Today is my DAY 1 of the 30-Day No Judgment, Criticism or Complaints Challenge that was talked about yesterday at the Center for Spiritual Living in West Orange, NJ. Not many folks made it the full 30 days and I can see how difficult this can be, depending on your lifestyle, commute, relationship situation and whether you plan to spend the next 30 days on vacation on a remote island with a caterer.
The idea is that we give away so much of our time and energy to being critical, either toward others or ourselves and then complaining about others behavior that it’s not surprising we have little energy for our own dreams and passions. In other words, we are shackled by our own intolerance of life. We are prisoners of our criticism of this imperfect life, refusing to accept life on life’s terms, refusing to be tolerant of other’s behaviors. But it is a choice. I choose to be critical. I choose to be quick to anger at traffic and highway injustice (Been cut off recently? Watched someone texting while driving?).
For me, the next 30 days is not about being harsh with myself because I may be judgmental and critical. It’s about being observant to my behavior and acknowledging when I am less than tolerant of myself or others and then seeing where I can let go and accept life as it is.
Easy? Maybe not. I believe I am wired to criticize and judge. Aren’t we all? No. Actually, we’re not. Children don’t judge or criticize until they learn to from their parents, which means we are taught to be intolerant and complain if we don’t like what’s happening to us. In that case, I can stop the way I think and change my thinking so that I’m not giving my energy away.
Traffic is. People will behave out of their beliefs. Rain happens. People are not us; they are themselves and sometimes we don’t understand why they do what they do. They are living as they believe it’s best for them, whether that means they’re selfish, loving, short to anger or at peace with life. Why give our energy to these people and events, when truth is, they don’t care and may not be aware of how their actions are affecting us?
I’m going to make this a great experiment and in the days that follow, I will see how well I do to be less judgmental, less critical and less complaining. If I find myself more at peace with more energy for what I dream, then it’s been a success. If I don’t last more than a few days, then it’s a few days less of giving my energy away and I can start over the next day. I expect more than one “Day 1” to occur!
Wanna give it a try? Be kind to yourself and have fun.
No judgment. No criticism. No complaints. Only love.
Thank you Spirit for the peace and tolerance to accept people as they are and life as it is.
Peace,
Gary . . .
Monday, July 7, 2014
Monday, November 4, 2013
Horror and the Overlords Connection
Hi, my name is Mike Squatrito and I’m the author of The Overlords fantasy series. I currently have self-published the first three novels in my Overlords collection and I’m working on the fourth as we speak. The stories are epic fantasy, on the lines of The Lord of the Rings, written at a Harry Potter level, with the character set influenced by the original Star Wars cast. I know, a can’t miss, right?!?! The books are suitable for middle school on up and highly recommended for all.
OK, enough about me and my books. I want to thank Gary for letting me guest post on his blog and being the fourth stop on my Overlords Blog Tour. Gary and I are Necon buddies and I’m very excited to be guest blogging on his site today! Knowing that Gary’s works are firmly entrenched in the horror genre I figured that I would talk about how horror and the Necon experience has weaved its way into my Overlords story line.
My novels, as I stated above, are pure fantasy but I have several dark corners within the series that border on horror. Before I delve into them, I wanted to describe what horror means to me. There are all types of scenes – blood and guts, gore, terrifying situations, intense anxiety – just to name a few. I’m not one for the blood and guts, hack’em up, cut them up with a chain saw … but wait … maybe I am!
One thing about horror that gets me is the shock of being terrified and the anxiety of knowing something awful is going to happen but just not knowing how. It’s the anxiety and fright that I like to convey and I can do this within my fantasy guidelines without crossing the line. The Scynthians, an evil humanoid race that I created in The Overlords, are six and a half-feet tall, fur covered, ruthless, albeit not too intelligent, creatures that have embarked on their “Extinction Process”. Basically their mantra is to slay every human they encounter by hacking off their arms, allowing them to bleed to the point of unconsciousness before tossing them, while still alive, into a raging inferno. Pretty horrific. Gory. Scary. And I thought this up before I ever attended Necon. You should be proud of me, Gary!
Another scenario has to do with anxiety, building the scene, knowing something is lurking just beyond the fringes. While journeying through the wilderness, an innocent night camping around the fire turns into a devastating situation. The dogs sense an evil presence and teleport out of the camp rather than to stay and help protect their masters. When man’s best friend decides to hightail it out of a cozy campsite while cooking food is present, you really should take notice. (Dogs never leave food. Never!) I feel I built up the anxiety level quite well and our heroes barely make it out alive.
Lastly, shock is always littered throughout the horror genre. When our adventurers ambush a bumbling band of Scynthians, they discover with horror that they were carting a wagon full of severed human body parts. To add to the intense scene, while trying to determine just what they’ve stumbled upon, they find that a teenage girl is still alive, pale white, one arm severed, the other badly broken and clinging to life. As you can see, I really wanted to drive home the point that the Scynthians are bad ass!
There are other circumstances where my group of warriors encounter horror-filled situation, but you’ll have to pick up your own copy of The Overlords to find out! I would like to thank Gary and all of my other horror author friends for opening my eyes to this exciting genre. I’ll be sure to tread lightly in this arena, since it’s not my area of expertise. I can only hope I did them proud!
My time here is up, but I wanted to pass along a few shameless plugs. You can learn more about me and my project at www.the-overlords.com and you can contact me directly at mike@the-overlords.com. As you can see, I’m looking for other authors to guest blog on my site and if you’re interested please contact me.
You can purchase my books and eBooks on my website or if you have Amazon (Kindle) and Barnes & Noble (Nook) accounts, at the following:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=squatrito%20overlords
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/squatrito-overlords?store=book&keyword=squatrito+overlords
Like The Overlords Book Series on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter, @Overlords
Check out my blog, http://theoverlords.blogspot.com/
Check out my Self-Publishing consultancy as well, Self Publishing Insight
OK, enough about me and my books. I want to thank Gary for letting me guest post on his blog and being the fourth stop on my Overlords Blog Tour. Gary and I are Necon buddies and I’m very excited to be guest blogging on his site today! Knowing that Gary’s works are firmly entrenched in the horror genre I figured that I would talk about how horror and the Necon experience has weaved its way into my Overlords story line.
My novels, as I stated above, are pure fantasy but I have several dark corners within the series that border on horror. Before I delve into them, I wanted to describe what horror means to me. There are all types of scenes – blood and guts, gore, terrifying situations, intense anxiety – just to name a few. I’m not one for the blood and guts, hack’em up, cut them up with a chain saw … but wait … maybe I am!
One thing about horror that gets me is the shock of being terrified and the anxiety of knowing something awful is going to happen but just not knowing how. It’s the anxiety and fright that I like to convey and I can do this within my fantasy guidelines without crossing the line. The Scynthians, an evil humanoid race that I created in The Overlords, are six and a half-feet tall, fur covered, ruthless, albeit not too intelligent, creatures that have embarked on their “Extinction Process”. Basically their mantra is to slay every human they encounter by hacking off their arms, allowing them to bleed to the point of unconsciousness before tossing them, while still alive, into a raging inferno. Pretty horrific. Gory. Scary. And I thought this up before I ever attended Necon. You should be proud of me, Gary!
Another scenario has to do with anxiety, building the scene, knowing something is lurking just beyond the fringes. While journeying through the wilderness, an innocent night camping around the fire turns into a devastating situation. The dogs sense an evil presence and teleport out of the camp rather than to stay and help protect their masters. When man’s best friend decides to hightail it out of a cozy campsite while cooking food is present, you really should take notice. (Dogs never leave food. Never!) I feel I built up the anxiety level quite well and our heroes barely make it out alive.
Lastly, shock is always littered throughout the horror genre. When our adventurers ambush a bumbling band of Scynthians, they discover with horror that they were carting a wagon full of severed human body parts. To add to the intense scene, while trying to determine just what they’ve stumbled upon, they find that a teenage girl is still alive, pale white, one arm severed, the other badly broken and clinging to life. As you can see, I really wanted to drive home the point that the Scynthians are bad ass!
There are other circumstances where my group of warriors encounter horror-filled situation, but you’ll have to pick up your own copy of The Overlords to find out! I would like to thank Gary and all of my other horror author friends for opening my eyes to this exciting genre. I’ll be sure to tread lightly in this arena, since it’s not my area of expertise. I can only hope I did them proud!
My time here is up, but I wanted to pass along a few shameless plugs. You can learn more about me and my project at www.the-overlords.com and you can contact me directly at mike@the-overlords.com. As you can see, I’m looking for other authors to guest blog on my site and if you’re interested please contact me.
You can purchase my books and eBooks on my website or if you have Amazon (Kindle) and Barnes & Noble (Nook) accounts, at the following:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=squatrito%20overlords
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/squatrito-overlords?store=book&keyword=squatrito+overlords
Like The Overlords Book Series on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter, @Overlords
Check out my blog, http://theoverlords.blogspot.com/
Check out my Self-Publishing consultancy as well, Self Publishing Insight
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Who Am I ... Part V
A lesson from a metaphysician goes like this: We come from the Unmanifested Godhead, something like a vast ocean of souls, and manifest on this plane, being born into this world to experience life. We are a spiritual being having human experiences. When we die, we return to the Unmanifested Godhead and share our experiences with God, who cannot manifest on this plane. I don't recall why God can't manifest here, only that he cannot, so God lives vicariously (if you will) through us.
This makes me think of the elderly parent who waits by the window of their room in a nursing home for their children to come and tell them about their lives. Is God waiting in some cosmic senior home for us to come and visit to tell him what life is like outside his four sterile white walls?
I digress ...
We come from this Unmanifested Godhead where all the souls go between lives, between incarnations. Here, we review our lives to see if the lessons we were to learn were learned. What lessons does a soul need to learn? No. It's the lessons as humans that we need to learn. Humility, gratitude, love, tolerance, inner peace, kindness. Or is it the incomplete soul that needs to learn compassion, empathy? Aren't we complete? Don't we already know all we need to know to be perfect spirits?
As part of the vast divine ocean, we all have slivers of God within us; the flickering flame we hardly recognize is God within us. But is God really within us? The gurus tell us to imagine a flame and we do and they tell us that it is God within us and we say "Yes!" Or do we question the gurus? It's just an image. Someone could tell us to imagine a worm wriggling through our bodies and that's God within. Same idea, just not as "pretty" and nice and the connotations of a worm aren't as spiritual as a flickering flame.
So do I believe I've come from a vast ocean of souls to manifest here to learn to be a better "soul or "person"? I believe I was born into this life to learn lessons on how to be true to my "higher self", on how to be as authentic as possible. Boy, for the most part, I haven't done such a great job. I've let all those roles and expectations and beliefs take control and guide me. I've got much thinking to undo.
What do you believe? Who are you?
This makes me think of the elderly parent who waits by the window of their room in a nursing home for their children to come and tell them about their lives. Is God waiting in some cosmic senior home for us to come and visit to tell him what life is like outside his four sterile white walls?
I digress ...
We come from this Unmanifested Godhead where all the souls go between lives, between incarnations. Here, we review our lives to see if the lessons we were to learn were learned. What lessons does a soul need to learn? No. It's the lessons as humans that we need to learn. Humility, gratitude, love, tolerance, inner peace, kindness. Or is it the incomplete soul that needs to learn compassion, empathy? Aren't we complete? Don't we already know all we need to know to be perfect spirits?
As part of the vast divine ocean, we all have slivers of God within us; the flickering flame we hardly recognize is God within us. But is God really within us? The gurus tell us to imagine a flame and we do and they tell us that it is God within us and we say "Yes!" Or do we question the gurus? It's just an image. Someone could tell us to imagine a worm wriggling through our bodies and that's God within. Same idea, just not as "pretty" and nice and the connotations of a worm aren't as spiritual as a flickering flame.
So do I believe I've come from a vast ocean of souls to manifest here to learn to be a better "soul or "person"? I believe I was born into this life to learn lessons on how to be true to my "higher self", on how to be as authentic as possible. Boy, for the most part, I haven't done such a great job. I've let all those roles and expectations and beliefs take control and guide me. I've got much thinking to undo.
What do you believe? Who are you?
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Who Am I ... part IV (The Voraciousness of Ego)
I cannot have any distractions for this trick. I cannot contemplate anything but uncovering my true self from the blizzard of beliefs I AM under. Yesterday I thought about writing for an anthology or a novella for a publisher and spent the rest of the day reminding myself that I'm not a good writer and I would only be embarrassing myself if I submitted something. This is not the space to argue whether I am or not, suffice to say this is what I believe. This is why the notion of jettisoning all my beliefs sounds pretty darn good.
When I say that I live as if there is another person standing right behind me judging me, that is exactly what the voice in my head (of my Ego?) is like. It is a pitbull of a watchdog that reminds me I am not enough. Okay, we've heard all that already, right? So what's new? (Say something witty before they all get up and leave!)
"Don't believe everything you think."
Good advice. What I realized is that my Ego (for lack of a better word and to name the voice in my head without calling it Bob) is devious and cunning. While my Ego (Edging God Out, get it?) kept on about my writing abilities, I was completely off-focused from digging deeper toward the answer to Who Am I. Ah, very clever, right?
Some Spiritual Gurus will say that the Ego is something we created a a means of surviving a toxic childhood and it accepted all the beliefs we were taught and now we fight the Ego to come out from underneath and be our own person. Other Gurus will say that every thought you have is your own and to take responsibility for your thoughts. Let me tell you, it was much easier when I had an Ego to blame instead of accepting I was thinking those thoughts. On the other hand, all of my crucifying thoughts are as if someone is speaking to me. I never say "I'm a failure", It's always "You are a failure." Go figure.
So I ask you, how do you shut your thoughts off? What do you believe about yourself?
I was told I'm very introspective. Quite the curse, in a way. I don't think most people dwell on the same thinkings as I do.
Ah well. Enough for today. Back to I AM and clearing my head and not getting distracted. It's too easy for me to fall backward into the pit if I'm not vigilant.
When I say that I live as if there is another person standing right behind me judging me, that is exactly what the voice in my head (of my Ego?) is like. It is a pitbull of a watchdog that reminds me I am not enough. Okay, we've heard all that already, right? So what's new? (Say something witty before they all get up and leave!)
"Don't believe everything you think."
Good advice. What I realized is that my Ego (for lack of a better word and to name the voice in my head without calling it Bob) is devious and cunning. While my Ego (Edging God Out, get it?) kept on about my writing abilities, I was completely off-focused from digging deeper toward the answer to Who Am I. Ah, very clever, right?
Some Spiritual Gurus will say that the Ego is something we created a a means of surviving a toxic childhood and it accepted all the beliefs we were taught and now we fight the Ego to come out from underneath and be our own person. Other Gurus will say that every thought you have is your own and to take responsibility for your thoughts. Let me tell you, it was much easier when I had an Ego to blame instead of accepting I was thinking those thoughts. On the other hand, all of my crucifying thoughts are as if someone is speaking to me. I never say "I'm a failure", It's always "You are a failure." Go figure.
So I ask you, how do you shut your thoughts off? What do you believe about yourself?
I was told I'm very introspective. Quite the curse, in a way. I don't think most people dwell on the same thinkings as I do.
Ah well. Enough for today. Back to I AM and clearing my head and not getting distracted. It's too easy for me to fall backward into the pit if I'm not vigilant.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Who I Am ... part III
If you had asked me a week ago, I would've told you that I was doing better, that the inner executioner had settled back when confronted with I AM because I AM says everything and nothing. It accepts no roles, identities or expectations and that was what the executioner feasted on.
All those expectations sloughed away when I became no one but I AM. I wasn't a father, son, writer, brother, musician, DJ, poet, brother-in-law, staff accountant II, husband or anything other than the organic and pure I AM. At first I thought that was a cop out. What do you mean, I AM? Bill S said that had helped him when he asked Who am I. The answer was I AM. What BS, right? I mean it's a non-answer. But that's the point. It's a non-identity and yet it means everything.
I AM.
But as the week crept on, something happened. Maybe it was life. Maybe it was the overflow of negative energy that I'm immersed in. Early October I'll know if I have a job come 2014. The house that was supposed to be sold isn't and we're back to square one trying to sell it. No one around me is particularly optimistic. In trying to get rid of all distractions, I'm not writing. Minus the distractions all I've left is me and you know how I feel about that. When there's no one else around, the executioner comes back again nice and loud. Throwing I AM at him doesn't seem to mean anything. I still don't know who I am. Repeating I AM is ambiguous with no concrete reality.
Add to this my friend, Bob Booth passed away early Saturday morning, so I'm quite sad about that.
I hate self-hate but liking myself isn't easy. If I'm not vigilant, I fall backward quickly. How's that go: One step up, two steps back. Lately, the executioner has begun degrading me as a writer: my writing will never amount to anything and there's no point in submitting it because I'll only embarrass myself. Lovely, huh?
And no, for me, it's not as simple as just stop thinking those negative thoughts. It's like living with someone always right behind me verbally beating me.
So back to I AM because there's no other choice, though I would like some other supporting concepts to keep the executioner at bay. That's about all the news that's print to fit.
All those expectations sloughed away when I became no one but I AM. I wasn't a father, son, writer, brother, musician, DJ, poet, brother-in-law, staff accountant II, husband or anything other than the organic and pure I AM. At first I thought that was a cop out. What do you mean, I AM? Bill S said that had helped him when he asked Who am I. The answer was I AM. What BS, right? I mean it's a non-answer. But that's the point. It's a non-identity and yet it means everything.
I AM.
But as the week crept on, something happened. Maybe it was life. Maybe it was the overflow of negative energy that I'm immersed in. Early October I'll know if I have a job come 2014. The house that was supposed to be sold isn't and we're back to square one trying to sell it. No one around me is particularly optimistic. In trying to get rid of all distractions, I'm not writing. Minus the distractions all I've left is me and you know how I feel about that. When there's no one else around, the executioner comes back again nice and loud. Throwing I AM at him doesn't seem to mean anything. I still don't know who I am. Repeating I AM is ambiguous with no concrete reality.
Add to this my friend, Bob Booth passed away early Saturday morning, so I'm quite sad about that.
I hate self-hate but liking myself isn't easy. If I'm not vigilant, I fall backward quickly. How's that go: One step up, two steps back. Lately, the executioner has begun degrading me as a writer: my writing will never amount to anything and there's no point in submitting it because I'll only embarrass myself. Lovely, huh?
And no, for me, it's not as simple as just stop thinking those negative thoughts. It's like living with someone always right behind me verbally beating me.
So back to I AM because there's no other choice, though I would like some other supporting concepts to keep the executioner at bay. That's about all the news that's print to fit.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Who Am I ... part 2
So then this funny thing happens. I've kicked myself to the curb and then spend a week in the curb, kicking myself some more because its familiar and easy. When I look at my track record of "accomplishments as a responsible, middle age male American", I fall way short (or so I believe): no college degree, no career track, no high powered anything, no zest to make fistfuls of money, no . . . interest in living up to expectations. Yeah. That's it.
I stop kicking myself. I'm doing time in the gutter and I'm looking at the cars, dreaming. Beliefs. Here I go again. It's this antiquated belief system. I know that. I KNOW that. Always have. But what does that really mean? Easy to say my belief system's broken and faulty, but then what? Bill S says beliefs are stories we tell ourselves, made up fictions of who we think we are. They're not real. Kathleen R says surely I have some healthy and beautiful beliefs about myself. Bill, I know. Kathleen, not so much.
But it gets me thinking, you know? In a world where I feel so small, I can't stop thinking big right now.What if I just jettison all my beliefs. Right here and right now. No more. Bye bye. Who-hoo, see ya. From this moment I have no beliefs about myself.
Then the notion of roles comes front and center. See how that happens? I am a father, husband, writer, son, brother, musician, friend, coworker, staff accountant II (really???) and I can add a dozen more from all the years of my life. Those roles define me, define all of us and tell us who we are based on our understanding of those roles. As a father I am this. as a son, I am that. As a writer, I'm this and that and the other thing over there. In other words, all these roles come with expectations of who I should be as a father, as a writer, as a husband.
But wait! There's been a slaughter here! That's right, kids, if the beliefs go, so do the expectations of my roles. Slaughter them all! I'm still all those things, but once I remove the expectations of each role, I'm left with ...
Hear that? It's an explosion of a supernova's worth of expectations in the vacuum of space. Don't hear it? Of course you don't. There is no sound in space!
But I digress.
Take away all the beliefs and all the expectations and all the defined roles (though still being those roles) and who am I?
If you took away all your beliefs about yourself and let go of what's expected of you because of each of your roles, who would you be? You'd still be a parent, spouse, worker and whatever else, but if you were sitting on a mountain by yourself with no responsibilities to anyone but yourself, who would you be?
I stop kicking myself. I'm doing time in the gutter and I'm looking at the cars, dreaming. Beliefs. Here I go again. It's this antiquated belief system. I know that. I KNOW that. Always have. But what does that really mean? Easy to say my belief system's broken and faulty, but then what? Bill S says beliefs are stories we tell ourselves, made up fictions of who we think we are. They're not real. Kathleen R says surely I have some healthy and beautiful beliefs about myself. Bill, I know. Kathleen, not so much.
But it gets me thinking, you know? In a world where I feel so small, I can't stop thinking big right now.What if I just jettison all my beliefs. Right here and right now. No more. Bye bye. Who-hoo, see ya. From this moment I have no beliefs about myself.
Then the notion of roles comes front and center. See how that happens? I am a father, husband, writer, son, brother, musician, friend, coworker, staff accountant II (really???) and I can add a dozen more from all the years of my life. Those roles define me, define all of us and tell us who we are based on our understanding of those roles. As a father I am this. as a son, I am that. As a writer, I'm this and that and the other thing over there. In other words, all these roles come with expectations of who I should be as a father, as a writer, as a husband.
But wait! There's been a slaughter here! That's right, kids, if the beliefs go, so do the expectations of my roles. Slaughter them all! I'm still all those things, but once I remove the expectations of each role, I'm left with ...
Hear that? It's an explosion of a supernova's worth of expectations in the vacuum of space. Don't hear it? Of course you don't. There is no sound in space!
But I digress.
Take away all the beliefs and all the expectations and all the defined roles (though still being those roles) and who am I?
If you took away all your beliefs about yourself and let go of what's expected of you because of each of your roles, who would you be? You'd still be a parent, spouse, worker and whatever else, but if you were sitting on a mountain by yourself with no responsibilities to anyone but yourself, who would you be?
Who Am I ... part I
Welcome to my self-discovery. First, a bit of history and then we'll see what happens next.
I have hated myself the greater part of my life. I have used the phrase self-loathing often. I am not enough. I have failed and disappointed everyone around me. I must be perfect or I’m worthless. Or so says my demon. Actually, it's a broken down, decrepit belief system as corrupt as former NY/NJ governor Edward Hyde (though no women's clothing is involved) that's been in use since before I was conscious of its existence.
In the years since, I have experienced therapies, lectures, seminars, The Omega Institute, books, cassettes, CDs, weekend retreats, The Open Center. I have experienced John Bradshaw, Wayne Dyer, Marianne Williamson, don Miguel Ruiz, Debbie Ford, Sheri Huber, Julia Cameron, Rick Jarow, Mia Farrow, Thich Nhat Hanh,Tara Brach, Pema Chodron and other spiritual gurus. And in the now of those experiences I am whole and clearly see my higher self, my calling and my perfect-ness as a spiritual being having a human experience. The demon is silenced.
But after the experience ends – the CD is over, the book is finished, the lecture is done – something happens (a moment of imperfection (being human)) and I fall back into the familiar embrace of the demon. The judgment and criticism come roaring back louder and more intense: “You’re a worthless piece of shit.” “You’re a failure.” “You’re a useless piece of garbage.” “Nobody cares about you.” “Why don’t you do everyone a favor and die.” “Can’t you do anything right?”
See, it's like this: Where most people write off mistakes, stumbles and gaffes as being human, that’s not acceptable to me. I must be perfect or people will see what a failure I am. This is shame: I don’t make mistakes, I am a fundamentally flawed mistake.
Some days/weeks are better than others and some are particularly brutal, with the demon screaming self-loathing epithets at me. All of this comes from thoughts borne out of a belief system that says life is difficult, that says I’m not enough to succeed, that says I should accept mediocrity, that says if enough people say I can't do a thing, then I can't do that thing, that bows down and worships the phrase "I Can't."
But for all the self-condemnation, I’ve kept going. I have a list of accomplishments that include two traditionally published novels, a cassette of originals, a lot of gigs, a cycled century and a couple of metric centuries and many other things. You’d think I would’ve gotten over myself and my hate. But no matter what, it’s not enough. People have published more novels, have ridden more centuries and are better musicians. Yes, I know that in this world there will always be people who’ve done more and many who’ve done less. I know that I shouldn’t stop writing or playing because there are people better than me. Yet because I believe I am not enough, I’m constantly thinking to give up. But I have not. I kept going and I’m still going, even with the self-condemnation I experience almost daily.
But wait ... in the darkness of my self there's a pinprick of light, the tiniest of flames and I focus on it and look to it as a means of letting go and "getting over it." But will I or will I allow the same demons to crawl out of the black and pull me under once again?
I have hated myself the greater part of my life. I have used the phrase self-loathing often. I am not enough. I have failed and disappointed everyone around me. I must be perfect or I’m worthless. Or so says my demon. Actually, it's a broken down, decrepit belief system as corrupt as former NY/NJ governor Edward Hyde (though no women's clothing is involved) that's been in use since before I was conscious of its existence.
In the years since, I have experienced therapies, lectures, seminars, The Omega Institute, books, cassettes, CDs, weekend retreats, The Open Center. I have experienced John Bradshaw, Wayne Dyer, Marianne Williamson, don Miguel Ruiz, Debbie Ford, Sheri Huber, Julia Cameron, Rick Jarow, Mia Farrow, Thich Nhat Hanh,Tara Brach, Pema Chodron and other spiritual gurus. And in the now of those experiences I am whole and clearly see my higher self, my calling and my perfect-ness as a spiritual being having a human experience. The demon is silenced.
But after the experience ends – the CD is over, the book is finished, the lecture is done – something happens (a moment of imperfection (being human)) and I fall back into the familiar embrace of the demon. The judgment and criticism come roaring back louder and more intense: “You’re a worthless piece of shit.” “You’re a failure.” “You’re a useless piece of garbage.” “Nobody cares about you.” “Why don’t you do everyone a favor and die.” “Can’t you do anything right?”
See, it's like this: Where most people write off mistakes, stumbles and gaffes as being human, that’s not acceptable to me. I must be perfect or people will see what a failure I am. This is shame: I don’t make mistakes, I am a fundamentally flawed mistake.
Some days/weeks are better than others and some are particularly brutal, with the demon screaming self-loathing epithets at me. All of this comes from thoughts borne out of a belief system that says life is difficult, that says I’m not enough to succeed, that says I should accept mediocrity, that says if enough people say I can't do a thing, then I can't do that thing, that bows down and worships the phrase "I Can't."
But for all the self-condemnation, I’ve kept going. I have a list of accomplishments that include two traditionally published novels, a cassette of originals, a lot of gigs, a cycled century and a couple of metric centuries and many other things. You’d think I would’ve gotten over myself and my hate. But no matter what, it’s not enough. People have published more novels, have ridden more centuries and are better musicians. Yes, I know that in this world there will always be people who’ve done more and many who’ve done less. I know that I shouldn’t stop writing or playing because there are people better than me. Yet because I believe I am not enough, I’m constantly thinking to give up. But I have not. I kept going and I’m still going, even with the self-condemnation I experience almost daily.
But wait ... in the darkness of my self there's a pinprick of light, the tiniest of flames and I focus on it and look to it as a means of letting go and "getting over it." But will I or will I allow the same demons to crawl out of the black and pull me under once again?
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Why Is It Important?
First off, I'd like to thank Donald Maass for asking this question recently at the Seton Hill University Writing Popular Fiction Writing Conference. Second off, here we go ...
You've just finished your latest novel when your hard drive crashes. Oddly, the back-up's failed as well. A fire consumes the only printed version you had. Your critique partners threw their copies out and, sadly, your mother never read it. In other words, your new masterpiece is completely gone. But wait, your one friend has the only remaining copy. They'll give it to you so long as you answer this question:
Why is this novel important? Why does it matter?
So what's your answer? I'll tell you mine in a little while.
Happy Writin's!
Gary . . .
You've just finished your latest novel when your hard drive crashes. Oddly, the back-up's failed as well. A fire consumes the only printed version you had. Your critique partners threw their copies out and, sadly, your mother never read it. In other words, your new masterpiece is completely gone. But wait, your one friend has the only remaining copy. They'll give it to you so long as you answer this question:
Why is this novel important? Why does it matter?
So what's your answer? I'll tell you mine in a little while.
Happy Writin's!
Gary . . .
Monday, June 4, 2012
Content Trunps Quality?
We hear about writers who've self-published who are offered huge publishing contracts. I won't mention names; you either know who they are or you don't. Their books are selling by the truckload, making the authors thousands of dollars. Their advances are for multi-book contracts. They have made it. Yet their writing, their craft has not.
Their books, many have said, are poorly written. Be it plot, dialog, characterization, grammar or punctuation. These people seemingly have not taken the time to learn their craft. However, all that doesn't seem to matter if the content is interesting enough. Not only will people overlook bad writing, they'll even say the book's well written. I've read bits of some of these books and the writing is simply amateurish at best. And yet the content is so compelling (to a LOT of people, though not everyone) that readers will forgive the author.
But what of all those teachers that told their students to spend years honing their craft and always strive to get better? Is that lesson relevant any more?
Why should it be acceptable that YA fantasy is written poorly? We should be offering those readers a better written book so they understand what good writing is. We shouldn't accept adult books written at a 5th grade reading level. Or, if the story is that darned good, should we simply forgive the writer?
I want to be a better writer. I want to write compelling stories, but not at the expense of craft. Personally, I don't want to put an inferior product out there. Readers expect more and they deserve better and they won't come back to an author if a book is that bad. At least they shouldn't.
So all this begs the question: Does quality really matter any more when it comes to selling ebooks? What do you think?
Their books, many have said, are poorly written. Be it plot, dialog, characterization, grammar or punctuation. These people seemingly have not taken the time to learn their craft. However, all that doesn't seem to matter if the content is interesting enough. Not only will people overlook bad writing, they'll even say the book's well written. I've read bits of some of these books and the writing is simply amateurish at best. And yet the content is so compelling (to a LOT of people, though not everyone) that readers will forgive the author.
But what of all those teachers that told their students to spend years honing their craft and always strive to get better? Is that lesson relevant any more?
Why should it be acceptable that YA fantasy is written poorly? We should be offering those readers a better written book so they understand what good writing is. We shouldn't accept adult books written at a 5th grade reading level. Or, if the story is that darned good, should we simply forgive the writer?
I want to be a better writer. I want to write compelling stories, but not at the expense of craft. Personally, I don't want to put an inferior product out there. Readers expect more and they deserve better and they won't come back to an author if a book is that bad. At least they shouldn't.
So all this begs the question: Does quality really matter any more when it comes to selling ebooks? What do you think?
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Just wanted to let you all know about a couple of upcoming appearances.
APRIL 23rd (Mon) 7pm
APRIL 23rd (Mon) 7pm
FROM THOUGHTS TO PRINT: Getting Published in the 21st Century
EAST BRUNSWICK LIBRARY
2 Jean Walling Civic Center East Brunswick, NJ 08816
2 Jean Walling Civic Center East Brunswick, NJ 08816
Featuring: Jon Gibbs (moderator);Uta Burke; Gary Frank and Bill Mingin
And:
APRIL 28th (Sat) 2pm
FROM THOUGHTS TO PRINT: Getting Published in the 21st Century
EDISON LIBRARY
340 Plainfield Avenue, Edison, NJ 08817
340 Plainfield Avenue, Edison, NJ 08817
Featuring: Jon Gibbs (moderator);Mickey Flagg; Gary Frank; Jim 'JJ' Lair and Dan Wilensky
Both of these should be a lot of fun and whether you're just starting out or are a seasoned writer, I'm sure you'll learn something. So come on down. If you can't make one, come to the other. If you can make both, come to both. I'll make sure to say different things so no one gets bored!
Gary . . .
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
How About a Little Name That Tune?
While you're waiting for my next exciting writer-related blogpost, how about playing a little Name That Tune? Here are the lyrics, you just need to name the song and performer. These songs range from the 1960's to the 2000's. Two of them have two answers (the original and cover versions). Name them both for extra points! And no using Google. That's too easy!
1. They told me, when I was younger, they said, Boy, you’re gonna be president
2. Luck and intuition play the cards with Spades to start
3. And you can act real rude and totally removed and I can act like an imbecile
4. It’s not the perfume that you wear, it’s not the ribbons in your hair
5. No one I think is in my tree, I mean it must be high or low
6. Some silicone sister with her manager’s mister told me I got what it takes
7. When the kids had killed the man, I had to break up the band
8. This is for the ones who stood their ground
9. What if all these fantasies come flailing around
10. It’s obvious you hate me, though I’ve done nothing wrong
11. I’m gonna exorcise the demons of my past
12. You float like a feather in a beautiful world
13. All my friends are skeletons, they beat the rhythm with their bones
14. Well, my heart knows me better than I know myself
15. Well, it’s late and I want love, love that’s gonna break me in two
16. No changes are permanent, but change is
17. Bye, bye, it’s been a sweet love
18. Sick at heart and lonely, deep in dark despair
19. I played a divorcee in New York City
20. I felt so good, like anything was possible
1. They told me, when I was younger, they said, Boy, you’re gonna be president
2. Luck and intuition play the cards with Spades to start
3. And you can act real rude and totally removed and I can act like an imbecile
4. It’s not the perfume that you wear, it’s not the ribbons in your hair
5. No one I think is in my tree, I mean it must be high or low
6. Some silicone sister with her manager’s mister told me I got what it takes
7. When the kids had killed the man, I had to break up the band
8. This is for the ones who stood their ground
9. What if all these fantasies come flailing around
10. It’s obvious you hate me, though I’ve done nothing wrong
11. I’m gonna exorcise the demons of my past
12. You float like a feather in a beautiful world
13. All my friends are skeletons, they beat the rhythm with their bones
14. Well, my heart knows me better than I know myself
15. Well, it’s late and I want love, love that’s gonna break me in two
16. No changes are permanent, but change is
17. Bye, bye, it’s been a sweet love
18. Sick at heart and lonely, deep in dark despair
19. I played a divorcee in New York City
20. I felt so good, like anything was possible
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Benefit Fundraiser Poetry Reading
Wednesday night, August 3rd, at La Vie En Rose Bakery & Cafe, I'll be taking part in a poetry benefit to raise money for Laura Adams who's been diagnosed with AML, a rare form of Leukemia.
To help the Adams' family with the sudden and unexpected medical costs they are facing, her neighbors and friends have organized this exciting fundraising event.
Bring your own wine and enjoy complimentary cheese and crackers as an accompaniment. Coffees, teas and delectable desserts will be available for purchase, with 50% of all sales donated
directly to the Adams family!
The cafe is located at 10 Prospect St. in Waldwick, NJ and their phone number is: 201-652-8880.
To help the Adams' family with the sudden and unexpected medical costs they are facing, her neighbors and friends have organized this exciting fundraising event.
Bring your own wine and enjoy complimentary cheese and crackers as an accompaniment. Coffees, teas and delectable desserts will be available for purchase, with 50% of all sales donated
directly to the Adams family!
The cafe is located at 10 Prospect St. in Waldwick, NJ and their phone number is: 201-652-8880.
IAMS & Animal Cruelty
http://www.iamscruelty.com/
IAMS is still experimenting on animals to test their products. Really? Please feel free to repost this link wherever you are.
Gary . . .
IAMS is still experimenting on animals to test their products. Really? Please feel free to repost this link wherever you are.
Gary . . .
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Help Me ... I Can't Break Out This Prison All Alone
Here’s how it went.
Too many restless nights left me less than refreshed in the morning. In actuality, I was tired all the time.
Sleep study one determines I have severe sleep apnea, having 180 events over six hours. That’s 30+ times an hour I stop breathing. Bad.
Sleep study two determines that my sleep apnea is so severe, they can’t set the pressure on the CPAP properly because just when they nearly have it, I wake up, unable to exhale. Bad.
I get an APAP, which automatically adjusts the air pressure to my breathing. The problem: We all sleep in cycles. Light, medium, deep. The deeper I slept, the worse my apnea became. The APAP cycled up to compensate. But when I cycled back to my light sleep, the machine was still at maximum pressure and I woke up every two hours. Adjusting the machine left me waking up every hour. I came to realize I actually felt worse in the morning with the machine than without it. Still bad.
Now you’re up to date on the events.
Sleep deprivation does funky things to a person. A few choice experiences: lack of focus, shut down imagination, difficulty concentrating, forgetfulness, exhaustion, nodding off at inopportune times (work, driving), loss of hope of finding a solution, frustration, loss of interest in things that once made me happy, angry more often than I have the right to be.
You know, I wanted to tell you how I feel, dig into my heart and bleed my emotions across the e-screen without sounding whiny or self-pitying, but the truth is all the anger, frustration, self-hate, pessimism, hopelessness and helplessness I was coming to conquer has returned in full force. Debbie Ford calls this side of ourselves, the dark, shadow side of our souls, the Black Wolf. The Black Wolf has no faith and has forsaken God, making itself Lord and Master and I feel small and helpless under its baleful gaze.
Days and nights I remember who I used to be before the exhaustion tore my soul to shreds, leaving me apathetic to life. Yes, I’ve fallen quite far into the pit, a familiar way of living, as it seems to’ve been what I grew up surrounded by. Maybe I’m mistaken and my view back there is tainted by what I think happened. I don’t know.
All I know is, the Unholy Ghost* comes with his Black Dog** and keeps me company day and night and I’m in spiritual pain most of the time. I know there are doors and windows out of this glass prison***, but it seems such a gargantuan effort that I don’t have the energy for. At least for right now.
Peace,
Gary . . .
*Unholy Ghost, taken from Unholy Ghost: Writers on Depression, edited by Nell Casey
**Black Dog. William Styron’s name for depression
***Glass Prison is a song that’s part of an epic storyline by Dream Theater that spans a number of the discs, relating to addiction and recovery. Here’s a link to the lyrics: http://www.songmeanings.net/songs/view/67220/
Too many restless nights left me less than refreshed in the morning. In actuality, I was tired all the time.
Sleep study one determines I have severe sleep apnea, having 180 events over six hours. That’s 30+ times an hour I stop breathing. Bad.
Sleep study two determines that my sleep apnea is so severe, they can’t set the pressure on the CPAP properly because just when they nearly have it, I wake up, unable to exhale. Bad.
I get an APAP, which automatically adjusts the air pressure to my breathing. The problem: We all sleep in cycles. Light, medium, deep. The deeper I slept, the worse my apnea became. The APAP cycled up to compensate. But when I cycled back to my light sleep, the machine was still at maximum pressure and I woke up every two hours. Adjusting the machine left me waking up every hour. I came to realize I actually felt worse in the morning with the machine than without it. Still bad.
Now you’re up to date on the events.
Sleep deprivation does funky things to a person. A few choice experiences: lack of focus, shut down imagination, difficulty concentrating, forgetfulness, exhaustion, nodding off at inopportune times (work, driving), loss of hope of finding a solution, frustration, loss of interest in things that once made me happy, angry more often than I have the right to be.
You know, I wanted to tell you how I feel, dig into my heart and bleed my emotions across the e-screen without sounding whiny or self-pitying, but the truth is all the anger, frustration, self-hate, pessimism, hopelessness and helplessness I was coming to conquer has returned in full force. Debbie Ford calls this side of ourselves, the dark, shadow side of our souls, the Black Wolf. The Black Wolf has no faith and has forsaken God, making itself Lord and Master and I feel small and helpless under its baleful gaze.
Days and nights I remember who I used to be before the exhaustion tore my soul to shreds, leaving me apathetic to life. Yes, I’ve fallen quite far into the pit, a familiar way of living, as it seems to’ve been what I grew up surrounded by. Maybe I’m mistaken and my view back there is tainted by what I think happened. I don’t know.
All I know is, the Unholy Ghost* comes with his Black Dog** and keeps me company day and night and I’m in spiritual pain most of the time. I know there are doors and windows out of this glass prison***, but it seems such a gargantuan effort that I don’t have the energy for. At least for right now.
Peace,
Gary . . .
*Unholy Ghost, taken from Unholy Ghost: Writers on Depression, edited by Nell Casey
**Black Dog. William Styron’s name for depression
***Glass Prison is a song that’s part of an epic storyline by Dream Theater that spans a number of the discs, relating to addiction and recovery. Here’s a link to the lyrics: http://www.songmeanings.net/songs/view/67220/
Friday, September 24, 2010
Looking for the "Right" Path
Ever since I decided I want to be a published author, I kept focused on the traditional path: find an agent, find a publisher, and get the book out on book store shelves. That was some years ago, before self-publishing, POD, and epublishing existed. It’s a different world out there, but I’ve still held firm to the traditional path. I’ve heard the pros and cons of the various publishing forms from self-publishing to small presses to traditional publishing and I’ve told people that as long as they do their research to find the best publishing course for them, that was fine; I was sticking with the traditional path.
Then I found this blogpost http://jakonrath.blogspot.com/ and I started wondering about the variety of publishing paths and the benefits of epublishing. Granted, Mr. Konrath has a large following from his previously traditionally published books, so that would account for some ebook sales, but still…
Now I’m going to turn this over to y’all. Where do you stand on publishing? Do you think epublishing on your own (publishing through Amazon) is the way to go? I’m not talking five or ten years down the road, but today. Is Mr. Konrath the exception or the new standard? He mentions other authors who’ve been successful who aren’t as well known as he is, so that sort of takes the “well, he’s famous” argument out of the equation, right? I understand why published authors would want to epublish their back stock and out of print books, but new books? All thoughts, opinions and comments are welcome.
Peace,
Gary . . .
Then I found this blogpost http://jakonrath.blogspot.com/ and I started wondering about the variety of publishing paths and the benefits of epublishing. Granted, Mr. Konrath has a large following from his previously traditionally published books, so that would account for some ebook sales, but still…
Now I’m going to turn this over to y’all. Where do you stand on publishing? Do you think epublishing on your own (publishing through Amazon) is the way to go? I’m not talking five or ten years down the road, but today. Is Mr. Konrath the exception or the new standard? He mentions other authors who’ve been successful who aren’t as well known as he is, so that sort of takes the “well, he’s famous” argument out of the equation, right? I understand why published authors would want to epublish their back stock and out of print books, but new books? All thoughts, opinions and comments are welcome.
Peace,
Gary . . .
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
It's all talk talk
The other day I read an author's blog where they stated their opinion about an unfolding news event. They were pretty clear where they stood on the issue and that brought up an interesting question. It was obvious to me that this writer felt so moved to write what she did, that it didn't matter the consequences of her actions. Would people feel any different toward her and her writing? Would they pass it off as just a rant or would they think twice the next time they went to pick up one of her books?
As writers (and the arts community in general), we're looked to as advocates of culture and spokes-folks for our society. After 9/11, the most outspoken voice was Bruce Springsteen and his disc, The Rising. When events unfold in our world, writers, authors, artists and musicians help us understand what's happening.
But where do we draw the line? How do we, as writers, express ourselves without offending people and thus losing readers? If I come out on one side of a political or religious discussion, some folks will agree with me and some won't, but is it so important for me to state my opinion that I'm willing to lose readers? I could very well ostracize myself from my fellow writers as well. Should we shy away from those topics that can turn incendiary in an instant? Or do we face the taboos and drag them out into the light, shining our own truths on them? As writers, our readers sustain us (in a financial sense) and keep us writing. Should we think of the consequences of our words before we post them for all the world to see?
My first publisher told me to start a blog and get on MySpace (remember that?) and get a website up, but don't write about any issues that could cost me readers. But some of these issues are quite complex and deserve to be discussed. Unfortunately, as I've seen with a recent news event, when people get passionate, they can get loud and when they come from the heart, they don't always think before hitting Publish or Send.
This is a problem with our electronic society. In our social isolationism, it's okay to say whatever you want because it's online and somehow, the consequences don't matter. But before I digress too far...
Conversely, in my next book, I can discuss any social issue and use my characters to come down on whatever side I choose. I can work out my own issues through my characters and call it fiction and it's all right. Of course by the time the book gets published, the issue could be history.
So where's the balance? If I tell you my political leanings, would that change whether you read my books? If I spoke out about religious issues, would you consider it inappropriate or justified because I have a right to speak? Can you separate the writer and his books from the writer and his opinions?
How do you handle discussing fiery topics on your blog or Facebook or wherever?
Peace,
Gary . . .
As writers (and the arts community in general), we're looked to as advocates of culture and spokes-folks for our society. After 9/11, the most outspoken voice was Bruce Springsteen and his disc, The Rising. When events unfold in our world, writers, authors, artists and musicians help us understand what's happening.
But where do we draw the line? How do we, as writers, express ourselves without offending people and thus losing readers? If I come out on one side of a political or religious discussion, some folks will agree with me and some won't, but is it so important for me to state my opinion that I'm willing to lose readers? I could very well ostracize myself from my fellow writers as well. Should we shy away from those topics that can turn incendiary in an instant? Or do we face the taboos and drag them out into the light, shining our own truths on them? As writers, our readers sustain us (in a financial sense) and keep us writing. Should we think of the consequences of our words before we post them for all the world to see?
My first publisher told me to start a blog and get on MySpace (remember that?) and get a website up, but don't write about any issues that could cost me readers. But some of these issues are quite complex and deserve to be discussed. Unfortunately, as I've seen with a recent news event, when people get passionate, they can get loud and when they come from the heart, they don't always think before hitting Publish or Send.
This is a problem with our electronic society. In our social isolationism, it's okay to say whatever you want because it's online and somehow, the consequences don't matter. But before I digress too far...
Conversely, in my next book, I can discuss any social issue and use my characters to come down on whatever side I choose. I can work out my own issues through my characters and call it fiction and it's all right. Of course by the time the book gets published, the issue could be history.
So where's the balance? If I tell you my political leanings, would that change whether you read my books? If I spoke out about religious issues, would you consider it inappropriate or justified because I have a right to speak? Can you separate the writer and his books from the writer and his opinions?
How do you handle discussing fiery topics on your blog or Facebook or wherever?
Peace,
Gary . . .
Monday, August 16, 2010
Every day I write the book
Okay. Maybe not every day, but a quite a few of them. Sometimes, all strung in a row.
Process. How I do what I do. All writers have them. It's the way they go about constructing stories, but also, how they conduct their writing life. I've shared mine a bit, and thought to share it here for the rest of everybody who chances by.
I write novels and an occasional short story. I have great respect for those writers who can shape an idea from beginning to end in a few pages. I have, what some might consider, literary sprawl. My stories are rarely short and I'm fine with that. So this'll be about the novel process.
Way back in '95 and '96, I wrote two novels: What's Real and Insert Title Here. Both were fiction and both started with a vague idea and a number of scenes. What's Real was a tale about a group of friends in their late 20's (no, don't think The Big Chill, thank you), who've been friends for years. When their "leader" dies, they realize he's been protecting them from the real world. Each falls apart in their own way. After the funeral, secrets come out that tear them apart and they know their lives will never be the same. Each character had their own chapter, written in first person. The second half of the book (post-funeral) was in third person omniscient.
Insert Title Here was about a guy (Rick) and his ex-girlfriend (Katarina) (both had been in a band together), stalked by a crazy fan. Katarina disappears, and her current lover, Meggan, seeks Rick out to help her find Kat. Sound familiar? It's what eventually, with a few twists and turns, turned in Forever Will You Suffer.
Both books had vague outlines, but nothing concrete. Another fiction novel (Having Love, Making Sex) had been outlined to the point where I had no interest in writing it. Maybe someday... With the other two books, I took notes as I wrote and went back and tweaked what needed tweaking to keep it all working.
I had sent queries out to agents and editors, and an editor from Berkeley (her husband worked with my wife) was interested in Insert Title Here, but she had no idea how to market the thing because it encompassed too many genres (mystery, horror, romance, mainstream, etc.). I offered to take out the UFO abduction scene if it would help (yes, there was one), but she'd already left Berkeley (feel free to insert joke about my book driving her out of the industry).
Then came 2002 and my first National Novel Writing Month challenge. 50,000 words in 30 days. No prize, just a certificate and the overwhelming joy of having a 50,000 word piece of literary chaos. From 2002 through 2008 (I started in 2009, but didn't finish (first year I didn't)), this was how I wrote novels. No plot, no characters, just a seed of an idea and a vague road map. It was like taking dictation from the characters and writing it down in story form. Some times the story meandered, but for the most part, it followed a plotline that created itself as it unfolded. It basically followed Anne Lamott's theory: Write the shitty first draft to get the whole thing down, then go back later to edit. When you have 30 days to write 50,000 words, there's not a lot of editing as you go time.
In 2008, I came up with the idea of homeless people living in a fictional town. I had finished a college course on literature (I'm in the midst of finishing the college degree I had no interest in back in the 80's) and was inspired by a Gabriel Garcia Marquez story about an angel. I started plotting the story out, but never once called it an outline. This'll happen, then this, then this, and maybe that. I revamped the "outline" when ever I came up with a better idea, like when you're driving somewhere and you know the basic route and you make a few detours because they seem much more interesting than the highway.
Scenes come to me like I'm watching a movie. I'm there, in the story with the characters. How do I feel going through the poorly lit basement that's cold and damp? What's that odd noise sound like? All these details get transferred through the main characters and their history, psychosis, their baggage, their feelings, and their thoughts, until (hopefully), the experience the reader has is as close to being with those characters as possible.
Editing is fun! Editing makes the book better, stronger, faster, and it smooths out the kinks, and the little details that can get scrambled in a 300 page manuscript (did he have brown eyes or blue? It was mid September when he walked out of his house, but two weeks before Halloween when he got to work five pages later).
I do not edit until the first draft is done. I would never get the book done if I kept going back and editing while I wrote. I have several run-throughs that look like this:
1. On the computer to clean up any glaring issues.
2. Printed out to make sure every sentence flows and there aren't any creaky sentences.
3. Smooth out any new bits just added.
Step 3 can be repeated several times over the course of the whole book or just sections that I really want to rework. To me, there's a difference between revision (small changes) and rewriting (large changes). I rpefer to revise, but if I have to rewrite, then I do.
During all this, I may bring the book to my critique group and/or my wife (first reader) for them to go through. I'd rather polish a section up before the critique group gets it. There's no point in them reading a first draft of something I know I have to change.
I write as often as life allows me. Writing everyday is a good way to work the imagination, but sometimes I can't. Yes, I get cranky when I don't write, so to keep the peace, it's better I do write every day.
So there you have it. My novel process. Grab a few maps, some friends and start walking. Who knows where we'll end up. But that's the fun of it: the exploration of a story, the discovery of where the road leads and where it ends.
Happy Writin's!
Gary . . .
Process. How I do what I do. All writers have them. It's the way they go about constructing stories, but also, how they conduct their writing life. I've shared mine a bit, and thought to share it here for the rest of everybody who chances by.
I write novels and an occasional short story. I have great respect for those writers who can shape an idea from beginning to end in a few pages. I have, what some might consider, literary sprawl. My stories are rarely short and I'm fine with that. So this'll be about the novel process.
Way back in '95 and '96, I wrote two novels: What's Real and Insert Title Here. Both were fiction and both started with a vague idea and a number of scenes. What's Real was a tale about a group of friends in their late 20's (no, don't think The Big Chill, thank you), who've been friends for years. When their "leader" dies, they realize he's been protecting them from the real world. Each falls apart in their own way. After the funeral, secrets come out that tear them apart and they know their lives will never be the same. Each character had their own chapter, written in first person. The second half of the book (post-funeral) was in third person omniscient.
Insert Title Here was about a guy (Rick) and his ex-girlfriend (Katarina) (both had been in a band together), stalked by a crazy fan. Katarina disappears, and her current lover, Meggan, seeks Rick out to help her find Kat. Sound familiar? It's what eventually, with a few twists and turns, turned in Forever Will You Suffer.
Both books had vague outlines, but nothing concrete. Another fiction novel (Having Love, Making Sex) had been outlined to the point where I had no interest in writing it. Maybe someday... With the other two books, I took notes as I wrote and went back and tweaked what needed tweaking to keep it all working.
I had sent queries out to agents and editors, and an editor from Berkeley (her husband worked with my wife) was interested in Insert Title Here, but she had no idea how to market the thing because it encompassed too many genres (mystery, horror, romance, mainstream, etc.). I offered to take out the UFO abduction scene if it would help (yes, there was one), but she'd already left Berkeley (feel free to insert joke about my book driving her out of the industry).
Then came 2002 and my first National Novel Writing Month challenge. 50,000 words in 30 days. No prize, just a certificate and the overwhelming joy of having a 50,000 word piece of literary chaos. From 2002 through 2008 (I started in 2009, but didn't finish (first year I didn't)), this was how I wrote novels. No plot, no characters, just a seed of an idea and a vague road map. It was like taking dictation from the characters and writing it down in story form. Some times the story meandered, but for the most part, it followed a plotline that created itself as it unfolded. It basically followed Anne Lamott's theory: Write the shitty first draft to get the whole thing down, then go back later to edit. When you have 30 days to write 50,000 words, there's not a lot of editing as you go time.
In 2008, I came up with the idea of homeless people living in a fictional town. I had finished a college course on literature (I'm in the midst of finishing the college degree I had no interest in back in the 80's) and was inspired by a Gabriel Garcia Marquez story about an angel. I started plotting the story out, but never once called it an outline. This'll happen, then this, then this, and maybe that. I revamped the "outline" when ever I came up with a better idea, like when you're driving somewhere and you know the basic route and you make a few detours because they seem much more interesting than the highway.
Scenes come to me like I'm watching a movie. I'm there, in the story with the characters. How do I feel going through the poorly lit basement that's cold and damp? What's that odd noise sound like? All these details get transferred through the main characters and their history, psychosis, their baggage, their feelings, and their thoughts, until (hopefully), the experience the reader has is as close to being with those characters as possible.
Editing is fun! Editing makes the book better, stronger, faster, and it smooths out the kinks, and the little details that can get scrambled in a 300 page manuscript (did he have brown eyes or blue? It was mid September when he walked out of his house, but two weeks before Halloween when he got to work five pages later).
I do not edit until the first draft is done. I would never get the book done if I kept going back and editing while I wrote. I have several run-throughs that look like this:
1. On the computer to clean up any glaring issues.
2. Printed out to make sure every sentence flows and there aren't any creaky sentences.
3. Smooth out any new bits just added.
Step 3 can be repeated several times over the course of the whole book or just sections that I really want to rework. To me, there's a difference between revision (small changes) and rewriting (large changes). I rpefer to revise, but if I have to rewrite, then I do.
During all this, I may bring the book to my critique group and/or my wife (first reader) for them to go through. I'd rather polish a section up before the critique group gets it. There's no point in them reading a first draft of something I know I have to change.
I write as often as life allows me. Writing everyday is a good way to work the imagination, but sometimes I can't. Yes, I get cranky when I don't write, so to keep the peace, it's better I do write every day.
So there you have it. My novel process. Grab a few maps, some friends and start walking. Who knows where we'll end up. But that's the fun of it: the exploration of a story, the discovery of where the road leads and where it ends.
Happy Writin's!
Gary . . .
Sunday, August 15, 2010
I'm moving through some changes...
I thought I'd take a moment to tell you how my Five-Month Reinvention Program is going. For those who don't know what this is, I decided back on August 1st that I wanted to change myself to be happier and healthier. In order to do this, I identified five areas of my life that needed changing and they are:
Physical: Lose at least 10 pounds
Mental: Quiet the monkey mind and the negative thoughts that have ruled my life
Emotional: By silencing the Ego and it's negativity, I strive to be a happier person
Spiritual: I want a closer connection to the Divinity that some choose to call God
Environmental: I will stop taking on the emotional energy of the people around me. It's very easy for me to sync my emotional state with the people around me, so if they're down or negative, I become that way.
So how am I doing, 15 days into the program? Forgetting about the weight loss for a moment, I'm doing really well. The most important thing I'm doing for now is just being aware of the thoughts that come up and where they're coming from. When I find myself getting angry, I ask where the anger is coming from, what event/memory it's attached to. The truth is, 99% of the time, it's attached to Ego and has no basis in my reality. When I find myself getting negative about writing or something else that's important to me, I ask where this comes from and almost always, it's the false beliefs I have held as truth.
Following the feelings back to the original thought helps me to see where an emotion comes from and that in truth, I can realign my thinking or let go of those old thoughts that don't serve me any longer. I can let go of drama I've clung to and stop passing judgment on myself.
I can only live in the now; there is no past, but a collection of memories with emotions attached. It is interesting that the emotions are attached to the thoughts/memories of the event and not the event itself. In other words, the event itself is no longer what I remember, but the thoughts that were created from that event.
I have started listening to Buddhist teachings and have found peace in what I learn. I'm taking small steps in this journey, but that serves me the best. Practicing compassion, tolerance, patience, love, and peace toward myself and those around me, understanding that they are living their stories as well, and (most, not all) are trying to wake up, has really helped me find peace in my day. I have my moments, but they are just moments and they pass.
Right now, I am content and this moment is all I can ask for.
Peace,
Gary . . .
Physical: Lose at least 10 pounds
Mental: Quiet the monkey mind and the negative thoughts that have ruled my life
Emotional: By silencing the Ego and it's negativity, I strive to be a happier person
Spiritual: I want a closer connection to the Divinity that some choose to call God
Environmental: I will stop taking on the emotional energy of the people around me. It's very easy for me to sync my emotional state with the people around me, so if they're down or negative, I become that way.
So how am I doing, 15 days into the program? Forgetting about the weight loss for a moment, I'm doing really well. The most important thing I'm doing for now is just being aware of the thoughts that come up and where they're coming from. When I find myself getting angry, I ask where the anger is coming from, what event/memory it's attached to. The truth is, 99% of the time, it's attached to Ego and has no basis in my reality. When I find myself getting negative about writing or something else that's important to me, I ask where this comes from and almost always, it's the false beliefs I have held as truth.
Following the feelings back to the original thought helps me to see where an emotion comes from and that in truth, I can realign my thinking or let go of those old thoughts that don't serve me any longer. I can let go of drama I've clung to and stop passing judgment on myself.
I can only live in the now; there is no past, but a collection of memories with emotions attached. It is interesting that the emotions are attached to the thoughts/memories of the event and not the event itself. In other words, the event itself is no longer what I remember, but the thoughts that were created from that event.
I have started listening to Buddhist teachings and have found peace in what I learn. I'm taking small steps in this journey, but that serves me the best. Practicing compassion, tolerance, patience, love, and peace toward myself and those around me, understanding that they are living their stories as well, and (most, not all) are trying to wake up, has really helped me find peace in my day. I have my moments, but they are just moments and they pass.
Right now, I am content and this moment is all I can ask for.
Peace,
Gary . . .
If I had the world to give...
So here's an interesting question that I saw on someone's Facebook "wall". Ready? Would you give up the greatest wish of your heart for the greater good of all?
Before I answer this or ask you for your thoughts, feelings, responses, I have another question (or two): What is the greater good of all? Would it mean that all suffering in the world could end? What of Thich Nhat Hahn's notion that without suffering we could not grow as individuals? How about ending world hunger? That one sounds pretty good, right? What if the greatest wish of my heart was ending world hunger? I think we're looking for a personal wish and not a philanthropic one. But then again...
Is there always a downside to wishing for the greater good? Would ending world hunger lead to overpopulation? Surely, an end to sickness would. And, to ponder further, who's to say that if I gave my heart's greatest wish to end world hunger or that there would be no more war that somewhere down the line, something far worse would exist. Us human beings are pretty crafty when it comes to killing each other. And let's not forget nature and the earth as an entity. Would my wish be trumped by natural disasters?
If I wished for no more war, what would happen if a natural disaster happened to a particular country and the only way for those citizens to survive was to take from their neighboring country? Would war naturally occur or am I just being a pessimist here?
If the "greater good of all" was that the human race became more tolerant, peaceful, loving, compassionate, and patient with themselves and their fellow humans (without a hitch or some catch like it will happen, but only for a month), I would give up my heart's greatest wish.
How about you? Would you give up your heart's greatest wish for the greater good?
Gary . . .
Before I answer this or ask you for your thoughts, feelings, responses, I have another question (or two): What is the greater good of all? Would it mean that all suffering in the world could end? What of Thich Nhat Hahn's notion that without suffering we could not grow as individuals? How about ending world hunger? That one sounds pretty good, right? What if the greatest wish of my heart was ending world hunger? I think we're looking for a personal wish and not a philanthropic one. But then again...
Is there always a downside to wishing for the greater good? Would ending world hunger lead to overpopulation? Surely, an end to sickness would. And, to ponder further, who's to say that if I gave my heart's greatest wish to end world hunger or that there would be no more war that somewhere down the line, something far worse would exist. Us human beings are pretty crafty when it comes to killing each other. And let's not forget nature and the earth as an entity. Would my wish be trumped by natural disasters?
If I wished for no more war, what would happen if a natural disaster happened to a particular country and the only way for those citizens to survive was to take from their neighboring country? Would war naturally occur or am I just being a pessimist here?
If the "greater good of all" was that the human race became more tolerant, peaceful, loving, compassionate, and patient with themselves and their fellow humans (without a hitch or some catch like it will happen, but only for a month), I would give up my heart's greatest wish.
How about you? Would you give up your heart's greatest wish for the greater good?
Gary . . .
Friday, August 13, 2010
Guest Blogger: Aurora D'Angelis
Gary told me to just write, so here goes nothing. My name is Aurora D'Angelis. Yes, that Aurora D'Angelis, the 1990-something porn star and before that drug addict/rock groupie. That should lend some real credibility to my story. Okay, so that was my past.
I need help and I'm hoping someone out there will read this and be able to help.
About four years ago, my sister, Lisa, was traveling with some death metal band and they came to Eastham, planning to stay overnight and then head up into New York State. Lisa disappeared. She left a note saying she was going to Eastham Institute to meet with Priscilla Walker. I've since learned that Priscilla, a heroin-addicted prostitute was incarcerated at the institute and was murdered by Henry Ketteridge (you may know he's a serial killer who had a "castle" here in Eastham back in the late 1800's, where he tortured and murdered upwards of 30 people), who posed as a doctor. He raped and hung her.
How Lisa knew of Priscilla, I have no idea, but Lisa hasn't been seen since. I went to Eastham in hopes of finding out anything about my sister and Priscilla, but no one knew a thing, or if they did, they weren't talking. I do know the institute burned down in the 1930's so it's impossible that Lisa was going to visit Priscilla.
My husband, David, a journalist, went there to do a story on the institute (and look for Lisa) and how it's allegedly haunted. I had planned to go with him, but my job kept me from it (not the movies, but an actual real job in an office). When I called him, he didn't answer. I called the motel and was told he wasn't there and no one knew where he'd gone. His car was still there, but he was gone.
Again, I went to Eastham (I often wonder if the town wanted me and the only way to get me was through those I love) to find out whatever I could, and just like with Lisa, no one knew anything. Although, a couple of people told me of a local legend of people who live under Eastham Lake, called Lake Walkers, and maybe David got too close and they took him.
I moved there a couple of years ago and have been searching for any information on Lisa or David. If anyone knows anything about Priscilla Walker (family or friends), the Institute, or the Lake Walker legend, please contact me through this blog. Please ask your friends to read this; maybe they know something. I know it's a long shot, but Eastham's not that far from New York, and I'm hoping someone who reads this might be able to help.
Thank you. And thank you Gary, for letting me post this.
Sincerely,
Aurora D'Angelis
I need help and I'm hoping someone out there will read this and be able to help.
About four years ago, my sister, Lisa, was traveling with some death metal band and they came to Eastham, planning to stay overnight and then head up into New York State. Lisa disappeared. She left a note saying she was going to Eastham Institute to meet with Priscilla Walker. I've since learned that Priscilla, a heroin-addicted prostitute was incarcerated at the institute and was murdered by Henry Ketteridge (you may know he's a serial killer who had a "castle" here in Eastham back in the late 1800's, where he tortured and murdered upwards of 30 people), who posed as a doctor. He raped and hung her.
How Lisa knew of Priscilla, I have no idea, but Lisa hasn't been seen since. I went to Eastham in hopes of finding out anything about my sister and Priscilla, but no one knew a thing, or if they did, they weren't talking. I do know the institute burned down in the 1930's so it's impossible that Lisa was going to visit Priscilla.
My husband, David, a journalist, went there to do a story on the institute (and look for Lisa) and how it's allegedly haunted. I had planned to go with him, but my job kept me from it (not the movies, but an actual real job in an office). When I called him, he didn't answer. I called the motel and was told he wasn't there and no one knew where he'd gone. His car was still there, but he was gone.
Again, I went to Eastham (I often wonder if the town wanted me and the only way to get me was through those I love) to find out whatever I could, and just like with Lisa, no one knew anything. Although, a couple of people told me of a local legend of people who live under Eastham Lake, called Lake Walkers, and maybe David got too close and they took him.
I moved there a couple of years ago and have been searching for any information on Lisa or David. If anyone knows anything about Priscilla Walker (family or friends), the Institute, or the Lake Walker legend, please contact me through this blog. Please ask your friends to read this; maybe they know something. I know it's a long shot, but Eastham's not that far from New York, and I'm hoping someone who reads this might be able to help.
Thank you. And thank you Gary, for letting me post this.
Sincerely,
Aurora D'Angelis
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