Category Archives: real life

What’s He On About Now?

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YamadaEmperor-600One drawback of working on a longer project like a novel is you don’t have a lot left in you for anything else. Say, blogging, for example. Normally I try to post these every Monday like clockwork, but here it is Wednesday (thank you, Captain Obvious) and I am late. I don’t like being late. Normally I show up for appointments fifteen minutes early or more and everyone ELSE is late. Usually doctors and dentists, whose time as they will willingly tell you is much more valuable than yours.

Well, to them or anyone else this is literally true, since all any of us has is time. Everything else—money, cars, clothes, your ipod–is a temporary construct relating to how we live in the world, but time is what matters and no one as a general rule knows how much they have. There is much unnecessary fretting over this. I’m prone to it myself, especially when I’m under a deadline, either contractual or self-imposed, makes no difference. It reminds me of a scene from Neil Gaiman’s Sandman graphic novel series where his sister Death has just collected the soul of a baby who passes in SIDS, and the baby is not happy about it, to paraphrase, “That was it? That was all I got?” To which the reply was, again paraphrasing, “You had a life. That is all anyone has.”

So all we have is time, but the only time we really have is now. So what we decide to do with it? Yeah. It kind of matters. I don’t always make the best choices about that, but then I don’t know anyone who always does. We act like we have forever even when we know it is not true. Sometimes that illusion is all that gets you through a day, but best not to forget that it is an illusion. If there is anything at all which is not an illusion, it is now, the only point in time where action is possible. Like writing a late blog post, because there were things I believed to be more important at the time.

For instance, finishing the first draft of The Emperor in Shadow, complete at 94k words. It’ll probably be close to that after the rewrite. I usually put in as much as I take out. Sometimes more, sometimes less, but usually within close tolerances. I won’t call the book done, since that doesn’t happen until it has gone through rewrite then editing and come back from the printers. Then, for better or worse, it is done, and likely on time for a September release.

Then it is time to move on to something else because, you know, that whole “now” thing keeps happening. Until it doesn’t.

 

These Dreams…

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YamadaEmperor-600The book has crossed the 80,000 word mark and is moving toward the end. Which means, rather than being created or complicated, situations are being resolved. I know who is behind most of the challenges Yamada has faced in this book. He’s about to find out, too, as matters move toward final settlements and crimes/sins accounted. There’s one scene I’m especially looking forward to writing. It won’t be a long one, by my estimate. Just a few pages, and I pretty much know how I’m going to write it and what happens and what it will mean to Yamada. I could have written it already, frankly, but I’ve held off, because it will be my reward for completing the book, even though part of me doesn’t want to write “The End.” A major story arc is being closed, and when it is done, I’m not sure what will be left. Perhaps nothing. We will see.

Something is happening that does happen now and again when I’m at this point in a story—I start to dream about it. Night before last and last night I was dreaming about possible events in the book, as if my subconscious was trying to suggest new avenues to explore. I considered them all, but realized they were all burdened with dream logic, which doesn’t really make sense to anyone outside the frame of reference of that dream. So they are no go. Except possibly for an image that I may use. I haven’t decided yet.

Once that dream was over, next I was surprised to find myself dreaming about Gwyneth Paltrow, and no, not that kind of dream. Her career was in danger, she was about to star in a new film, and she needed me to tweet the news. Why? Beats hell out of me. Apparently it was crucial, as she was almost literally begging me to make the tweet. And all I had was my phone and the tiny virtual keyboard, and I was messing up the hashtags and having all sorts of problems and her insistence wasn’t helping. I hit <Send> and the next thing I know she’s on some big talk show pimping the film, which is apparently of Oscar contention quality, so apparently I did okay.

The film? The story of a Marshall Tucker cover band.

Yeah.

That’s the thing about dreams. We all have them. We all need them. But they are not the most reliable things in the world. Take what you can from them. Learn what you can. Do not expect them to make too much sense. That is not their job.

Switching POV–The Writer’s, Not the Character’s

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YamadaEmperor-600If I ever knew who said it first, I’ve long forgotten. But the phrase had reason to kick me in the butt again this week—“I don’t know how to write a novel. I only know how to write the last one.” Which in my case is profoundly true. Every book is different, even if they’re in the same series concerned with—mostly—the same characters. It is a different book, or else why bother to write it at all? Yet writing other books in the Yamada series does not help very much with this one. Ask me how to write The War God’s Son and I could tell you, because I’ve already done it. Ask me how to write The Emperor in Shadow and I’d have to say, honestly, I’m still figuring that one out. Worse, I’m putting obstacles in my way.

Among my many failings is a natural gift for complexity. By which I mean that I have a habit of taking something inherently simple and turning it into something complicated. I don’t mean to do this, it’s just something that happens, given half the chance. It applies to home DIY as well as writing, though in both cases it makes accomplishing a goal harder than it needs to be. The current project is a prime example. Continue reading →

Leaving the Diamond Mine, Back to the Salt Mine

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Herkimer Diamonds Mixed with Dolomite in Matrix

Herkimer Diamonds Mixed with Dolomite in Matrix

Took a break from everything else in the whole damn world yesterday to go mining. We live in Herkimer County, New York, which is famous for a special sort of quartz crystal commonly referred to as a “Herkimer Diamond.” Naturally, it ain’t a diamond, but it’s normally a clear, double-terminated crystal, meaning it has what looks like faceted points on either end, giving it a diamond-like appearance, especially for the shorter, stubbier stones.

I’ve been quartz mining in Arkansas (Mt. Ida), and I’m here to tell you that mining for Herkimer Diamonds is a bit different. While both sorts of mining open to the public usually  involve working the leftovers from commercial mines, in Arkansas the matrix is rather loose and easy to dig through with no more than a screwdriver. If you want a Herkimer Diamond, otoh, you’re most likely going to be breaking rocks. They grow in pockets within the stone, and the larger the pocket, the larger the crystals. Lacking the equipment to dig into the side of the mountain, you’ll probably be sorting through the rocks knocked loose when the heavy mining equipment moved through. You look for a rock with a visible pockets on the surface, or obvious quartz veins, you put this rock on a bigger rock, take a 3-5 pound hammer, and break the rock. If you can. If you’ve picked a good rock, it will open for you, and if you’re lucky, there’s a pocket with crystals growing inside.

Our best find of the day was one such. Only a few centimeters long, but beautiful. Carol found the rock, I broke it, there was one fat little crystal within. The one pictured is a rarer find from a rock already broken by the machines, with several growing and visible, in among squarish crystals of dolomite. I decided to leave them in place, and just keep the rock. It’s sitting on my desk.

I think it’s saying “Get Back to Work, Slacker.”

We Could Be Heroes…But Probably Not

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WRITING 02

Not everyone is entirely comfortable with the idea of heroes. They too often have feet of clay, or in these days of the media creature, turn out to be fabricated out of whole cloth, or at least a cheap polyester. Yet we all have them, and writers are no different. The difference is in what inspires us—the words on the page, not necessarily the people behind them. Writing heroes. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when you discover that one of your heroes, known for his gentle and optimistic fiction, is a right wing fascist at heart or another with a unique and powerful voice is a virulent racist. Such things usually kill off normal heroes. As a hero, that is. Writer heroes usually survive, not always, but usually, since it is the words on the page that matter, not the imperfect, venal, or just plain unworthy person behind them, but more so because there’s a secret that the process of writing fiction eventually teaches.

You write better than you are.

I’ve touched on this before, but it’s especially relevant, I think, in the genre today. We all do it, if we’re any good at all. What comes out on the page is smarter, wiser, usually more together than, well, we are. I don’t know how it all works, I just know that it does. So I’m not usually so surprised when it turns out that the writer behind books and stories I love is a deeply flawed human being. Someone you might even cross the street to avoid if you saw them coming.  It happens. It doesn’t matter. Any decent work we produce is, at its core, a reflection of our better selves, maybe even who we’re trying to be, not necessarily who we are. Which is probably why I’ve never been driven to meet writers I admire. Most of the writers I call friends are ones I met even before I discovered their work, and got to know and like them as people first. That way generally works. Someone you only know from their work? Not so much.

Oh, sure, there are exceptions. There are even times when I regret, say, that I never got to meet Fritz Leiber, even though I did have the chance, once, at a World Fantasy Con way back in 1987, and I will always treasure my one and only meeting with Parke Godwin, who turned out to be as grand a human being in person as he was on the page. It’s great when that happens, but I don’t expect it. No one should.

I started this blog post with the idea of talking a little about one of my writing heroes, but I got pulled in another direction. It happens, so I’ll save that one for next time. I never met her, but then again, see above, I didn’t need to. The books and stories were all I did need, or had any right to expect.

So, if you ever want to meet me and manage to do so, I apologize in advance. That is all.