Holiday Ro-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oad

My public library as a table in the front as soon as you walk in called the "Luck Day Display." On the table are a bunch of "hot" books that have a limited check-out time (7 days with one 7 day renewal). A few weeks back I went to pick up some holds that I had and my eye caught a book on the table. Usually I ignore the table because of the prevalence of books about the present situation we find ourselves in thanks to a duped working class, but this time, I was  stopped cold in my tracks. The book had the eye grabbing title DON'T MAKE ME PULL OVER by Richard Ratay. How could I not stop with a title like that? I literally said. "Ooooh" when I saw it. (Honestly.) I grabbed it, checked it out with the other books I'd reserved and went on my way. It is easily one of the best reads of 2018 for me. (2018 has been an interesting reading year for me and the number of non-fiction books that will make my best of list is going to be interesting.)

The book chronicles the history of that grand American tradition: the road trip. It is a terrific combination of an informational, historical account of our culture's obsession with cars and the importance of infrastructure to the growth of our nation and a narrative reflection of the experience of the road trip. Filled with loads of amazing contemporary American history, I found myself googling things every three to four pages for more information on a person, place or thing mentioned in the book. Not for a lack of information but because some of the things mentioned could easily fill books of their own and Ratay doesn't overwhelm you with too much info, instead parsing it out in perfect portions for you to enjoy. From the very history of our highway system to the ancestors to places like The Great Wolf Lodge, the Holidome, the book is an informative but light read.

Where the book really shines though, is the narrative sections, where Ratay takes us along on a road trip with his family. I smiled until my face hurt. We didn't take a lot of long road trips like the ones Ratay describes in his book, but what he describes is still comically relatable. I spent weeks at a time with my grandparents in the summer and they took me all over the Northeast. I have fond memories of the beaches of Maine, hunting for Champy on Lake Champlain and visiting old relatives I didn't know in Wilkes-Barre. Reading this book made me wish that I'd embraced my writing earlier and kept journals or notebooks in my youth.

One of the things in the book that really struck a chord was Ratay's obsession with "making time." My father was obsessed with "making time" while driving too, whether it was from Syracuse to Long Island or our house to Wegmans. I discovered this weekend that he is still obsessed with making time as we drove from Spring Hill, Florida to Syracuse this past weekend. I'm more of a "journey not destination" guy, part of my continued rebellion I suppose, and where I hoped for a leisurely drive, he clearly set the tone. And I didn't like it.

We left in the early evening and chugged along all night. No stops for food. Minimum bathroom or stretch breaks. No time for anything slightly equating sightseeing (to be fair, it was night) or souvenir shopping. Factor in the fatigue I was feeling from getting up early and taking the flight down, it was a difficult trip. It was a trip I always wanted to take, but my father's obsession with "making time," finding the cheapest possible gas and obsessively tracking our gas and mileage made it less fun than I hoped. I don't know if I'd ever do it again. Not that I could, since both my kids tend to get violently ill in the car.

I think road trip movies have also colored our view of the road trip. Those experiences are as ingrained in our collective memories as actual road trips we took. NATIONAL LAMPOON'S VACATION kind of romanticized the road trip for my generation. (There's an essay in me about how when we first watched the Vacation movies, we were Rusty and now we're Clark.) (There's also a second essay in me about my theory that the quality of a Vacation movie is in direct correlation to the quality of the Audrey actress.) Movies like SMOKEY AND THE BANDIT and CANNONBALL RUN added to the mystique of the road trip too. We all pretended we were Bandit or JJ McClure racing to outrun Sheriff Buford T. Justice or trick the nebbish AF Foyt, even if it was our parents driving.

For now, I'll stick with the short road trips we take now. Maybe, eventually, my kids won't get sick when we are in the car for long periods of time. They are getting better, but it looms every time we get in the car for a trip longer than a few hours. The book certainly got me thinking about it again, despite the trip last weekend. It also gave me two solid book ideas that I wrote in my notebook. If you've taken a road trip as a kid, as a parent, as a couple or are thinking of taking one, this book is a lot of fun.

Situation Normal: Stressed & Behind

I'm stressed.

I'm behind.

As usual.

This is a common lament. That first sentence is a little melodramatic. I'm definitely feeling some pressure and suffering the ill-effects. We're not talking huge, the world is going to Hell, an immature, likely alcoholic dudebro douchbag having his life "ruined" by getting a lifetime appointment job while a credible (though "uncorroborated") victim has to live with death threats and public shame that will likely cause more victims not to come forward kind of stress, but stress nonetheless.

(I have thoughts on the mistakes we've made in the past that I may write and possibly, though not likely, share publicly. I've made plenty that I'm ashamed of but I'm not trying to take a lifetime appointment that will affect millions of lives.)

This year, I've made some major changes in the way I so things in the classroom. I'm a writer, right? So this year, I made my class into a writing class. Focusing on writing, drafting, feedback, conferencing and modelling in a likely futile attempt to prepare my seniors for the rigors of college writing. Or whatever is next for them. I've vowed to keep up on work, giving timely feedback for students. And I've fallen woefully behind on that vow.

There's an assortment of reasons why. Sheer numbers is one.It's a lot to work through and give meaningful feedback to every student. Granted, my numbers aren't horrible as some of my colleagues, so I'm probably whining a bit. I'm also struggling with a more thorough approach this year to the feedback I give. I'm spending more time going line by line than I have in years past. That has me questioning myself a lot because I'm grappling with the question of does the work stop being their voice and become mine with the feedback I'm giving? It's an issue I've always struggled with when it comes to feedback and modeling. It's a razor's edge that I'm walking and it's adding to the stress.

Compounding that is that my "professional" writing life has hit an uptick in the last two weeks. I've been getting attention from two projects and it's been a pleasant surprise. One that I sort of cast aside into a "need to rewrite/polish" pile that I was going to tackle this fall. First, I decided to work on something new, blending my "epic fantasy" mind with the YA "voice" that I've been working on with my contemporary stuff, think Megan Whalen Turner's THE THIEF meets "Guardians of the Galaxy", to sort of clean the palate before tackling three rewrites before thinking about satisfying the "old school, doorstopping epic fantasy" itch I've had lately. I worked through the first "act" of the first rewrite, making it more concise by cutting and moving about 12k of garbage. As I was doing that, I used that part for some Hail Mary queries of the project when an agent was asking for YA epic fantasy. Well, to my surprise, a few of them were the Gerald Phelan to my Doug Flutie. I knew the project still needed polish, so I went to it, giving myself four to five days to bang out the revision. That has turned into eleven days as I realized that the third act is kind of a mess. God damned previous representation....never mind, that's a private rant for another time. Thankfully, one of the requests was for a partial that I'd already complete the number of requested pages.

I've been slugging away for eleven days, staying up later and later, neglecting some school stuff, fitting in writing everywhere and any way I can. (Reading a really good book that I'm going to blog about when I finish has taken away writing time, too.) Yesterday I got to a particular snared mess that needed some high explosives to fix. Naturally, I worked myself into a migraine over it. (I'm assuming that a rash of migraines is related to this.) So, I'm super behind today.

In addition to that project, another has gotten interest from agents, including a R&R from one a few months back. Regretfully, her agency dissolved over terrible circumstances. I put that further down the queue and actually kind of "put it in a drawer." Well, happily, she's back in business, so I have to put it in the on-deck circle. Then yesterday I received a request for it from another agent (when it rains it pours, in a good way) that I kind of Hail Mary-ed on this one (the David Tyree to my Eli Manning). I sent it out without the rewrite. I didn't want to leave another agent twisting in the wind. Hopefully, he'll find it as strong as she did.

In the end, being busy is good. I have to go out of town for the weekend, so it feels like there's a ticking clock. It always feels like thaat when I hit one of my hot streaks like this. Kind of like "Non-Stop" in HAMILTON: "Write day and night like you're running out of time."

I just have to manage the stress, I guess. Writing this made me feel better even if I'm a little further behind.

As usual.

Paperback Reader

As part of our continuing efforts to put our house back in order after the fire that gutted it, I put together my side of the new study that was our former dining room. I discovered the top shelf was the perfect fit for my collection of Game of Thrones beers from Ommegang Brewery and that the bottom two shelves were just right for paperbacks and hardcovers, respectively. I'm very happy with the way it came out.

In addition to the beer bottles, two Coke bottles (I'd prefer Pepsi) emblazoned with my childrens' names occupy the second shelf along with my paperbacks. Yes, my two favorite Jedi Masters: Obi-Wan and Luke overlook my workspace, acting as sentinels for my collection.While my book collection pales to others (granted, I lost a ton of books in the fire), I'm happy with it. I also noticed my propensity to mass market paperbacks. There's something about them that still make me smile when I look at them.

I love mass market paperbacks. Long the realm of beach reads, media tie-ins, romances with covers featuring buxom, bodice ripped women hanging from shirtless, well-proportioned men, binding stretching epics and countless westerns and "men's action" novels, the mass-market paperback was where I cut my teeth as a reader. Until recently, hardcovers were too expensive and too bulky. A mass market paperback was affordable and mobile. One could be easily shoved in a backpack, pocket or Wegmans apron. I still love them today, even though I own a Kindle and prefer hardcovers. There's still an appeal though to the mass market paperback. The smell. The feel. The off-white/gray, newsprint like pages. The flexibility of the cover and the spine. The tiny maps and pages of character lists or glossaries. It still thrills me a little bit. And the covers. They had weight.

The almost always garish covers meant to grab the attention of the budget minded consumer, giving you just enough of a glimpse of what to expect between those flimsy, cardstock covers for a mere $3.99. Between those covers I felt the angst of the tortured Tanis Half-Elven as he led the companions to defeat Takhsis, followed a hobbit out of his hole where he found a magic ring and more than once found myself drawn to the salacious pairing of a wealthy man's lonely wife and the mysterious, handsome stranger there to buy horses from her husband. These were my classics (except for To Kill A Mockingbird and Gatsby), my literary canon. And I don't regret the education in the slightest.

From the countless Forgotten Realms tie-in novels to the pulpy crap my father picked up at garage sales (Gor. Don't get me started on Gor), these books were formative parts of my development as both a reader and a writer. Dragonlance and A Game of Thrones were both mass market paperbacks and their influence on me is marked in every word I write and every page I read. I dreamed, still dream, of seeing the unwieldy ZELEZNIK taking up the spine of one of these books.

Mass market paperbacks are often the realm of the midlist or the little known debut author. There are gems to be found. I implore you to go find them. Go out and buy a mass market paperback. Even if you're a hardcover or Kindle reader. Sure, they aren't $3.99 anymore, but they're still easier to carry than a hardcover, you don't need to charge them or shield them from the sun.

Genetic Predisposition

Sunday was a typically hot, nasty, muggy August day in Syracuse, which means I shuffled the kids off to my inlaws, threw them in the pool to burn off some energy and NOT stare at a screen while sucking in air conditioned air. I ensconced myself, somewhat comfortably, in my usual place beneath the gazebo reading and staying hydrated. I managed to even finish the book I was reading, the novelization of THE LAST JEDI (it's amazing, but I'll talk about that later) as I alternated between the gazebo and some much needed vitamin D therapy. As I sat there, I kept on eye on the kids, listening to them play and it got me thinking about writing. (What doesn't at this point?)

My daughter brought an entire retinue of Barbie dolls with her. My son brought several action figures as well (there's a blog post in me about the difference between dolls and action figures-you know but I still might write about it) to go along with the dolls and playsets at my inlaws. For a good half hour, the kids have played a pretty epic sounding melodrama involving mermaids, supermodels, naked princes and Imperial Stormtroopers. I listened as carefully as I could, making sure they didn't notice I was paying attention and scribbled some notes. They had, in a very short time, created a pretty coherent, complex and interesting story. It had a decent plot (we're talking 5 to 10 year olds), solid world building and good characterization. It followed narrative rules and had a very clear structure, even though it was open ended since they were playing. It made me wonder, "How did they know how to do all of this?"

Campbell tells us that story telling is a deeply human, psychological thing that is ingrained in our very DNA. I don't entirely disagree with this, but it can't be that simple. Or can it?

I've told this story before. Six years ago, our local public broadcasting channel, WCNY, broadcast the most recent performance of WAGNER'S RING CYCLE from the Met. I stayed up watching it. During the performance, my then four year old daughter came downstairs and watched it with me. She proceeded to come up with her own version of the story based on what she observed and the little in interpretation I could offer via the Internet. Her version was pretty entertaining and spot on, with some interesting variation. It made me think that story telling is ingrained in our psyche because, as a four year old, she didn't have a lot consumed information at that point and it had to come from somewhere. But it can't be that simple.

We consume a lot of information in our lifetime: books, television programs, movies, comic books, cartoons, our parents' stories, the Internet and video games. We process that information and it shapes the way we think. I wouldn't be the writer I am if not for things like STAR WARS, LORD OF THE RINGS, DUNGEONS or A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE. These are things that inspired me, moved me to make things like it. I have a list of my "99 Inspirations" that I keep (another series of blog posts) and I know for a fact that my stories come from those things. The first step in learning writing is emulating what you see. I wouldn't know about writing if I didn't try mimicking LOTR as a sixth graders or GOR as a middle schooler (don't judge me, my dad got them at a garage sale) or A GAME OF THRONES as a twentysomething. But I also know that I always told stories. I came up with the stories when we played in the neighborhood (I'm going to write about that because I realized a few months back, my neighbors and I were literally the kids from STRANGER THINGS). I was always the scientist. Weird huh?

I guess it comes from both, but some of us are compelled to put words onto paper, into magic boxes or sit around at lunch telling about the time our wives caught us doing something we shouldn't have been doing. 

For now, I'm planning my mermaid/supermodel/Imperial storm trooper fantasy melodrama...my only question is, do I give my kids a co-author credit?

A Half Year In Review: Summer's Here

It's July 1st, meaning half of 2018 is gone, like half the Marvel Cinematic Universe. It certainly feels like it was just a snap, doesn't it. It's been a pretty crappy six months too. Our country hurtles towards fascism and a large percentage of the population seems okay with that. The Mets started out looking invincible only to fall back not only to earth, but in the words of the alway erudite Keith Hernandez, but to the darkest depths of Mordor. I didn't get summer school, but that's not all bad. It just means money's a little tighter than it would be if I'd gotten summer school. It does give me more time for important things like hanging out with my kids, reading and writing. I got some positive feedback on my end of year reflection at work that made me feel valued and appreciated. We got an adorable new puppy named Rocco. But you don't come here to listen to me go on and on about the real world. You come here for other reasons. So it's time for my annual half year review.

READING

I've read 47 book so far in 2018. Not quite the pace I set last year, but with a strong July and August I could push towards 100 books for the year. I've missed most of the reading goals I set for 2018, but I'm okay with it. I've listened to a ton of audio books in the car while kind of plodding through other books at night or in my free time. The highlights this year:

• CARDBOARD KINGDOM by Chad Sell: A brilliant young reader graphic novel that exceeded my high expectations and captured not only my imagination but my daughter's as well. 
• ACE OF SHADES by Amanda Foody: A contemporary, second-world pseudo-fantasy that was terrific. The ending was a little rushed and too easy, but it's still one of the best books of 2018 for me. 
• THE LONG WAY TO A SMALL, ANGRY PLANET by Becky Chambers: A thrilling space opera that depicts a universe that isn't a grimdark, everyone is trying to kill you and we're all gonna die view kind of place. 
• SHOW YOUR WORK/ STEAL LIKE AN ARTIST by Austin Kleon: Guidebooks for my writing and my classroom from now on.
• HILLBILLY ELEGY by JD Vance: This autobiography was terrific, well-written and insightful but (and it's a big but) I am just exhausted from the "understanding Trump voters" narrative that this get clumped into. I don't need anymore think pieces on it. I understand it. See my opening paragraph. 

Disppointments: THE STAR-TOUCHED QUEEN, A CLOSED AND COMMON ORBIT, SPACE OPERA. 

I have one general comment about something I noticed in some of the fiction I read so far this year. There is a narrative technique that had become prevalent, not just in written fiction but in television and movie writing, where the only way the plot can move forward is by a character making a monumentally stupid decision that completely defies their previous characterization. It's lazy writing and I'm seeing more and more of it. 

I'm going to step up my reading. I've got a stack of books from the library, not to mention a drawer full of books I want to read in my night stand. I'm also on the hunt for three series of books I read as a kid about the Vietnam War. I'm going to blog about them this week I think, but I'm curious to see what my views on them now are. 

WRITING

The first three months were great as I finished GIRL IN THE PICTURE, my YA creepypasta inspired paranormal thriller. I'm happy with it as a whole, but it needs a lot of work before it's ready for anything. After finishing it, I languished a bit as I tried to force something that wasn't going to work into working. (I should've listened to my buddy Mike Winchell on this one.) My town-wide, last person standing tag game story never found it's legs. I think there's something there, I just can't find it now. I kind of square peg, round holed it and tried some different things to get it to work. And it didn't. I lost almost 2 months in that process. 

I've since recovered, returning to my fantasy roots with a twist. It's an epic fantasy that I'm writing from a 1st person POV. This is the first time I'm writing a fantasy from that POV and it's kind of fun. It's not a long project, think THE THIEF by Megan Whalen Turner by way of GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY in tone. Talk to me in August to see how I'm doing. 

I'm really happy with the blogging I've been doing. I think it's some of the best work I've been doing and a lot of it has been inspired by my good friend Brian Fay. If you aren't reading his blog and subscribing to his newsletter, well you should. 

OTHER

Been watching way too much TV. RICK AND MORTY still satisfies. PICKLE RICK will get nods as the highlight of season 3, but THE RICKLANTIS MIXUP is maybe the best episode of the series so far. 

SOLO didn't get a fair shake at the box office. It's fun and everything that a Han Solo movie should be. It also has the best soundtrack since RETURN OF THE JEDI. 

I've discovered BOB'S BURGERS. It does what THE SIMPSONS and FAMILY GUY does, but better.

I don't know if it's because the US and Italy aren't in it, but the World Cup has been less compelling this time around. 

I'm obsessed with my lawn and making it look nice. That happens to us at some point, doesn't it?

I'm trying to get back into the gym after 9 months and a slipped disc later. I'll let you know. 

Keep watching this space for entries on a wide variety of subjects and updates to how my new project is going. 

What have you been up to?

Far Behind Your Failure At The Cave

Because of a screw up on my part, I've had to drive my wife's car to work. This is a bonus because the car has satellite radio in it, thus multiplying my music choices about a hundredfold. One of my favorite channels on SiriusXM is Lithium, the 90s grunge/alternative rock station. I love that music. It's my personal soundtrack and formative to me, so listening to it has been a treat. And a jog down memory lane.

I've talked about trips down memory lane before. Sometimes they are good. Sometimes they aren't. A song came on yesterday morning that sent me down the tree on Dagobah type of memory lane, remembering my failures. The song was "Far Behind" by Candlebox. In an instant, I was transported to 1994 and it wasn't good.

I don't think I need to go into a long spiel about the importance of music and how one song can often put us in a time and place while evoking very specific emotions and vivid memories of who we were and what we were doing at the time. This song did that and it shook me.

Now, Candlebox wasn't Nirvana, Alice In Chains, Pearl Jam or Stone Temple Pilots, the sort of four pillars of 90s alt rock/Grunge. They were part of the "post Grunge" movement, a sort of second generation of alt rockers kind of mixing Grunge with a more mainstream sound. And I liked it. I'm a guy that writes YA Game of Thrones or GOT Lite, so this was right up my alley. My beloved Foo Fighters are considered part of this movement, by the way, as was Nickelback. Candlebox could be considered a guilty pleasure because they weren't as lauded and respected as Nirvana or STP. When I think of this I think of Austin Kleon quoting Dave Grohl, of my beloved Foos and one of my artistic idols, "I don't believe in guilty pleasures. If you f**king like something, like it." This is so true. (There's a blog in me about music snobs, but that's for another time.) Judge me for my love of Candlebox, the Monkees, Tom Jones and Halsey all you want.

The song dredged up a lot of memories in just under 5 minutes of drive time. And driving is the best/worst time for thinking. I've talked before how that time in my life '94-'96 weren't a good time for me. I still have dark revelations and bad memories of a bad time in my life, perhaps the lowest. These revelations makes me relive and dwell on bad choice after bad choice I was making. Choices that made no sense and make me realize how lucky I am to have wound up where I am. I know why I wound up where I did and it rhymes with Rimberly. But still, I found myself in the dark cave underneath the tree again remembering how I told people I'd be on the New York Times Bestseller list by the time I was 26. I wasn't. I wanted to be a writer, but didn't put any of the work in. I didn't work on my craft. I just screwed around. I was listless. I thought I was better than I was, both as a writer and who I was at the time. I had no reason not to write, yet I didn't. I chose excuses and sloth instead.

I often joke that all my stories, especially the fantasies, take place in the 90s because I want to tap into the anger I have in myself over that period of my life. Looking at my character play lists I create for my multi-POV epics, much of it is music from the 90s. Music that reminds me of those dark times and I rely on that nostalgia to tell the stories I tell. The melancholy of that time period is held at bay because I am in my "story world" and it becomes almost therapeutic situation where I tackle who I was and what I was doing.

The next song was "Bullet with Butterfly Wings" by another of my favorite bands, The Smashing Pumpkins (who have kind of gone off the deep end lately). It didn't move me the way "Far Behind" did and I was left rolling over those old memories around in my head. I worked my way out of that cave, partially by writing this.

So, thanks Candlebox for creating an important piece of art. I listened to your first album while making dinner for my family last night after finishing a draft of this piece. I was feeling better, refreshed. And filled with some good memories of that time in my life and what I've managed to do with my failures.

Patience You Must Have

After a nearly two month, unintentional writing hiatus, I'm writing again. Good news, right? Kind of. The problem is that I'm stressing about it. Sounds weird, right? Especially from someone that calls himself a writer. It should be the one thing that doesn't stress me out. But it's different this time. I'm trying something new and different that I find very intimidating and time consuming.

About a year ago, I borrowed a book from the library called THE ANATOMY OF STORY by John Truby and thought it had some good insights into storytelling. I've vowed to work on the craft and I think that I get too wrapped up in writing a book when I should be focusing on the story. The book had some interesting ideas on story so recently I decided to buy it and give it a whirl while writing my new project. I'm finding it incredibly frustrating in spots. So frustrating that I've shut it, cast it aside and muttered my personal mantra of "F**k it" before wading back into it to give it a shot again. It's working, but it's taking longer than I was hoping it would.

The frustrating part has to do with the pace that I'm working. It doesn't feel like I'm writing because I'm not writing in the traditional sense. I'm planning. To my mind, that's not writing. It's different. Right? Or am I actually writing, just doing a different kind of writing. I need to reconcile that. It's important to remember that writing a process not a product. Planning is part of the process, so therefore it is writing.

I always plan when I write. I've talked about that before but I never considered it writing. I'm planning for this new untitled project (I mean I have a title but I'm not ready to share it until I check it's viability as a project) using Truby's painstaking and thorough method of planning. It makes you think from the very premise to the execution of the plot. This method is making me ask questions I never thought of in my writing. It has me wondering if this is part of the problem in my fiction. Am I in such a rush to finish that I don't consider every aspect of the story and it lacks the punch I need to get the attention of agents or editors. But it's time consuming and I still feel like I'm not writing.

My hope is that the time I'm taking now is mostly because this is my first time through this process. I'm also hoping that all this planning will increase my output once I start writing the actual book.

For now, I guess I'm going to have to heed the words of two great (actually pretty shitty but that's another blog post) Jedi masters and have some patience.