It’s now Sept. 1st and as I vowed to myself — I’m going to get back to writing in a big way. I hope to do this in the context of reading a lot, too. I hope, in fact, to force myself to read Stephen King’s “IT” starting today in an effort to start a yearly tradition of doing so just about when it gets to spooky season. I’ve read the book three times already and it, along with John Irving’s “The World According to Garp” are my favorite books.
I face two issues when it comes to working on this first novel. One is I fear the novel is simply too long. I’m embarrassed by how many scenes I have, given that each scene is probably going to be on average 1,000 words. The other the process of writing this novel is way too slow. And, yet, I really like the process I’ve come up with, even though it’s slows me down.
But I think I think one key issue is I need to remember why I started this project to begin with — I fucking hate Trumplandia. And it’s quite clear that Trumplandia is coming back. And, given that I want to write six novels in this universe, I’m pretty nervous about what is going to happen in late 2024, early 2025.
And, yet, I think if I just believe in my self and see what happens. I can’t make decisions on what I don’t know, only on what I do know.
While I’m not done yet with the latest version of the fleshed out outline, I am in the third act. And I’m really pleased with what I’ve managed to come up with. Now I continue to have a lot of worry about how I’m doing all of this in a vacuum and there could be a lot of things I’m missing.
But I think if I really focus on developing characters and their motivation then I will at least be in a position not to embarrass myself. I keep saying I’m going to read more and then lulz it. I’m so busy producing content that it’s difficult for me to consume it.
And, yet, that’s something I absolutely have to do. I have to read more. A lot more. I have a small library of books I haven’t read yet. Once I finishing fleshing out this outline — which will be about 50 pages — I think I may pause for a day I really force myself to read up on some basic elements of how to write a novel. I’m so proud of what I’ve managed to come up with, I don’t want to blow it with application.
I’ve been working on writing my first novel for way too long. I need to finish a solid first draft. I’m not getting any younger. Not only could too many things go wrong, but even if I get what I want — which is to sell at least one novel — I’m going to be so old when it happens that the whole context of what I get will be different than want I want.
All anyone will want to talk about is how I “came out of nowhere” and I “found success late in life.”
UGH.
Not to mention there’s always a chance that some dumb thing I did when I was drunk 20 years ago when be used to “cancel me.” But it is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all.
Anyway, once I finish the outline and do some reading, then I will start the next step — writing scene summaries for each individual scene. THEN I will get down to writing.
I’m just about to finish fleshing out an outline for yet another version of my first novel. It’s dramatically different than what I originally came up with for this novel to the point that it’s pretty much — on a specific basis — a totally different book.
The structure is significantly different — I am no longer using the structure of Stieg Larsson’s The Girl Who Played With Fire as a crutch. I use a much more traditional structure with an inciting incident that happens just about when you might expect. In other words, I get to the point of this story a lot sooner than I did before.
Anyway, now that I’m on the cusp of actually writing a new version of this novel, I find myself gaming out the next few steps. And that would be, after finishing wrapping up the second draft of this novel, finding someone to be a beta reader.
At the moment, I’m at a loss as to with whom or how this will happen. I have no friends and no one likes me and I’m very, very poor. I’m flat broke and paying anyone to read a novel that may approach ~120,000 words is going to be a real chore, if not nearly impossible.
And, yet, as I learned with my time as the publisher of ROKon Magazine in Seoul many, many moons ago, sometimes, things can break your way when you least expect it. But, of course, it goes without saying that one shouldn’t simply “hope” that things will work out.
Sometimes, you have to work hard to make luck happen.
Apparently, there are two times of the year when you can query literary agents — the spring and the fall. In that is the case, then I probably have about another year left in this project. Despite all my expectations, I’m simply not in a position to query this first novel, much less sell it anytime soon.
Almost.
So, as such, it’s going to be the fall of 2023 when I’m finally done with this novel to the point that I feel comfortable querying it. There are a huge number of things that could either go wrong, change the context or delay this, but, in general, I think I’m fairly safe in believing I can begin querying by the end of 2023.
One big issue is that of who I’m going to ultimately find to be my beta readers. I have no friends and no one likes me, so I’m going to have to find someone to pay to be my beta reader. Or, alternately, I can participate in a beta reading program of some sort myself and that way I would read someone else’s stuff in exchange for them reading mine.
But, in the end, you just have to have hope. You have to believe in yourself and not be so quick to assume you won’t succeed. I’m not getting any younger, though. Since I broke my ankle a few months ago, I have found myself doubly aware of how fragile life is and how unexpected events can change everything without any notice.
Here I am, fleshing out the latest version of the first draft of my first novel, feeling great that things — at the moment at least — are going well. Then, I find myself looking into the future and contemplating what happens when I finally finish the novel.
Is it possible that my digital footprint is so kooky that whenever a literary agent does the inevitable “due diligence” on me that they will dismiss me a crank, no matter how good the actual novel is? This is something that really weighs on my mind because these days I can’t even pay people to help me work on this project.
They either do due diligence on me — I can see them in my Webstats looking — and think I’m a crank, or I pay them for a chat and then they won’t let me have a “second date” for some reason.
It’s very disheartening. I can’t help who I am. I can’t help that I’ve always been a square peg in a round hole. And I refuse to change who I am. I either publish these novels in the traditional manner or I fail and self publish. My only hope is that — despite doing all of this in a vacuum — that the final product I produce will be good enough that I might have a chance overcoming this very annoying obstacle.
In the end, you just have to believe, I suppose. No one else will.
I’m not getting any younger. I really need to focus on just the first novel in this projected six novel project. And, yet, I can’t help myself. I find myself mulling the arc of these six novels that depict events that occur over a generation of time.
The core of the story is one woman’s love for a dead woman’s baby. The first three novels we see the ebb and flow of that relationship. The second three novels is that baby as an adult and her struggle to revenge the brutal murder of her mother. So, in a sense, the first three novels are very much like Mare of Easttown, while the second trilogy is a lot more Stieg Larsson influenced.
I just hate how much of a late bloomer I am on this front. I have to worry about not only dropping dead of a very middle aged man type heart attack before I finish any of these novels, I also have to worry about something akin to a Fourth Turning happening in the United States in the general 2024 – 2025 timeframe.
One key issue you have to remember is the origin of this whole project to begin with — my white hot rage towards the Trumplandia experiment. That was what ultimately caused me to have not only something to say, but the energy to say it. It wasn’t until dingus Trump wasn’t able to steal the 2020 election that I decided to pivot to telling the backstory of what was meant to be an allegory for Trumplandia.
Jesus, I can’t believe it’s been two years since I made that decision. Jesus Christ, do I need to set some deadlines! I’ll be 60 years old and still struggling to finish the first novel, the way things are going. And, I think, the looming prospect of turning 50 without having published a novel is really beginning to weigh on my mind.
I think, however, that my writing and storytelling abilities have improved significantly since I started this process. I just think I need to start taking all of this more seriously. I just can’t keep drifting towards my goal. I need to formalize things, or something.
As summer comes to an end, I feel rather content. At the moment, I am peacefully living in oblivion without anyone being angry at me or there being any overarching chaos in my life. I don’t have any celebrities thinking I’m obsessed with them and I can be my freaky weirdo self in peace.
The good old days with the late Annie Shapiro.
The key thing about life is to recognize those moments in time when you’re actually happy. And, at the moment, that’s what I am. It’s a peaceful easy feeling.
Now, the question is, of course, how long will this last? Well, logic would say that the moment summer is officially over and all the wealthy Twitter liberals are done doing butt stuff with anonymous Plebes at Burning Man that chaos will return, at least until Election Day. Then we’ll spend a few days processing the 2022 midterms — what ever they may be — then we’ll all zone out again until the new Congress is sworn in sometime in January.
Of course, throw in Trump either being indicted, announcing is 2024 bid, becoming Speaker of the House or a combination of all three.
But, for the time being, I think I’m going to soak up this peace and contentment.
I’ve just about entered the second half of fleshing out this first novel’s outline and I’m at a loss as to what to do. I need to convey to the reader that there is rising tension and danger for the protagonist — the bad guys closing in, as they say.
But I totally don’t know what to do, at least at the moment. I know in general terms what I need and what I want, but I’m going to have to radically re-imagine what is going on in some way. I think my best bet is to detract myself. Whenever I find myself in such a situation, I’m able to figure out what I need by doing something else than development.
I’m going to give myself about a day, I think, to do this. In the past, this has been about the time when I have gone on a little Writer’s Retreat to daydream. But I just don’t have the opportunity to do that right now. So, I think I might do a lot of reading (for once) and try to think of ways to put my heroine in danger and to build up to the end of the third act when we have our “all is lost” moment.
The first half of the novel is really, really good. I’m very pleased. I will note, however, that I’m very frustrated with how long this process is taking. I’m not getting any younger and I want to write six novels in this universe. I think, maybe if I stop focusing on that element of all of this and just try to make the first novel as strong a story as possible that things will be easier to figure out.
In the past, I used to visit New York City about once a quarter. It was the closest I could get to visiting Seoul and I was always a lot of fun. I love the city’s energy and visiting — and daydreaming about living there — was always a great way to stir my creative juices.
But, my financial situation has changed for the worst and I just can’t afford to go anymore. Yet that doesn’t stop me from dreaming about maybe one day falling into the money necessary to buy the equipment needed to become a fashion photographer and move to NYC to see if I could pull of such a hat trick. Of course, that’s being exceedingly delusional — I’m probably simply too old to start a successful fashion photographer career.
I can have all the talent in the world, but I’m old enough to know that simply having native talent isn’t enough. It takes time to “come out of nowhere” and I simply don’t have that much time left on the planet to get what I want. And, even if I “got what I wanted” the context would not be wanted I wanted.
Instead of, “Wow, this cool new fashion photographer is making building a career in NYC,” it would be, “Jesus Christ, this old guy thinks he can have a career in fashion photography.”
Whenever I think like this — which is often — I mope. Then I am reminded that my life is extremely quirky and ironic. And I’m a notorious late bloomer. So, allow myself to be delusional and think that maybe, just maybe things will break my way and I’ll be able to live the dream of both being a successful novelist and a successful fashion photographer.
I am well aware of how delusional that is, coming from someone with no career and pushing 50. But one man’s delusion is another man’s dream. People can be so cruel.
But the thing about it is, while there’s life, there’s hope. You have to believe in yourself. You never know when something unexpected might change everything and put you in a far better position than you might otherwise think possible.
Meanwhile. I miss New York City. I hope to live there full time one day before I drop dead. Though, obviously, my best bet — given my personality — would be to move to LA instead and try my luck there. But I really do love NYC.
As I approach the milestone age of 50, I find myself dwelling, and even wallowing in, my own mortality. It’s clear that I have a limited number of time on this mortal coil and if I don’t do something of note soon then this is, well, is it. I will be only vaguely known for a failed expat magazine in Seoul.
I will leave material world unremembered and unloved.
So, I find myself trying to prioritize my time. I think that’s something that people my age do a lot, which is why it’s so difficult for us to date people younger than we are. When you’re in your 30s, it still doesn’t really register that you’re mortal and you could drop of a heart attack or a stroke at any moment.
I continue to want to get into fashion photography. But — and this is pretty deep — I’ve reached an age where the context of any success will be that I “was a success late in life.” It’s not like I have a career that lead any outsider to think, “Well, it’s obviously he would be a successful fashion photographer.”
All I have a hunch that I have a natural eye for beauty and, given the proper equipment, that I have a pretty good shot of becoming a photographer of note. Even though that is, obviously I am old. That’s probably the most jarring things about reaching my age — it slipped up on me. “Life is what happens while we’re busy making other plans,” is how John Lennon put it.
And this is very true.
Or, put another way, even if I get what I want, I won’t get what I want. Everything will be about how old I am and how I “came out of nowhere” to be a successful novelist or fashion photographer or both (hopefully.) I have just wasted way, way, way too much of my time grieving over ROKon Magazine and what happened in Seoul in general.
The key issue is, when such things are happening to you, you don’t really realize what’s going on. If I had a wife or a girlfriend to reflect my personality back to me, then maybe I would snapped out of my self-imposed mental jail a lot sooner.
But, you know, there comes a point when you can only mope about your lot in life for so long. I’m going to have to gird my loins for what is going to happen in my 50s sooner or later. When I’m feeling particularly optimistic, I think about how U.S. Grant was a drunk in the middle of nowhere for much of the 1850s until the Civil War gave him totally unexpected opportunities.
Then I do a gut check and think the only way I’d ever get that level of opportunity would be if, well, the end of the world came in some way — maybe via a Second American Civil War. And I definitely don’t want that. But I do believe there is a greater than zero chance that might happen.
Obviously, the more likely endgame would be autocracy. Then I have to figure out to avoid getting thrown out a helicopter by ICE.
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