The Sum of David

Josh and I had a funny conversation the other day.

I have known for a while that Josh is not a particularly huge fan of the fantasy genre, and we tried to figure out exactly which parts turned him off. Is it the magic? I ask. No. Weird powers? No. The creatures? No, those are cool. The differing social structures, maybe? No.

“None of those,” he admits. “I think it’s mainly the names.”

The names?

His complaint is that you’re beebopping along in a story. You’re happy and familiar with the current characters, and then you’re being introduced to some new characters and of course none of them are named George or Bob or Roger or Amanda — they’re each an Aragorn or Akbar or Severus. I’ve heard this complaint before, and I’m somewhat guilty of the same thing. My brain’ll gloss over something if I deem it too bizarre or unpronounceable.

Actually, a group of us were all reading Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series in high school, and one of them asked how I pronouced one of the words. It was an important word, one I’d seen hundreds of times on the page, but even deep into the fourth book, I was at a loss — my brain had been pronouncing it something close to ‘blah’ in my head for months.

Josh read and enjoyed The Sum of David, but hated many of the names. Bear he could handle. Thor was not common, but doable. But Holder, Jameela, and Tanece? I believe his words were “Those are stupid. No one can remember that!”

And Calemadestes, a name and character of which I’m particularly proud? Totally made him want to strangle someone.

Meanwhile, if and when we get a pet in the future, we already have a name picked out: Polly. Which is short for Polamalu. Go figure.

I’m not a voracious reader, by any means. I usually have a magazine (design! science!) or some kind of fantasy novel in my Bag Lady bags. I’m trying to read more, however, with a focus in the genre I’d like to be published in one day.

I just finished up two classic fantasy novels and found them both underwhelming. Granted, one was published in 1970 and the other was translated from German, but one was also a Newbery Medal winner, and both were made into movies. The writing is fine, the stories are interesting, the lands fantastic. The characters? Generally Meh.

Which is a shame. The cool thing about Fantasy is you get to make everything up. The possible pitfall is that you have to make everything up. You have to set the ground rules of a world, a society, whatever.

Those bonus perimeters include the characters, and can allow for some great added drama — for instance, Pride and Prejudice would have been a different book if Elizabeth were a vampire or fairy or… zombie?

But while the unique aspect of a SF/F setting can be a roller-coaster ride, it shouldn’t be the only engaging aspect of a story, with the characters you’re supposed to care about simply being shuffled around. I’ve never connected emotionally with a mountain, coastline or swamp; but give me a character I can love or hate or root for and I’m yours. Speaking as someone who’s created some different environments, I know it’s challenging to keep that world from becoming it’s own entity, and perhaps in some cases that is appropriate, but after seeing it crash in spectacular fashion (or am I the only one who thinks so?) I have a hearty interest in making sure I did not, will not, make the same mistake.

It’s funny.

So much time and effort goes into writing a novel. I will go through the cycle of loving and hating the process over the next two years as I finish up the David trilogy. Writing affects my social life, my wallet, and I’m not published, so what’s the incentive? I’m not always sure.

A couple weeks ago, I was looking forward to the break, and possibly The End of me writing long format stories. I was just plain out of ideas and that felt… strangely okay.

So that’s it, right?

Apparently not. A little seed of a story was born Saturday morning. It’ll stew in the brain for the next 24 months until it’s ripe.  I’ll store little notes in that mental drawer and then I’ll probably do this all over again. A tiny part of me is disappointed.

“Let’s take a break!” it shouts.

“Let’s enjoy the world and not spend our life in a freakin’ cafe!” it cries.

“At least not in the summer, so we can maybe go to the pool? Please?” it begs.

It’s genuinely bummed, the poor thing. But most of me? Absolutely elated.

I’d do the obligatory apology for not blogging more, but after a stint several years ago of blogging every itty-bitty detail of my life, I resolved only to update when I had something other people might like to read. Otherwise, I’d be apologizing for stupid filler content. So: no sorrys*. Instead, here’s a general update on things.

The Sum of David (1): I’ve been having problems getting myself to write the necessary query letters needed to find an agent for this series. After an exhausting week of personal drama, I find myself with a renewed fire in my belly to get this done. We’ll see how long those embers burn.

The Sum of David’s currently untitled sequel: The third draft is now with it’s first editor (aka “Mom”). This year said editor has a full-time job, however, so she can’t go through it with her usual speed. I jeeringly requested sometime in 2009, but now I’m beginning to wonder how seriously she took that. The good thing about it being out of my hands is that I can concentrate on those query letters. Well, except for…

The Sum of David’s third and FINAL installment: I made my first notes for this series-ender last weekend after a lot of time on the road. Since then, I have post-its in my jacket pocket, doodled napkins in my purse and scribbles on my notepad at work. I think it might be time to start carrying the D3 Notebook around full-time. Considering I was feeling lost and uninspired about this not long ago, I am very excited about this change in motivation. I had feared the spark/gestation period I usually experience wasn’t going to happen. It turns out David’s story won’t be determined by whether I get picked up or not. I’ll write as long as it takes to tell his tale. It’s more honest that way anyway. And hot dang, there’ll even be romance.

Illustration: The long road trip last weekend also solidified the idea that I would like to do at least as much work for myself as for other people in the near future. There’s a screen printing play-date scheduled — what I hope to be one of many this year — and I’ve undertaken a personal growth project I will probably hate myself for once we hit, oh, about May. More on that later.

*Yes, that’s right: my “A” game. I’m giving you guys my best stuff. ..I know. It’s sad.

My muse has finally caught up with me. It’s time to refine some stuff and to make some new stuff. There’s a curious fork in the road, however.

See, I wrote this book about a boy named David. I edited the crap out of it, and then I needed to shop it around to see if I could get an agent so others could read my creation.  Instead of doing that, however, I wrote another book about David.

I’m now editing the stuffin’ out of the second book. All my instincts shrink from the agent stuff — I want to write, after all, not go around declaring how awesome my material is — but I am quickly realizing that I need a representative to help answer an increasingly important question:

How long am I going to do this?

I want to write for an audience. Not for fame, not for wealth (does that even really happen?). Just for people. The way I see it, the best way to do that is for it to be published. And since I’m not a good person for championing my own cause, or knowing where to champion it… I need someone else to do it for me. Ergo*, the agent.

I’ve known this for a while, but the issue is more tangible now. I have to decide what my next step is going to be after I ship the current manuscript to an editor that isn’t me. I planned three books for David, but as I’m looking toward the end of his story, there could be four. There could be five.

But again, how long am I going to do this?

I want to write for other people. I think that’s when I do my best work. Writing these things is a wonderful labor of love, and I don’t want it to be just for me. And since I can’t outline David 3 without knowing if there should be a David 4, now I have to try and find an agent that will have me. This is a much-needed kick in the gullet, and something that will hopefully put an end to my always-on-the-verge-of-sending-queries waffling.

But still… poopcockles.

*I have always wanted to use the word “ergo”. Score!

I headed to Bethesda, MD last weekend to check out this year’s Small Press Expo (SPX). It was my first one, but it’s been around since 1997. The obvious focus of the show was comics and graphic novels (and that blurry line  line between the difference of the two being a subject of debate), but there were also illustrators, inkers, writers, publishers, etc there as well.

I attended three panels. One on comic criticism, which I’ll spare you my opinion on (I left halfway through). The second was on publishing comics for YA and children. While my manuscripts are prose, as opposed to graphic, the panel was nonetheless interesting and full of a valuable insight. The third was on Herge, a popular French comic artist that did a lot of work in the years surrounding WWII. It was during this third session that I discovered I am not sophisticated. Seriously, there is only so much you can say about how he pioneered the line.

There was contraband Diet Pepsi/Rum at the afterparty Saturday Night ($6 beer?!, you’re out of your mind!), a bodacious breakfast at Silver Diner, and a general good time with some friends I don’t see nearly enough.

The atmosphere of SPX was, for the most part, open and accepting, and there was a wide range of work in show — which is comforting to those of us aspiring to do anything in the art/story vein. There are rumors that Joe and Josh might get a table next year (and that there will be beards), in which case I would totally love to commandeer some real estate on that half table. Of course, that means I’ll have to execute the sketches I’ve got hidden in my sketchbook…

What the experience did, first and foremost, was spark the creative engine and get those gears turning. We bought tons of good stuff, which I’m sure I’ll review here once I’ve been able to devour it all. All and all - it was a wonderful way to spend the weekend.

I met half of my goal. My intention to edit through The Sum of David’s sequel twice before Sept. 1st didn’t go quite as planned, but I made it through once.

And I rewrote the ending, and it was a toughie. I kind of cried a little.

So there. I want a cookie.

Now I have a binder full of my efforts (all 215 pages of it) and a big, nasty red pen that can’t wait to *slash! slice! boom!* through it. Let the slaughtering of words begin!

Also: I really need to hash out a title for this manuscript. I can’t keep calling it The Sum of David 2, that’s just silly.

Also also: I’ve been working on some illustrations that I can’t wait to show off. It’s pretty much the best stuff I’ve done in a long time. Maybe ever.

And I bought a suitcase. I’m going to paint it. You can’t stop me.

Remember last month when I declared that I was going to take a month off to concentrate on my writing?

Recall, if you will, that I was going to weed through the first draft twice before the Sept 1st deadline.

Remember that sometimes, just sometimes, I’m a big fat liar.

Recent events have forced me to adjust that schedule a little. It’s not because I’m lazy or don’t want to — on the contrary, I’d love nothing more than to sit and dedicate a nice delicious block of time to it.

Taking August off didn’t work out quite out the way I had intended, but it is absolutely 100% okay. An exciting project came along that I just couldn’t pass up; and, considering the grand scheme of things — you know, the things that don’t contribute to me meeting my writing deadline — in the grand scheme of things it will work out wonderfully. I get to flex my illustration muscles and creative mojo, and the financial boost will be perfectly timed by the project’s completion.

I pulled the trigger on a two-week trip overseas last week. Which is very frightening. And very exciting. And très cher.

I truly never thought I would ever deeply care about the value of the American dollar (that’s for old people, right?) but I so do. If it could shape up in the next week to something reasonably comparable to the Euro, that’d just be grand.
In other words, I have to take into account the extra-curricular paying passion, instead of the just time-eating passion. Nothing eats my insides like excuses, but I’m not really considering this as an excuse — rather, I’ve dubbed it necessary prioritization.

My words will still be there when I get back.

Taking the month of May off of writing was the best thing I could have done. This time two years ago, when I’d finished first installment of The Sum of David on May 1st, I was chomping at the bit to get back into it two weeks later. I enjoyed the full four weeks off this round, taking care of some general life things while my brain recuperated from my writing binge in April.

I feel recovered, and my mind’s inner storyteller is ready to rock again. I’m getting random little jolts of inspiration throughout the day — when I sleep, on the bus, during work, when I’m reading. My brain is sucking up every day observations like a sponge takes water, playing out little daydreams on how I could use them on my characters and then tucking the scenarios away. That means it’s time.

I went to the coffee shop last night feeling nervous. I’ve been excited about getting back down to business since last week, but there are times when you just can’t get it right, despite the best intentions. I was afraid I’d sit down and dig my heels in only to find myself feeling lost and overwhelmed. Fortunately, after the caffeine was flowing and the music got loud, things happened.

There’s certainly no dressing it up, though. This one’s going to be tough. There’s so many little parts and pieces that have to fit together by the end. The first draft was hard, but I’ve got several parts that are missing that need to be filled in, and revelations I made a week ago that have to be put into place. This is by far the most complicated story I’ve tried to wrangle so far.

It also has the potential to be the best piece of fiction I’ve ever created.

I think I’ve got it in me. Time will only tell.

My 27th birthday came and went last week. To be honest, I sometimes forget exactly how old I am. If asked, I will undoubtedly pause and think about it. And then Josh will correct me when I guess wrong. (In my defense, I’m usually only a year off. They all started to blend together after 23.)

Anyway. I’ve been struggling for a couple months now with my various activities — Design, Illustration, and Writing — and how they affect my life and balance with one another. And there’s a battle going on.

Design will always be Priority #1. It’s not only my bread and butter, but I lurve it. I love creating visual solutions, and drooling over other people’s work. Package design, a good logo, a beautifully integrated illustration or an amazing commercial… it all makes me warm and fuzzy inside. There are so many wonderful ways to conquer the same problem — that is, communicate a message in a unique and memorable way — and I haven’t found them all yet. There’s nothing else I’d rather spend 40 - 60 hours a week doing. Illustration is that back-burner love that has fallen back into my lap, which is lovely. And writing is something I’ve been doing for years, and I’m only recently feeling ready to explore the professional end of it.

This is where my conflict lies. I have three things that I love to do, and so I divide my time amongst those three occupations. I understand the idea of wearing many different hats, and I’ve been juggling all three competently enough. But does splitting my time between those three somehow rob one of them of the potential to be the best it can be?

For example: if I’m never published, will it be because I didn’t give writing the due concentration it needed?

I never want to stop pushing myself, and I love them all. But I have to wonder if I’m sacrificing the quality of one to pursue the others. So what matters most here? Quality? Or quantity? I would usually say quality… but when the quantity is improving the quality of life as a whole… where does that leave things?

This is heavy thought for a beautiful Friday. Let’s have a donut.