07/12/13

The Evil Editor…

So far, my posts have been targeted at establishing this blog, and giving a little bit of history.  It’s good to lay a foundation before building a castle of deftly worded opinions on top.  I’m sure there’s more memories or anecdotes for me to share.  However, I want to get to the meat of it.  I want to talk about writing itself, and why I’m struggling.

Bear in mind that I don’t want to simply whine.  I’m going to whine some, but only because I need to get it off my chest.  I also don’t want to validate my stagnation with impenetrable excuses.  The truth is that I’ve been wasting my time, because I’m afraid.  Yes, I have a full time job, and a wife, and children, and healthy hobbies.  I can’t honestly say that I haven’t wasted a lot of time, playing stupid games, or simply watching YouTube.

I’ve been avoiding my stories, because I’m afraid.

I have some friends that have shared with me their writing, and some of it, I’ve had to pinch my nose to wade through it*.  I’ve told those friends the truth, complimenting the places that I could compliment, and gently urging changes in the places that desperately needed to be changed.  I try hard not to be an asshole, even when I’m being honest.

I know that I can do better.  Hell, I’ve read a bunch of L. Ron Hubbard, and I know I can do better than him.  Not that I have any intentions of starting religion or doing a bunch of cocaine… I just think that if he be a successful writer with things like Mission: Earth, I can do better.

I’ve had strange experiences reading my own work.  I read the book I wrote when I was in high school, and while a dime-story detective novel set on the moon is interesting, my actual execution was so horrible and non-publishable that it’s embarrassing.  On the other side of that, I’ve stumbled across other short stories and found them to be amazing, discovering only after I’d finished them that I was the author.

English teachers have told me independently that I have a strong writing voice, and I believe them.  After my return to college in 2006, I discovered that I can parrot other writer’s voices.  I wrote a few essays, using Emerson’s density.  I wrote some fan fiction, adopting the mannerisms and inflection of Robert Jordan.

With all of this bragging, why should I be afraid to write?

I build up my expectations too high.  I don’t give myself permission to write a shitty first draft.  I go a little ways into my story, and I start gritting my teeth, wondering how I could write so terribly.  I reread what I’ve been working on, and the Evil Editor inside can’t sit still.

I’m afraid I won’t meet my own stupidly high expectations, and instead of trying and failing, I simply fail to try.

It’s bullshit, and I’m not going to do that anymore.

It may be that I’m delusional about my ability to write.  It may be that the best I can do will make the worst of L. Ron Hubbard seem like Shakespeare.  As long as I waste my time, no one will ever know.

* Oh… and if you’re one of my friends that has offered me their writing?  Please understand that I have more writer friends than you may know of.  I’m probably not talking about you when I say I had to “pinch my nose.”

07/9/13

My Day Job…

I just updated my “About” page to reflect that I’m a full-time programmer.  Let me elaborate a little bit.

I currently work for a small electrical metering company.  I create windows applications and services, and web applications.  I help with other tasks as well, and I bring in doughnuts every Monday.  It’s a really nice environment, and I feel very comfortable and welcome in my workplace.

I want to emphasize that I’m in a really great job, because it was part of my plan in pursuing my writing career.

In 2011, I worked some place that wasn’t nearly so comfortable.  I was underpaid and unappreciated.  I was very unhappy.  I wasn’t writing much at all.  I’d pretty much given up on several dreams, and I was fairly depressed.

I was in this low state of mind when my friend Michael posted to Facebook that he had an extra ticket for WorldCon in Reno.  I’d heard of the Hugo awards, but I didn’t really know much about WorldCon.  I got the ticket, gave Michael a ride to Reno, and attended with very little in the way of expectations.

It was like I’d gone home.  I’d found my people.

I attended panels and took fastidious notes.  I rubbed shoulders with fans and authors, usually unable to distinguish one from the other.  I got to sit with and converse with Sheila Williams and Glen Cook.  I found people that shared a love of the same stories that I loved.  It was like waking up from a bad dream.

During this fantastic experience, I received a call from work, giving me some news I didn’t care for.  All they said was that they were moving my desk, and that the move wasn’t going to wait until I was back from Reno.  In the grand scheme of things, that’s not the worst thing in the world.  However, it struck a sour chord in me.  It was a reminder of the world I was temporarily separated from, that I would return to at the end of the convention.

I growled, grit my teeth, and then pushed the call to the back of my mind.  I enjoyed the rest of the con.

Eventually, the con ended, and I went home.  Then I went back to work and saw just how crummy my new work environment was.  And that was it.  I vowed to get away from that place and work somewhere that I’d be happier.  I was sure that if I was happier, I’d write more.

I’m definitely happier.  I have written more, but the words aren’t exactly flowing just yet.  I’ll talk more about that in another post.

07/8/13

In the beginning…

I think the first thing to establish is why I’m doing this.

For over 25 years, I’ve dabbled in writing.  I loved writing throughout school.  I loved writing out of school. For nearly a decade, my favorite pastime was playing in a game with some friends, where the whole point is to take turns, writing paragraphs to create interactive scenes.  In 2006, I went back to college to focus on writing.  It’s always been an important part of my life, and my talent and voice is something I take pride in.

Now that Westercon 66 has come and gone, I’ve decided to step it up a notch.  I’m going to write a little every day.  If I’m not working on my story, then I’ll write something here.  Some day, I want interested editors or publishers or readers to be able to look me up at this site, and be able to learn a little bit more about me and my writing.

This is a start.  This is the first stroke of the pen across the page.  Hopefully, the ink will continue to flow, and the imagination will continue to fire, and all the things that have been lodged in my heart and my mind will be freed for the world to see.

A blog seems like a good start.