Traveller's Tales

I obsess over research.

I mentioned this in passing a while ago, but I really didn’t get into how much I really obsess over it; just that I like to do it.  The example I gave then was about researching suspension bridges so I could extrapolate to make a magical one; what I didn’t mention was that I researched for two days solid, and then a bunch of hours stolen from work (er, I mean while I was having lunch) rounding out the details.  Now I can tell you about the oldest suspension bridges, about contests that were held to develop creative means of making them, about components of a suspension bridge, variants, and all sorts of things that, trust me, you probably don’t want to know.

Anyway, I’ve got a new bit of research going on now, inspired by the growing prominence of the Fey in the second book.  Casnodyn was the sole representative of the Courts in the first book (and, as he repeatedly insisted, he was never there in his official capacity at any rate), but their influence is going to be felt much more strongly in the second and thereafter.  Since I’d already used the name ‘Casnodyn’ as a prototype name, and since I know Casnodyn is Welsh, I figured, what the heck, I’d get some more Welsh names to cover the other Fey.

That’s when I found the Enwogion Cymru.

By Monday I’ll most likely have launched right past simply grabbing some Welsh names, sped at top speed through the obsessive loop and crash-landed in a place where I know enough about Welsh historical figures to teach a class.  This, of course, was not my intention, but I’m too caught up in it now to care.

That’s why I love research.

(Yes, I did the above pixelart as a mind break from the research.  I shamelessly stole the pattern from here, so if you want to make a more real-world version than mine, go for it.)

Finally picked one up; they had a model that lists for too much money on sale for just barely cheap enough for me to consider, and then when I convinced myself I’d actually write on the bus with it, I finally succumbed.

So there it is, the little devil — and to justify the expense, I have actually been writing on the bus with it!  Well, attempting in some cases, as there are definitely some lessons to learn when trying to use it.  Like, those twisty windy roads near my house?  I shouldn’t try to use it when we’re driving on those.  And when some rude SOB leans all the way back in their chair?  Yeah, it’s not real useful then.  Especially because the keyboard layout is a little modified from the usual — scale is slightly smaller, and keyboard layout is scrunched a bit, so typing blind won’t work until I’ve relearned the keyboard.  Soon, but not yet.

Aside from that, though, this morning was a great proof of concept.  I napped until the highway, then broke out the little beast, lit up OpenOffice and went to town.  Already knew what I wanted to do, and while I didn’t finish, I certainly made enough of a dent to know I’ll be using this even more.

If I can snake some lunchtime I’ll pop the hood open and do some more, but at least I can start reclaiming some of the travel time I thought I’d sacrificed forever to the gods of Transit last year.

…must… resist temptation… do not install… no WoW… no WoW!

I keep wanting to say something, but I’m not sure what.

I’ve learned some things in the last couple of weeks.  I’ve learned explicitly that the will to live trumps comfort or convenience every day of the week, without exception.  I’ve remembered that the only thing that matters in life is communication.  And I’ve had it demonstrated to me all too personally that, sometimes, cures kill.  Yeah, it’s been a tough couple of weeks.

I’ve also learned that some of my advice is actually pretty good, having had an opportunity to swallow it in context.  I still believe that, no matter how a relationship ends, if it doesn’t hurt like hell you were doing it wrong.  I believe that beautiful things can’t die; when we mourn, we mourn only the loss of potential, because whatever we experienced before that loss can never be taken from us.  And, finally, I believe that when you knew what the right thing to do was, and you didn’t do it, you’ve done the worst thing you could have done, whether you did something or not.

I’ve reaffirmed that my loved ones are precious to me, and learned that when people threaten them seriously I feel absolute eye-popping spit-snarling breath-stealing rage, the kind that generates massive adrenaline surges, heroic surges of strength and coordination, and really bad decisions — undoubtedly it’s from Mom’s side of the family, where the Scots hang out.  Probably not the most useful reaction it could evoke, but not one I’m ashamed of, either.

I’ve learned that “Fading Lights” by Genesis holds up better than I thought it would.  Don’t just google the lyrics, it’s not the same without the music.

And finally, I’ve reaffirmed that no matter what else, I write.

So where am I going with this?  I don’t know, really.  2009 has come in hard and heavy, and it’s warned me that there’s change in the air, but it’s also reassured me that I know who I am and what I believe.  Maybe that’s enough to weather the coming storm.

…but I think my work is finally done for the year. I just had what, on my schedule, was my last conference call. Never mind that I was supposed to be on vacation all last week; at this rate I’m happy just to appear as though I’m done, and let’s be honest — with jobs the way they are right now, I’m afraid a little bit of abuse is to be expected, so working from home is still better than hoofing it in all week.

Please, wish me luck; this might be release at last, and man do I need it!

I should really pay more attention to the weather.  Dad warned me a week ago this was coming, and Shelly still had to remind me last night.  Although I’m a bit pissy about not having been able to take actual vacation time this week, I admit today I’m feeling at least a little thankful that I don’t have to take the bus in today.

Also, I’m thankful that my driveway is little more than a slightly elongated square between my house and the teeny little windy road that connects me to the rest of the world; if I had Mom’s driveway to shovel with a six to ten inch snow forecast, I’d…

…well, I’d do what I’m going to do anyway, which is have a nice hot coffee with a shot of Baileys, write a bit in a comfy chair and watch the snow fall.

Gee, I really hope the cable is sound against the weather.  Would be a real crime if it, you know, got disconnected or something, and I had to spend the day unavailable.  Man, that’d really, um, suck…

The last few months have been hell on my creative drive.

As much as I like to bitch (check the size of the ‘bitching’ tag on the left), this actually isn’t one; it’s an observation, and perhaps a diagnostic, but not a bitch.

I’ve always been fond of saying that the job is a paycheck, not Art, which is code for giving myself an excuse for not getting incredibly stressed out to the point of going bug-eyed and wondering where the sharp cutlery is when I deal with the inevitable brats, idiots and egotists at work.  I’m in advertising, so not only do I get those separately, they often come in cunning combinations of the three — which is why it’s so important I maintain that distinction.

Lately I’ve come under the guidance of a Man of Business.  I am not categorizing him in this in this way to mock him, nor am I engaging in the art of sarcasm in any way when I say that.  I say it, because this is a man for whom his job IS his art.  Having made this observation, it’s actually profound to watch him in action, and proof positive to me that for every medium, there is an Artist.  Subtle nuances of human interaction are the clearest indicators to him; shifts in process alert him to emergencies buried deeply in complex projects, and for one of the very few times in my life I find myself constantly learning.

It has, however, been my great misfortune to join forces with this fellow at precisely the moment the business decides to collapse in upon itself with all the fury of an obsessive-compulsive chasing after a white whale.  As a result, the Artist has gone manic in an attempt to save said business from consuming itself in a cannibalistic orgy the likes of which even the Donner Party would have balked at, and my life, as a result of that association, has gone from the casual contemplation of a paycheck to furious reactionary firefighting.  Given the current economy, and the fact that my first manuscript sale is unlikely to make me independently wealthy (sure, I can dream, but I can buy lottery tickets and not win, too), this is probably a good thing long-term… but with the aforementioned Artist demanding so much of my energy, as well as demanding ever-higher levels of performance and observation from me as we go, it’s a full-on brain screw when it comes to the imaginary world in my head.

Acknowledging that the work situation is not going to change any time soon, the simple truth is that business will never be my Art — there’s never been any question about that, and if that’s a self-imposed limitation, I can live with it.  With that established, then, the key to reclaiming my own Artistry has to be regaining control of my own time, and the only way I can think of to do that under the pressures of work is by adopting and maintaining a strict schedule.  With regular 12-hour days sapping my energy, nights are lost except for mindless media consumption, so I have to claim the mornings as my own.  This means resisting the siren song of online gaming for overly late evenings, it means not throwing the alarm clock at the wall during the early mornings, and somehow working out how not to get wretchedly motion-sick while writing on the bus (something I’ll gladly take hints regarding, if anyone has any).

…of course, it’ll be much harder to establish these habits this holiday season, as I fully expect to engage in some bad behavior (and, by the way, have thoroughly earned the opportunity to misbehave over the last year!).  But when the New Year comes and the feces begin to impact the rotating oscillator yet again, at least I know I have a plan.

Spent a bit of time this weekend putting parts of the house into a semblance of, if not actually ‘order,’ then at least ‘less entropy.’  Boxes went to the loft, so now I can actually get to my exercise equipment again, though I didn’t really need to use it this weekend after moving all those bloody boxes up to the loft.  Funny how that worked.  Now, at some point I’ll actually have to open the boxes to see what’s in them and where they should be going, but in the meantime just having them out of the way is a big plus.

Found myself a new local karate school; they sound like they’re the kind of place I like (Okinawan derivant, triple-focus on kata, kumite and waza, tonfa is one of their weapons forms), so once I’m back in some kind of shape I’ll be visiting to see whether it’s a fit.

No writing done.  Bad me.  So much stress and involvement from work, the brain’s just empty. Blood, rock, stone, same thing.  I’m going to need to set up better ground rules for engaging the muse, because I’ve been blowing her off a lot lately.

And that’s why this post is about rearranging.  That time thing, there’s just not enough of it to screw around and do things on the fly anymore.  Time to set aside actual chunks To Do Things With.  Dunno how that’s going to net out yet, but it’s something I’m thinking about.

Meh.  I want a summer vacation.  June to September, remember what that was like?

Yeah.  Me too.

I’m not going to post my evil plan. Silly me, I forgot the seventh rule of evil overlords:

‘When I’ve captured my adversary and he says, “Look, before you kill me, will you at least tell me what this is all about?” I’ll say, “No.” and shoot him. No, on second thought I’ll shoot him then say “No.”‘

So I’m not giving away my evil plan. Rest assured, though, that there is one, and that even though it does not involve laser beams (although it should), it will kick buttock. At least one of them, and possibly both.

I’ve just been accused by one of my more colorful, honest and direct friends of spending way too much time playing that nasty online game (World of Warcrack, in case anyone who doesn’t know me stumbles over this blog at some point) and not enough writing! Sadly, even feigned indignation was impossible in response, because at the time I was reading that email, I had just tabbed out of the game client because I was flying somewhere…

Well! The NERVE of exposing my weaknesses! The GALL, the CHUTZPAH! ZOMGLOLWTF!!!11111one.

Yeah, she’s right. So now that I’ve been properly shamed, I think I have a plan to find that lovely middle ground between playing too much and going cold turkey. The simple fact is, I do like the silly game, I enjoy the time I spend with actual, real life friends there, and will still play it… but… yeah… balance.

Off to work. Posting my evil plan when I get there.

Man, I miss those days back in ‘02 when I could write all day. I had the best schedule ever. I’d wake up at 5am — 5am! I’m not a morning person, but I’d get up religiously at 5am, do my workout, grab a shower, shave, all that stuff. By 7am I was fed and coffeed, and I’d be on my couch with my little mini Sony laptop and typing blissfully away. I’d type until I was done, which invariably ended up being around 11am or so, and I’d have the rest of the day to run errands, take care of chores, fart around playing games, visit friends, whatever.

I wrote so much and so fast that way I still boggle a bit thinking about it.

I’m not doing that anymore. I wake up at 7:30 or so, catch the 8:30 train in, steal an hour of writing going in and coming back on the train. I still get some great scenework done, and great character work, and overall I’m still pleased with my progress, given my circumstances.

Naturally, though, it’s nowhere near my jobless glory days when I could (and did) write a novel in four months. The nine-to-five job burns all my energy away — good or bad, all jobs do this. Instead of five solid hours, I get two, broken into vaguely useful chunks. It’s not enough, but it’s enough, you know?

Any job would do this. I need to pay bills, and I’m thankful that I hang with decent people at work. But…

Yeah.