Blowin' In The Wind

I’m not sure if it’s the mere fact that 2011 just passed or if there really is something in the air this January, but I’m feeling the winds of change. For the record, I would welcome them with open arms, possibly even hop onto my Nimbus 2001 and ride them to kingdom come. When life gets too static, I get ornery (I’m a Gemini, after all), and this year, I’m hoping to lay the groundwork for a new life path. Other than preparing for the release of my book, I’m working on a screenplay that may actually hold some promise, taking my first jump into the tiny and insane world of quantum physics, and planning a trip to Peru, a place I’ve always dreamed of visiting.

One of my most obnoxious character traits is that I love change, but I hate being stuck hanging, not knowing where I’m going next. I’m always looking out for the next step, but when it isn’t yet presenting itself, I become the epitome of unhealthy agitation. Much of this is fueled by the uncertainty of being an entrepreneur in the arts; the rest of it stems from a deeper drive to make something of myself before it’s too late, as if the universe will somehow care after I’m dead and gone. Every time I let these feelings happen, my sleep cycles get out of whack, I can’t stop thinking, and I don’t feel settled until I have some new (or rejuvenated) ambition to latch onto.

This is a trait I need to change, or at least channel in a more productive way. I spent most of 2011 letting it get the best of me in one way or another—I was either working to conjure or hoping to hear that whisper from the universe telling me that “Yes, something is going to happen soon, just sit tight and hold your horses!” Over the course of the year, that voice didn’t come, and in between bouts of workaholism inspired by my impatience, I grew antsy.

Now, it’s 2012. Thus far, winter has been incredibly mild, and I’m already seeing the light of spring at the end of the tunnel. As my day job saps my soul and intellect more and more each day, I’m peeking around corners, looking for possible work opportunities that might expand me in new ways. And, of course, my big career experiment The Breeders is almost ready for release, and I’m about to see if it affects my life a lot or a little. I’m extremely curious to see how it all out.

All I know is that change is in the air. Whether it’s a product of my imagination or a product of my own making, I don’t yet know, but I’m watching, waiting, and willing to take whatever blows my way.

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I Can't Feel My Legs

I always smile when Minnesota weather changes for the drastic. I’m talking about autumn’s often-sudden change to frigid winter, or spring’s often-similar change to scorching summer. Every year, it’s the same: people seem to have forgotten what hot or cold weather is like. It always comes as a shock, as if it hasn’t happened every year since, well, maybe the last ice age. People gasp when they realize a mid-November day might reach 23 degrees. They look dumbfounded when a June day actually reaches the 102 high.

Guess what? I’m one of those people. The weather here in Minneapolis has made a turn toward winter, at least in temperature. I’m still desperately clinging to my fall jacket like there’s no tomorrow, thinking that maybe—just maybe—I’ll work it for another day. Never mind that it’s now over three years old and needs to be replaced. I shiver along with everyone else, looking flustered with my rosy cheeks as I step onto the bus with all the other commuters, trying to ignore my near-frozen legs and unpleasantly chilled iPhone.

So, why do I love when nature does this to us? As unpleasant as it can sometimes be, it becomes a shared experience. People get this unexpectedly unexpected shock together, and for a week or two—maybe a month?—everyone has something in common. That freezing wind gust that messes a woman’s perfect blonde hair might be the same one that makes a wannabe-but-not tough guy like me wish he had gloves instead of pockets. When the bus driver opened both doors today and that rush of cold air blew through, I bet every single person riding home felt it, thought about it, and shared a moment of mutual consciousness. It’s just how we human beings work, whether we notice it or not.

Personally, I’m partial to the change from autumn to winter. I’d rather have frostbite than sweat dripping down my back when I walk into work, and I no longer have to feel guilty when I spend my weekend mornings working on books at Starbucks. Most important is the fact that I no longer need air conditioning to drink my morning tea. Still, the sense of belonging that comes with sharing this experience of nature with literally every nearby human being is quite powerful. It reminds me that we were all put on this planet to interact. To cross other people’s paths, change them if only slightly, then move on to live the rest of our lives. And the bonus? You just never know when you’ll find someone new to take along for the ride.

In a few short months, the shock of the season will have worn off, and most of us will want to be in Aurba. Some might actually be there. I’ll probably be stuck at Starbucks, working on a book, enjoying the fake fire place and forgetting about those looming June days bound to reach 102.

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iStress

I just took a iPower walk.

To be frank, I’ve been on the brink of total seam unravelment.  I’ve been overworking myself, dealing with personal stuff, and trying like mad to set the stage for future (and total) self-employment.  Apart from my day job, the book work, the screenplay work, the photography work, the gym, the social life (which oddly has still been happening), and the rest of life, my soul is threatening to twist into a double knot.

This all is otherwise known as stress. We all experience it, and while it isn’t always avoidable, it should always be controllable.

For me, it usually isn’t.  My brain won’t shut off.  I wake up at 2:00 AM and don’t fall back asleep until just before my alarm goes off at 6:40.  I go to the gym, but my workouts suck, because I’m too tired.  Then, I worry about being tired and not being able to fall asleep (again), and sometimes this cycle continues until I come home from my day job one night, eat dinner, and crash right away.  People say, “But the sun’s still out!” when I tell them I’m going to bed.  

What is an iPower walk, then, and why does it help?  Well, thanks to Steve Jobs, I have an iPhone on me at all times, and that iPhone has all my favorite music on it.  Today, I was at my day job, about to burst (it was actually busy, and I also was dealing with book-related stuff at the same time), and I decided to take a spontaneous walk with Eminem and Lady Gaga.

I listened to only three tracks --”Not Alone” by Eminem twice, “Edge of Glory” by Gaga once, “Not Alone” a second time, then Gaga again for a round of “Hair.”  If you know those songs, you know they’re power songs.

It’s always a surprise when I realize the art of someone I find amazing can lift me up, open my eyes, and make me realize once again that I’m part of something much bigger than myself, than my work, than all the little colors I paint my life with.  I’m guessing it’s the same for anybody who experiences bursts of inspiration, regardless of the subject, reason, industry, or whatever. The brilliant people of the world--and I firmly believe everybody can have brilliant moments--share themselves. Those who want to be receptive can then embrace that offering and allow it to move them.

There’s no cure for stress like a fresh blast of inspiration--perhaps something that reminds you why you made certain life choices in the first place (at least the good ones).

For me, it’s experiencing work by people who have made it in the creative business.  In a few month’s time, I will be holding The Breeders in my hands, in book form.  It will be complete with exterior art, interior art, and a lovely ISBN bar code--the result of two full years’ worth of constant brain work, lack of sleep, and crazy life lessons. Stamped in it, invisible, will be the work of more artists than I can list here--heaps more than just the two I mentioned above.  I wouldn’t be able to find joy in this work if I didn’t have people to look up to and measure my passion against. Peaking through their keyholes of life and allowing what I see to change me.

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Self-Publishing: Why You Must Take Care

I wanted to write a quick diddy today on why authors who choose to self-publish must be really, really, really careful with the process. There are so many things they must pay attention to -- all the stuff traditionally published authors have to think about, and more.

As I said in previous posts, I have learned more in the past few months than I ever thought I would when this experiment began. I would now feel confident stepping into the traditional publishing arena, in terms of handling the work load and understanding what all goes into the process, because I’ve now done so much more than just writing, editing, and polishing a book. I’m lucky to be a competent graphic designer, visual artist, and strategic business thinker. This has led me to take on the work of doing cover design, interior book layout, e-Book design and coding, all the jazz many self-publishers must pay others to do.

Yet all this combined with the process of revising with my editor and preparing my final, final, final draft for the line editor has almost become more than I can handle. On top of it all are the promotional tasks involved with Twitter, Facebook, and seeking out innovative ways to gain media exposure. It’s so much work that my constant fear is that I’m letting things fall through the cracks -- and that I’m going to prove all those traditional, anti-self-publishing naysayers correct by releasing a book that won’t (or shouldn’t) hold its own against the big guys.

The crappy truth is that this is the ultimate concern self-published authors absolutely must have if they plan to consider themselves on equal ground with authors backed by traditional publishing houses. Any author who can’t wrap his or her head around everything mentioned above should, in my opinion, seriously consider sticking with the traditional route of publishing -- and risk a lifetime of rejection.

But there is a bigger challenge to be aware of, and it is this: not all self-publishing authors are out to treat their work like a business. Many don’t give a flying hoot that they are literally CEOs of their own companies, because they don’t think of it in such terms. Throwing a book onto Amazon’s Kindle Store is so simple that some writers do it just for fun. Sure, they might have high hopes of making millions, but they haven’t taken the time to create a respectable product. On the flip-side of the same piece of unfortunate, there are also writers who think so highly of their work that they believe a mere line edit (or worse, no edit at all) is all their book needs to be incredible. These people (who still deserve respect as human beings!) are the reason self-publishing has had such a terrible stigma over the years. The stigma has begun to change ever so slowly, but as long as there is no filtration system for “serious” self-published authors and “crappy” self-published authors, it will always exist. And it should.

I tried this week to get a review in Minneapolis’s Star Tribune. Seeing as Lavender Magazine has already (and very graciously) agreed to review my book, I figured it was worth a shot to get a write-up in a newspaper. As I expected, the Star Tribune absolutely won’t review self-published books, regardless of their quality, not even on a case-by-case basis. It’s all due to the stigma mentioned above, and it makes sense: if they were to open the flood gates to self-published authors, they would have to weed through all the junk to find the good ones. There simply isn’t enough time. It’s completely prejudiced reasoning, but it’s also completely rational. The prejudice exists for a reason.

Unfortunately, I let it get me down. For two days, I felt stupid. My rejection from the Star Tribune brought to the forefront those ever-nagging question: Did I make the wrong decision in diving head first into this new publishing frontier? Will my book contribute to the self-publishing stigma? Will I be too blind to see it?

I realized these questions have become the most difficult aspect of this entire process. Yes, I’ve had many test readers, I’ve hired a competent editor to help me polish the rough spots, and I’ve hired a line editor who will hopefully eradicate any typos in my finished text. But they’re all just as human as I am, so it is possible mistakes will make it through. This is true for any published novel, but with self-publishing, the risk is so much higher, unless an author has endless amounts of money to spend on assuring perfection. In this sense, it makes traditional publishing look almost easy (at least until self-promotion comes into play), because an author has a built-in support system to minimize embarrassing errors and inconsistencies.

I took a walk last night to cool my jets, and during it, I realized something useful. I was taking myself way too seriously. I was spending just as much energy worrying about the quality of my work as I was trying to ensure it. I've always told myself that it's important to do my best in everything, but I never quite realized that worrying actively prevents me from doing that. It serves no purpose but to fluster, and not in a good way.

Today, I’m level-headed about my project once again. If it ends up being crap, I’ll know I did my best. If I shoot my career in the foot, I’ll know I did my best. If I succeed and create a product people talk about, I’ll know I did my best.

Publishing in any professional capacity is a great adventure. Self-publishing is just one potential path, and it’s one I never thought I would take. If you self-publish to the best of your abilities, you may grow in ways you won’t foresee. You may end up smarter. You may, in the end, have reason to be proud.

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Rolling With Adele

It's a rare treat to see an artist I admire, and it's rarer still to see them live up to the pedestal I've set them on. Last night, however, this occurred for me with Adele. It's difficult to describe the emotions I was feeling during her concert at the Xcel Energy Center in St. Paul. Her show was, to put it simply, wonderful. On the surface, it sparkled: she had a genuine personality, an awesome stage presence, and near-perfect performances of all the songs that have made her famous. She proved--simply by standing up there and sharing herself with a sold out sports arena--that she deserves everything she has earned for herself.

But I'm here to reflect on more than just that. After all, we all know I'm too sensitive to just take in an artistic experience and call it a night.

Adele is twenty-three years old.  Since being inspired by other musicians at a very young age, she has harnessed her own unique talent and achieved a level of worldly success few people ever dream of. It's not just because she can sing. Apart from that, she has the ability to hook people in the heart and use her voice to rip it right out, strings and all. She does what any true artist strives to do: affects others by baring her soul, without trepidation or shame. She is four years younger than I am, yet I would shudder with humility if ever our paths were to cross.

As Adele sang "Someone Like You," her first of two encores, it struck me how incredible her art really is.  Here was a song that came out of her torn soul, etched itself in digital eternity on her album "21," and proceeded to stun human beings around the globe. Why? Because it perfectly captures a universal emotion--love, at its broken best, a feeling I consider myself lucky to have felt (still feel, really) for another person. It takes genius to make sense of life's most complicated feelings, and that is what Adele does.  That success has allowed her to share this gift with the world is one thing; that she has the courage to do it on such a grand scale is quite another.

I'm trying to make a living writing books. It's just as tough a business as music, and I need all the inspiration I can get. Last night, Adele gave me some. She made me think about what I'm trying to do and why I'm trying to do it. What came to me was this: the reminder that art is a positive force in the world. It is the creation of something from nothing but a dream, the result of whatever terribly good force animates life in this universe.

When The Breeders comes out this November, it will be a huge test of bravery for me. Nobody asked for it, and nobody wanted me to write it.  But I did.  And now I'm going to buck up, follow in the footsteps of those I admire, and share it.  Last night, Adele reminded me why.

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