Thanking The "Muses"

 

Shootin' trains w/Godfrey Ozzenbarq III (not his real name), who wasn't there that day. Photo by Joe

I'm often asked by no one about who inspires me to write - 300 blog posts and 12 novels and counting. "Have you ever had a muse?" They would ask, if they existed and asked me questions. The short answer is, "YES!" An even shorter answer is, "YA!" I have had, and continue to have, a few muses - and I need to thank them for nudging me along my muddy little creative path to nowhere. 

Before I start - I know that there's a certain implication in the word "muse," that a relationship between artist (writer, in this case) and muse is inherently romantic and/or sexy. I must point out that mine are not your sexy, romantic muse stereotypes - except for [Maris], of course. (Speaking of [M] - she is being obnoxiously literal, right now. It is mildly amusing, sure - but it is NOT helping...)

Let's start with Godfrey Ozzenbarq III (not his real name). Oh! Wait! I forgot about High School Crush #2! Technically, High School Crush #2 was my first muse - and she actually did fit the romantic muse stereotype - or, the would-be romantic muse stereotype. She didn't inspire me to write a lot. I was rather lazy, at the time. But we shared an affinity for ancient progressive rock music, and we would often listen separately to 98Rock's "Headphones-Only" show until 2AM on Wednesdays - and then compare notes on A) how far we made it into the show before falling asleep, and B) cool sounds and lyrics we'd heard. I was dropped into the friend zone in short order, but it was during this time that I first began to be aware of my fledgling creative spark. So, thank you for that, High School Crush #2. Now, if you could just tell me what "The Carpet Crawlers" is about...

Okay, so - Godfrey Ozzen-- Wait! Let's get Stan and Janine (not their real names) out of the way. I worked with Stan and Janine (not their real names) almost twenty years ago (WHAT??), and the three of us had an odd dynamic. Stan (not his real name) and I were both in our separate committed relationships, and had worked together for a year or so, and along came this pretty, crazy-smart single woman, who seemed to actively embrace a muse-like role in our lives. We worked well together, and she had a flirtatious, intimidating confidence. Both she and Stan (fake name) were smarter than I am, but what ensued - through an ongoing 3-way workplace instant-messaging chat - was a strange, competitive game of one-upmanship of witticisms between the three of us. I hadn't written much of anything in several years, at that point, and this little triple mind-meld was instrumental in keeping that poor little flame flickering. Thanks, guys. I thoroughly enjoyed our weird time together.

Alright, on to Godfrey... You know what, let's talk for a minute about the newest muse-like figure in my world. Current coworker-friend Amelia (not her real name) is the smartest human I've met since [Maris], and yet super-crazy nice to EVERYONE, and the most genuinely positive person I've ever met. It probably helps that she's still young enough that the world hasn't had a chance to adequately trample her, yet. Anyway - common ground, similar offbeat humor, instant friends and all that. This dynamic is different. Yes, she kind of kick-started my writing, starting with this summer's Camp NaNoWriMo project, but unlike my time with the muse-y people described above, I'm not writing for or with her. I writing again because she told me to. Said she believed I had a gift and should be using it. She said these things on faith - hadn't read so much as a paragraph of my writing, at that point. Probably still hasn't seen more than a blog post or two. But when someone so positive and bright encourages you to do something, you gotta do it, right? Oddly, it's kind of freeing to know that she'll probably never have time to read much of my stuff. Takes the pressure right off! Thank you SO much, Amelia (not your real name). You're an absolute gift.

So. Godfrey Ozzenbarq III (not his real name). A lifetime ago, Godfrey was my best boss ever. He's been my confidant, best man, co-grifter, go-cart enthusiast, porn critic, mentor, turtle painter, ranting partner, career counselor, and would-be Jim Jordan beater-upper. We've remained friends, lo these many years, and he continues to inspire me to be a better, more creative writer. Before the days of texting and instant-messaging (yes, we're not young - shut up), we exchanged weeks-long threads of emails so bizarre and clever and rant-y that we still have them saved in our respective archives. His humor is steeped in a stew of cartoons, Saturday Night Live, Rocky & Bullwinkle, politics, and the weirdest, funniest stuff the internet has to offer - a bit like mine, but on steroids. When my writing starts to bland out on me, a quick exchange with Godfrey (real name - not) steers me right back onto the looney track - probably because his writing is like the coke-addled offspring of Hunter S. Thompson and Mark Leyner. Heartfelt thanks to you, Godfrey Ozzenbarq III (not your real name). For the yucks and the insanity and the friendship. I'm still not giving up on a collaborative writing project - hopefully before we die.

Last, and most...

[Maris] - Photo by Joe

Yeah. [Maris]! Our origin story is rooted in witty banter, both written and verbal. When I met her, I was desperate to impress her, and thinking that words were all I had going for me, clever emails and whatnot ensued. It worked! Yes, it helped that we had chemistry and were soul mates, but we know for a fact that well-constructed assemblages of words were instrumental in assuring our forever togetherness. She is still the only muse I am writing FOR. Just about every sentence is written with her entertainment (and approval) in mind. I live to hear her laugh at something I've written - unless it's something that's not supposed to be funny, but that rarely happens. It means extra because she reads SO much, and has ridiculously high standards - and because she is a RUTHLESS natural-born editor. She's the only beta reader I'll ever need. So [Maris] - obviously I can never thank you enough for like EVERYTHING (I just deleted FIVE commas from this sentence for you). But thanks for letting me keep trying!

There. Muses thanked. Also thanks, readers - for coming back for more drivel!

NaBloPoMo: Are We Really Doing This?

November. It's pretty, but it spawns monsters. Photo by Joe & [Maris]

My dear, dear readers (I think there might be FOUR of you, now!) - It is November 1st. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking how impressed you are that I know what month it is. No, that's not it. Some of you might be thinking, "Ah, November - when a writer's fancy turns to thoughts of National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo." I can't blame you for thinking that, and you might also be tempted to think, after this summer's Camp NaNoWriMo project resulted in the spilling of over 80,000 words (and counting), that the bug has re-bitten me and I'll be noveling away at 1,800 words a day throughout this month.

WRONG!

Yes, my writer's pilot light has been relit to some extent in recent months (more on that in a future post), but no - this month, I shall attempt NaBloPoMo, or National Blog Posting Month. I've done this once before, and I thoroughly enjoyed it (that's a lie). It's simple enough - just a blog post a day for 30 days. Now I REALLY know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "WHY? Why would anyone attempt such a thing? What is the matter with you?"

Reasons... 

First, what's the matter with YOU? Ha!

Also, because why not? "Because you're not done with your 2023 novel, Joe. That's why not!" Yeah, well, that novel needs so much reworking that my brain does the blue screen of death when I try to think about it. Actually, it's more of a pill bug-style curling up into an impenetrable safety ball type of thing. 

How about because it's hard, and you know how I just adore a challenge. "No you don't! You hate challenges! Hello? You majored in business - and you only recently managed to lose the word 'clerk' from your job title after THIRTEEN YEARS." Huh... well... shut up!

Because I now have twelve first drafts of novels, and some of them might have futures, and that means edits and beta readers and rewrites and editors (are there still editors?) and finding (or creating) a path to publishing, and doesn't all that just sound exhausting? I'd literally rather write 30 blog posts in a month. And yes - I'd do another novel instead, but I have a self-imposed "No more novels until one of those 12 sees the light of day" rule. "That's a silly rule." Shoosh! Also I'm out of ideas.

Because those NaNoWriMo projects have made me entirely too wordy, and I need to relearn how to write compact prose. "No argument here..."

Finally, because it's such a delight to watch myself transform in 30 short days from this:

Look at that happy idiot. Photo by [Maris]

...to this:

Ay Caramba! Photo by Joe

Fun, non? Yeah, I know. I'll go ahead and call "BAD IDEA" right now. But who knows - maybe I'll drop something here that doesn't stink, this month. One note: I promise to only do a hobo story every third day or so. To you two readers who love the hobo stories, I'm sorry. To the other couple of readers, YOU'RE WELCOME!! And if you're still here, my dear [New Reader], I'll try not to be too wordy. I know you're really busy.

Okay. Ready? Are we really doing this? Yes, yes we are. 

Here. We. Go...

The Storm

 

A storm...

"Life is a shitstorm, in which art is our only umbrella."

- Mario Vargas Llosa

 

I've been thinking about New Year's resolutions - my own, and those of my (which here means John Hodgman's) 700 hoboes. Lately, thinking has been a struggle - and creativity, normally one of my core strengths as a human, has become depressingly hard to summon. A few months ago, I scrolled back to the beginning of this blog and reread every post. I cringed at a few lingering typos, and at some clunky prose and even clunkier ideas, but I laughed a lot, and came away feeling pretty good about a lot of it. I also couldn't help but notice that all that fun and frolic and productivity has dropped off rather precipitously since sometime in 2015. Over the past five years, I've managed to peck out about seven little blog posts per year. In the five years before 2016, I averaged 31 (with that drop-off starting in 2015). You might see where I'm going with this.

Oh, tell me you're NOT going to attempt to blame five years of writer's block on the President!

Okay, firstly - it really is a shitstorm, out there. Look:

See? Stormy! Told you!

Secondly - I haven't truly had writer's block. Over those same five years, I did manage to crank out five more of my little Camp NaNoWriMo novels - and one or two of them may even have some potential. And the few blog posts I've emitted haven't been bad. It's just a challenge to create, lately. Joy is in short supply, and hope has been outlawed.

But, yeah. I kinda DO blame my personal creativity drought on the bloviating tangerine Mussolini currently stealing the silverware and setting fire to the White House and the nation, flipping the Monopoly board over as he tantrums his way toward the door. Okay - technically, I blame the storm, but we all know it is partly of his making. You've seen it. It's real. It's everywhere. It's bad. It's a shitstorm. No need to waste time describing it. It started in 2015, and has built and built and built its way to the Category Five monster that rages around all of us, today.

So. What to do? First, I'll find the horizon. Remember that all storms end. Eventually:

Yes, I know the horizon was visible in the first two pics. Shut up.

 

Second, if I can't be funny or creative, then dammit I'm gonna be twisted. Like, baby-hobo-in-a-blender twisted. Here:

America.

That picture will be old enough to rent a car, this year, and it still says more than most of my other photographs. I resolve to get the old Nikon out - and maybe the ancient 35mm Minoltas - and take some weird pictures. There! A resolution! I probably won't do it.

Ooh! Wait! Here come some more!

• If the country continues to burn, I'm gonna toast some marshmallows.
• I will become a better pickpocket, and not get caught all the time.
  
• I guess I'll try (harder) to avoid the plague like the plague.
• Once the smoke clears - and yes, there will be smoke - I'm going to go downtown and take a good, long sniff, just to prove to myself that even the foulest four-year stenches can dissipate.
• I will finally find an editor or agent or something, and try to get my 2013 novel published. You guys know anyone?
• I'm going to go through the building where I work, and take down all the calendars. They're all stuck on March 2020, and they make me sad sometimes.
• I will see the stars for what they are, and feel the cumulative age of their light.
  
• Two words: ferrett-juggling. I guess that's one hyphenated word. Whatever. Gonna need one more ferret for this.
• I resolve to get one more endangered black-footed ferret, for the ferret-juggling, if [Maris] says yes.
• [Maris] said no. It'll have to be 2 ferrets and a panda.
• This year, I will find a new place to hang the cute little lighthouse cross-stitch my sister gave [Maris] and me when we got married. The new towels in that bathroom don't quite go with the colors in the cross-stitch, and while it's not a problem at this time, I fear it could become one. UPDATE: [Maris] would rather just change the towels. Crisis averted!
  
• I'm going to get my grilled cedar-plank salmon to turn out as perfectly as my late father-in-law's always did.
• Gonna find my Ebn-Ozn t-shirt.
• Mirrored contacts. I've wanted them since I was fourteen.
• Who am I kidding? I will never get my grilled salmon to come out the way Dad-in-law's did. 
• I resolve to take the Christmas tree down.
• I will learn to like snow. HAHAHAHAHA just seeing if you're paying attention.
  
• Drink more water. I'm not going to do this. I'm telling YOU to drink more water. Please.
• Okay, I'll drink more water, too. There's water in gin, right?
• I will laugh at the typo on my 10 years of service certificate at work, every day - instead of rolling my eyes at it.
• I will demand a better future.
  
• I will stop making lists.
• I will stop making lists.
  
• I will stop repeating myself.
• See what I did there?
  
• And I will hold [Maris]'s hand more - especially when she's trying to type. [blogger's note: on my phone, I have a shortcut set up so that when I type two m's, I get the full [Maris]. I keep trying that on this laptop, and obviously it doesn't work, and it wasn't until about the third try that I realized why.]
• I resolve to be a little smarter, maybe.

Okay, that's all for now. If you're still here, you are a trooper, and I applaud your patience. Thanks for climbing inside my head for a few minutes. It's time for my martini. I will toast to the end of the storm - and to the art that protects us in the meantime...

Photo by mm - see? I did it again! Photo by [Maris]

 

That Thankfulness Thing - Attack Of The 2015 Edition

Oh yea, oh yea, oh yea - The Court of Thankfulness is now in session and will come to order. Honorable Justice 2015 will preside. For your reading pleasure-- I SAID SIT DOWN.  Thank you.  Now, for your reading pleasure, here are no fewer than thirty (30) things for which the writer hereby declares he is thankful - and you, dear gentles, should be well-grateful that some of them are very, very brief in their depiction. (way more brief than 2012, 2013, and 2014)

To wit:

1. Baby bear Bei Bei, at the National Zoo. He is a treasure, and [Maris] and I cannot WAIT to meet him.

    

   Mei and Bei, November 2015.

2. Another MLB playoffs without atlanta and with almost no yankees.
3. Halloween - and its décor. 
4. Celebrating five years at the Humane Society of the United States. This is my longest tenure at a job since I left Erol's Video in 1992. I know!
5. Our neighbors - the ones whose first dogs ever are pit bulls (poor dogs) - have packed up what we assume is their meth lab and (hopefully) moved away. Now, the wishing for good renters to replace them begins...
6. We and our loved ones have not been the victims of a terrorist attack. Yet.
7. [Maris] hit five years, too!
8. My brother's 20-game plan at Nats Park. Love that Section 405 - close enough to Ben's Chili Bowl, and right next door to the Dogfish Head beer tap.
9. Legs. Yes, again. Also, not objectifying women.
10. Lionel trains. It's about time. Only been playing with them since about 1975.
11. My father-in-law. He left us this year, rather abruptly, and we all miss him, but are thankful to have known him.
12. Bryce freakin' Harper. Youngest man ever to win a unanimous MVP vote. Maybe not an easy guy to like, but we love him nonetheless.
13. Black-footed ferrets. More on these little cuties later, if my book ever makes its way beyond the walls of my house...

    

    ...but which one is Bingo?

14. Finding out that the young lady to whom I was assigned as "spiritual steward" has turned out to be utterly secular. My work here is done.
15. My first year since 2008 without a novel to show for it. Wait. No. Not good. Not sure I'm thankful for that.
16. This Mortal Coil. Such moody music. (nostalgic sigh)
17. Marriage equality. Because really, who F-ing cares if everyone has the same rights? Oh wait - we all do (should).
18. Richard Blade. Best DJ since Weasel.
19. The littlest of my 8 nieces and nephews. Cuz she's just so darn cute!
20. The return of Bloom County. I cannot begin to express my gratitude for Berkeley Breathed's comeback, and my relief at finding that reconnecting with his world has been effortless, like picking up a 20-years-dormant conversation with an old friend.

    

    (c) 2015 Berkeley Breathed - used without permission.

21. Dame Judi Dench. (swoon)
22. While we're at it - Bill Nighy. (equal and opposite swoon)
23. The fact that Bubba still talks to me from his grave in the backyard, and that his answer to "how are you" is always, "still dead!" See also: Bubba Drives Away
24. Smart phones. When they work, they represent more power and connectivity than even the flying cars people promised us - right there in our pockets!
25. Bubbles, because bubbles.
26. 10-Cane rum. May it rest in peace - or better still, come back to life. (Moment of silence)

    

    In memory of the finest of the sugar cane rums. Our mojitos will never be the same.

27. Attacks of the galloping dumbs, especially when they strike my entire country at once. We're experiencing one right now, and hoo boy, is it ever super-fun!
28. [Maris]. Words fail.
29. Writing. Not everyone can do it. Fewer still can do it at all well. Apparently, I has write good. Food for (my) thought...
30. White noise. Oh, woe unto those around me, should I ever lose my white noise.

This post features double-barrel inclusions of the current Studio30Plus prompt, "Attack." Please check out some of my long-lost bloggy brethren (and sistren) and their bits of written cleverness and mirth!



 

The Secrets of Genre and Process: Can Someone Just, You Know, Give Them To Me?

So, I've been tagged in one of these "pay it forward-" or is it "tag - you're it" blog meme thingies.  I only said yes because it was Marie at MY CYBER HOUSE RULES who invited me.  She's one of my best internet friendishes whom I've only met in the world of TRON and The Lawnmower Man.  She's a liver of life (one who lives life to the fullest - not the squishy organ), a singular force for positivity and adventure.  Go now, and read her blog and look at her insightful photographs.  Go on - I'll wait.

...wait wait wait...

See?  She's fun, non?  Anyway, my task was to answer a few simple questions, so let's get to it.

One:  WHAT AM I WORKING ON?

Simple.  Nothing.  I've reached a bit of a crossroads with this blog.  I write a lot of little back-stories for the 700 HOBO names John Hodgman gave us in his brilliant and hilarious almanac of fake facts, "The Areas of My Expertise."  Please go buy it.  I also sometimes write ABOUT MYSELF.  I'm pretty sure the average blog reader is not interested in weird hobo fiction, and the average hobo fiction enthusiast doesn't want to hear about my MANY STINTS ON THE UNEMPLOYMENT LINE.  So, one thing on which I'm working is deciding where to go next, blog-wise - if I continue at all.

What I *SHOULD* be working on is my novel.  I've done several National Novel Writing Months, and several of the Camp NaNoWriMo sessions, and last year, I produced something that might actually be workable.  I should be working on that, but apart from editorial stuff, I have no clue about next steps, and at the moment, I am falling victim to a self-destructive "If I don't try, I can't fail" mindset.  I'll get there, though.  In the meantime, here's a glimpse of two of the three main characters, although this scene is not in the book:  HERE - CLICK HERE!!.

Two:  HOW DOES MY WORK DIFFER FROM OTHERS OF ITS GENRE?

I'd like to tell you all the ways in which my work differs from and is superior to everything else in my genre, but to be perfectly honest... WHAT GENRE?  I started with BIZARRO TALES of my formative years, moved through almost two years of the UNEMPLOYMENT thing (also liberally-sprinkled with utter bullshit), before moving into the WORLD OF THE HOBO.

So, yeah.  I don't really have a genre.  And that's okay, for now.  

Three:  WHY DO I WRITE WHAT I WRITE?

Because I have to?  I like putting words together, preferably in new and distinctive ways.  In everyday life, I often have immense difficulty in keeping my mouth shut.  And so it is when there's a keyboard in front of me.  I have to write. 

If we're talking about why I write the hobo stuff, the main reason is... because I've started.  I can't write about some of the 700 hoboes; I have to write about all of them.  It's a mild form of OCD, I'm sure.

Four:  HOW DOES MY WRITING PROCESS WORK?

Process?  What's a process?  Okay, I'll try to be serious for a second.  Process is very personal.  My day job is relatively menial, and I get to listen to my 11,000-song iPod most of the day.  I get a LOT of my inspiration from music.  That, and dreams, and the works of those whose work I adore:  Douglas Adams, Mark Leyner, Christopher Moore, Steve Martin, Loren Bouchard, and whoever writes the TV show "Archer."  

When I have an idea for a blog post, I wait until way too late at night, and crank out mostly harmless silliness for a rum-soaked hour or two, show it to [Maris], proofread, touch up, and post.

When I embark on a novel project (which I have yet to attempt outside of the compressed schedule of a NaNoWriMo event), I turn on the music and set my laptop on our old computer desk's monitor pedestal, and stand and type.  I get my characters talking (dialogue has evolved into one of my strengths), and let them tell me their stories.  It's all very organic.  Research is done on the fly, and I read each day's work to [M] for feedback.  Okay, sometimes, if it's going really well, I don't read her the "dailies;" I just keep writing.  

I tell stories, and my writing is in many ways simply a transcription of my conversations - real, imagined, and various combinations thereof - and as such, I feel that once it's been typed, it's been typed.  The words are out, and they should be changed as little as possible.  This is a recipe for complete and utter failure as a writer, and I'm working on it, but there it is.  It's not much of a process, but it has been pretty good to me, so far.

There.  Questions answered.  Now, for the fun part.  I get to tag a couple of my blogging friends.  I couldn't get three to commit, but here are two people whose work is worth a look - I promise:

1.)  There is seriously a little bit of everything at L.M. Leffew's CHAOTICALLY YOURS.  Her writing is crisp and smart and just go check out her blog, please.  Read more than one post.  She's cool.

2.)  Speaking of cool, check out Vinny C's blog AS VINNY C's IT.  He's from the southern reaches of the Caribbean, but don't be jealous.  His life is just like ours.  His perspective, however, is fresh and funny - plus, stick figure 'toons!  Go.  Click.  Enjoy!

3)  I was supposed to tag three people for this, but I only got two to play along.  So... go to their blogs twice, or something.

Thanks for hanging in there until the end of this little exercise.  I'll be back as soon as I think of something.  Tah!

Pick Your Poison - NaNoWriMo vs. NaBloPoMo

In 2009, I participated in my first National Novel Writing Month, and I "won!"  For those unfamiliar, NaNoWriMo is a huge writing exercise, the goal of which is to crank out a complete novel of at least 50,000 words within the 30 days of November.  There are no prizes, other than a rough draft of your novel and some bags under your eyes.  During my first NaNoWriMo, I was unemployed, so I had tons of time for writing, and I ended up with about 63,000 words.

I've done it three times since then - one more November and then two of the new summer version, Camp NaNoWriMo.  I was going to do it again, this month.  I even cranked out a quick opening paragraph during the first hour of the first day.  I got no further.  Why?

On the afternoon of the first, I learned that there's a blogger equivalent of NaNoWriMo - something called National Blog Post Month, or NaBloPoMo.  Now, I'm not a prolific blogger.  I posted 22 times in 2011, and was on an even slower pace in 2012.  Lately, most of what I've been doing on my blog has been little bits of back-stories for John Hodgman's 700 Hobo Names, and even that exercise was faltering a bit, this summer. 

So, I saw before me a new challenge.  This is not to say that writing 50,000 words in a month is easy.  It is not.  It's grueling.  But I'm nothing if not wordy, and I can get my novel characters talking and just let them blather on for 30 days.  Boom - novel.  Okay, there's more to it than that, but I've done it four times, so I think I've passed that test.  

The actual written output required for 30 blog posts is certainly smaller, probably by more than half, so I thought this would be easier than a novel.  It could have been, if I were a real blogger with a million things to say, or if I were more comfortable writing about politics, or 1980's pop culture or myself, but I'm not.  I don't have a lot of material swimming in my head all day, just waiting to leap onto the screen when I get home.  I had to come up with 30 different things to write about!  I made a conscious decision early-on to allow myself only 10 posts about hoboes, so that left a lot of wide-open playing field.

I have three to go, after this one, and it looks like I'm going to make it, but I have come to the conclusion that this is, at least for me, every bit as challenging as NaNoWriMo.  I've had to pull out ideas jotted down years ago, dust them off, and hastily turn them into blog posts.  I've had to record a discussion with [Maris] about SUPERPOWERS! I've begun to bore even myself.  And while I'm not too worried about this, thanks to having so few readers, I have managed to water down my blog.  

It's a good exercise, mind you.  It forced me to write every day, and to come up with a few topics I might not have otherwise explored. And I got through it - without just writing 30 hobo stories.  Hopefully, I've added a reader or two.  And I've definitely gained a little confidence as a writer of bloggy things.  

So...

A 50,000-word novel in 30 days (whether jobless or employed, child-free or blessed with offspring) is exhausting.  An original blog post a day for 30 days is a brain-draining marathon in its own right.  They're both pretty brutal, and completing either will give you an incredible sense of accomplishment.

But...  

Unless I find myself a year from now just overstuffed with ideas, I won't be doing this blogfest again.  I have four rough drafts of novels, two of which need sequels and all of which need some attention.  Forget National Use Up All Your Blog Post Ideas Month - Bring on the next Camp NaNoWriMo!

Okay, I might try to do both, next year...