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More about Having a Thing
March 24, 2014 Leave a Comment

More about Having a Thing

One of the strangest things I think I’ve seen on social media is an almost rage from some when someone shares with them something they associate with that person. By this I mean…let’s just say someone is really into flying kites. Articles about kites are written every spring and people share the articles with the kite flyer…who’s probably seen the articles because they’re really into kites. Instead of a polite, “Thank you,” and moving on, it becomes this:

People, I am really into kites…do you not think that I haven’t seen the things you share with me since that is my thing?! I see these articles weeks before the rest of you — there’s no reason to keep sending me these things, so stop!

The Horror!

If the New York Times, Forbes, or someplace else has an article about podcasting, chances are several people will share it on my Facebook wall or email me the link. The rare juggling article: I’ve probably seen it weeks before the people forwarding it to me, sure…but how hard is it to say, “Thanks,” or even — if one feels the need — “I’ve seen this already, but thanks for thinking about me.”

Because that’s why people share some things, and why I can never get mad when someone sends a podcasting article I’ve already seen 10 times: it means in the minds of people who share these things that I am what they think of when they think about podcasting.

Stuff about Amtrak’s writer residency program I received, recently, means people think about me when they think about writers they know
.

If a juggling video shows up on people’s feeds, it’s often sent my way because people associate me with the juggler they know.

The Thing(s)

I recently wrote about the power of having a thing. These are the things that mean the most to me in life:

  • Being a good husband, son, friend
  • Being a good writer
  • Being a good juggler
  • Being a good podcaster

So if people send me articles about writing, juggling, or podcasting, it means I’m doing my job on some level. It also means if they hear about an opportunity for any of these things — chances are — they will come to me with the opportunity before others.

Really…how bad is that?

Filed Under: Creativity Tagged: , ,
The Power of Having a Thing
March 21, 2014 4 Comments

The Power of Having a Thing

It’s no secret that in the past, I struggled with working and doing my thing. (My thing being writing, blogging, podcasting, making videos, and other “things.”) Now that I have my favorite day job ever, it’s not the struggle it was at jobs I didn’t like, but there will always be that want for doing the things I love more than anything…even more than my job. For me, though, having a day job I love helps me do my thing without concern…and because I can do my thing without concern, I value my day job more than ever.

This sometimes leads to moments when someone at my day job sees me accept something they would not accept.

“You’re seriously gonna let that slide?!” they say. And my answer is, “Yes — that does not bother me as much as it bothers many others.”

Someone wanting more control at my day job is not reason to bristle because…I have my things..
.

The Things!

Every week on a podcast I do, my partner and I close with the motto: “Chill the fuck out, and make the damn thing!” By this, we mean, “Don’t get so caught up in every little thing that it steals from you the ability to do at least one thing you love!” (More about our motto, here.)

My big things:

  • Writing
  • Juggling
  • Podcasting

Of these, writing and juggling are wholly mine — meaning nobody else has a say in what I do with these two things I love. (In the case of Men in Gorilla Suits, Shawn and I flip-flop, letting each other run the show every other week. It works very well, and it keeps us on our toes!)

The Power of Having a Thing

Having something that is wholly mine means when someone at work wants to control something, I can let it go. Same thing in many facets of life.

I see so many people tired because they try to control everything around them; they turn little things into full-scale battles rivaling a crusade. It looks so exhausting and often comes with anger.

It’s amazing the hours lost at old jobs when I’ve seen people arguing about applying punctuation to bullet points, or even people fuming about using Oxford commas or not. Now, I will defend the Oxford comma to the end, but when I’ve written newspaper articles — AP Style — I’ve had no problem not using them. It’s style, and I’ll write the way I’m paid to write. (“Tildes instead of bullets, and two commas after each point with and/or and then a period at the final point? Sure — check, please!”)

Some people, though, spend their dinners complaining about these things to significant others who don’t care. Somewhere this evening, a kid will beg:

Daddy, not the bullet point rage again…

Have a Thing

This is where having a thing matters.

When all around me people are drawing sides and demanding blood over something as small as a punctuation argument that can go either way (Oxford commas), I’m waiting for the issue to be settled so I can write to a style guide…and then go home and write what I want, the way I want — all that other stuff be damned!

Filed Under: writing Tagged: ,
Swimming in Chaos
March 18, 2014 Leave a Comment

Swimming in Chaos

I recently listened to a podcast with Terry Gilliam. I’ve written about Gilliam’s influence on me before and I’ve talked about it as well (17:40-18:11). Just know this: I’ve been a Gilliam fan since before I knew I was a Gilliam fan. (I liked the animated spots on Monty Python’s Flying Circus, but at the the time, I didn’t know who was behind them.)

There’s a section in the podcast with Gilliam where they discuss a scene in the movie, The Fisher King. It takes place in Grand Central Station, in New York City. They had permission to shoot, but as is often the case with Gilliam things, it didn’t go as entirely as planned. To get things done, they just had to do it! They shot footage after their allotted time, using people who weren’t extras. In the end, by the way it was cut, they made something wonderful from the chaos of the moment.

Doing It

Gilliam is big on just doing it. In almost every documentary or interview about his process, there is a time when all the people around him believe there’s no way something can be done. Whether it’s a sick actor, flash floods, or other things, when producers and others say they need to wait, Gilliam says, “Let’s just do it!” and shoots anyway. In shooting, he’s doing something — and in other interviews he’s said some of his greatest moments came from cobbling it all together after the madness.

Writers can be known for not liking changes to what they’ve written. While Gilliam is a perfectionist, he’s also a realist and knows that sometimes he has to break from the scripts he’s written and shoot what he can and make it work in the end. He doesn’t stop…even when setbacks have everyone around him throwing up their hands in defeat.

At that point, Gilliam is at his best…swimming in the chaos.

Comfort in Chaos

Now, I know there are times one can’t “just do it.” My wife is an artist, and when things are placed on a final sheet of paper or canvas, she can no longer charge in — at that point, it’s sometimes wisest to wait a day or two until the moment is right. As long as there’s some progress and it doesn’t become habit, waiting is good. I’ve written about taking my time writing before; I do not need to be convinced that there’s a time for patience.

I just think patience and chaos can co-exist.

When people try avoiding chaos until just the right moment, I do think it’s best to find comfort in chaos and move forward. Sometimes in life, chaos lasts long enough that to let it win means setbacks in something important to you. Right now, I’m coming off a weekend of working. I put a lot of things off, but I still made time to write. I could easily be working right now, but I want to write this entry and go for a nice walk. It’s a chaotic time in my life with big deadlines, but right now I’m in my little bubble, comfortable with the situation.

Chaos might be common, but it doesn’t mean it has to pull you in and win. Or even steal your time for more than a bit of time…

Adapting

I’ve worked with enough people to understand the frustration of those who feel defeated when things don’t look good. “Let’s just do it!” can burn you at times; however, more times than not, it’s a great way to get things done because you’re deep enough in that you have no choice but to figure things out and finish. I know people who will not write for months because conditions aren’t perfect. In Gilliam’s world, it seems, perfection is only a target he strives for — there is no doubting his need for perfection in every little corner (and even in the shadows) of what he does. But he knows there are no ideal situations. More than that, he knows that to wait for ideal situations means never finishing things
.

When one realizes that, no matter what it is they do, it’s a bit easier to move forward. Maybe we’re wise not to tilt at windmills with the reckless abandon Gilliam often seems to have, but at least charging in is some kind of movement forward. Maybe you get knocked back further than where you started, but you change the plan and just do it until it works out.

It’s that ability to adapt that can lead to such wonderful things…

Filed Under: Inspiration Tagged:
The Coffee Fade
March 9, 2014 Leave a Comment

The Coffee Fade

A couple weeks ago, I committed a cardinal sin for writers: I quit drinking coffee.

It wasn’t a hard decision; while I enjoy coffee, it’s never been something I felt I needed, even first thing in the morning. My morning routine is something like this: wake up and think about what I’m about to go write. No coffee, just straight to the desk.

Writing wakes me up much better than caffeine.

The First Cup

I can’t remember the first time I had coffee. I’m sure I tasted it on a camping trip with my parents, or maybe while visiting my father after my parents went their separate ways when I was young. But this is my first definite memory of coffee: my great grandmother’s house on Sunday afternoons.

After lunch, coffee was served in delicate cups that looked like something plucked from the gardens in her backyard. Coffee served with cannoli, sfogliatelle, and Napoleans always followed a lunch that was more like a dinner comprised of some recipe she brought with her from Sicily. Because of this, I usually preferred coffee in the afternoons or evenings to mornings.

Why Quit?

So why would I quit something I enjoyed? I realized, recently, that coffee and my stomach do not get along. While I can consume hot peppers, tomatoes, and other things people say wreaks havoc on a stomach, for me — it’s coffee. I can eat a bowl of cereal before bed, lie down, and nothing. Burritos at night? Done that; no issue. But a cup of coffee, and my stomach protested.

So I stopped and things got much better.

The Image that Comes with Coffee

I know coffee and writers are synonymous — some would claim you cannot have one without the other. I get the humor in it and believe those who take that kind of thinking seriously are probably not the kinds of writers worth reading
. Image has never been important to me as a writer. I get it, I really do…the importance for some to sit in Starbucks and tweet on and on about how they are writing in between Instagram photos and Facebook updates. Whether writing is done or not, it’s the image of what it is to write that’s most important to some.

Coffee plays a vital role in that image.

In my case, writing matters more than image. While I love the thought of the perfect office with the mahogany desk, I write in an office that doubles as hobby storage space at a desk that’s more functional than fashionable. Hell, as I write this, an empty stick of deodorant sits beside me as a reminder to put “Deodorant” on the shopping list for the morning.

That’s not very writerly.

My Fix

Coffee was never a fix for me — writing is why I wake up 1 or 2 hours before I must wake up in order to make it to work on time.

Even if I don’t get much sleep, once I wake up and think about what I’m about to write, I’m alert. If I’m sleepy, I make it through the day and get a decent night’s sleep. For me, that always worked better than coffee; I’ve never been one to believe that a person can run themselves well on 3-5 hours of sleep a night as long as there’s caffeine. If your body’s saying rest, let it rest.

But back to coffee: “Do you miss it?” a couple people have asked me. I miss the concept of a cup in the afternoon after lunch or in the evening after dinner. But what I always liked best about coffee is the smell.

Should my wife ever decide to quit drinking coffee, you might find me searching for an olfactory fix. You might even find me in a Starbucks, seated alongside all the writers telling the online world they’re writing while I breathe in one of the best smells on the planet and trudge along with the task at hand. But until that day comes along, I can be found in the dark of morning, at a desk bought at Office Depot tapping away at a keyboard with no other sounds…and no coffee.

Filed Under: writing Tagged:
Breaking Away
March 5, 2014 Leave a Comment

Breaking Away

In December, I stepped away from social media and blogging for a bit. And it was nice. After a short return to social media, I’m ready for another break — especially as I move into a section of A Magic Life that isn’t as clear to me as the rest of the book and what I’ve already written that comes after it.

Disconnecting helps me.

I could go on about how disconnecting helps, but I think it’s best summed up by Jonathan Franzen in an interview in Scratch.

…there’s a tipping point you reach where you can’t get away from the electronic community, where you become almost physically dependent on it. And that, I persist in thinking, is not compatible with my notion of where terrific literature comes from.

I don’t share this quote to stir up an argument about the merits of being online or offline; only that, for me, I write best when I have no reflex to see what’s up online. In those times, I have no choice but work on the task at hand or think about writing.

Retreating

Last year, a friend and I took some time off work, holed up in a Texas state park cabin, and had a mini writing retreat. It was one of the best breaks from everything I’ve ever had.

Arrangements have been made for this year’s break, in a different cabin in a different state park. (A park I love, and earlier than last year, when the heat creeped in, making mid-May feel like summer; this year, the weather should be better — even if it rains.)

The Benefit of an Annual Writing Retreat

I’ll say this about an annual mini writing retreat — it’s a great reminder that one takes writing serious enough to leave everything, take a day or two off work, and do the thing you love. It’s also a great reminder of how fast (or slow) one moves as a writer.

I can now see the end of the book I worked on during the last retreat, but I would have liked getting more done this past year. At the same time, I know that if I sit down in a cabin in another Texas State Park working on the first draft of A Magic Life next year, I won’t be pleased with myself. It’s because of soundings like the retreat that I can measure my pace. I am not ashamed of last year’s writing efforts.

It’s the first time in quite some time I can say that.

Breaking Away

I know that some would say my view of stepping away for focus is unneeded — even extreme. While most people I know who say they can spend time connected to things and still get things done don’t get things done, I know some people who do. I’ll go as far as saying some people I know get things done because they are always on the go and thrive on it.

It takes all kinds; this is not to chastise those who don’t require long periods of silence and thought to get things done. My second novel was written during lunch breaks in a busy cafeteria at an old day job where there were frequent interruptions
. Consequently, there’s a reason that novel was shelved — the lack of focus is evident on so many pages.

I can only speak for myself, and I know that the best writing comes when I break away from it all and push myself to do the kind of writing I didn’t know I was capable of doing. As I move into the one section of the current book that exists to me in shadows, I know that it’s only through deeper focus that things will be clear and I’ll [hopefully] surprise myself with the effort.

Filed Under: writing
Clearing Puddles
February 25, 2014 Leave a Comment

Clearing Puddles

Four years ago, I was unemployed. Four years ago tomorrow, I got up in front of a crowd and told this story:

The Mind is a Funny Thing…

It’s funny how time does things to the mind. I’m not good with numbers, but for some reason, with some dates…I’m like Rainman.

I remember the birthdays of coworkers from several jobs ago mentioned in passing. I remember weird stories that the people who told them to me have long forgotten. Many moments of my own life are gone in a puff of whatever it is that comes along in a mind and steals memories forever, but I still remember how friggin’ impressed a guy named Eddie was to hear me mention in a speech in a college class that he liked muscle cars. (He’d only mentioned it in passing.)

So I suppose it’s weird that while certain dates ring out in my subconscious, charging to the front of my mind and screaming to be heard, that I forgot today is the 11th year my sister’s been dead.

A Sudden Reminder

I was reminded what today is when my wife mentioned it and I saw a couple notifications on Facebook from people reminding me that they were thinking about me today…

Because my big sister has been dead for years.

I feel no guilt, because I usually remember. (I would have come across 2/25 at work at some point today and it would have triggered the reminder.) It’s been a strange week: 10 years ago yesterday, I dodged brain surgery to have a tumor removed from my head. The tumor is still there, and I remember how terrified I was because it was almost 1 year to the day that a head full of tumors took my sister’s life.

I saw my mom share a poem on Facebook that my sister wrote years before she died. If you’re interested, it can be found in this post. I replied to my mom with the video above. My mom replied to me with this:

[I] remember how you two were such buddies in spite of the 5 year age difference. You really had some times and I can still see two little kids looking out the door at a soft night rain on more than one occasion, and announcing to me you were going for a walk. And off you’d go. Precious.

We were lucky to have a mom who let us walk in the rain at night…

I was lucky to have the sister I had..
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Clearing Puddles

On those walks, we stomped in puddles and listened to the rain on our umbrellas (if we used them), or let it soak us to our cores. We had a job in the rain that we took very seriously: rainfall be damned, we’d do all we could to stomp in a puddle to see if we could clear it before it refilled. A downpour only meant we had to try harder. It’s the kind of thing kids do and adults don’t think about, but we proved that it could be done if you did it with the vigor of youth.

Once cleared, it was off to the next puddle in the night, my sister holding my hand because I was afraid of the dark well into high school.

But on those nights, the dark didn’t scare me. I knew I was safe as long as she was around…

Filed Under: Memories
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