I don’t know what to tell you, but I definitely have a general sense of unease of late. I don’t quite know why. I think some of it comes from getting older and realizing that even if I somehow “made it big” overnight, I can never get the type of success I thought one day possible.
The context will just be totally different than the way I wanted when I was younger.
And that doesn’t even begin to address any number of things that could go wrong soon enough — especially in the context of what might happen as part of the 2024-post election season. Yikes!
Anyway. All I can do is just be the best person I can be, I suppose. And it seems as though the only people who read this blog are haters / and or stalkers of some sort.
I really do try to be the best person I can be. I can’t help it if you think I’m a weirdo.
Ok. Time to sit up straight and actually get some shit done. I’ve been drifting for much of the last month for various reasons. But now, finally, it’s time to focus. I need to realize deep down in side that I’m just not going to live forever and I have to get something, anything done so I can query it.
Tomorrow is August 1st, so that’s as good as time as any to put this plan into action. In fact, in a sense, I hope to start it tonight. I’m going to focus on getting some creative things done that I might not usually do.
It helps — I suppose — that I’ve stopped drinking. I hate being sober, but I’m now sober out of spite, if nothing else. Everyone thinks I’m some sort of raging alcoholic so in a “fuck you” that helps both of us, I’ve decided to prove a point by just stopping to drink booze cold.
Both sides win — I prove a point and they get to feel smug.
What more can you ask for?
Not drinking has definitely freed up a lot of time. I was drinking because I was lazy and bored, not because I felt some overall desire to drink and my ability to stop drinking cold, full stop proves that, in my opinion.
Anyway. Tonight, I hope — HOPE — to get something, anything done on a creative basis to help me see if I can get closer to querying a novel in the spring — if the world doesn’t collapse because of the fucking Forth Turning.
Within hours of me bemoaning how bad today was going to be, everything changed. Now I feel much better. Among the great things I saw today were three lovely young women.
One had a bright red shirt on that said, “I may be a bad influence but I’m hell of a hang.” The next was a quasi-goth girl I would have fall for hard in college. The last was a older woman — ie, my age — who was smoking hot and had great legs.
Those three women definitely put a spring in my not-so-young step.
Now, to see if I can get some reading, watching and writing done today as well. I just can’t lie around and do nothing. The clock is ticking. I’m not going to live forever.
I feel a bit of unease of late. While there are a number of reasons — some of them pretty concrete and big — for me to feel this way in my personal life, what I’m feeling is more….the Undertoad.
A sense of dread, as if something is lurking out there in the darkness of the future, waiting to pop out.
I don’t know what to tell you. I’m just going to try to be the best person I can be. I am worried about a few things that might potentially happen out there in the greater world. But, who knows, maybe this sense of foreboding is just a fluke. It could mean nothing — it usually doesn’t.
I have decided that as part of the process of adjusting my expectations with this novel, I have to accept that there is a chance I will fail. It’s possible that not only is this novel just too “racy” for both the liberal white women who make up the majority of literary agents and the “woke cancel culture mob” but that I’m just too old and weird to ever be a published author.
Mood.
It’s possible that, by definition, anyone who does due diligence on me will want nothing to do with me — even if they like my novel.
This is bitter pill, but one I have to prepare myself to swallow. It could be that I’m a little bit *too* unique for my own good. No amount of meaning well or being self-conscious and hyper aware of my kookiness will change the fact that “normal” people with careers and money just will be aghast at what they find out about me when they do the obligatory due diligence.
This is very disheartening. My only consolation is I’m gaming out a future that may or may not come about. But I have to prepare for such a nightmare. The fact that the very thing I feared would happen — someone I wanted to work with decided they wanted nothing to do with me once they read this blog — did, in fact, happen, has left me rattled.
And, yet, as I keep saying, this novel is existential. I write because I have to, not because I want to and, as such, I want the satisfaction of knowing that if people would just give me a chance that they would see that I am, a good writer and that I don’t suck.
I also am going to TRY to work on my backup novel so there’s a chance that if someone doesn’t like how “racy” main novel is, I will at least be able to show them a scifi novel with littler or no sex. The scifi novel would also fit the modern conventions of novel writing.
And, come to think of it, if I was, like, 25 years younger, I might take the idea of screenwriting a lot more seriously. But the learning curve for that is just too sharp. Would take me years to get to the point that I am now with novel writing. So, I’m kind of in a corner.
I am going through some scenes in the first half of the second act of the third draft of the novel and as I do it, I realize that, if nothing else, *I* like this novel. And since I’m the one actually fucking writing it, the squares and narcs who can’t handle my heroine being a part-time sex worker and just fuck off.
Believe.
Wink.
The story is interesting and compelling. Yes, it’s a bit “racy” as one Reader told me, but, so, too, is Boogie Nights and that’s one of the best movies of the last 30 years. I’m not comparing my novel to Boogie Nights, but the concept is the same.
And what is the point of a story but to be thought-provoking and interesting? Most of all, this novel, if I write it correctly, will make you feel something. You’ll — hopefully — become emotionally invested in my heroine’s obsession with owning a small town newspaper.
I hope to write a novel as popular and successful as The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo.
I can’t help that the fucking “woke cancel culture mob” wants us all to live in a sexless world where nothing ever troubles their tender sensibilities. The novel I’m working on tells a really compelling story — despite being “racy” — and, as such, I’m willing to throw myself into it so I can see it to completion.
I will worry about the reaction of the Real World once I’m done. And I’m fine with it never being published because of its controversial subject matter. Me getting anything published at this point would be something like winning the creative lottery, so, lulz.
Now that it’s clear that *I* am the problem going forward if anyone should do due diligence on me when I query the novel I’m working on, let’s go through what might be problematic.
Mood
My Comments About Transgender People I will occasionally write something on this blog about how if I was a “twenty something undocumented transgendered woman” then selling my novel would be easier. I can see why such a quip might alarm some people who are easily “triggered” by statement that doesn’t fix the orthodox that has developed around trans people. What bothers me is that I am not being serious when I say this. I’m just pointing out the obvious — as one would-be reader of my novel (who promptly ghosted me) said, “The demographics aren’t on my side.” I’m not picking on trans people by my observation, just being realistic. And, I think, the bigger issue is that I even bring up this fact of life — even if it’s meant in jest.
My Comments on “Liberal White Women” Another running gag on this blog is the idea that my novel will offend “liberal white women” and, as such, I’m screwed. I honestly don’t know one way or another what this mythical demographic will think. I just occasionally find myself full of angst over the part-time sex worker nature of my heroine and as part of that angst, I mention liberal white women. Just like with my comments on trans people, it’s more a testament to my sense of humor than it is me picking on the group. But we live in a humorless age without any sense of nuance, so I guess I have only myself to blame.
My Political Ranting My politics generally fit within the center-Left “media narrative,” but I guess it’s possible that some of my edgier hot takes might alarm some people. You can never tell these days. People are just to touchy about any and everything that it could be that some people doing due diligence on me would think my political rantings are just yet another sign of what a fucking crank I am.
My Angst Over The “Woke Cancel Culture Mob” If someone gets upset over this, then, I dunno what to say. My ranting about what I fear the “woke cancel culture mob” MIGHT think about my novel is just me being my usual angst-ridden self. And, I can see how if you were a “liberal white woman” with a clear set of goals for a story that me ranting about how much I fucking hate the Bechdel Test might be a serious turn off to the point you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.
The Part-Time Sex Worker Angle Of My Novel This is a tough one. I find myself vacillating wildly between being overcome with self-doubt about this element of my heroine and thinking it’s pretty cool. It’s an interesting way to have built-in conflict for my heroine and helps with character development. And, yet, by definition, doing such a thing at all as a smelly middle-aged CIS white male is loaded and provocative to the tender sensibilities of some “liberal white women” who might be, in general, members of the mythical “woke cancel culture mob.” (wink.) I will note that I was doing some some editing today and re-reading the novel gave me renewed hope that maybe I’ve stumbled across a really interesting story.
Miscellaneous Kookiness On My Part This is difficult because it’s not something I can pin down. There’s a chance that someone with, like, a career and reputation could read this blog and just blanch. They just wouldn’t like the vibe I give off. Add to this how much I retweet pictures of hot chicks on Twitter and…oh boy…I could totally see some “normal” person being turned off by…ME.
I find myself really struggling with the fact that my nightmare of someone not being willing to work with me after doing due diligence on me has come true and its implications.
I keep wondering if I’ve made a huge mistake by having my heroine be a part-time sex worker. Talk about self-doubt! And, yet, the key thing for me is the story is coherent and cogent. There is a logic to why I’ve decided to do this. I feel as though it makes the story really different and unique — just like me — and I feel as though fuck it, it’s the story I want to tell.
But I have to accept that between the inclinations of liberal white women — wink — and the “woke cancel culture mob” I’m not doing myself any favors by doing such a thing. It’s a risky thing to do, especially as an aspiring first-time novelist.
Mood.
And I only add to this problematic situation by using more than one POV and writing from a female POV at times.
But I have my vision for this novel and I am too stubborn to do anything about it.
I am, however, going to really begin work on my backup scifi novel. I’m proud of the main novel I’m writing — risks and all — but I’m smart enough to know maybe it’s time to accept how difficult pitching such a “racy” novel may be. I’m going to start working on the characters for the backup scifi novel ASAP.
Despite being an extrovert, I general lead a pretty isolated life. So I go about my business without a lot of interaction with people to give me some sense of how others perceive me. So, when my nightmare of someone deciding not to work with me on my novel after they did due diligence actually happened…it really rattled my cage.
I keep wondering if this is a sign that I should just give up. But the moment I think that, I am reminded that the problem probably isn’t the novel I’m working…but ME. The (young?) woman who did due diligence on me while considering being my editor probably didn’t like my musings about liberal white women or my ranting about this or that thing.
While, yes, obviously the fact that my heroine is a part-time sex worker probably made her blanch, the key issue is she thought I was a freaky weirdo. So, in a sense, there’s not much I can do — I’m going to have this particular problem no matter what type of novel I write.
So, in a sense this is kind of freeing. As long as I know the obstacles I face in my quest to get traditionally published then I can proceed as I was before. But I have to realize that, in a sense, I am creating just for the sake of creating. There’s pretty good chance that because of ME, I will never be published — ever.
Of course, despite this, I will have the personal satisfaction of having written a novel that *I* know is good, even if me being a kook prevents anyone with, like a career and shit, from ever giving me a chance. It helps that I have a huge chip on my shoulder about my writing ability and I want to prove the haters wrong.
Having said all that, I am determined to use some of my time on a backup scifi novel. Something that isn’t as “racy” as the main novel and fits the conventions of the modern novel better. It’s going to be difficult to do because, lulz, the main novel has completely consumed my life.
It’s very interesting how in America we’re so busy talking about racism that we are pretty oblivious to another prejudice: class. I can usually fake a similar class as the smug asshole Twitter liberals who want to sell me MeUndies on their podcast. That is, until, of course, my natural bonkers kookiness comes out and they dismiss me.
Also, I’m just too poor — at the moment — for smug Blue Check liberals to accept me in any real way, no matter how much they probably would like me if they got to know me.
And that, my friend, is why class sucks.
I could win the $1.1 billion Mega Millions jackpot and it wouldn’t change how old I am and it wouldn’t change my class background. I have a relative who is far more successful than I am who acts like he’s some salt of the earth red neck when, in fact, if we both went to a cocktail party with snooty wealthy people they would definitely gravitate towards him in the end.
I would, however, probably get drunk in such a situation and have very loud, very interesting conversations with the best looking woman at the party. That’s just sort of my thing.
Anyway, the older I get the more I understand the invisible power of class. When I was an expat in South Korea, there was a regular communist utopia going on because everyone was getting paid about the same amount and everyone was doing pretty much the same thing for a living. The only real differences were one of origin, which is why you often get asked, “Where you from?” when you saddle up to a bar and find yourself talking to someone new.
As I approach my 50th birthday, I’m feeling a lot of existential angst because no matter what happens to me there are some things I just can’t change because of my dissipated, squandered youth.
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