Tag: writing

Reading Writers’ Blogs

All the world’s events have upsides and down, depending on your framing mood and which glasses you put on. Even sunrise can suck, as it counts down to a personal Armageddon, something bothering you alone.

Reading writers’ blogs reinforces the ups and downs of trying to write, publish and sell, but also shows the humanity behind writers. They’re revealed not to be just mad typists and scribblers, but beer and coffee connoisseurs, sports freaks and political junkies. It’s fun learning these things about them and discovering you have something in common with them (hey, Louise Erdrich likes drinking water, too!)

Upsides include great references to novels, short stories, poetry and information about writing and publishing. I often encounter intelligent, stunning writing from unknown writers.

Downsides include grimace inducing, clumsy writing.

Upsides – revelations about what not to do.

Downsides – realizations that damn it, I do that.

Big downside, too, is that I’m competing in some sense, because only so much can be read, with brilliant, intelligent, inventive, clever writers with skills that humble me.

Definite upside, no matter what level of writing I’m achieving, the discovery that a whole world of writers work in much the same esoteric and secret way of other endeavors, like pro sports, banking, software programming, name it, and recognizing I’m part of that world. Often hardest about writing is the lack of validation of my work. Nobody wants it and nobody reads it. It’s not necessarily crap, but it’s not easily accessible. I think weirdly so I write weirdly. Writers’ blogs remind me that this isn’t unusual, burning off some of my personal loneliness and frustration.

Writers’ blogs help me hope for that big breakthrough. They remind me how long it took Ursula LeGuin, JK Rowlings, Andy Weir, Lisa Genova, Stephen King, John Scalzi, Kathryn Stockett, Theodore Giesel, and others, to achieve their success. Their secret was that they kept writing. Their efforts, and success, inspire me.

I don’t know where I stand on the true spectrum of writing skills and talents, but I’m also not certain how much that matters. But, although I’m a seriously suspect Space Cadet, I will continue writing and trying to find my audience.

Because that’s what reading writers’ blogs tell me to do.

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Counting Waves

You know the words. You can write the cliches for me.

Talking about another, you note or say, “Oh, he/she is in one of those moods today.” Curl a little snark into your tone. We joke about women and their cycles, because that’s how many of us were socialized and conditioned. “Women’s cycles” are visible. They’re “emotional and irrational” when it’s “that time of month” or “they’re going through the change.”

Men’s cycles are more often ignored. But we talk about male bosses and spouses and how they seem angrier, more irritated, or conversely, they’re in a great mood. “Maybe now is the time to ask them for ____.” Fill in the blank of what’s been considered and rejected because of their mood, but now, it’s a possibility, because they’re cheerful today.

Or you notice it about yourself, but you don’t know why. You don’t know why you’re sad. You don’t know why you’re happy. You rationalize reasons, develop a logical explanation for why you must feel this way. We think we know ourselves best, but I know myself better. I have large, dark windows that I can’t see in. Monsters are back there….

Everything seems like it’s on a spectrum for me: energy, optimism, dreaming….

I dreamed many times and vividly last night.

I wrote with speed and intensity yesterday. And what I wrote? Honestly, I’m amazed that I’m so talented. What an imagination! I am fucking brilliant.

I’m optimistic, hopeful and cheerful. I look forward to visiting with friends. My body feels great.

I feel like I’m enjoying life more. Food and drinks taste better, and that sunlight, golden on those scattered soft gray and white clouds above the verdant tree filled mountains against an azure sky late yesterday afternoon, wasn’t that the most magnificent, inspiring sight? Did you see that soaring hawk?

But as I dreamed and awoke last night, considered the dreams and returned to sleep, I thought of how alike it was to being on beach at the ocean. Like waves, there’s a pattern to the dreams and the ocean’s movement, and there are high tides and low tides of dreaming. It’s not the first time I’ve thought this and written about it. Even now, it seems like deja vu. I dream; the dreams increase with strength, vividness, and impact as my cycle progresses through its spectrum. I wake up and write about it. Then the dreams peak and begin diminishing.

Ah, yes, you see that, how my mental acuity increases as well? I’m able to observe more clearly and understand myself better. I wonder, are Jeopardy contestants aware of this? Do their personal cycles affect their winning and losing? I really would like to study that, because, you see, I’m almost at the top.

During the rising mental, spiritual and physical energy cycles, I write, and the words come faster, clearer, more quickly and easily, and then I peak. I begin back down. Writing becomes a greater and greater challenge, until, down in the trough, it’s a slog to get to the coffee shop, sit in the chair and focus on the stories being told. My rituals and routines, and the tricks I’ve learned to encourage and engage my inner writer help them. But the stuff I write. Oh, God, help me, please. How could I ever believe I had any skills? I’m worthless, less than zero, with the creativity and talent of a gnat’s ass.

I know this week’s optimism and cheerfulness will crest. I will begin a slow descent into gloom. I will crave isolation. Small irritations are imagined to be major insults. I become a more aggressive driver, and a more bitter person. I’ll hunger for and reward myself with the junk foods, desserts and fried foods that I deny myself when I’m ‘up.’ Then I’ll bottom out, silent, weary, angry, self-loathing, and begin to arise back from the depths. I drink coffee but derive little energy from it. Even reading sucks. My needs and responses are wildest at the bottom. I’m more emotional, needier. I want to shop and buy new things, as a salve for how terribly I’m suffering, but I want to do it without others bothering me.

I know, too, how my cycles affect my world perceptions. When I’m rising, I’m more open. I post and comment more. More cheerful, I have greater self-confidence. When I’m in the pit, I disappear. I don’t check Facebook and don’t post, because it’s all the same jokes, I tell myself, the same crap, the same garbage from the same people, and the news? When I finally bottom out, I have a sense that the world is a terrible place of killing and brutality, our leaders are shits, and we, the common, the less than 1%, have no chance. I am resentful and hostile.

Being in the depths is miserable. I feel lifeless, a sawdust man, without purpose, direction or hope. Down in the trough, it’s hard to see my way through an hour. Food tastes terrible, and taxes are way too high. Everything costs too much then, and it’s all junk.

I wonder, how many people kill one another or themselves because they’ve descended into their pit. How many cops are more fearful and frightened, more ready to kill because of their state? How many others are more willing to take up a knife or gun and seek vengeance and make others pay because of where they are in their cycles and spectrums?

Now, climbing toward the peak, I’m on top of the world. The view is magnificent, and I believe that we can work together, change the world, and solve all the problems.

We just need to hurry, before I start down again.

 

 

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New Fav Expression

I came in to order my coffee. It wasn’t necessary, as all the baristas know my drink. Meghan had been serving me over a year. “You give me deja vu everyday,” she said, laughing. “You know that, don’t you? You give me deja vu everyday.”

“What a cool statement,” I said. “You give me deja vu everyday.” It’s my new favorite statement. I think there’s a story in it, but then, I see and hear stories everywhere. Somewhere, maybe in another dimension, or a dream world (or is this the dream world?), or a future past or past future, I’m writing those other stories. If you want to get Far Out, maybe I’m writing your story. I am the writing god, writing the stories of our existence, unaware that it’s going on, because someone else is writing my story.

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Figuring Out Aliens

A novel in progress features aliens, but I can’t see them. I know who they are, why they’re there and what they want, but beyond that, they’re not coming into my head.

I thought about all the aliens I know from movies and books. Superman is an alien but that’s not the sort of alien wanted. Didn’t want ET, and the creatures from Alien and Predator didn’t work. Nor did the man and robot from The Day the Earth Stood Still. MIB , the Star Trek franchise, Doctor Who, and Babylon 5 have many varieties of aliens but nothing that fits my requirements. Larry Niven’s aliens are interesting and intriguing but didn’t turn me toward what I think my book needs. Independence Day, Mars Attacks, The Body Snatchers, Dark City (I’m not really sure the strangers are aliens) were considered and rejected, as were the War of the Worlds invaders, and the creatures from Species and V. So was The Thing. I always liked Orson Scott Card’s alien in The Speaker for the Dead and Ender’s Game but they don’t work for my application.

The closest thing to my thoughts were from Clark’s The Puppet Masters. They don’t quite work, neither.

Gotta walk and think about it more. It’ll come to me.

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Beyond 3D

Ghostbusters 3D is in our local cinemas tomorrow, and we’re hitting it.

3D movies are normal and expected, so much of it being put into 3D. My first experience with it was Hugo. When the snow fell in the film’s beginning, I was astounded by how the snow flakes seem fall toward me from the scene. Beautiful and amazing, and now, like jets, cars, microwaves, computers, the Internet and a million more modern technologies, processes, and services, so common, it’s the new normal.

Virtual Reality movies may be the next iteration. Imagine, instead, of attending a movie, and while sitting in the theater, you experience the movie from within. With tiered ticketing, the opportunities to watch can be inter-active, so in one side, you can reside within one character, watching, hearing and generally experiencing the movie through them. In another scene, you can be a fly on the wall, turning your attention to whatever attracts you.

Such scenarios drive ideas about what can go wrong. Trapped in a movie, trapped as a character, launched into a new dimension through a movie, time traveling through movies, accidently becoming someone else during the movie – or reversals of these things. Discovering you thought you were born here when actually, you came through a movie. Now they’re hunting you.

Oh, the fun we can have with this.

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Her Lady

Five foot eight inches tall, rumored to be white with short dark hair and perpetually wearing sunglasses, the woman behind the Stellar Queen was mysterious.

She was at least eight hundred years old, well-established because she’d lived on the Stellar Queen for that long. Such a long life on one ship leads to rumors….

I lived for fifty years as a child and man on the Stellar Queen, enjoying my second childhood on the ship after I initiated my Do-over, so I was always watching out for her. I was never certain I saw her. There were rumors….

Her appearance was challenging not just because she was rarely seen but also because she practiced genetic designing to shape shift, leading her appearance to often change, even becoming an animal, such as the panther that was claimed to live on the Stellar Queen, or one of the unicorns in the forest. At least, those were were the rumors….

The Stellar Queen was her baby, along with Doctor Jharun Pollux, great-granddaughter of Doctor Jerol Pollux. Doctor Jerol Pollux was the famous discoverer of the dark elements. The elder Doctor Pollux, a funny point to write, was but twenty-four when she made her discoveries a hundred years before her great-granddaughter’s birth. Jharun Pollux and Her Lady were said to be contemporaries in their youth, and struck up a relationship from that era. ‘That era’ was when space exploration and colonization began blossoming, thanks to the dark elements of the elder doctor’s findings, but it was almost three hundred years later that the two women began collaborating on the Stellar Queen’s design and construction.

Most critically for the Stellar Queen, Doctor Pollux incorporated power generators using asteridium, chiridium, and lumenirium. Asteridium was the black element most commonly used in starships for propulsion but Pollux used it with a small lumenirium core to create the artificial sun that graced the Stellar Queen’s bio-dome, rising in the east, and setting in the west.

Chiridium was the more interesting choice for the ship’s power. Chiridium, named for chi, after the life force, is rarer, more difficult to mine and control. Myths related to its name and Doctor Jerol Pollux’s comments about it, can never be put down. As a dark element, some say it’s a dark life force. Both Doctors Pollux laughed about that, but with its AI ship overseer, many inhabitants and visitors thought the Stellar Queen was alive. Majorities of people recounted stories and gave interviews stating that something different was felt as soon as you boarded the ship.

Her Lady never made comments about it that anyone ever recorded. As odd and intriguing as her eight hundred year life aboard the Stellar Queen was, her disappearance without notice when she left was equally intriguing. She only told Rei the baker, famous for his goods from Trudy’s Valley, that she was leaving.

Being the only source, naturally, more rumors arose. One rumor was that one of her shapeshifting processes was disrupted, rendering her a monster that couldn’t be fixed, and that she still lived in secret on the Queen. Others claimed that she had never existed, that she had not created the Stellar Queen, but that it created her because the woman who had begun the project had died before it launched. More quietly, it was suggested that perhaps it wasn’t correct to think of the Stellar Queen as two separate entities, but that they were one, yet another project of the great Doctor Jerol Pollux, and her great-granddaughter.

Imagination can be a wild, untamed creature.

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Dragon’s Lair

If you’re into winter sports and visit the Stellar Queen, you’ll want to teleport to South Point. Located in the Southern Mountains, South Point is at ten thousand feet (“So close, you can almost touch the sun,” the inhabitants claim – not true) and offers the ship’s best skiing, snow boarding and snow mobile adventures. Painting itself as the Stellar Queen’s Aspen, after Earth’s famous resort, South Point even has an annual film festival, Stardance, to convince you of their bonafide intentions.

Three miles from South Point (seconds via ship teleport) is Trudy’s Valley. Trudy, one of the ship’s original settlers, is long departed from the ship. She re-married (her fifth, although just her second male husband, but her second marriage since becoming a woman again) and moved with her husband back to his home world, where they opened an art gallery that features the Stellar Queen’s artists.  Trudy’s grandson remains in Trudy’s Valley, though. Rei’s awesome baked goods are considered the ship’s best, and many establishments in the cities and towns around the Stellar Queen promote Baked Delights from Trudy’s Valley. Rei offers savory and sweet goods. I’d kill for one of his dark chocolate drizzled raspberry croissants right now.

Also within spitting distance of South Point and worth a visit is Dragon’s Lair. Located on the Stellar Queen’s second highest peak, Petyr McSweeney’s original intention was to introduce dragons to the Queen. Dragons were big as part of the genetic creations movement sweeping the galaxies back then. But in a rare move, Her Lady exercised her veto powers. With sharply unambiguous verbiage, she clarified that the Stellar Queen would not be home to dragons or other fantasy creatures, declaring, “This isn’t a fantasy ship.” She does, however, allow unicorns to wander Her Lady’s Forest on her estate (the ship’s largest private holding).

Undeterred by that setback, Petyr instead established a brewery. Dragon’s Lair Imperial Porter is chocolate and vanilla infused. Powerful, smooth and heady, I can attest its worth imbibing from a perch in the Stellar Queen’s high, snowy mountains. Visit after sundown and gaze upon the stars.

Tell them I sent you and say hello to Petyr for me, but beware. Petyr used to terraform planets for human settlement and has a million and one stories, and will not hesitate to tell them. Still, he’ll keep your cup filled, as long as you’re willing to listen.

 

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Homage to the Stellar Queen

Two miles and 43 minutes, the coffee shop walk allows a surfeit of thinking. Today, with summer starting in the northern hemisphere, I thought of the Stellar Queen.

She’s old. I haven’t thought of her in a while. She’s so ancient in my relative life, that her original Word Perfect, PowerPoint and Paint files reside on five and a quarter floppy disks. They were transferred to three and a half inch disks, and then to a hard drive when I bought a tower Dell, in 1999.

The Stellar Queen was my first foray into science fiction. Orson Scott Card told how he liked drawing maps to stimulate his creativity. I designed cars as a child and planned to be an architect (or a rock star) so I took up designing the Stellar Queen on computer.

She was originally built by a patron of the arts who traveled the galaxies. The Lady (never named, and very mysterious) lives in an estate along the edge between the Central Plain and the Northern Mountains. A bio-dome hybrid class ship, the Queen’s bio portion is sixty-seven miles long by fourteen miles wide. Thinking in threes, she had three cities, three towns and three villages, three major climate zones (with many micro climes), and three rivers that flowed down into the Starry Sea, on the ship’s ‘northwestern’ side. One small town, Half Moon Bay, came to be on the Starry Sea, was based upon Half Moon Bay, California, where I resided for a while. The Queen featured a sun that rose in the ship’s east and set in the west, over the sea. It wasn’t a big sea, just large enough for waves, pleasure craft and some fishing. Just big enough for romance.

Three centers, for government & ship operations, markets, and education, were established, along with three wineries, three breweries, three ranches…et cetera. I began many stories about her. Murder on the Stellar Queen, Death Boards the Stellar Queen, Treason on the Stellar Queen, and so on. None were finished nor submitted. I still have them, though, in notebooks, in boxes, in the garage.

I still smile, thinking about the Stellar Queen, and I easily board her. Half Moon Bay on the Queen is a pleasant place to be, to sip wine or beer and contemplate the ocean and sunshine, marvel about traveling the galaxies, and think about the first day of summer in another year.

Time to go write like crazy.

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Expectations for the Brain

This week, I enjoyed discovering and re-discovering reading regarding the brain and how it works, how we can change its workings, memory, and meditation’s effects on the brain. This all seems to be about practice, expectation, and changing expectations.

DelanceyPlace.com is a website that publishes excerpts from fascinating non-fiction. Back in 2015, they published an excerpt from a 2014 book. By Matthieu Ricard, Antoine Lutz and Richard J. Davidson, the book, Mind of the Meditator, is about how mastering a task transforms the brain’s pathways.

“The discovery of meditation‘s benefits coincides with recent neuroscientific findings showing that the adult brain can still be deeply transformed through experience. These studies show that when we learn how to juggle or play a musical instrument, the brain undergoes changes through a process called neuroplasticity. A brain region that controls the movement of a violinist’s fingers becomes progressively larger with mastery of the instrument. A similar process appears to happen when we meditate. Nothing changes in the surrounding environment, but the meditator regulates mental states to achieve a form of inner enrichment, an experience that affects brain functioning and its physical structure. The evidence amassed from this research has begun to show that meditation can rewire brain circuits to produce salutary effects not just on the mind and the brain but on the entire body. …”

Addressing how ‘the adult brain be still be be transformed through experience’, HuffPost had a related story this week, To Increase Your Well-being, Train Your Brain. Mimi O’Connor wrote, “Dr. Richard Davidson, neuroscientist and founder of the Center for Healthy Minds at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, believes that practice is the key element in changing our brains for the better. He is well known for his pioneering study with Buddhist monks. In that study he hooked the monks up to fMRI machines and observed their brains as they meditated. The monks produced gamma waves, indicating intensely focused thought, which were 30 times as strong as the control groups.’ Additionally, large areas of the meditator’s brains were active, particularly in the left prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain responsible for positive emotions. This study showed that conscious effort can change the neural structure, activity and function of the brain.” Dr. Richard Davidson was one of the other book’s authors, of course.

“Similar to the inspiring theme of the film Field of Dreams, “Build it and they will come,” Davidson’s motto seems to be, “Exercise them (neural pathways) and they will strengthen.”

Offering another point of view that affirms the same was Sophie McBain in Head in the Cloud. Her article addressed human memory and studies regarding the impact of computers and digital systems on our ability to remember. What becomes clear from her intriguing article is that, part of what affects our ability to remember, is our expectation of a need to remember. Here, in essence, we’re seeing the opposite impact of the other articles, where people who have computers to help them remember, don’t practice remembering, thereby weakening their ability to remember.

They’re all ripple effects, aren’t they, a sort of Doom Loop on the one hand, of expecting less and trying less, and so spiraling into achieving less, or conversely, a Halo Loop, of expecting more and trying harder.

Of course, I need to tie this back to writing. Practice writing, pursue it, try to master it, and the pathways and areas of the brain used for writing can be strengthened and transformed. Instead of believing you can’t, believe you can, and try. Being human, it’s rarely that simple, and people like Judith Sherven, PhD, can inject insights and ideas for re-working the subconscious programming behind the Doom Loop.

I’d also like to tie all of this back to time, reality and the nature of existence, but that’s for another post. Instead, I need to go off and write like crazy, at least one more time.

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The Reading Problem

I’m suffering from The Reading Problem again and anew, the evil spell and joyful tonic of reading others and then struggling with the many fires they ignite in my mind. It’s like, gasoline has been poured on dry grass, matches tossed on it. A warehouse of explosives has…exploded. But the explosions are thoughts, insights, themes, concepts, ideas, visions, memories, epiphanies, realities, all brought up by others’ words.

My wife and I spoke about this sometime earlier this week, after watching Carpool Karaoke, Broadway edition. We ‘found’ James Corden early on in Gavin and Stacey. He lives up to my hopes that he was the talented individual that he seemed to be (thus vindicating my taste, intelligence, and insights, you see). But, as usual, I’m jealous of the little blue eyed bastard for doing neat things like singing with Lin-Manuel Miranda ‘and more’ – (like Audra McDonald, a pretty damn good ‘and more’, along with Jane Krakowski and Jesse Tyler Ferguson – yeah, ‘and more’). Which prompted the expected, “Gee, wouldn’t it be great to be so talented and to know such talented people and have them as friends and get together to do fun, talented things?” Like the artists and writers in Paris did. Dorothy Parker and friends. Or the Hollywood Vampires, or The Traveling Wilburys. “Let’s get together and do an album, Tom Petty.” “Sure, and let’s call Bob Dylan, Roy Orbison and George Harrison and see if they want to play along.” “Okay, Jeff Lynne.”

But I’m a writer, cocooned in my own self and its creations of doubts, suspicions and insecurities about who I am, hoping that I’ll grow out of it all some day (I’ll be 60 this year, and I hear that 60 is the new forty, but I’m hoping it’s the new 20) so I don’t socialize well, not like Stephen King and the Remainders. I’m more like J.D. Salinger with less talent and intelligence. So I don’t belong to any round tables and don’t do pop ins.

Reading is my outlet, along with conversations with my wife, a highly remarkable, intelligent, and well read person (you should play Jeopardy or Trivial Pursuit with her). She tells me things, and that fires up my mind, like quoting American Dervish writer Ayad Ahktar about writing and his amazing accomplishments as she prepares for her book club.

My mind had already been inflamed by reading other posts. Sweet lord, the amazing writers out there, with insights and inventive, beautiful language. The subjects they choose, the rawness displayed as they strip naked and flash their pain. While I often debase the Internet of Things as the web of greed and misinformation, gems can be found without much effort. People are exploring themselves and telling us what they found, or what can’t be found, or what they’re hoping to find, and the trouble they’re having with their efforts.

If you want a similar mind explosion to what I endured, discover WordPress. Just follow along, and read.

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