of this post: my music dreams are stepping on the toes of my writing dreams.

I’m a busy guy.

I’m busy at work, of course, and that’s generally a good thing.  I’m supporting my family through my job, and I’m working for a company that is making green energy more viable, especially in California.  Even when I complain about occasional long hours, I still like my job, and derive a great deal of satisfaction from it.  Whatever time work doesn’t consume is what I have to spend on my other dreams.

Let’s revisit my dreams for a moment.  When I was younger and first figuring out what I realistically wanted to do with my life, I narrowed it down to three things:

1. Become a music teacher, or some kind of performer
2. Become a writer
3. “Something with computers”

Looking at the scoreboard, I can see that “something with computers” pulled way out in front, and has become my bread and butter.  I’ve been doing something with computers for a really long time now, and it’s pretty great.

The music and writing dreams have not been fully realized.  If you’ve been reading my blog, you know that I’ve put a lot of effort into writing for the last several years.  I don’t have a ton to show for it, but I’ve been improving.  I have an unfinished second draft to a decent novel.  I have a couple of short stories which are, according to my writing groups, competent, but not particularly special.  I have a scheduled, dedicating time to writing every week.  And I have this blog, where I share the details of my life along this writer’s journey.

What about music?  Obviously, I’m not going to be a music teacher, though I did get a small taste of what it might have been like a couple of years ago.  I don’t have the patience for it.  Also, I don’t have the education for it.  I’m not qualified to teach children music, and I don’t have the time or inclination to become qualified.

Performing is another matter.  When I joined River City Concert Band a couple of years ago, it was mostly because my daughter was playing with the band.  I wasn’t particularly passionate about it, and my involvement at the time didn’t satisfy me as a performer.  In fact, I felt superfluous.  I felt like I didn’t need to put much more than a B effort into the music.  When my daughter stopped, I nearly stopped as well.  For about a month, I felt like I was wasting my time.

Then something kind of strange happened.  One of the tenors paid me a compliment, about how I was picking up a difficult section of music very quickly, and I suddenly felt special again.  I started putting in a little more effort, and I started to feel like a musician again.

When I was asked to fill in for River City Swing, I was reluctant.  My confidence wasn’t particularly high, and I wasn’t sure if I had the time.  Then I played with them, and suddenly, I was feeling things I hadn’t felt since high school and college.

So now here we are, several months later, and I’m playing in two bands.  Mondays are completely full, Tuesdays are completely full, and we have performances every couple of weeks.  My family has invested money in my music, giving me a new alto and a new soprano.  I’m practicing more at home.  I am a performer.

Last night, as I was falling asleep, I was thinking about music.  I thought of a trick for transposing from E♭ to B♭, which I’m sure lots of musicians already know, but it only just occurred to me recently.  When you want to go from E♭ to B♭, you add a flat.  Or going the other way, you add a sharp.  For example, a concert B♭ is a G on the alto, and it’s a C on the soprano.  A G scale has one sharp.  A C scale has no sharps or flats.  If I’m playing a G on the alto, it’s going to be a C on the soprano.  Another example… a concert F is a D on the alto.  A D has two sharps.  Add a flat, you wind up with one sharp, which is a G.  So a D on the alto is a G on the soprano.  As long as you know your scales, it’s super easy to transpose between the E♭ and B♭ instruments.

If your eyes glazed over during that last paragraph, it’s okay.  Like I said, this is the stuff I was thinking while going to sleep.  So the next time you’re having trouble sleeping, just transpose some music in your head.  You can thank me later.

Music has become a bigger part of my life.  What does that mean?  Am I giving up on writing?  Is this blog just going to be more boring posts about transposing?

No.  I need to write.  When I’m not writing, I’m unhappy.  I have a novel that needs to be finished.  I will not be completely happy until I’m holding a printed copy in my hand, with my name on the cover.

Spending more time on music means it’s just harder to find time to write, but not impossible.  I read a recent post by Hugh Howey, which looks like it’s about KDP and self publishing, but it’s really about persevering as a writer.  I needed to read this.  It’s encouraging in the ways I needed encouragement.  If I turn off Scrivener to do something else 99 times, it just means I need to open it 100.

Last week, I skipped out on my Wednesday night writing because I stayed up all night working.  This week, I skipped out on my Wednesday night writing because I was feeling a little sick, and I wound up going to bed at 8PM.  I’ve missed a couple of weeks, but it’s not the end of the world.  It doesn’t mean that the journey is over.  It means I’m taking a detour.  I will get there.  It might take a little longer than I intended, but I will get there.

I’m trying something different with the beginning of my writing session tonight.  Tonight, to get the juices flowing, I’m going to grab a writing prompt, and write using that prompt for ten to fifteen minutes.

Tonight’s prompt comes reddit.  The prompt is:

One day everyone notices the words “Human Update 1.1 progress 1%” in the corner of their eye.

---

 

Daniel awoke slowly, the blare of the alarm clock loud in his ears. He lay on his back several moments, staring at the ceiling. He was having trouble finding the willpower to pull himself out of bed.

His bare feet touched the hardwood floor, and the chill of morning bit into his legs. He cursed, rubbing his eyes as he shambled across the room towards the alarm clock. His hand hovered over the snooze button before falling on the off switch. Silence replaced the cacophony. Daniel sighed and rubbed his eyes again.

As he teetered towards the bathroom, he raised his fists to rub his eyes yet again. He stopped, blinking. It wasn’t an eyelash or eye snot in his field of vision. White text in a tightly kerned font floated in the lower right corner of his field of vision.

“Human Update 1.1. Progress… 1%.”

Daniel blinked several times. The words were only visible while his eyes were open. He fidgeted with his hands. He pinched his forearm hard enough, and winced.

“Is this some kind of trick?” he said. He smiled and waited a moment before saying, “Okay, you’ve got me. I don’t know how you’re doing this, but it’s pretty clever!”

When no one responded, he hurried out to his living room and turned on the television. A man and a woman sitting behind a desk with a cityscape behind faced the camera. On the bottom of the screen, the same words floated in a banner.

“-not sure what it means,” the man was saying. Both reporters were frowning. The man gripped his papers in a white knuckled grip that he didn’t seem aware of. The woman sat with her hands clasped in front of her, as though to trap them in one place.

“Doctor Parks, a biology professor with the University of Illinois is on line one,” the male reporter said. “Doctor, you’re on the air.”

“Thank you,” a phone voice said. “While we still do not know the exact cause of the visual phenomena, the two prevailing theories are mass hallucination, and spontaneous genetic mutation. Indeed, the latter

---

 

And that’s all I have time for tonight.

The writing prompt made me think of Daneel Olivaw, for some reason, so I named the protagonist Daniel.

I’m not sure exactly where I was going to go with the story.  This was purely seat-of-the-pants writing.  There were a number of directions I could go.  I actually like the prompt for that reason, though it didn’t really fit with a 10 to 15 minute exercise.  I could probably spend a couple of days with that and write a full short story.

Before I could finish it, I would need to look at the human condition and determine the one thing I would change to make the race better.  Remove violence?  Replace selfishness with altruism?  I’m not sure.

Anyway, that was an enjoyable exercise.  If you liked it, let me know, and I’ll do it again.  If you hated it, let me know that as well.

This has bothered me for so long, and I’ve wanted to talk about it so much, that it has blocked me from writing other things.  Today, it’s come to a head.  Maybe because it is March.  Maybe it’s because of the rumor that Westboro Baptist Church will picket Leonard Nimoy’s funeral.  Whatever the reason, I want to talk about how to deal bigotry.

But first, here are two answers that do not work:

Do not White Knight

It’s noble to stand up for the little guy, and fight for people that cannot fight for themselves.  Unfortunately, that’s the message you’re sending when you soapbox for people of a different race, gender, or sexuality.  You’re saying that people X cannot stand on their own, that people X are weaker, and require assistance.

White Knighting is not the same as spreading awareness.  When one group of people are oppressing another group of people based on something as superficial as gender, race, or sexuality, we need to know.  But if you are fighting for a people not your own, because you think they need it, maybe you should examine the root of your motivation.

Do not Counterattack

Reverse discrimination comes in several flavors and names.  No matter the direction, it’s still discrimination, and will not make our society better.  Instead, it polarizes.  People stop thinking, and instead, just start fighting over bullshit.

White males have ruled the world for a long time.  I cannot and will not dispute that.  However, calling on people to marginalize or ignore an individual’s work because they are white or male is, in the long run, just going to create a new bigotry.  That’s not justice, anymore than punishing a child for the crimes of their parent is justice.

 

Now, here are the three things you can personally do to make the world a better place.

Start with The Golden Rule

As a reminder, it is this: treat people as you would want to be treated.  That is the rule in its simplest state.  Personally, I expand it to include treating people with love.

This is an ideal.  You will not always remember to do this.  Depending on what’s going on in your life, you may not even be capable of doing this.  However, like any skill, the more you practice, the easier it will become.

If you choose to treat other people the way you want to be treated, you will stop doing the first two things I listed.

Remember that Individuals are not People

At my most cynical, I think people are generally stupid.  Individuals, on the other hand, can be exceptional.  When dealing with an individual, remember that they are unique.  Do not unnecessarily burden a person with the history and stereotypes of the people that they look like.

You may have been raised in a household (or a church) where bigotry was part of the education.  You may have inside you some prejudices that you are unaware of.  If you remember that individuals are not people, and treat every person you meet on their own merits, you will start to free yourself of the ingrained prejudices that you were unfairly saddled with.

Stop Feeding the Bigots

If the first two directions were idealistic, this one is practical.  When you become aware of an organization or an individual acting on prejudice, do not support them.  But keep the first two rules in mind when you do this.

The best way I can explain this point is through two examples.

Example 1: Chick-fil-A

I enjoyed Chick-fil-A, until I found out that they were publicly spending money to fight gay marriage.  I tip my hat to them being brave enough to stand on their principles, but I will not give them anymore of my money.  And I tell people about this, as I’m telling you now.

Chick-fil-A made a huge profit after it became publicly known that they were spending money to suppress LGBT rights.  This is the opposite of what should hav happened.  If we want companies to stop acting on their prejudices, then we need to hit them in the pocket book.

Example 2: A Relative

I have a relative that loves Fox news.  For years, she has sent ridiculous items to her friends and family.  Being the asshole that I am, I would read her emails, go check the facts, then send her a reply (usually with a link to snopes) saying that she’s spreading misinformation.  I asked her often to stop, and she finally took me off her mailing list.

I still had her on Facebook, and she still posted some crazy stuff.  Occasionally, I’d refute the most egregious things she posted.  Finally, she posted something that was straight up racist, and I called her on it.  I told her that I cannot condone that, and now we’re no longer in contact.

This relative is an individual.  I treated her as I would want to be treated.  If I say something stupid and offensive, I want people to give me the benefit of the doubt, call me on it, and warn me.  I did this for her.  Unfortunately, it didn’t work out, and now I’m not going to give her anymore of my time or energy.

 

I’m idealistic.  I cling to notions that make me seem naive.  However, I believe if we all did these three things, we would end racism, sexism, and mistreatment of people based on their sexuality.

Final thoughts:

It’s important to be ready to forgive.  If Chick-fil-A completely stops funding anti-LGBT stuff, I will consider eating their food again.  If the relative I mentioned ever approaches me to try to bridge the gap between us, I’ll listen to her.  This is all still part of the Golden Rule, really.  When I screw up, I want to be forgiven when I seek to make amends.

If I have missed anything, please let me know.  If I am mistaken, please let me know.  I want the world to be a better place for everyone, and not just for my children.

A couple of weeks ago, I talked about confidence, and how I need it in order to write.  Sometimes, however, the confidence just isn’t there.  During those tremulous times, when to do nothing means failure, I fake it.  I pretend I have the confidence, and move forward.

It’s not just with writing that I do this, though.  I do this during swing band.  I’ll look at a part of music that I have no idea how to play, like a long section of improv, and fake it.  It’s amazing how often this works out.  We are capable of doing much more than we think we can.

In the last few days, I’ve found myself in a position where I needed to give some advice.  I won’t go into the specifics, because the matters in every case were private.  But in every case, the advice ultimately came down to the same thing: If you feel weak, if you feel overwhelmed, if you feel like your best just isn’t enough, pretend otherwise.

Be real with your loved ones.  Be real where it counts.  But when it comes to adversity and you need to move forward, the best thing you can do is set aside what you think is real.  You might fail anyways, but failure is not the worst thing in the world.

The worst thing in the world is letting a moment get away from you, and wondering what would have happened if you’d taken a leap of faith.

If you find yourself on the edge of a dance floor, wanting to have fun, but afraid because you don’t know how to dance… fake it.  Of course you know how to dance.  Dancing is easy.

If you find yourself staring at a sheet of music, with 32 measures of chords instead of notes, and you’re afraid that you’re going to mess up your solo… fake it.  Stand up, fill your lungs, and blow.  If you can’t play it right, then play it loud.  You can do loud.  Music is easy.

If you find yourself staring at a blank page, with your head full of imagery and characters, but the words just aren’t coming… fake it.  Write anything.  There are people that have written some really terrible things, but still managed to get some sales because, in spite of their malicious use of words, they managed to convey cool ideas.  You have cool ideas.  So write them down.  You can do it.  Writing is easy.

(Quick note: in that last example, if you’re one of my writer friends, I’m not talking about you.  I’m thinking more along the lines of L Ron Hubbard.  Or E L James.  Or Stephanie Meyer.  And if you’re fans of their work… great!  You’re not alone, but I’m not one of their fans.)

Fake it long enough, and you WILL make it.

Before I launch into another evening of delightful edits, let’s warm up with a blog post!

When I started this blog, I did it because I wanted to act more like a “real” writer.  I wanted to take my writing career more seriously, and many successful writers that I admire have a similar public outlet.

This is my open journal.  This is a place where I share my writer’s journey, taking note of the pitfalls I’ve discovered.  This is also where I celebrate some of my successes.  I’m entertaining the idea of using this as a sketchbook from time to time, taking writing prompts and creating some quick, light fiction here.

Sometimes, I want to comment on something that is more of a political or religious nature, and I stop myself.  I’m afraid that I’m going to say something that is going to get me blacklisted.

Stop and appreciate with me the absurdity.  I’m not afraid of posting my sloppy fiction here, but I’m afraid of posting my own, genuine opinions on real life in this place.  This place that I maintain, that has my name all over it.

It’s a legitimate fear, though.  Just read this article from the New York Times.  People have been publicly shamed for making jokes.  Lives have been ruined for quips taken out of context.  Is it wise for anyone to put anything real out in the public?

Here’s an example of the kind of thing I’m afraid to say here: I think Bill Cosby has been mistreated by our society.

“But Brian!  He’s clearly a rapist!  How can you say that?”

Well, for starters, I don’t believe everything, just because a large number of people come forward and say it is so.  In regards to Bill Cosby, it is uncomfortable taking this stance, because the allegations are about rape.  It doesn’t get much more serious than that.

Whether he did the crimes or not, it is not up to me.  We have a legal system.  The legal system may not be perfect, but it’s the system that we have.  When we go outside that system, we embrace vigilantism and anarchy.  I am not an anarchist, and I actually believe our legal system is pretty good, even if it’s a bit flawed in some places.

One of the problems with this whole situation is that almost all of the allegations point to a time well beyond the statute of limitations.  This eliminates the ability to formally prosecute.

Instead, he’s prosecuted in the media.  Bill Cosby’s performances are curtailed.  Honorary titles are revoked.  He becomes the butt of jokes, unwanted, and disgraced.

I don’t know if he did he crimes or not.  I have an opinion, but that doesn’t really matter.  If he’s guilty, then maybe justice has been served.  If he’s not, though, then we as a society took a collective dump on an old man that didn’t deserve it.

I want to talk about these kinds of things sometimes, but I’m afraid.  I want to talk about feminism, equality, responsibility, and the principles of our society, but I don’t want what I say to be taken out of context.  I don’t want what happened to Justine Sacco to happen to me.

I’ll probably just stick to fiction, and less controversial subjects.  But sometimes I’m sorely tempted to say something real.

I struggle to hold on to my confidence.

This is not something that’s isolated to my writing.  It’s a problem I face with my music as well.  Sometimes, it’s a problem I face with programming, with being a father, a husband, a decent human being.  The shadows of mind rise up, I grow cold inside, and I think, “I’m not good enough.”

Most of the time, I think I do a decent job of hiding it.  My wife thinks I’m arrogant, so maybe I overcompensate sometimes.

Sitting in band, the feelings of inadequacy sap some of the joy from making music.  But with band, I push on.  I’m not there to make money.  I’m there to make music.  Besides, if I am truly as terrible as I sometimes think I am, the band would just ask me to leave.  There are lots of sax players out there.

At work, I ignore the feeling more easily.  There’s too much work to do, and not enough time to do it, and there is money involved.  I put my headphones on, turn up the music, and just do what needs doing.

Writing is another matter.  I look at making money with my writing with the same dreamy eyes as someone looking to make money by playing the lottery.  It’s a long shot.  I can dream, and I can strive, but I’m not going to quit my day job.

So I don’t have the incentive of making money, like I do with programming.  I can’t look at the paycheck and use that as a numbing agent to push on.

Writing is a solitary endeavor.  With the band, there are other people, good people, right there beside me.  Sometimes I can tell myself to do my best for my band mates.

The only one holding me accountable with my writing is me.  I’ve tried to use writers groups to provide some kind of external pressure, but it’s just not the same.  In fact, sometimes the groups actually draw me away from writing, as I spend time reading work from the others in the group, and drafting critiques.

In order for me to write, I must summon my willpower, sit my butt in front of the keyboard, and go forward.  Confidence is my writing fuel, the way others might use caffeine.

For the last week or so, my confidence has not been there.  Part of it is because I was feeling under the weather.  Part of it was the editing I’ve been doing.  I’ve read some of the work I’ve done, and I’ve had to pinch my nose and reach for a figurative pickax.  How can I inflict my writing on other people?  Why am I wasting so much time?

This is where the real work comes in.  I have to find the confidence, wherever I can, and push on.  I remind myself that the parts of my stories that stink can be fixed.  I tell myself that it’s only a waste of time if I give up, and never show my work to someone.  I find the parts of my story that I haven’t looked at for a while, that are actually quite good.

And when there is some glimmer of external encouragement, I latch onto it and treasure it.  Jennifer Carson recently gave me a nudge on Facebook, asking where the heck my story is.  She didn’t need to do it.  She has lots to read already, and she is well connected in the writing community.  But she did, and I find it difficult to describe how much I appreciate it.  It was a lifeline, when I was quietly drowning at sea.

To Jennifer, and to my wife, also wondering why my book isn’t finished, thank you.  I’m writing tonight.  I have a fresh batch of confidence to burn through.

It’s Saturday afternoon, and I’m sitting in my “writing” Starbucks.  I’ve spent the last several hours working on The Repossessed Ghost, and I’m taking a brief break to gather my thoughts and drink a hot drink.  Life is good.

Life hasn’t felt all that great, the last couple of weeks.  Mostly because I’ve been working so hard at my primary job.

Don’t get me wrong.  I really like what I do, and derive a great deal of satisfaction from the programming I’m doing.  I’m creating software that I can be proud of, that’s contributing to the bottom line of my company.  And I’m paid well, and (more importantly) appreciated for my hard work.

Nevertheless, I worked about 120 hours the last two weeks.  I burned the midnight oil, and when I ran out of that fuel, I started setting other things on fire.

Note that I volunteered this time.  I’m a salaried employee, and no one is compelling me to work longer than normal hours.  I’m doing this because I believe strongly in the work that I’m doing, and I want the projects I’m working on to meet their deadline.

But there are only so many hours in the day, and spending that much time at work means I’m spending less time doing other things.  Unfortunately, one of the first things that gets thrown out is my writing.

I continue to save Wednesday nights for writing, and I continued to show up.  But for me, it takes a little bit more than just putting myself in front of the keyboard.  For me, writing is an act of will.  I need to be able to make decisions, find words, and push through all of the anxiety and fear that surrounds my inner editor fills my head with.  In order for me to write, I have to be able to harness my willpower.

When I have burned through all of my energy at work, and I find myself unable to write in the evening, a terrible thought floats through my brain.

“A real writer is compelled to write.  If you were a real writer, you would be writing.”

There’s some truth to that, but it’s also bullshit.  If you just exhausted yourself helping someone move a piano, you can’t expect your next workout to be great.  If you just spent an hour and a half shouting at a concert, you can’t expect your singing voice to be pristine.

Or if you’re like me, and you just spent 10 to 12 hours at work, doing complicated equations and holding entire systems in your head, you shouldn’t expect your writing to come easily, or be stellar.

This all sounds like an elaborate excuse.  It sounds like a doctored up, “I can’t write right now.  I’m too tired.”

Only you can know if you’re bullshitting yourself or not.  Or, if you’re like me and it’s difficult to tell, put yourself in front of the keyboard and try to write.  If it hurts, maybe you’ve strained something and you need to take a break.  If it doesn’t, then keep going.  You’ve successfully dodged self-deluding yourself into not writing.  Reward yourself with more (or better) words in your manuscript!

Okay, break time is over.  Time to harness my willpower and turn my imagination into shareable words.

It’s a lovely Wednesday evening.  Melissa has joined me at the writing Starbucks.  I’m getting ready to dive into editing another chapter or two.  Before I open up Scrivener, I want to talk about strong emotions and writing.

I’ve heard people say that when you’re in the clutch of strong emotion, you should write.  You should channel those feelings into prose, pouring whatever sorrow or joy that’s infecting you onto the page.

Maybe that works for some people, but it doesn’t really work for me.  When I’m particularly angry, as I am this evening, I find the emotion to be as distracting as someone playing loud music next to me.

Why am I angry tonight?  It’s mostly a collection of little things.  I’m a little bit tired.  I’m a little bit hungry.  I ran into a little bit more traffic than I wanted to.  And of course, work has been really busy lately.  I shine under that kind of pressure, but pressure can sometimes generate heat.  For me, heat often means anger.  And I’m feeling it.

Whether it was anger, sorrow, elation, or anticipation, I don’t want too much of it when I’m writing, because when I write, I want to concentrate.  I want to be able to focus and find the right words.

So what do I do when I’m coming into a writing session with a head and heart full of noise?  Honestly, most of the time, I abandon the writing.  I’m good at compartmentalizing, but if I do it too much, I’ll reach a point where the emotions are going to get out when I don’t want them to.  So instead of suppressing, I do something else.  I play a video game.  I surf YouTube.  I drink a beer.  I ride it out.

Tonight, I’m doing something different.  I’m telling you all that I’m a raging tornado tonight, full of fury and cacophony.  This simultaneously gets me warmed up for writing, while also releasing some of the pressure.  I’m almost done with this post, and already the winds of my anger are slowed from throwing mobile homes around to holding kite strings taut.

Maybe I’ll write a story someday where I can just channel the emotions directly onto the page.  I don’t think so, though.  My thoughts have many voices, and the ones with all the nice, descriptive words are difficult to hear when so many others are howling.

Happy New Year!

I’ve remained a bit distant in social media, and silent on my blog, but I haven’t been idle.  I’ve been busy programming at work.  I’ve also been busy with music.

I didn’t realize how much I’d been anticipating playing the New Year’s performance with the River City Swing Band.  It was your typical mixture of fear and excitement.  We played four sets, which wound up being almost every song in our book.

Performing in front of people doesn’t bother me.  In fact, I feel fantastic being on stage.  I once told someone that I’m quite comfortable performing, but I realize that’s not quite true.  I enjoy that particular flavor of discomfort.  When that extra pressure to focus and perform is placed on my shoulders, I shine.  I enjoy the energy of being in the moment.

We did a really great job.  The performance wasn’t perfect, but everyone had a really great time.

We had someone filling in for our usual second Alto, and he was absolutely amazing.  He was, quite honestly, a much stronger musician than I am.  He played really well, and it was great playing with him.

The experience of playing with him, and playing with the band, roused some of my inner demons of competition and feeling inadequate.  There was this quiet voice in the back of my head whispering, “This guy is so good.  Why don’t they ditch me and keep him?  It would make the band stronger.”

It’s a maddening voice, because it always sounds so reasonable.  It comes up with different words fitting the same theme with my writing.  It usually says something along the lines of, “You’re never going to go anywhere with this.  You’re not a strong enough writer.  Why are you wasting your time?”

Fortunately, I am getting better at not listening to it.  I’m not wasting my time with my writing.  If anything, it’s the best use of my time because it’s mine to spend, and I’m spending it in the pursuit of my dreams.  Whether my writing goes anywhere or not, I’m honoring the part of me that needs to write.  I’m feeding the part of myself that hungers for more than food.

As for the band?  They seem to be happy with me, and we’re making really fantastic music.  If they ever ask me to leave, then I’ll leave, but I don’t think it’s going to come to that.

I’m not going to spend too much of my time worrying over fears of inadequacy.  Instead, I’ll practice, and get better.  I’m a stronger musician than I was a few months ago.  I’m a stronger writer than I was a year ago.  And in a few more months, I’ll be stronger still.  I just have to be patient with myself, keep my head up, and keep playing and writing.

This is a new year, with new opportunities to get things right.  Let’s make this year awesome, and chase our dreams like we mean to catch them.

Oh hi.

I’ve been a bit quiet here and in social media lately.

We’re in the middle of December.  Where was my triumphant NaNoWriMo victory post?  Where is all the news and excitement about my writing projects?  What the hell happened to Brian C. E. Buhl (or, for those of you that like to look at my URL and give me grief, Briancè)?

Well, it’s like this…

I work in the energy industry.  I’m not going to bore you with the details, but the energy industry is driven by state and federal incentive programs, which have due dates based on the calendar year.  That means that as the end of the year approaches, projects that have dallied suddenly become frenetic.  Everything has to be done immediately, and there is simply too much to do in the amount of time available.

I’m not going to make this a giant excuse post.  I’m just going to say that I prioritized the job I’m getting paid to do over the job I’m not getting paid to do.  Programming work intensified, and I had to cut back in other places.

It didn’t feel good.  There was a moment in mid November when I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to make my goal.  I felt it, and it was cold.  I became quite surly for a while, there.

But we’re into December, now.  Christmas is right over there, approaching like a boulder tumbling down a hill.  It’ll be upon me, soon.  I haven’t done any shopping yet.  I sure hope I get that done.

In other news, I’m still playing in both the River City Concert Band and the River City Swing Band.  Like my writing time, my music time has suffered some casualties in this busy work time.  I had to miss a concert on Sunday, and a practice on Monday, all due to work.  I have a performance this Friday, and another this Sunday, neither of which I’ll miss.  If you’re in the Sacramento area and you’re interested in attending, leave a comment and I’ll get you the details.

It’s not all gloom and doom.  I’m not an unappreciated wage slave at work.  They recognize that I’m working really hard and making sacrifices, and they’re supportive.  I feel appreciated, even though I feel a bit overworked.  That’s quite a feat, which says something about my employer.

So, I’m still alive, even if I’m off doing “real life.”  It’s Wednesday evening, and I’m at my writing Starbucks.  Michael is here, working feverishly on the next Dead Weight book.  It feels like old times.  It feels like good times.