Tag: stream of consciousness

The Weekly Re-Motivator: Another Year, Another Fear

Pavowski10 Comments

Yesterday was my 35th birthday, or as I prefer to think of it, just another day. I’m long past the point where birthdays mean anything good; outside of a few people making a big deal over me for the day all I really get are a few more grey hairs, or more often, a few less hairs.

Having kids for the last few years has really put birthdays into perspective, too. For a kid, especially a young kid like mine, a birthday means big changes. It means starting to walk, getting better at talking, it means starting preschool, it means getting even more effective at throwing tantrums. For kids, these things just sort of happen as the brain develops.

We adults, of course, get no such automatic upgrades. My brain isn’t upgrading itself quietly and automatically behind the scenes like the live-in robot that will be doing our dishes and laundry and biding its time for the machine uprising in a few years. If anything, my brain is a block of brie in the fridge, aged and starting to crumble. If I want to get better at something, I have to claw and scramble for it like a mountain goat traversing a disintegrating rock face. Which is sort of how this writing thing seems to me lately.

Let’s be frank, the odds of finding success at this — and since I live in America let’s go ahead and clarify that by that I mean monetary success — are slim. There’s a path there: finish the edit, find an editor, find an agent, sell the book, hope for the best. But whether or not I can walk it remains to be seen. That trail is about as wide as a strip of dental floss, winding back and forth up the shifting rock face of my day job, my job as a daddy, my desire to fargoing relax once in a while instead of stealing all these hours to try to write. Not to mention the rockslides, when real life piles up and makes working nearly impossible, or the washouts when the trail disappears and I have no idea where to turn next or how to proceed at all.

It’s enough to make me wonder whether I’m using my time in the best way possible. Because if there’s one thing we all know, it’s that time flies, and once it’s gone there is no getting it back. By conservative measures, I am probably getting close to halfway through my allotted time on this coil.

Man, that took a morbid turn, didn’t it? But it’s something to think about, at least once in a while. You only get so much time, and what you get out of it is what you make of it. With that in mind, I don’t feel bad about choosing to write when it would be easier perhaps to kick back and watch TV or play video games. The easy path is rarely the one worth taking. The time is going to pass, regardless of what I do. It’s going to fly by like the Blue Angels buzzing the crowd at an air show.

wpid-never-give-up.jpg.jpeg

So on this birthday, this is me taking a moment to remind myself that the path I’m on, futile as it may be, is one worth walking. And if you’re reading this, I hope you’re on a good path, too.

This weekly Re-Motivational post is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Every Saturday, I use LindaGHill‘s prompt to refocus my efforts and evaluate my process, sometimes with productive results.

The Weekly Re-Motivator: Rings of Power

Pavowski6 Comments

I lost my wedding ring a few weeks ago, and in the process of replacing it I found something I should have found a long time ago: a replica of the One Ring.

You know, the one forged in the heart of Mordor, found by a hobbit, and carried back to Mordor to be destroyed in only the most epic, totally-not-gay-at-all story of a cadre of talented, powerful, sweaty men working together to overcome obstacles and discovering an undying respect for one another despite their racial and cultural differences in the process.

There are two reasons I love owning a replica of this ring. First and foremost, the LOTR series is for all intents and purposes my bible. It’s an enormous book, introduced to me by my father, that I wasted great swathes of my life reading and re-reading and eventually basing my life decisions on (try it sometime: ask yourself, What Would Legolas Do?). Second, having it there on my finger is a great though subtle way to let my geek flag fly basically all the time. Weird, maybe, but I find it brings joy to my life bearing this little symbol, entertaining the foolish hope that somebody will spot it, recognize it, and nod subtly to me from across the room.

As I mentioned before, my dad introduced me to the books, and I discovered the ring just around Father’s Day, so I got him one, too. This past week, we went on vacation, and he lost it.

He lost it in the ocean: he had parked himself on the sand to spend some time watching and playing with my daughter, and stuck his hand into the muddy, flowing surf. When he drew his hand out a moment later, the ring was gone.

We searched frantically for it: digging into the thick sand, filtering it through our fingers. I walked a ways down the beach, hoping to catch it tumbling along in the surf, glinting in the sun. But no avail: the ring was gone.

Dad and I both agreed that losing the ring was sad, but kind of awesome. We pictured another LOTR fan walking along the beach, stumbling upon the ring, and having a quiet conniption as he realized what he held in his hand. (If you’ve seen the movies or read the books, you know that this is how the ring works — it’s sentient, by the way — it presents itself to somebody, uses that person for a while, then leaves that person and finds its way to another bearer on its way back to its Master.)

And this is where I connect this little anecdote back to writing: because that’s how inspiration works, innit? It seizes upon us, lends us its magic for a while, and then it leaves us. Maybe we carry it for a year, maybe for a day, but if we listen, we can feel its power and influence, and we can accomplish great things with it. But one thing you can count on: it won’t last forever. Eventually, it runs its course with us and it goes off to serve another master.

Just as keenly as we feel the creative surge of inspiration’s influence, perhaps we feel even more keenly the gaping wound of its absence when it does move on. On days that inspiration carries you, the road you walk feels smooth and clear, and the wind itself bears you along. On days without, the road is a jagged, barely-there footpath up the side of a wind-blasted mountain. An ever-lengthening expanse of sun-baked desert, all cracked earth and tumbling weeds.

The fortunate thing is that, unlike the One Ring, which serves only one master and cannot be commanded, inspiration is plentiful in the world. There are many rings of power. And just as inspiration can abandon us without warning, it can just as easily and just as quickly fling itself into our path again.

The road to writing, then, is one you have to learn to walk whether you’re carrying the Ring or not. It’s all too easy to say, I only write when the Muse strikes, or I haven’t written lately because I don’t have any good ideas, or I gave up on writing because I just wasn’t inspired, but that’s nonsense. When Frodo and Sam left with the ring, the rest of the Fellowship kept on working toward the goal. They found other things they could do to help in the quest. So must writers keep fighting the good fight, keep putting words on the page, even if they are not feeling the “magic” that inspiration brings.

Blaming inspiration, blaming the muse for lost productivity is tempting, because it’s an excuse that everybody recognizes and accepts. But it’s a lie. Frodo always had it in him to make the great journey, to become a hero; the ring just revealed that potential and set him on the path. The sooner we can realize that the same potential is in us — inspired or not — the sooner we can get on with our own quests, without worrying about being shackled to such a silly thing as “inspiration”.

the lord of the rings animated GIF

This weekly Re-Motivational post is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Every Saturday, I use LindaGHill‘s prompt to refocus my efforts and evaluate my process, sometimes with productive results.

Weekly Re-Motivator: Island Escape

Pavowski2 Comments

I posted a few days ago about having a “down day”, and my wife pointed out that what I was feeling was a perfectly normal bout of depression caused by being locked in close quarters and basically chained at the wrist to two tiny humans without hope of respite for all of my waking hours and most of my non-waking ones.

In other words, this happens to stay-at-home parents. Apparently. And seeing as I’m a stay-at-home dad during the summer months, apparently it was an inevitability that I would be so stricken. But there is hope. Because this week, we’re heading out to a literal island for some much-needed time away.

Okay, so it’s maybe not an island like you think of island paradise. It’s just a barrier island in humble Georgia. But still, it’s a landmass surrounded by water, and we all know the therapeutic effects inherent to the open sea (something something waves, something something ocean breezes, something something sunset shattered and reflected millions of times in the soothing waters). Also, we’ll be just a stone’s throw from Savannah, so there will be lots of ghosts hanging about.

Also, sharks. If you’ve been watching the news, you’ll be well aware that there have been something like fifteen shark attacks on the Atlantic coast this summer. In fact, this morning’s news packages on the attacks bore so much similarity to the film Jaws I just had to shut the thing off. “All these attacks keep happening up and down the coast, and we’re coming up on the July 4th weekend… these beaches are going to be packed.” And all I can think of is a sleek dorsal fin gliding through the water with a harsh orchestral score behind it, and me fighting the urge to shout we’re gonna need a bigger boat.

But more important than avoiding becoming a sharky snack, I’m going to use the time to noodle a bunch on the project. Because despite my halfhearted jubilation and dutiful self-back-scratching over reaching the halfway mark, the project has some problems. Bugs in the batter that need picking out. Knots that need untying or cutting or being burned at both ends. Cracks in the mortar that need spackle or patching or that need to be opened right up with a jackhammer. And the only way to really come to a decision on problems like that — the only way to really see what’s functioning as intended and what’s fargoed beyond repair — is to take a step back, get a bird’s eye view, and take a good, long, look. Hike back out of the trees to get a look at the forest.

Image by Katerha @Flickr.
Image by Katerha @Flickr.

And while a week away won’t do that for me — the thing’s not even finished, so I can’t do a proper big-picture analysis — it’ll help. Just like every now and then on a road trip you have to pull over and check the map, when working on a big project like this you need to build in time to catch your breath from it, to let it sit and settle before you go back to work.

I don’t yet know if I’m going to work on the novel over the week away or not. Part of me says that the vacation is primo writing time, and I should take full advantage of it. Another part of me says that vacation is vacation is vacation, and maybe I shouldn’t even bring the laptop with me.

Well, maybe I’ll just bring it to write a blarg post or two and send up a few pictures of sunsets.

This weekly Re-Motivational post is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Every Saturday, I use LindaGHill‘s prompt to refocus my efforts and evaluate my process, sometimes with productive results.

Weekly Re-Motivator: Summary Stew

Pavowski11 Comments

I can’t stand the summary.

You know, you crack the book open, and on the inside fold or the back cover or wherever, you get the blurb that tells you in a nutshell what the story is all about.

Karl Wisenberg is a mild-mannered office worker hiding a secret: his radioactive toenails. But there’s something more sinister than glowing fungus afoot…

Alice Klepper sells jewelry by day and state secrets by night. But will an unexpected purchase by an eight foot tall stranger provide her with the biggest secret of all?

The summary is supposed to give you a taste for the story without spoiling it for you; it’s supposed to whet your appetite and get you to crack the book and keep on cracking it until the end.

And I hate it. Because it gives the impression that the story is all about plot, that the narrative is a simple math equation with all these different elements — character, setting, tension, conflict — that add up to something. But a story is more than the sum of its parts. Because holding it all together is a fumy glue all the stuff you can’t fit in the summary: the creeping sense of dread you get every time a character opens a door in the story, where you don’t really know whether behind the door will be a harmless delivery man or a hatchet-wielding trans-dimensional wasp-man. Or the biting irony that infuses every word, wherein you can feel the author’s arched eyebrow and hear the sardonic twist behind every turn of phrase.

You can’t get that in a summary, and that’s the most important part of the story, I think. Because really: whatever you’re writing, the story has been told before. No matter how unique, how original, how unexpected your twists and turns are, somebody, somewhere has twisted and turned down that road. The only difference, the only thing that makes your story unique, is the way you tell it, the specific blend of spices you drop into the mix, the character that you build the story into.

Because a story is a living thing. It’s not just a chain of events, one thing leading into another like a dull-witted chain-gang of tromping inevitability. The story itself, just like the characters, has a flavor; the narrative itself has a feel about it that is much more than just the things which happen in it. And that flavor is what makes the story unique, that flavor is the thing that sticks with you after you’ve finished the book and brings you back, like the unbelievable egg rolls at your favorite restaurant.

Which is what I’m struggling with in my current project. I’ve got a decent chain of events, I’ve got decent characters and reasonable tension and a good smattering of conflict. But I haven’t found the right flavor for the brew. And the story, and my motivation for working on the story, is suffering as a result. I haven’t found the right feel for the story, and the story feels wrong as a result. Feels bland, uninteresting. Luckily, writing isn’t like cooking. You want a good solid stew, you have to get all the spices in at just the right moment to release their flavor and bring out the best in the dish. In writing, though, you get as many chances as you need. Screw up the flavor and you can add more salt at the last minute, or strain out the bad spices and replace them with new ones, or even toss the whole dish and rebuild it from the ground up.

But the flavor will come. The thing with writing is to keep plugging away at it, keep working, keep creating. The more these characters simmer in the narrative stew I’ve created for them, the more the subtle notes will come out, the more I’ll be able to tell what flavor is right for this tale.

So, as you’re writing, don’t stress about the summary. Focus on the flavors, focus on the interplay between elements, focus on the parts between the “important” story elements, because those are what keep readers coming back for more.

Am I wrong? Is the summary more important than I give it credit for? What flavor do you most appreciate in a story?

This weekly Re-Motivational post is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Every Saturday, I use LindaGHill‘s prompt to refocus my efforts and evaluate my process, sometimes with productive results.

Not a Creative Bone in Your Body…

Pavowski4 Comments

Creativity is innate.

Some of us, some lucky few, are chosen by whatever gods may be to be the storytellers, the artists, the performers… and those few are born with the talent and creativity that will last the rest of their lives. And they won’t have to work at it nearly as hard as the rest of us, and they’ll infuriate the rest of us while we silently bash our heads against the glass ceiling we’ll never crash through. We are born with creativity as much as we’re born with the bones in our bodies.

Right?

Well… that may be a little bit true. Just like some of us are born taller or cleverer or more musically inclined, there is probably something to the supposition that creativity is innate, that it’s luck of the draw, and that some people have an easier road to walk in creative endeavors. But you can’t change your bones, you can’t change the fact that you’re colorblind, you can’t change a sweet tooth. You can, however, change your creativity.

Creativity is a muscle, not a bone. It strengthens and tightens with use, atrophies and withers when neglected. Lots of creative types don’t bother creating because they aren’t properly motivated to do so. And, of course, lots of people who aren’t naturally creative become very creative indeed by virtue of the fact that they went out and created anyway, cultivating creative muscle through sheer force of will and sheer tenacity of repetition.

Here’s the thing: just like virtually anything in life, creativity is there for the taking if you’re willing to work at it. Creative genetics are great if you’ve got them, but if you don’t, you’re not blacklisted from the club. We have a saying in coaching: hard work beats talent when talent won’t work hard. So many people sit back and say I wish I could write stories, or I’d love to write a screenplay, or I’m going to write a song one day, but then they just sit back and wait for that day to roll around. Naturally creative types do the same thing, of course; they take for granted their ability to put stories together or craft brilliant sentences or whatever, and they don’t practice their craft — or worse, they just don’t follow through and never finish anything. So, if you can finish what you start, and you have a desire to be creative, you just have to jump in and do it.

You may be crap when you start out. But who picks up a guitar and immediately starts cranking out “Freebird”? Who picks up a paintbrush and tosses off a Van Gogh at one pass? Remember, if you’re trying, and if you’re being consistent and finishing what you start, you are ahead of the vast majority of people out there, because most people will never bother undertaking a creative endeavor in their life. They’ll sit back and consume and read and watch and dream, but they won’t work for it. They could have all the creative bones in the world making up their skeleton, but they won’t take the time to cultivate the muscle needed to make the machine work.

So the next time somebody tells you that you’re not creative enough — even if that somebody is you — remember that you don’t have to be born creative. You can become creative.

If it matters to you.

This post is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday.