jazzfish: an open bottle of ether, and George conked out (Ether George)
My in-laws descended upon my house from Tuesday evening through Sunday morning. If you have ever wondered whether it is a good idea to have your high-maintenance in-laws stay with you at your workplace for several days while you're recovering from a nasty cough, I am here to tell you it is not. [personal profile] uilos occupied them during the day as best she could; this mostly involved the three of them leaving around ten to go do something touristy and coming back around two. To their credit they didn't actively try to disturb me during my workday. It's the passive disturbances that got to me: not being able to pace without running into someone unexpected, noises in the kitchen (right behind my workspace), all that.

I am starting to feel more human again. Key being 'starting.' Spent most of yesterday in a fog. Arguably I shouldn't have tried to go running yesterday morning as my lungs may not be up to it yet. Bleh. Stupid body, work better.

Things I would like to do this weekend include 'beta comments for [personal profile] thanate' and 'cut Bookwyrms by 2/3 so it's under the thousand-word flash fiction wordcount limit, where I think it and editors will be happier.' Also 'have pancakes for breakfast' and possibly 'get out to gaming for the first time in a couple of weeks.' I think (think) I'm good for more than 'stare at laptop screen / tv screen / Device screen / book,' at least for a few hours.
jazzfish: Jazz Fish: beret, sunglasses, saxophone (Default)
Home from World Fantasy in "Toronto[1]." Tired. Met a few new people, said hi to just about everyone there that I wanted to (did not go up to Charles Vess and say "hi, about a decade ago you gave me a tour of your studio, and that is still one of the awesomest experiences i've had" because I wasn't willing to either stand in line or interrupt him on his way somewhere), went to panels, went to readings, attempted to go to parties and was mostly driven out by the sheer volume in terms of both 'people/square foot' and 'decibel level.'

[1] The actual location (Richmond Hill) was more like a con in Fairfax (City) claiming it's in DC, if Dulles Airport didn't exist. Apparently the way to get to the con from the airport by transit involved three buses and a subway. We just rented a car for the weekend, which turned out to be cheaper than a taxi, less stressful than juggling transit schedules, and a chance to be good samaritans to [livejournal.com profile] papersky who took the train in from Montreal and ran into the same problem.

Had some unexpected self-reflection late last night, which in turn gave me a little bit better idea of what I'm looking for out of cons & (maybe) what I need to do to get that. More on that later.

We've acquired a great many books. One of the ways they justify the obscene registration cost is by giving you a backpack full of books as part of the welcome package. Also, in a moment of weakness I accepted a free mass-market copy of The Name Of The Wind, which puts me one step closer to reading it. I blame having heard Rothfuss read from the second book and being entirely taken by the voice. Remains to be seen if this will overcome my reluctance to start an unfinished series.

I've also recognised that nothing kicks my desire to write into high gear like listening to someone giving a good-but-not-great reading. My mind grabs onto neat idea-bits and (since I'm not so good at staying focused on audio, especially by people who don't do the police in different voices) I start drifting into what I could do with those ideas. Sometimes they're where the story's going anyway, sometimes they're not strong enough to support any kind of structure... and sometimes I get one and a half story seeds plus a concept that might be the first novel-length anything that's ever occurred to me. Right now it's just the equivalent of a back-cover blurb. Will poke it a bit and see if anything comes of it.

Next week (that's November 10-17) we'll be in the DC area. So if you're looking to get lunch or dinner or something, let me know. In particular, I have no plans for Memorial Remembrance Armistice Day, though sadly [personal profile] uilos will be in Richmond entertaining family.
jazzfish: an open bottle of ether, and George conked out (Ether George)
This couple of weeks has been good for me. My fingers are getting twitchy and odd phrases strike off ideas like sparks. Very slow time travel. Language as the originator of memory. We used to be star people. I'd forgotten what it feels like to want to write.

A few months ago I listed all the things I want to do, as sort of a way to demonstrate to myself that there is literally not enough time to do them all. Means I've been less worried about lower-priority things like learning to play go well, or writing interactive fiction, or what have you. Helpful as far as it went: gives me a bit more focus, all that. I'm starting to think I need to write out a list of goals and steps I can take to further those goals. You know, like a real grown-up. Having something specific I can do every day is likely to help a lot.



The above was written on Monday in O'Hare, over the course of several hours during which it was too warm to think or focus on anything for more than about five minutes at a stretch.

Since then nebulous work-related stress has eaten much of my energy. Scared that this is going to be an ongoing state of affairs; pushing on anyway, because other options are worse.

Anyway, WisCon. )
jazzfish: artist painting a bird, looking at an egg for reference (Clairvoyance)
I've been out here writing for three days, more or less. In that time I have:
  • polished and submitted "Bookwyrms"
  • half polished "In the City of Memory" (formerly "voice")
  • written another half scene and done a bit of plot noodling for "Southbound"
  • gotten halfway unstuck on "One Only"
  • started writing another Bookwyrm story
I've also visited Forks, WA; learned that not everyone who says "yeah i'll read your story and get back to you" actually will; almost been solicited for an anthology (and if I'd had a sale already I would have been; to the left, that's just based on being here with the editor, so not as impressive as it sounds); listened to talks on outlining, plot vs story, and how to read aloud; and hung out with Klagor, Nicole, Amanda, and various people I didn't know before this week.

It's been fun but I'm not entirely convinced it's my thing. Still feeling a touch isolated, still not confident or comfortable enough to break through that. I may do better just taking a weekend off by myself every so often and holing up in a cabin or hotel room or whatever. But it /has/ been good to meet the people I've met, and to spend some time around other writers. Will think on it.
jazzfish: Jazz Fish: beret, sunglasses, saxophone (Default)
Complaints of xpost failure have been coming through; let's see if this one makes it.

Wrote the Last Lousy Fifty Words of the bookwyrms story last night. (Give or take a couple hundred, what with actually writing transitions and making the ragged edges of scenes meet properly instead of [[[DOWNSTAIRS]]] or [[[CAN'T DO THAT]]] or just leaving a bunch of whitespace.) It got a first-read response of "adorable," which is good enough. I'll let it sit for awhile and revise it early next week, and then I guess I submit the thing to its designated anthology.

I'd still like to be writing longer pieces (this one clocks in at 1500 words) but hell, two stories drafted is twice what I had for all of last year.

This evening I hop a train to Seattle, on which I shall Relax and also do the reading for the Commie Pinko Writing Contest. And tomorrow I'm off to the Rainforest Writers' Retreat in the company of Nicole and Klagor and what I presume are a variety of other cool people. I have no idea what I'm going to work on while I'm there. Maybe I ought to brainstorm/outline one of these ideas I've got lying around. Maybe that'll get me writing something more substantial.



Unrelated to writing, it'll be good to get away for awhile. The main advantage of a long-distance relationship wasn't so much that it provided opportunities for random travel; rather, it provided opportunities for random travel without my partner. I love [personal profile] uilos dearly but we're both at home All The Time. After nine months with only a week and a half break for VP I'm starting to get twitchy for some sustained Me Time.

I could also do with some time when I'm not expected to be staring at work, I expect. Brain is slowly leaking out my ears.



Linkspam, loosely media-related edition.

Liam Neeson versus, well, everything, from "Wolves" to "Outdated Ideas About Sexuality," with a stopover at "The Bastard English" ("aren't there actually two of those?").

Very tangentially related, A History of Ireland in 100 Excuses. Via Crooked Timber, where Maria notes, "It’s almost impossible to cherry-pick because half of the fun is the cumulative effect, and the other half is they’re so damn funny." (For linguistics geeks, an explanation of #10, and further amusement.)

TV Is Broken: "Did it break?" "No. It's just a commercial." "What's a commercial?"

Against Big Bird, the Gods Themselves Contend in Vain, in which [livejournal.com profile] scott_lynch re-encounters the best Sesame Street special ever, Don't Eat the Pictures. "[I]t's plain that we've had Big Bird figured all wrong. He's no kindergartener. He's a previously unknown aspect of the Eternal fucking Champion."

The Star Wars Saga: Suggested Viewing Order. Brilliant. (My preferred viewing order is "IV," but I'm in the minority that doesn't care much for Empire on account of how it's not a complete story.)

[personal profile] rbandrews notes that "someone at w00t harbors dreams of being a slipstream writer."
jazzfish: artist painting a bird, looking at an egg for reference (Clairvoyance)
Words: 1008
Total words: 2053
Neat things: Spitting on a hologram. Being responsible for an entire city.

Reports from the front:
10 AM: DRAFTKILL COMMENCING.
3 PM: Well, this isn't the story I thought I was writing, but given the trouble that one was giving me I'm okay with this.
6 PM: Right on schedule: 100% plotted, 75% written, 99% sure it sucks.
8 PM: Hey, that's a draft. How'd that happen? Now to revise.
10 PM: Alpha-read, lightly revised, and sent. What a day

I dunno, man. I sat down at ten this morning intending to come out the other side of today either with my story or on it. After not getting anywhere for about an hour I came up with a different plot altogether, and got the whole shape of that one, and then it was mostly just typing it up.

I don't know what I've learned from this. External deadlines motivate me like nothing else, but I knew that. I can in fact still come up with a story when pushed; that's good to know, though I'd rather it were a bit less stressful. Part of why I couldn't get anywhere with the original plot was a vagueness as to what happens when... but I knew what the next scene was, and I couldn't just write it and find out what happens next from there. Maybe my process has changed. I don't know that I approve if it has, although if it stops me from writing twenty pages of buildup so that I know what happens in the three pages of plot it's a net positive.

Also, the suck in this one is localised to a pair of conversational exchanges. Too bad that one of them sets up the whole emotional payoff, and the other is that payoff. Oh well. Only way to learn is to fail, and the next one will be differently bad.
jazzfish: an evil-looking man in a purple hood (Lord Fomax)
Words: 227
Total words: 1084
Neat things: Raptured nerds sent to colonize / strip-mine a planet; the job's done when they get things up and running well enough to build a spaceship to get them back off again.

Blarg rant can't write words stuck whine blarg. Used to be able to write and write and write and look up and work out where it was going and write some more, and the process was painful but at least it got somewhere. Now that's good for maybe a few hundred words; after that I work out where it's going and I still can't write it. Spent all afternoon and much of the evening not writing this, trying to bash out the plot/structure I've got. Success was what they call "limited," or maybe "minimal."

This is the third thing running (VP story, Bookwyrms, this) where momentum carries me through a perfectly decent opening scene and then I freeze up on writing anything beyond that. The last two I managed to turn that opening scene plus a bit more into a 1500-word vignette but I don't want to write vignettes. Except apparently I do, or something.

At this point I am seriously out of ideas as to what is wrong with me. I guess I write vignettes until I either figure out how I can write something with more meat to it, or give up.

Blarg.

I am...

Feb. 11th, 2012 11:00 pm
jazzfish: Randall Munroe, xkcd180 ("If you die in Canada, you die in Real Life!") (Canada)
... running a Technoir game on Thursday nights, for [personal profile] uilos, semilocal J--, and M-- who physically reminds me a great deal of Andy "Not the President" Jackson. Character creation... I'd like to say it went well, and maybe it did, but it also involved a great deal of flailing about on my part because I'm not all that familiar with the system and I didn't have a Transmission printed up and ready to go. Still, I'm looking forward to the first real session next week.

The whole concept of Transmissions (insta-plot generators) is bloody brilliant and may have been designed expressly for my GMing style. A given Transmission contains a page-long description of the city it's set in and six lists of six items each: contacts, events, objects, factions, locations, and threats. Contacts (NPCs the PCs have some relationship with before the game starts) and threats (smaller than factions; usually 3-6 NPCs who'll be opposing the PCs in some way) are fleshed out and given stat blocks; the others get a sentence or two and maybe some tags (system-specific attributes). I randomly add three of these items to a plot map during character creation and brainstorm connections between them. Then any contacts that the PCs call on for favors during chargen get added to the plot map as well. As the game goes on, the PCs lean on their contacts for information, the contacts get connected to other plot nodes and bring in additional random plot nodes themselves, and I tie it all together in a coherent fashion. The hard part, as usual for me, will be knowing when to stop adding nodes and start moving towards wrapping it all up.

... through the first season of Leverage, which was great fun. The pilot and the two-part season finale are some excellent television and the rest of the season didn't suck either. Good inspiration for a cyberpunk game. Parker and Hardison make me inordinately happy, too, and it's so very nice to have a show where I don't dislike any of the main characters.

... writing a story in the space of two weeks for a contest, in the hope that external deadlines will motivate me more than self-imposed ones and/or this story won't run into whatever it is the Bookwyrms one did. Already got a setting, a plot, and some events that are pulling the story in a completely different direction. Business as usual.

Is there a word or phrase for the kind of TV/movie SF that involves brightly-colored diaphanous robes and buildings made of featureless white stone with glowing crystals and control panels inside? Ray guns and blocky silver robots may be involved as well. It's not exactly atompunk / Raygun Gothic, or maybe it's a narrow subset of that aesthetic.

... making a habit of going on not-dates with women after they've said, for varied and excellent reasons, that they don't want to date me. (In other news, two! and it's not even Valentine's Day yet.) I'm mostly okay with this development. I've very much missed one-on-one conversations with people I trust other than [personal profile] uilos.

... laughing my fool head off, in a combination of admiration and self-recognition.

... very tired. Goodnight Gracie.
jazzfish: an open bottle of ether, and George conked out (Ether George)
The Scotiabank theatre is showing a bunch of older movies in digital format for $6 apiece. I've been here long enough that this seems like a remarkably good deal; a month or so ago, a 4 PM showing of Tinker Tailor was $13 per ticket. Last night was Serenity, which we watched in the company of several folk from gaming. Good times, good company. Been awhile since I'd been out to dinner with a larger-than-small group.

The movie... doesn't hold up as well as it might. Bits of it feel blatantly manipulative, Inara and Kaylee are ciphers, and they didn't give Zoe nearly enough to do. (So it's pretty much The Mal And River Show, with Simon along for plot and Jayne and Wash for different kinds of comic relief.) The plot's perfectly fine at least, though I wonder how lost you'd be if you didn't know the series.

Today has been a wash. Plans included: finishing this story, plot noodling for another, and writing ALL the email. Instead I wrote some (though not all) of the emails, poked at the story, lazed around on the internet and the Device. Meh. And realised that I'd forgotten I'd signed up to write a story this month. Exciting. Maybe it'll make up for this one being stalled out at what looks like ten feet from the finish line. bleh. Leaving it alone for awhile.

I disapprove of my lack of energy and motivation. I don't know what to do about it, either. And now it's the end of the weekend and back to work tomorrow.

slow times

Feb. 2nd, 2012 10:46 pm
jazzfish: Jazz Fish: beret, sunglasses, saxophone (Default)
PSA for those of you on both LJ and DW: you can now associate your LJ OpenID with your DW account. In practice this means you can claim comments made on LJ and imported to DW, so that they show up as being under your DW account and not "username.livejournal.com."



What the heck have I been doing for the last couple of weeks, anyway? Right, sulking and/or hiding, I remember now. *ahem*

Mostly it's been pretty quiet. Gave up on Farscape sometime week before last; started watching Leverage instead. It is exactly the kind of thing I like: fun characters with enough depth to be interesting, complex plots, and witty banter. I'd like to see more development of either plot or character as the season progresses. So far, though, it's sufficiently entertaining that I'll keep watching until either the arc picks up or I get bored with the lack of one. (Or rather, until I run out of season 1, at which point I'll probably switch over to Burn Notice because that's what's here. Which is okay too.)

Last week I went to see William Gibson with semilocal J--. Gibson is very tall, and stoops more than I do, which is impressive in its own way. He's also got pretty much no Virginia accent. Being gone for twice as long as you spent there will do that, I guess. He also talks fairly slowly, but consistently has some interesting things to say. Would stand in line to see/hear again.

Been kicking around ideas for a role-playing game since I seem to have stumbled into a few players. And still beating my head against a brief scene I don't think I'm good enough to write. Perhaps tomorrow I shall conquer it.

... it occurs to me that in addition to being the HUGELY IMPORTANT scene where the story either works or falls flat, it's a heavily visual scene, and I am whatever the opposite of a visual writer is. Nngh. I couldn't give myself a nice simple story to ease my way back into things, could I. Oh well. Learn by doing and all that.
jazzfish: artist painting a bird, looking at an egg for reference (Clairvoyance)
Words: 240
Total words: 1263
Neat things: Telling lies to small children (aka "foreshadowing").

Hey look, it's the Incredible Shrinking Story. I started writing with the expectation that it would clock in at around 5000 words. Then I worked out more details and it started looking more like maybe 3500. Now? I've lopped off the first scene (folded the relevant bits into the second), and with what I've got I'll be shocked to see it over 2000. Which is okay, I guess, except for how I no longer have space to futz around trying to fit in character description and semi-relevant background and all that.

Stephen Donaldson gets a lot of crap for not being able to write, but I've always liked his short stories. In the introduction to his first collection he said something like "Novels are easy, you just sort of throw words at the reader and if half of them stick it works. With a short story you have fewer words so you have to carefully place them behind the reader's ear or in her pockets."



I seem to be collecting different types of writer's block. I let the story sit for a week or two, thinking I needed some distance and mental processing time to work out how the ending should go. Turns out I knew all along how the ending goes, I just don't want to write it. I don't think I can pull it off.

Still don't, but that's something where just pushing on through will actually work. One more evening, two at most, and I'll have a draft.

(Shorter pieces are just as much mental effort and anguish as longer ones. This strikes me as deeply unfair.)
jazzfish: Phonics Down: a handful of feathers from the legendary Phonics. . . (Phonics Down)
Last year I had writing-related goals, and for the most part they didn't work out at all. (Success: revised "One Only" and applied to VP; partial success: posted to DW a minimum of once/week and on average probably close to 3x; failure: everything else.) Eh. Like I said earlier, I choose to look at last year as a foundation that will need further development, and this as a year for building on it.

This year, as mentioned, I want to finish six stories. That's drafting one a month, alternating with revising one a month. Usually not the same one, to give me some distance and avoid burnout. (I say "usually" because the deadline for the Bibliotheca Fantastica anthology is 15 March, and by my schedule I'm not revising Bookwyrms until April, so something's gonna give.) I'd also like to have those six stories out on submission more or less constantly as soon as they're done. That's the easy part, though. (I get to play with spreadsheets and organizing things!)

As a secondary writing-related goal, I still want to surround myself with people who Do Things. These people will have to be in person, I expect: the thought of a DW or LJ community has some merit but ultimately the internet isn't sufficient. I need the physicality of interacting with other human beings, the tangible drive and excitement. I can get it sporadically at cons, with this year are Wiscon, Readercon, and World Fantasy at least; possibly more depending. I'll need to find some way to get it more consistently and here.

In the meantime, I keep typing away.



And because it's been awhile, the first lines of things I'm at least nominally working on, with status reports.

Cut for caring )
jazzfish: artist painting a bird, looking at an egg for reference (Clairvoyance)
Words: 433
Total words: 808
Neat things: Chaos incarnate in the form of elementary school kids. (Metaphorically.)

Note to self: when you're just sort of anemically plopping words down, and it's all a struggle, and you can't keep focus for more than about half a sentence? It's because you don't know what's behind what's happening now, and you need to know that before you can write this part. So, stop writing, and either go do something else, or start brainstorming and working out the plot / world / characterization.

At least it only took me an hour to realise that this time. Baby steps.

I have the next scene mapped out ("when in doubt, have two men with guns burst in at the door"), and I know what the one after will be but not where it goes. Maybe actually writing the next one will give me some clues about that.

And now to chill for a bit before heading out for a bit of laid-back New Year's Eve gaming.
jazzfish: artist painting a bird, looking at an egg for reference (Clairvoyance)
New plan: instead of stabbing myself in the face over a rewrite, try writing something else. Something for an anthology that doesn't pay as well as the big markets, so it doesn't feel like such a big deal. Then go back and revise the space story and send it out, then write something else (another anthology, maybe), then revise the first anthology story and send it out, and keep the pendulum going. Ideally this'll give me some needed critical distance between the "writing" and the "revising," and also keep me from getting so sick of a story that I don't want to deal with it anymore.

I'd like to do one swing of the pendulum a month. I think that's a sustainable pace. It'd give me six stories written in 2012, which would be a good start. (I wanted to do something similar last year, but that whole MOVING thing kinda got in the way.)



Words: 226
Total words: 357
Neat things: The Virginia Tech library. DE VERMIS LIBRVM.

First anthology: Bibliotheca Fantastica, "Stories having to do with lost, rare, weird, or imaginary books, or any aspect of book history or book culture, past, present, future, or uchronic." I've been chewing on it for a couple of weeks now during downtime, looking for a decent story idea. So of course the usable idea comes to me at the end of my five-day vacation, instead of when I could have taken a couple of days to hammer it out.

Partly I'm out of practice, and partly I'm still finding the story as I go... but the writing process is taking longer and more effort than I'd hoped. Eh, well. Verbage is verbage.
jazzfish: A small grey Totoro, turning around. (Totoro)
"Why I can't write" turns out to be one of those things that my brain just slides off of rather than grappling with. I literally cannot hold the idea in my head for long enough to say anything coherent about it. Usually when that happens I forget about it altogether. It's some sort of defence against prodding too much at something very frightening. I've only kept track of it this time through concentrated effort.

Anyway, writing. I've been here before, and sort of skirted around what was actually going on. Now I'm getting closer to it but still not to a point where I can think usefully about it.

A tangent: in my limited experience, the two main attitudes of counselors/therapists are "wait the patient out, they'll bring up the hard stuff on their own when they're ready" and "prod the patient gently to get at the hard stuff." Prodding seems to provide more immediate results for me, since I'm very good at Not Thinking About things. However, my current counselor is more of a waiting type. This has the (probably intended) result that if I don't bring in something to talk about there's not much talking going on. So when something happens like "I spent three days straight playing a computer game that I'm not even sure I like very much," I bring that up, and it turns out to be relevant. Anyway. Tangent over.

Normally when people think about being afraid of writing, it's the whole 'what if it isn't any good' thing. I don't have that, so much. I mean, I moan about how awful my stuff is as much as the next writer but I don't let that stop me. I keep going, usually with friendly support and 'it doesn't suck' from various people. Once it's Out There for whatever value of Out There, I don't worry so much. It's either good enough or it isn't and either way the next one will be better.

This... has something to do with the weight I place on Being A Writer, and something to do with needing other people, and, oddly, some relation to a couple of other things I'd like to do but haven't pursued.

Twitter turns out to be a horrible medium for me to feel connected to anybody. It really is like being at a huge party all the time, and as such it's exhausting for me. (I am decidedly not comfortable with jumping into conversations.) Unfortunately it's also where much of my writerly social circle is being sociable and supportive. That's more of a big deal for me than I'd thought it would be. It's not a cause, I don't think, but it's not helping. I am, as always, deeply grateful for the people I have here. DW/LJ helps. It's just not enough.

Which is in some sense the problem. What I can get isn't enough, and so I stop asking and seeking. Not sure how to resolve that.
SAM: Well, that was needlessly cryptic.
MAX: I'd be peeing my pants if I wore any.

ugh

Nov. 28th, 2011 10:30 pm
jazzfish: Stormtrooper making an L on his forehead (Soy un perridor)
I don't know what my bloody problem is but this addition / rewrite is slogging through molasses. Or #3 maple syrup, if you prefer. (I do.)

Some of it's timing in the middle of a busy month, some of it's having trouble getting into any kind of flow. More of it's looking at what I've written, both in the previous version and in the changes I've made here, and thinking, "this doesn't do anything at all like what i want it to." I'm not picking up the pace, not enough; I'm not making things get any worse any sooner; my new character isn't doing a damned thing. None of it makes any sort of sense to me. I'm trying to change the existing shape of a story and it is just. not. happening. Nevermind that I can see perfectly well why the shape as it is now doesn't work, nevermind that I know what needs to change to make it work, the changes are resisting my every effort. And then two days or a week later I look and say "of course it's resisting, because that's the wrong thing to put there, it isn't doing what i need it to at all." Bleh.

I keep reminding myself that there are people, at least two of them, who had good things to say about it as it was. It doesn't really help.

"You write quickly, right?" TNH asked me. And yeah, I do, when the words are coming, when I know the shape of the story. Then I can write reasonably fast. This right here is just horrible, slow, depressing. Getting nowhere.

I will of course be missing my self-imposed deadline of "submit by end of november." Maybe if I buckle down I can get it out the door, or at least drafted, by the end of the year. And hope the editor in question doesn't respond with a "pfft, took him that long to make a few simple changes?"

Some amount of this is directly related to a lack of writing community in my life. Oh well. I don't really see that changing in the near future so I had better learn to live with it.
jazzfish: a black-haired man with a big sword. blood stains the snow behind (Eddard Stark)
Tempus, as Scott M-- was wont to say when Latin class ran late, is fugiting.

I don't do very much, socially speaking: board gaming once or twice a week, an RPG once a week, hanging out with a couple of friends of an evening. There are a handful of other events I've been psyching myself up to get out to, and of course there's the neverending search for Cool People To Bond With.

Even so, since mid-October I've been feeling more and more time pressure. It's like I can either write or not-write, and not-writing isn't getting me any closer to my objective. (Not the kind of not-writing that results in posts about my writing, the other kind.)
No matter what I did it never seemed enough
He said I was lazy, I said I was young
He said, "How many songs did you write?"
I'd written zero, I lied and said "Ten."
"You won't be young forever--
You should have written fifteen."
--Lou Reed & John Cale, "Work"
Come the end of May I'll have twelve days of vacation available. May's a busy month: Beach Week with the Arlington Board Gamers, WisCon, and Origins all fall within a three-week span. The original plan was to take most of those three weeks off, and work from work for the time betweek Beach Week and WisCon.

This eats up nearly all of that vacation time. Which would be acceptable... except that someone on the VP list pointed out that the Rainforest Writers Village still has several spots open. It's three weekdays, which is about the length of the time I'd need to take off for Origins at the end of those three weeks.
Andy sat down to talk one day
He said "Decide what you want:
Do you want to expand your parameters
Or play museums like some dilettante?"
--ibid.
I've been thinking lately about who I am and who I want to be, where "who i am" is defined by what I do. Four years ago I was a gamer. I had several consoles hooked up, I had a room full of boardgames and shelves of RPG books, I even actively sought out new computer games. Now... I'd like to do more boardgaming and role-playing but that's a desire for quality not quantity. I'd happily drop back to one RPG every two weeks if it was a sufficiently good game, and one of the best parts about living outside DC was the really good boardgaming every other weekend. I've decimated the room of boardgames and have every intention of doing the same with the RPGs as soon as I can find them a home. Video games have fallen off my radar almost entirely; I sort of miss them, but (with the exception of "soon i will make time to play Portal 2") not really.

I think I was always a storyteller, and for awhile games were my chosen medium. Thing is, they're a peculiarly passive form of storytelling. They're a way to create someone else's story. Even the best role-playing games are built around someone else's framework. I have no intention of giving them up; they're just not so prominent anymore.

VP reminded me that I don't just want to "be a writer," I want to write. Which means making choices, which are here embodied in "how I want to spend a lot of money and a not insignificant amount of time": writing retreat or gaming convention?

Really, though, it's not much of a choice. Last year GAMA decided, that having Origins at the end of June meant that people were choosing between going to Origins or GenCon, and they didn't want to force people to make that choice. So they made it for them, and moved Origins back into the school year. This resulted in, among other things, Looney Labs deciding not to have a presence at Origins 2012. Thus at least half the people I go to Origins to see won't be there this year. My original thought was that I could get back to my roots, schedule some one-shot RPG sessions, maybe do a LARP that would go better than the last disastrous Deliria LARP I played in[1].
Andy said a lot of things
I stored them all away in my head
Sometimes when I can't decide what I should do
I think "What would Andy have said?"
He'd probably say "You think too much,
That's 'cos there's work that you don't want to do."
--ibid.
Given the option of either seeing some people I hardly ever see and doing things that might or might not turn out to be fun, or going off for several days in the company of a couple of folks I already know are pretty much awesome, doing What I Want To Be Doing... well. I don't want to rush into a decision so I'll sleep on it (and talk it over with [personal profile] uilos when I get back home); there are probably aspects I'm not thinking through.

At least Readercon isn't until July. I'll have time to save up enough vacation for that regardless.



[1] Short version: we were members of a travelling market that got ambushed and slaughtered with no chance to fight back, get away, or otherwise save ourselves. One player got handed an inspiring speech to recite before being killed in a particularly gruesome way. We were told afterwards that this speech had a huge effect on the game world. It was quite effectively horrifying, but an empty experience in terms of the kind of role-playing I'd wanted and expected to do. If they'd told me I was signing up for a horror game I might have been willing to forgive the blatant railroading. As it happened, all I could think was "for this I skipped the Icehouse tournament?"
jazzfish: A small grey Totoro, turning around. (Totoro)
Fascinating interview with William Gibson in the Paris Review: "For years, I’d found myself telling interviewers and readers that I believed it was possible to write a novel set in the present that would have an effect very similar to the effect of novels I had set in imaginary futures. I think I said it so many times, and probably with such a pissy tone of exasperation, that I finally decided I had to call myself on it."

PURE EVIL.

Irregular Webcomic, David Morgan-Mar's daily Lego-based comic with about a dozen storylines, has come to an end after well over three thousand strips. Not to worry! He's rerunning them all from #1, with new annotations. So now's the perfect time to jump into one of the geekiest and consistently funniest webcomics around. (DMM's other big venture, Darths & Droids, is nearly at the end of Episode 3. I really hope he covers episodes 4-6 as well. Luckily, according to the FAQ they'll be covering episodes 4-6 as well.)

Making the Grade, a history of maple syrup, and a good follow-up to my earlier discourse. [via [personal profile] rbandrews]



Last night's sleep was not precisely restful. I dreamed I finished up the %&$ Space Story and attached it to an email and sent it off to the editor in question. About ten seconds later I got back an email response consisting of "No." I was kind of shocked, until I realised that I hadn't actually added in any of the stuff I'd meant to and been asked to. Then I was just miserable and mad at myself for blowing my chance at getting it published.

I used to dream a lot more, and even lucid-dream about half the time. I stopped in late 2002/early 2003 when a lot of other things in life were going pretty wrong, because my dreams were all ending up like that one.

Came down with a 48-hour head cold on Thursday night, but I caught it early enough to not stress myself. Spent Friday doing not a whole lot other than sleeping and staring blankly, and was functional enough to do some gaming on Satyrday.

Sunday night [personal profile] uilos and I went to see Mr and Mrs Amanda Palmer, for whom the line was literally around the block. It was a good show: they were kind of adorable, and Neil read a few poems and "Orange," the story he read at Balticon in 2006. I'm not quite sure what I think of Amanda's music; I enjoyed it but I don't feel inspired to run out and buy albums.

We're visiting DC (ABG, Dar concert, possibly other things) this weekend, and I'll be working from work for a couple of days as well. Possibly I can use some of the travel time to do some writing. Here's hoping.
jazzfish: artist painting a bird, looking at an egg for reference (Clairvoyance)
Words: 500ish
Total words: around 2600
Neat things: Coldsleep regulating gel hardens and shatters when you muck with it. Also, Eddison looks to be as unpleasant as Carter, in different ways.

This will be slow going for awhile. Adding a character doesn't double the complexity, it more than quadruples it. On top of the additional plot mucking to do I've got more relationships to track, more responses to actions to account for. Gah. More thinking and planning needed. I was hoping I could just bull through but that's looking less likely.
jazzfish: an open bottle of ether, and George conked out (Ether George)
Bleh, insomnia during a head cold. I'm just barely too muzzy-headed to do anything useful, and it's not like I'm getting any sleep. May as well finish and post this.

So, in addition to an awful lot of fine writing advice, some excellent company, and insightful if sometimes contradictory critiques of my submission story, I got one more thing out of Viable Paradise: I wrote a story under a strict deadline.

The story I wrote was, word for word, the hardest thing I've ever written. "Catastrophic global warming," they say, "rigorous extrapolation of hard science," they say, "hopeful and non-post-apocalyptic," they say; "bah," sez I. Thankfully I had a bunch of other people around who were in similar boats, and we could all sit around and type madly and grumble at each other.

(It turns out writing's easier in good company. I don't know if it's the shared task, or just the sense that other people are writing and therefore my brain says it's Okay for me to be writing, and in fact I'd better be writing so I can Fit In. O, brain.)

Most of what I learned from the experience can be summed up in a conversation I had around lunchtime on Thursday:

[personal profile] aamcnamara: How's your story coming?
Me: ... do me a favor? Tell me it doesn't suck?
[personal profile] aamcnamara (who has read none of this story): It doesn't suck.

And, you know, that helped, more than I'd expected it to. I knew it had problems. The plot wasn't a plot so much as "some stuff happens to the characters in the middle of a conversation," the theme was thin, etc etc. But it also had things I do well. Dialogue. The rhythm and flow of the prose. Bits of characterization, hints of worldbuilding. It doesn't suck, not entirely, not even when I'm struggling and flailing. I can do this.

That, I'm pretty sure, is the most important thing I brought out of that week.

Profile

jazzfish: Jazz Fish: beret, sunglasses, saxophone (Default)
Tucker McKinnon

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Adventures in Mamboland

"Jazz Fish, a saxophone playing wanderer, finds himself in Mamboland at a critical phase in his life." --Howie Green, on his book Jazz Fish Zen

Yeah. That sounds about right.

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags