Iced.
And I don’t refer to the atrocious winter weather Maryland has experienced lately. I’m referring to what I’ve been calling Novel 2. I’m disappointed to report that as of now, what was to be my second “official” novel is being iced. Stuck in a drawer. Shelved. Whatever term you prefer, the point is this; I am no longer going to pursue completing that novel. At least not for the foreseeable future.
After consulting with some colleagues and friends about this issue that has been weighing on me for months, I came to this difficult decision. I avoided this conclusion for quite a while, despite having not progressed much in the first draft for the better part of a year. I don’t believe in quitting, you see, and I am always cognizant of how much discipline writing requires. The last thing I wanted to become was someone who wrote half a novel and then blew it off.
I got to thinking though, that if a warped sense of pride, and fear of being labeled “lazy” are the biggest reasons I’ve sought to continue a stalled project, then I’m not looking at things in the proper light. If those fears have kept me, at least technically, still in pursuit of Novel 2, as opposed to being moved by the story, or feeling a gripping need to explore a theme, I perhaps have no business continuing the manuscript.
It likely would have been a different story had a finished first draft existed. That to me is a success, a first draft. That is the lump of clay into which something solid and artful can be molded. But over the last several years, wave after wave of my work on this novel has rolled, crested, but ultimately crashed upon the rocks. Reboots, Nanowrimo experiments, severe edits, tone changes all have given the work a new sputter of life for a few weeks at most, only to stall again a short time later.
The funny thing is, I generally know where the plot is going. It is not writer’s block, per se. Last fall I called this general feeling, “writer’s weight,” though with Novel 2 it has become severe, and has removed much of the excitement of writing. Butt-in-chair? I have my problems with that as an overall philosophy, but for the sake of argument I can point to a number of other things over the same time frame for which I have kept my butt sufficiently in the chair to complete, or head towards completion. My first novel. Thank You For Ten. My one-man show that opens this month. Two drafts of another play. Nanowrimo, both short stories and a mystery novel. Not to mention my non-fiction, job related writing. I won’t claim I’ve never been lazy, because I have. Yet over the last two years my body of work, (if I am fair to myself for a change) displays a distinct lack of laziness when it comes to my writing. Novel 2 is just not working right now, and my avoidance of it will not be cured any longer by delving even deeper into it. I’ll resent the work if I go on like this, and I don’t want that to happen. So, I’m icing it.
I could come back to it someday, of course. That freedom, (of which more than one colleague reminded me lately) is helping me live with my decision. I’m not quitting this book; I am postponing it. I may or may not ever return to it, but I always can. I’ve wrestled in the mud with it so long, however, that everything is covered in that mud, and I can’t distinguish as well anymore. If it is to have any hope of ever being a novel, it has to go on hiatus for a few years. (Barring something unusual taking place that would expedite the process.)
This happens in the course of a career, I know. I knew it would occur with me. I just didn’t think it would happen with what was to be only my second “official” novel. And since I had no developed idea at all for what would have been the eventual Novel 3 I have no long-form project to jump to at the moment. Sentence fragments and the broadest of broad concepts are all I had in the tank for future novels. If I’m to continue novel writing in the near future, I’ll have to coax one of those shadow-ideas into solidity, or otherwise brainstorm a bit and come up with something new. Maybe that is one positive that can come from this; opening avenues in my imagination to new possibilities which I kept somewhat at bey while Novel 2 occupied priority seating there. It may prove a useful decision.
Yet still I don’t like it. Still I fear the stamp of “lazy:, or “undisciplined.” I can’t be certain that I’ve made this decision for the correct reasons. Yet the decision is made, and I grew weary of wondering what to do about it. President Truman is alleged to have said, “Some questions cannot be answered. But they can be decided.” I’ve decided to ice an incomplete first draft. Hopefully I will also decide that this was the right thing to do.
Eccentric!
I had a plan for this post.
Today I was supposed to explore idea I’ve had for a while; I was going to provide you with a list of my most definitive eccentricities. I would go on to describe the ideal world or situation for me, based on each of the eccentricities I described. It was to be equal parts frank and entertaining. In other words, the sort of post they say you’re supposed to write. (All the time…)
I assumed that when I sat down to write this post, I’d simply rattle off ten or so of my most eccentric characteristics or desires, make my witty, self deprecating comments about same, and publish it for all the world to peruse. “Oh what a card that Ty Unglebower is.”
Here’s the snag I encountered; I could only come up with one or two eccentricities of mine, and neither were especially interesting at the moment.
At this point it’s vital for you to understand one important fact; I don’t for a moment believe that I am eccentric in only one or two ways. On the contrary, I know that given time, the average person could probably augment my aborted list ten fold after knowing me for a few weeks. I’d be in agreement with about half of what they said, I’m sure.
So what happened? Why did I get stuck? Am I that self unaware? Like anyone, I’m in need of greater introspection at times, but in this case my stymied list of eccentricities I think is due to perspective. Unless I spent a few weeks undertaking a study and writing down those things about me which are eccentric enough to be noticed as well as to be enjoyed by a reader, it’s not easy to just call them up to the surface to discuss. That’s because my oddities are a part of who I am. Indeed the very nature of “eccentricity” requires a society of some size surrounding the eccentric man, and observing/behaving in a contrary manner. In other words, what is an eccentricity if not a value judgement we place on other people that perform actions, think and prefer things that most others in the same circumstance do not? Which is in part to say one behavior is eccentric here, but may not be at all eccentric over there.
Given this, determining one’s eccentricities is not simply a matter of self-reflection, but rather a quasi-academic exercise.
What society do I find myself in at this particular moment? What do I do in this particular situation that stands in clear contrast to the preferences and perceptions of that society? We ask ourselves these questions to determine in what manner we are eccentric. In some cases, this is determined with ease; wear a suit of armor while shopping downtown and in the vast majority of cases you’ll be viewed as eccentric. (At least.) Other things are conditional; have sauerkraut at Thanksgiving as I do, and you’re eccentric in Kansas but rather normal in Maryland and Pennsylvania. Even in both of those cases, one extreme and one subtle, a judgement is involved. So to determine my eccentricities in a list for your enjoyment, I’m not only required to study the scenario a bit, I’m subjecting myself to a judgement, and that’s not automatic.
Now, it’s a judgement I can live with in many cases. If you think it’s eccentric of me, being an average sized man to only wear extra large t-shirts, okay. I’ll accept that. In truth, I’d probably agree with that one; that is a little “eccentric” of me. Yet in the end it is still a judgement. A perception. Which means I could wear a suit of armor over my extra-large t-shirt while eating sauerkraut, and in the end be nothing more than just some guy doing stuff.
I may yet one day consider more deeply what about myself most people might consider eccentric, and post commentary on same. It will take a bit more thinking, though. Even then, you might not think I’m that eccentric after all. Until that post, though, I’m content to propose that there is no true eccentric behavior in the world.
Or is that an eccentric view to take on being eccentric?
The End, and the Beginning, Have Arrived.
Last night, around 7:00PM, I made the final revision in the final draft of my upcoming novel, Flowers of Dionysus. Barring any mistakes that I spot during formatting, (and a bit of waffling I’m doing on some character names) I have altered the manuscript for the final time. From here on out, the focus is on preparing it for self-publication in June. (Thanks to J. Lea Lopez for her professional proofread of the previous draft.)
For the author, a moment sch as this may be more significant than getting the book published, in either the traditional or the self-published route. The final set of revisions means that the straight up writing and creating of the novel is complete. Up until that point, the characters, the sequence, the world we as author’s have created is somewhat in flux. That flux usually solidifies a bit more with each draft, but during any given round of revisions there is some pliability. When revisions are over, things are in a sense crystallized. If you want to be poetic about it, you could say the story ceases at that point to belong to the author. The final revisions of the final draft mark the very first baby step in the books journey into the hands of readers, wherein it will be something different to each person.
In other words, though there is a lot of work left to be done in the dreadful world of publishing and promoting, the completion of revisions is a big deal.
How do you know when you’ve reached the end of the revisions process? I suppose those lucky enough to be traditionally published know it’s over when the various professionals who work at the publishing house say it is over. Perhaps their moment like this comes when they start shopping their finished manuscript, I really don’t know as I have never done it. For me, it was over when I declared it over. In other words, I had to recognize that every time I went through a round of revisions, I could potentially go back and read the novel again to see how it sounds. And while doing so, I could detect another several dozen things to tweak, or change or eliminate or add. That cycle can lead to perfectionism, which can be deadly to productivity. At some point an author must have faith that they have been diligent in their revisions and edits, and declare them complete, so they can move on with the next phase of things. That is what I did last night.
The idea for Flowers of Dionysus came about as a result of several different unexpected inspirations in the summer of 2009. A few moments and experiences in my life at around the same time led me to develop the concept of the novel, as well as elements of a few key scenes and lines. I also read a fantasy novel around that time which inspired me with its tone. All of those things came together at just the right time to motivate me into writing this novel.
The rough draft took about a year, and I let it sit for about six months before I began revisions on it. I’d wait a month or so after finishing each subsequent draft as well, before moving on to the next round. Nine rounds in all. Six years total from concept to final draft. Total length, just over 87,000 words. (The first draft was about 25% longer.) I read the first page of the first draft again last night. While as the author I can see the common concept between it and the final draft of the first page, it’s quite different. I’ve learned a lot about my writing since I composed that first page six years ago, which is probably why future novels won’t take that long to complete. I don’t think I can afford to take that long doing it anymore, anyway. But this being my first novel intended for outside eyes, I guess I wanted to make sure I got it as right as could be.
Naturally you’ll be hearing a lot more about this novel now, over the next few months. I’m going to promote it as best as I can on what little budget is available to me. My short story collection from last year did not do what I hoped it would do, so I am more nervous this time than I was last year when I thought word of mouth support from acquaintances would help me attain my modest goals. Yet I move forward anyway, knowing that writing nothing will sell nothing.
And as for Matt, Marcus, Tanya, Centauri, Ben, Kurt, Frieda and all the rest of the characters in this novel; welcome to completion.
How the Day After the Super Bowl is Symbolic for Writers
It’s possible to be a writer and also watch football. I am such a person. As such, I am still annoyed that such an atrocious call was made by Seattle at the end of the game last night to cost them the championship. (Which it almost certainly did.)
Yet this is not a football blog. (No kidding.) So I won’t delve into my complete feelings on the matter. I will, however, use the Super Bowl as a symbol for optimism to the writer.
You see, as soon as the clock ticked down on last night’s game, the NFL season was over. As I do most years when the championship doesn’t involve my own team, I put out over social media last night, “At least the Ravens are in first place again.”
You’ve probably heard sports fans say that for all kinds of sports. In baseball, everybody is in first place as soon as the World Series ends. Take your pick from the other championships in this country, the point is the same; even if your team has no shot whatsoever at winning it all in the following season, you can console yourself a bit by saying that everyone is mathematically on equal ground in the off season. Plus, once the season starts who knows?
What’s this have to do with writing? Just this; every new project you start is a best seller.
Think about it. That very first keystroke or written word or outline of a project represents unlimited potential. You could be in the first stages of that novel that brings you fame, or gets you that residency. Maybe the article you only just started sketching out today will be the one your favorite magazine accepts.
As with sports, writing success on a grand scale is against the odds for most of us. We writers look back on all of the things we’ve written that did not get selected for publication, or did not sell at all. We also look back on the things we abandoned, or the things that we finished, but with which we did nothing further. Those works did not make it to the proverbial championship.
But we start again. We begin something new. And while our project is still known only to us, within the frayed pages of our notebook or the unseen memory of our hard drive, that project is a best seller until it proves otherwise.
I don’t like that my projects haven’t gained the audience I wanted. That still saddens and frustrates me at times, just as I was frustrated last night that one of the teams I dislike most won the big game. Just as I was upset that my own team did not make it to said big game. But that disappointment, though still present, is halved as soon as a new season begins, as it has for football as of last night. And I can temper some of the disappointment of previous writings not taking flight by remembering that as I start a new project, I may be in the first stages of creating a work that eventually leads me and my career to a whole new ball game.
Confessions of Nervousness
As I take the final steps toward publishing my novel, Flowers to Dionysus I admit I am a bit nervous. A certain nervousness I wouldn’t have experienced before I published Thank You For Ten last year.
Last year when I launched my first ever self-published experience with that short anthology of short fiction, I had what I thought was a base of interest and a simple network for spreading the word about my work. Not expecting nor requiring that companion piece to the upcoming novel to go viral, I did have certain expectations that it would reach and touch a specific type of individual, who would in turn know a few more such people. Given the number of theatrical and artistic people just within my simple network, I didn’t think I had set my sites too high to generate some buzz within my own communities that might here and there splash over to folks I didn’t know.
I didn’t work out that way at all. Most (but not all) of my friends ignored the project, even as they continued pushing and selling their own projects to the same people. A dollar was too much to spare right then, but they’d get around to it. I offered it for free for the holiday season to anyone who wanted it, as a gift of sorts. The numbers changed very little. I’ve been somewhat worried ever since then. I don’t know exactly what I do differently within my sphere than those who have bands, performances, or small businesses with some degree of success. I only know that reciprocity has not, for the most part, worked.
Now that the novel is coming, (on which I work every day now to prepare for formatting), I don’t know where to stand. I am in no position to pay someone to promote it. Furthermore, I don’t think this is the sort of novel that fits in well with wide promotional tactics anyway. It’s a simple, at times quaint but nonetheless, (I think) fun story about a group of community theatre actors, with the tiniest touch of supernatural activity thrown in here and there. I figured those who experienced theatre, as I have, would find the concept interesting enough to pick up a copy, but that’s what i thought about Thank You for Ten, which takes place in the same setting. I was mistaken there.
So, I stand here only a few months before releasing it, not knowing exactly how to change my approach, other than to not count on my built-in network of theater-minded folks as much as I thought I could. Some of them will be there, sure, but as a whole entity probably not. This was the first idea fo a full novel I ever had, and I have been working on it for several years now. I doubt I’ll ever let myself spend this much time on a novel again. So I’d hate to think of it being ignored.
They tell you that it takes a lot more than luck to make something a best seller, and I’m sure that’s true. Yet my goals were and remain, quite modest for the novel at this time. Not instant fame, not wealth. I want to reach and touch a few hundred people who see what i see in the creative arts, and who will understand what these theater folks are going through in the novel. I know I’m supposed to remain confident and never let anybody know that I have doubts, but that’s not me. Based on the support I’ve been able to drum up for previous writings, I do have my doubts as to whether I can promote the book.
I will continue to work on it, of course. But something new has to happen, something positive, in order for me to feel I’m accomplishing even my modest goals this time around.
Ty Unglebower 