I have a theory that goes something like this. Two types of people find acceptance in this world. People who are very normal and people who are very weird. If you’re normal, then, lulz, everyone likes you. Meanwhile, if you’re very, very weird, you’re always going to find people who are just as weird as you are and then you have a protective bubble from surrounding yourself with freaky weirdos.
But then there are people like me.
I’m an extreme extrovert and I have no idea what I’m doing with my life. I’m a pretty good conversationalist — or at least like to think so — but I just don’t know how to act in a “normal” way that fits into what people I should act.
I bring this up because I continue to feel a great deal of angst about how all these manuscript consultants that I’ve spoken to about this novel project I’m working on obviously have one interaction with me and think, “I don’t want anything to do with that guy.”
It’s very unsettling because it raises the prospect that there’s some sort of mysterious culture clash between myself and the literary world. It makes me fear that I could write a really good pop novel and yet still fail, not because of my writing but because literary types — like literary agents — will simply think I’m too weird once they inevitably do due diligence on me.
This is really causing me a lot of angst at the moment. I hate this because it goes back to how I’m too old to change who I am. The worst thing that anyone else said about me is that I’m a “delusional jerk with a good heart.” I review in my mind what one manuscript consultant said during one of our two Zoom calls and I think she was afraid I lived near her and was going to be some sort of obsessive stalker or something.
That kind of hurts my feelings. I generally mean well, wear my heart on my sleeve and am honest to a fault. And yet apparently to some (all?) literary types I’m a deranged psychopath to be avoided at all costs.
This is all very disheartening. It’s these type of problems that weirdos who aren’t weird enough to have weird friends have to deal with.
I started off this project wanting to try publishing my first novel in the traditional manner. Not that I have anything against self-publishing, but I wanted to go through the entire process to see how far I could get before I realized it just wasn’t possible.
I’m well aware that for someone like me to get published in the traditional manner is something like winning the lottery. Add to this that I have extremely high expectations for myself and I’ve been kind of drifting towards my goal without any deadlines and, well, here we are. I’m approaching 50 and there’s a good chance I won’t even begin querying literary agents until the fall of next year.
The thing about querying is, it not only is there a good chance someone like me won’t succeed, but even if you do, it can take months, years even, to finally land an agent. Over and above any talent you may have, a lot of luck is involved, too. So, there is every reason to believe that even if I sell a novel, if you factor in post-production issues of editing and marketing that I could be nearly in my mid-50s before I see anything on bookshelves.
Here is where my huge ego and general delusional tendencies come into play. For me, working on this novel — despite how, in some respects it’s obviously a fool’s errand — is existential. I’ve struggled with this project for so long, and improved so much, that I’m determined to see it to some sort of conclusion. I can’t help how old I am. I can’t help that I blew out an emotional knee because of the failure of ROKon Magazine in Seoul.
I’m determined to keep going, no matter what. But I do have to adjust my expectations some. There is the obvious problem of there potentially being a civil war in late 2024, early 2025 that I have to worry about. Tough for anyone to want to buy my novel if they’re dodging explosions. Or, if we become an autocracy, it’s very possible that I’ll just get pushed out a window because I got drunk in a bar and called President DeSantis a cocksucker.
Anyway, the whole point is — I wish I was about 20 years younger. Everything would be similar. But I’m an Old. I’m a loser failure who wasted way too much of my life grieving for a zine in a far away land. But I’m not dead yet. I still have the gumption to try to see if I might get this novel published.
But, of course, this novel isn’t A Confederacy of Dunces. If it doesn’t get published within a few years of me finishing it, it’s just another failed first novel that no one will see nor want to read.
There is a memorable Amy Schumer skit about a group of women having dinner on their “last fuckable evening.” I find myself pondering this as I approach my 50th birthday with little — if anything — to show for it. Now and again, I stop myself and ponder how the fuck I got myself into this situation and what I’m going to do about it.
The crux of the matter is I kind of blew out an psychological knee because of what happened with ROKon Magazine in Seoul. So, I spent a lot — A LOT — of time grieving over that particular clusterfuck because it was very clear that everything that went wrong in that particular situation was a reflection of my personality.
So, in a sense, it’s failure was my failure.
Now, of course, I’m zooming towards being 50 and for no other reason than to simply justify air being in my lungs, I find myself struggling to figure out how I might live up to whatever remaining potential I may have.
The biggest obstacle is, of course, my age and lack of any particular career. So, there comes a point — right about now — when it is exceedingly difficult to imagine a situation where I will ever find any traditional success at all. Even if I do something that would otherwise merit it.
Now, I’ve spend the last few years making myself feel better by remembering that Stieg Larsson was 50 when he sold three novels. (He promptly died of a heart attack, but still.) But I have to admit to myself that there were some factors that helped him be a success in that situation that I very much don’t have.
He had a successful career as a journalist in the comparatively small nation of Sweden. So, it wasn’t like he was me, being a complete loser nobody in the middle of nowhere in a nation of 335 million souls. Also, there was probably an element of nationalism in why he got his first — and last — three novels published. The publisher probably saw what he wrote as a way to further Swedish culture.
Now, after adjusting to a severe learning curve, my both my writing and my storytelling has gotten significantly better. And, as such, I’m within shouting distance of not only not embarrassing myself with this first novel, but actually getting it published in a traditional manner.
But, still, even if I get this novel published and even if it’s a significant success, I’m not going to get what I want. It’s not like I can ever be young in New York City, no matter how successful I become. And, what’s worse, any success I have at this point given the context of what is going on will be couched in the context of my age and otherwise what a big loser I have been for much of my life.
It’s all very disheartening. The idea of there being an old age Even Horizon is not something that is clear until it’s too late. It’s not like I could start a career in any traditional field.
I’ve given all of this some thought and there are three ways that I might, despite my age, find a modicum of some “success” despite inherent ageism and the fact that I’ve been a big old loser for way, way too long.
The Novel I’m Working On Becomes A Hit This is the one I’m hoping for a the moment. But, of course, even if I stick the landing, we’re probably talking me actually seeing “success” at some point in 2024, given the needs of post-production. I will be 51 and not only will my age be anything anyone wants to talk about, but the United States will be in the middle of the 2024 POTUS campaign silly season. And, as I keep saying, I have real concern that the United States in late 2024, early 2025 is going to either have a civil war or turn into an autocracy. That puts a real damper on my hopes for how long I might be able to enjoy the fruits of my success.
Become a Successful Fashion Photographer This is one, while possible, is not very probable. Even though I have the innate talent, there are a lot of basic obstacles to this one, over and above my age. I can’t afford the equipment I feel I need to properly do the job. And I live in the middle of nowhere. For me to be able to pursue this career, I would need funds that I just, at the moment, don’t have. Obviously, something might change and I might get those funds suddenly and unexpectedly. For instance, if I sold my first novel and it was a huge success, then that would help me with my dream of being a fashion photographer. But there would remain the issue of my age. The idea that I’ve just waited too long and now things that I should have been able to do — like be a successful fashion photographer — I can’t do for the basic reason of my age is very troubling.
Second American Civil War This is, in its own way, the darkest and least likely of these possibilities. I’m just working with what I know about myself and extrapolating what I might be able to do. I’m a good enough writer and public speaker that if we have a civil war, I might — like U.S. Grant — find some success after having been a drunk loser for a long time. This is a really bonkers idea, but, if nothing else, it gives me a little bit of hope that I might be able to unexpectedly find the success I feel I deserve.
Anyway, if nothing else, I need to take more seriously the implications of my age. I’m not getting any younger and I really, really need to come to grips with the hold hard reality of what that means.
I’m working on yet another attempt at a first draft of my first novel and I’m feeling pretty good. One thing I’ve started to get the hang of is the subtle ebb and flow of scenes.
There are, according to the book “Scene and Structure,” two types of things in a novel — a scene and a sequel. A scene is where some sort of event with a disaster happens at the end, while a sequel is sort of the event in the novel where people react to what just happened.
Once you figure out how to work out that ebb and flow on a structural level, then the story has a native groove to it that the reader can get into without even realizing. It’s a way of, if nothing else, modulating the pace of the story on a macro level.
Anyway, I have a huge amount of work ahead of me. But, for the time being, this story is really keeping me, the writer, entertained, which goes a long ways towards ensuring that I actually finish it. It’s going to be a few months before I’m able to finish this first draft, but I knew going into this project that it would be a lot of work.
As I write all of this, of course, I’m having serious problems figuring out scene sequence. Wish me luck. It’s turning out to be a real struggle.
I didn’t keep a good enough watch on the calendar and now I realize I’m not going to sell my first novel by the time I’m 50. As such, I have to take a deep breath and recalculate what I’m doing with this project. I now am on tract to query my first novel in fall 2023 — about a year from now.
I say that because I have to write at least two drafts of this novel, then turn around and done one final draft before I can query. That will probably put me in early summer 2023 and, as such, the fall 2023 querying season is when I will be ready to go.
Not only could a lot — and I mean A LOT — of things go wrong, but no matter what, the context of any success will be different than than want I originally wanted. I think a lot of that has to do with middle age kind of snuck up on me because I don’t have a wife or a girlfriend to remind me of such things. I have been drifting towards my goal, willfully delusional as to the specifics on how I was actually going to accomplish it.
Now, however, I am in a new stage of things. I have a solid fleshed outline to work with and it’s so good that I’m kind of impress with myself. If I can just buckle down and focus more I think I might actually produce something enough to at least not embarrass myself.
So, I decided to buy JK Rowling’s self-indulgent mystery tome out of spite towards the “woke cancel culture mob.” I have a feeling, given my dissipated youth that if I manage to miraculously sell my first novel, I’m probably going to get canceled pretty quick.
But, who knows, maybe I’ve overthinking things.
Something about why Rowling has been so vehemently “canceled” doesn’t set well with me. Her “cancelation” because of viewpoint that a lot of average people have is very troubling for a number of reasons. It’s because of shit like that that we got Trump.
When the average person begins to believe they risk their entire life being ruined for holding a view that seems pretty obvious and simple — then you have a serious problem. That’s when they start to doubt the very legitimacy of democracy and fascism becomes more and more appealing to them.
And I say all of this as someone who fucking hates the MAGA New Right. I suppose you might call it a little bit of political tough love. In the end, I think the “woke” era is going to end either when we have a civil war or when we turn into an autocracy.
The more I learn about how novels are actually bought and marketed the more I begin to realize there may be some existential issues that I just can’t wiggle my way out of.
There are two such issues that are giving me serious pause for thought. One is that my protagonist is a POC — specifically Amerasian. The idea that THAT would make it more difficult to sell my novel kind of boggles my mind. Any modern American story has to address that American is browning and, as such, not every story can be just a bunch of white people talking to each other.
Having a non-White heroine — who, in my mind, looks a lot like Olivia Munn — is existential to the story I want to tell. And I’ve come up with a really interesting, clever story that I think is engaging and will appeal to people who liked stories like Mare of Easttown and Stieg Larsson’s stuff.
The other existential issue is, of course — me. The idea that a middle aged CIS white male would write a novel with a non-white heroine as its protagonist is, unto itself a big issue with the “woke cancel culture mob.” And the fact that I would write in the third person intimate POV and I shift POVs is another issue that could cause a lot of problems. Or not. Maybe I’m being paranoid.
This was a huge issue in the controversy around the novel “American Dirt” which was written, as I understand it, by a white woman. It told the story of, I think, an undocumented Latinx.
There are two lesser issues. One is, well, how I hope to make it clear over the course of these six novels how much I fucking hate Trumplandia. I hate it with the hate equal to the center of the sun. I suppose if I actually sold this first novel, my political views would become known and that, unto itself, might turn some people off.
Meanwhile, there is the still very nebulous prospect that Something Big and Bad might happen in late 2024, early 2025, to the point that it will be difficult for any novel I sell to actually be read because either people will be dodging explosions or a weaponized ICE will start to knock heads.
But I would like to think that, maybe, if I manage to write a good enough story that all of these obstacles might not be such such an issue. I am also the first to admit that this project is based on delusion and me having a huge ego. And, yet, lulz. Why not?
All of this gives me something to think about. Something to focus on other than how I’m about to be 50 and have nothing to my name other than a failed expat magazine in Seoul.
For some time, I’ve been willfully delusional about this six novel project I’m currently working on. But, as I approach my 50th birthday — which was supposed to be the deadline for getting published — I’m beginning to feel not just my own mortality but to begin to focus on the specifics of how I’m going to get this first novel published.
As such, I’m beginning to force myself to be a lot more realistic about my chances. With any endeavor, the more you know about how something really works, the more you realize how hard it is. And getting published in the traditional manner is no exception.
Getting published through the traditional route is like winning the lottery. Especially when it comes to be a first time, untested author who you as a literary agent might do a due diligence on, only to realize they’re a crank (that would be me.)
The reason why I’m thinking this way is I’ve finished a solid fleshed out outline of the first novel and I’m feeling pretty good about the idea that I will be in the position to query a very good pop novel in fall of 2023. So, as such, I’m beginning to think about the specifics of querying and What It All Means. And, yet, when I started this project a few years ago the whole point of it was to have an overarching creative project that would consume my mental energy so I would have something to think about other than what a fucking loser I am.
So, lulz. It’s fun to continue to go through the process, even as the more I learn about how exactly things work, the more I realize that this entire effort is extremely delusional and generated by my huge fucking ego.
And, remember, once I finish the first novel I will have the pride of having finished a novel of about ~120,000 words. If all else fails, I suppose I can either self-publish or turn to a different novel that is not in this universe. Just because I want to write a total of at least six novels in this universe, doesn’t mean I will or have to.
As someone who is struggling to write a mystery-thriller, the description of J.K. Rowling’s latest novel sounds fascinating. The idea that she could write a 1,000 page novel about a person that fits her description who is murdered for their views on transgender people seems pretty tough to do.
I guess it’s an example of how any publicity is good publicity. I still find why she’s in so much trouble kind of crazy. It’s a testament not to the “woke cancel culture mob” but just that the younger generations come up have dramatically different expectation about certain things than Olds. But that is to be expected. The only difference is how fast it’s all happening — there is a definite Singularity-like quickness to how things are changing in culture these days and a lot of Olds are having trouble adapting.
Also, buying a novel from such a problematic author fits into my personality of being generally ornery. I hate the idea that I am forbitten from reading something just because the Youngs have “canceled” her. I haven’t read ANYTHING else she’s written — I’m not a fan of fantasy, to say the least — and I think maybe reading such a book would be a good introduction to her writing.
Maybe. I don’t know. I just feel like being weird and buying the book to see how she manages to write that many words, essentially, about herself. It seems extremely self-indulgent.
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