Writin' and editin' makes one want for drinkin'

I took a break from writing this evening by going for a run at sunset. I spent most of the run thinking about writing. When one topic's on your mind all the time, even when you try to push it out, it's still there.

The problem with writing isn't the writing itself. It's knowing when to stop. I have been working on a manuscript for almost nine months. I wrote it in four months and in the past five months I've had a couple of editing passes. While no one knows my stuff like me, when I submitted it to an online critique group through the Atlanta Writer's Club, they found things that I didn't notice. There were minor things like "than" for "as". There were major things like me neglecting to introduce my main character's name in the beginning of chapter one.

I always know when a blog's done because that's when my hands stop moving on the keyboard. In the tricky world of narrative fiction, the task seems to be never ending. Change is almost always necessary but it affects more than one spot in your story. It's layered in many scenes, conversations, and the motivations of characters. It makes a big difference that I have a character who's actually on a Last Will and Testament instead of having to go through court procedures to get that power. It's a huge change to make one character think that a relationship has no future, and decide that instead he has a vision of longevity that he's almost desperate enough to acknowledge. Changes like that can require major rewrites. My patience for such efforts is wearing out.

In the past week I've worked on one major chapter in the book. It's a crucial scene in the manuscript because it's the only extended chapter that has all 12 characters in a room together for an extended period of time. I worry about balance because some characters speak more than others and some have bigger revelations. The key to the scene is that despite their differences, they choose to honor their friend together. It's completely plausible that without this reason for unity, they would continue to drift apart due to the kind of petty issues that occur in any long-term relationship, let alone 12 distinct personalities that exist in a fantasy football league.

After a week, I'm still not sure if it's ready for prime time, or print. What is revealed individually could make a few novels or novellas of their own. To the reader the scenarios might be implausible but so are most of the football finishes in season one of Friday Night Lights and I can overlook that because the show is great, the characters are great, and I'd watch it if the major sporting event was fencing.

What is a writer to do? Continue plugging away. Whether it's a blog or a critical conversation in chapter ten of your 110,000-word manuscript, you have to keep plugging away until it feels right. Next week it might feel wrong but that's next week.

Atlanta Writer's Conference

I spent about 14 hours at the Atlanta Writers Conference over the past two days. In that time I received plenty of advice, helpful and otherwise, from agents and published authors. I also watched a line of writers waiting like a college football player trying out for the NFL.

I don't often feel like I fit in. I lack what some would call a community. This weekend I felt that I fit in. I sat last night with a man of my age trying for the second year in a row to sell his book about two friends and a kidney donation. Today I had lunch with two older writers working on a nonfiction book about parenting. They weren't married but looked a lot like my aunt and uncle who live in Las Vegas. I met a woman on the waiting list to pitch who got to pitch and looked dazed after the experience. I met a Vietnam Veteran, also a published author, who told me what a Marine is all about when I asked.

It was too late for me to sign up for a slot to pitch. In a pitch session you meet an agent or an editor and have ten minutes to sell your story. During my hour-long drive I went over my pitch as many times as I could. Even though I was 20th in the waiting list I stood around all day in the hopes that a slot would open up. One of my friends from an online critique group had volunteered to time the sessions and got an opportunity to pitch. I sat and thought maybe I could slide in after him. Another prospective writer, looking for an agent for his science fiction premise, tried to engage an agent on the way down the escalator. That was it. After hearing of successful pitches on an elevator or in line for the bathroom, every moment was an opportunity.

I witnessed something rare this weekend. I got to see dreams openly expressed. Just about everyone in attendance was looking for a publication deal, or had self-published in hopes of making it to the bit time with validation from an agent. The best they could expect was an invitation to send more pages and the hope for a formal relationship and eventual publication.

It was like a job interview, but it was more than that. Most jobs are not dreams. This was a dream, that in some cases has been decades in the making. It's my dream too. It wasn't my day. Being aware of the possibility might render me unable to sleep until I achieve it. Yeah, I better drink a little wine tonight to help the process.

Pitching my literary tent

It's one day from go time.

I attended one writing conference in my life and I was a passive participant. At the time I didn't have anything to sell, and if I did I wouldn't know the first thing about selling.

Things have changed. At the Atlanta Writer's Conference that starts tomorrow, I get the opportunity to hobnob with fellow writers and a few agents that might have a home for my screed.

I signed up for this event a couple of months ago, which turned out to be a couple months too late. I was unable to submit my material for official review. I'm on a waiting list for a 10-minute pitch session with an agent. It sounds a lot like speed dating. I'm excited and nervous about the prospects.

I don't sell myself. I have never made an impassioned plea to earn a reward that is a longshot at best. I write my words and let them sit. Other people might read them from time to time. I take criticism better than your average politician. I take silence, lack of response, or the time it takes a person to clear their throat before responding as utter and complete rejection.

My attitude about my work needs to change. It feels stale because I've let it sit around for a while. I stopped submitting my work to an online critique group when there were no responses to my posted third chapter. The comments I received on the first two chapters were invaluable, in that it was the first review I had from actual writers. Writers are readers and know what to look for. They also don't let you get away with cheap tricks and adverbs. When I failed to get feedback, I took as rejection and an excuse to walk away.

If I want this manuscript to be something other than space on my jump drive or a pile of papers sitting in a box in a closet, I have to make it live. I have to share it with anyone who shows the slightest interest. Some say that what the world needs now is love. I say the world needs a story about a fantasy football league coping with a horrible tragedy by doing what they do best, ridiculing each other, attending games and acting like a bunch of juvenile delinquents. If there is a book like mine in the market, I haven't seen it. There are humorous books and there are sporting books and I know there have to be plenty of male bonding books. There isn't one with all of these elements. The 18 million fantasy football fanatics out there might not read fiction. I bet they would read this, and recognize a little of themselves and some of their personal experiences. There are certain experiences in this book that I hope very few if any people have experienced. Just a word to the wise.

I'm pumped. Pride of the Lions. Coming to a store near you.

As it turns out, the end times are kind of boring

I am endlessly fascinated by how people think. Of late this has been focused on spiritual matters. I didn't care what people believe as much as why. I assume this is why the news of Harold Camping's prediction of the apocalypse has so enthralled me.

Predicting the apocalypse has been a pastime as long as there have been people around to record history. There is fear and trepidation about our world coming to an end. In Harold Camping's quite public prediction, there is a distinct lack of fear or trepidation.

He believes that this is going to happen. If you want, listen to his recent interview with reapsowradio. I appreciated that the hosts of the show, instead of mocking or questioning Camping, only asked him questions about his beliefs as if they have real value and worth.

That's the whole point. There's nothing to this guy's assertions. The reason why you listen to extreme religious people is because you hope to hear a spark of an idea that gives you an insight into this kind of mindset. Writing about Camping's beliefs makes me want to yawn. Telling me that there's a being who will judge us all in a week's time really makes me want to spend more time researching for my fantasy football draft. In August.

Because the bottom line is it's not that interesting or compelling to me. I want it to be. And before I get any comments that I'm disrespecting the man or his beliefs or anyone's beliefs who might be similar, let me say one thing. I don't know either. I am not confident in my beliefs. I am confident that this man is wrong. He has the intellectual curiosity of a house cat. That's the kind of person I would not even want to share lunch with.

Could this be a function of today's society that feels we must listen to everyone's opinion? I'm fine that there are people like Camping and Donald Trump who are so completely sure of themselves. That doesn't mean that they are less full of crap. The only reason Trump's gotten so much press lately is that it creates controversy. It's controversy on a subject that's been put to rest a long time ago. But we can't let it go because on the miniscule chance that Trump was telling the truth, it would be a huge story. It will be a huge story if the first earthquake starts at 6 p.m. next Saturday as Harold Camping predicts.

We all know it's not going to happen. The tragedy is we'll forget about Camping before he has a chance to explain why his prediction didn't come to fruition. And while this morning I wanted to be one of the countless people celebrating his mistaken beliefs on May 22, part of me wants Camping to pass peacefully in his sleep the night before. It sounds horrible to contemplate, but honestly, if he's as earnest as he seems, the devastation of a life's work that turns up empty would be too much for him to bear.

That's me projecting, based on how I would feel. More likely is that he'll spin it to his benefit, and the next apocalypse will be precisely scheduled for 2028. What disturbs me the most is that there are people who seem to look forward to the so-called End Times. In short, those people really don't value this life as much as I do.

Relativity

We have access to the depth and breadth of knowledge that would make a Galileo or Spinoza weep. Yet we still can't agree about a thing. The world and our country in particular has been infected with a level of relative truth that is shocking.

Let's talk Bin Laden. He's dead. Woo hoo. It is a shared experience for Americans to feel good about his demise. On Monday morning, everyone agreed that was a good thing. The togetherness and unity lasted for a solid 12 hours.

The divergence is highlighted by one argument. We cannot agree if torture led to finding Bin Laden. My favorite podcaster Mr. Carolla ranted about how his lefty friends were against torture but clearly, torture led to the information that led to Bin Laden. Yet it took me all of a minute to find an editorial claiming that torture had little if anything to do with the mission that ultimately concluded in Bin Laden's death.

Who's right? That's not the point. The point is if you believe that torture is necessary to solve crimes, you're going to find your evidence. And if you believe that torture is one reason why it took ten years to find Bin Laden, you'll have plenty of ammunition.

One of my favorite interviews of the past month was the extended cut of David Barton's appearance on the Daily Show. Just watch it. David Barton is the infamous historian whose cause is that we are a Christian nation. Not only are we a Christian nation, the founders believed we were so. Jon Stewart made a valiant effort to show that this is an example of the current cart before the horse culture. In short, conservatives want proof that the founding fathers were Christian and wanted us all to be under one God, so they find a historian to dig up the evidence. If you are a Christian, you're going to love this interview and might even say amen a few times as Barton deflects Stewart's questions like a Jedi Master. If you question the man because you like this whole secular nation concept, you're going to find him less than convincing.

The good news is there's something for everyone. I generally like this point of view. The downside is we are going to have to come together on issues like the deficit, and the dramatic divergence of what everyday events mean is going to make it hard to find common ground.