Bad Blogger, no donut...

And I was doing so well...

I started this blog more than 3 1/2 years ago as a way to keep my writing chops up while I geared up for a new project. The blog has definitely had its ups and downs. I used to be a lot better at multi-tasking than I am now, and even with the sudden influx of unstructured time in my life ( some would call this "unemployment," but I prefer a more positive frame), I have a hard time splitting my attention (See this post for further insight into the sad state of my once formidable intelligence. Hey, really - I used to be smart!).

Anyway, I'd been getting back into the blogging swing of things, constantly finding articles that intrigued me that I wanted to share, and then I got immersed in rewriting an old screenplay, something I'd always thought had potential but could never quite make work. It was a fun thing to revisit. After all the agonizing over my last novel, the one which is out to publishers, working on something that was just sort of...fun...was, well...fun! Suddenly, I wasn't procrastinating till close to midnight before I'd sit down and make myself work. I was actually writing while the sun was out! I'd forgotten what that felt like.

Even though I've written after work for most of my life, the last few years doing this has felt really really hard. Just exhausting, and soul-killing. I know that sounds incredibly melodramatic. Writing novels isn't like, I dunno, working in a coal mine. But what I used to be able to do when I was younger, and hey, I was not a happy person when I was younger, I was bitter and angry and depressed, but I did my work, dammit...

Now I'm happier but I don't have the energy, I guess. Or I'm not willing to drive myself to the point of misery to manufacture the energy.

So, anyway, here I am. I wake up when I feel like waking up, and the whole day stretches in front of me. Figuring out how to use this time has been a challenge. I've tried to set goals every day: small things, much of the time. Hang up that picture. Arrange new health insurance. Walk to the gym. Walk to Santa Monica and buy a bread knife. Stuff like that.

But telling myself, okay, you're a writer, here's your time - that's been an adjustment.

I'm working on a new novel. I started it a few months ago and am about 4 chapters in. I like the prose a lot. I have the setting and the characters and the basic situation. I don't really have a story, yet. It's the kind of thing that I need to research.

So, today. I got up. Checked my email. Tidied some ends on a free-lance project I've been doing. And got to work on my novel. I have three books to read for it. Read about 100 pages of one. Did a bunch of internet research, really valuable stuff. Started getting a better sense of how I could shape this story.

Thought to myself, this is a life I could have. This is a life that works for me.

Now if only someone would pay me for it...

All of which is a long, roundabout way of saying that I've been focused on other stuff, and the blogging kind of falls apart.

I'll try to do better.

Random thoughts of a jet-lagged brain

So I guess I am officially middle-aged. Since I lack a lot of the typical cultural markers (i.e., kids), it's a hard thing for me to grasp. I don't feel all that different. I exercise a lot. My energy is good. The gray hair and the gut, well, those are a little alarming. Worse is losing some of my Trivial Pursuit memory — I flounder for words at times, forget things that I used to remember. I'd give an example, something that happened yesterday, but I forgot what it was.

Apparently some of the changes in the brain that happen with aging are not a bad thing. According to some recent brain research:

for most aging adults, the authors say, much of what occurs is a gradually widening focus of attention that makes it more difficult to latch onto just one fact, like a name or a telephone number. Although that can be frustrating, it is often useful.

“It may be that distractibility is not, in fact, a bad thing,” said Shelley H. Carson, a psychology researcher at Harvard whose work was cited in the book. “It may increase the amount of information available to the conscious mind.”

Be that as it may, the main thing I've noticed lately is my inability (or unwillingness) to split my attention.

Was a time when: I wrote fiction, played in a band where I was writing the songs and arranging the gigs and singing and playing the bass, and studied Chinese. And oh yeah, worked a full-time job.

Now? I can't imagine doing all that. I can't even manage to post more than once a month on my increasingly sad little blog. No posts for the entire month of May? This is pathetic.

It's not that there aren't plenty of interesting things to post about. The news coming out of China in recent months has been voluminous, important and fascinating. Politics in America...well, there's a lot I could say, but there are a lot of folks saying it better than I could. I've added a few of these new voices (some of whom are only new to me) to my "comments" section. I've purged others. I'd like to give a particular shout-out to TalkLeft and Anglachel's Journal , TalkLeft for its tireless coverage of politics and wonderful commenters, and Anglachel for the impressive intellectual scope and erudite commentary on politics and political theory. I read the stuff there and am so impressed by the use of language and clear expression of ideas and concepts (check out this recent post on libertarian paternalism for an example). I have no idea how people write like that — I certainly can't.

Maybe it's true that my "attention has widened" as per the research cited above. I'm not sure. What I do know is that what I'm really good at — where I've really put my attention — has narrowed.

It's the collapse of the probability curve, in quantum physics (oh yeah — that was one of the things I was trying to explain to somebody the other night, and couldn't remember, either then or now). Observing the phenomena brings it into existence.

Except, I'm not sure if that's what I really mean.

When you start making decisions about what you want to do, about where you want to focus your attention, all those other possibilities that your life once held begin to collapse. You can be a writer or a painter or a ballerina or a ballplayer or a brain surgeon or a quantum mechanic — you probably can't be too many of those things in a single lifetime.

This narrowing of possibilities happens as you age, whether you make conscious choices or not. At this point, I'm not going to birth babies, in all probability. Nor am I going to be a ballerina. Brain surgery is probably out as well.

So, better to choose, because it's going to happen to you anyway. The process of living will make choices for you.

I've chosen to write fiction, above everything else. In a way I wonder how much of a choice it really was. I've always wanted to write, have always been compelled to write. It's hardly been a decision at all, more of an acceptance of an existential fact. It's who I am, it's what I do. It's why the scorpion stung the frog that took him across the river. It's my nature.

Years of focus and practice have trained my brain to be good at this particular activity. I'm slow at times and struggle to express myself, but when I finally do, I look at what I've written and think that it's pretty good, and that over the years, I've gotten better.

I pretty much suck at just about everything else.

Really Done...

No, really.

I did a little polish last week, emailed the book on Monday, and it's done, baby. Next up —

Well, that's a little complicated. The short version is, we start submitting. Rather, my! agent! does. The long version has to do with the intersection of my writing and my working in the entertainment industry. I'll leave it at that.

Mainly, my work on the book really is done for the time being, and it's up to the agent from here. I trust him, and I'm happy to have the MS off my metaphoric desk (which in my case would be my lap) and on his.

Being done is interesting. I did a lot of drafts of this book. Some were a lot more fun than others. Some felt like I just dragged myself to the end, to the point where I was so utterly exhausted by it that I couldn't possibly change another word.

The last major revision,when I finished, I was, for once, relaxed. For one thing, I already had the contract at that point, so I wasn't stressing out quite so much about how it would go over. Mainly, I knew I'd nailed it. Almost. Whatever wasn't quite right would be easy to fix. And it was.

But still...those few things I tweaked and moved and polished...those little things weren't quite right, and it wasn't until after I fixed them that I finally felt done.

It's hard to explain, and honestly, I'm not always good with words. I'm not an essayist, and I swore that I was not going to be one of those bloggers who writes a lot of narcissistic posts about my feelings; I'm not sure they are all that interesting to anyone, not even to me.

But being done is interesting. Feeling that sense of completion, like a bunch of tumblers in a lock finally clicked into place; it's done. I'm open.

Which begs the question, what now?

I have a really hard time starting new projects. Once I finally get going, I'm pretty consistent and obsessive. I don't write fast but I write hard, and I don't stop till I'm done. But starting...ugh.

I have a couple of ideas for new books but haven't done the prep to really start either of them, and in any case, I'm told it would be smart to wait for some feedback on the Book That Is Done before I commit to the next project.

I have some stuff I could work on in the meantime. Trashy Novel 3, I could finish that. I have an old screenplay that I still think is funny and relevant at its core, if I totally tore it apart and reworked it, that is.

Plus, I have this blog. If I'm fortunate enough to sell the book, I need to look at ways to promote it and myself as a writer. I've been looking at some writers' blogs, and they are really impressive — a lot of consistent work and thought, and many more bells and whistles than this one.

The focus of this blog has never been my writing; it's been a catch-all for China topics, political musings and the occasional post about how the novel has eaten my brain. I'm not a China expert, and as mentioned, I'm not an essayist, so it's not clear to me that I should focus exclusively on China-related topics. On the other hand, I might want to start a different blog that's only about my writing. One that uses my full name. Or the name I decide to publish under. I'm looking for pen-name suggestions, by the way...

So, do I build up this blog? Start a new one? What kinds of things do I need to add and consider if I want to promote my writing?