Kyle Garret's Blog, page 27
November 3, 2011
Blog About a Song: Everything In Its Right Place
My second job after graduating from college was at this company that handled all sorts of real estate transactions. I got the job through a temporary agency. I'm assuming they thought I was qualified because I had a reasonable grasp of the English language, so I must be able to write.
The job was writing abstracts of commercial leases, a skill I would, hard as this is to believe, later use as an independent contractor, putting together a lease for a friend of a friend. It was horrible, tedious work, and I struggled to stay awake every single day that I was there.
It was also my first real exposure to the corporate world, or at least the "Office Space" world. I don't know that I'd ever worked in a cubicle before this job, but I would certainly work in one after it. There were a few offices in rows that served as makeshift walls for the vast expansive of cubicles within. One of the important people in an office made all of his calls on speaker phone, even though he was the only one on his end. I learned more about commercial real estate than I ever wanted to know.
I had to get up relatively early for this job, because it was out in the suburbs of Atlanta, or OTP -- Outside the Perimeter. The perimeter was a highway that ran around the city, so everything outside of that was considered the suburbs.
Honestly, I never went OTP other than for that job. I really never left my neighborhood if I could avoid it, and my neighborhood had everything I needed. Even when I had friends who lived OTP, I would try to convince them to come to me.
I have never been a morning person, and remember that this was only a few months after I graduated from college, so getting up in the morning had yet to become a regular thing. While I like coffee, for some reason I decided to make a change, so instead of filling my travel mug with java, I filled it with Lemon Zinger tea.
I don't know which came first: listening to the above song by Radiohead as soon as I got into the car in the morning or drinking this tea -- because the two are strangely connected. Listen to the song. It's pretty bizarre.
The song is fairly depressing and that probably seems like an odd choice for the first thing I heard as I started my commute. But I need time to wake up, and I don't have the energy for anything upbeat. To this day, my commute mixes start with a few relatively slow songs, building into more upbeat fare.
I worked at that job for three months, ten years ago, and every time I hear this song I think of that drive.
The job was writing abstracts of commercial leases, a skill I would, hard as this is to believe, later use as an independent contractor, putting together a lease for a friend of a friend. It was horrible, tedious work, and I struggled to stay awake every single day that I was there.
It was also my first real exposure to the corporate world, or at least the "Office Space" world. I don't know that I'd ever worked in a cubicle before this job, but I would certainly work in one after it. There were a few offices in rows that served as makeshift walls for the vast expansive of cubicles within. One of the important people in an office made all of his calls on speaker phone, even though he was the only one on his end. I learned more about commercial real estate than I ever wanted to know.
I had to get up relatively early for this job, because it was out in the suburbs of Atlanta, or OTP -- Outside the Perimeter. The perimeter was a highway that ran around the city, so everything outside of that was considered the suburbs.
Honestly, I never went OTP other than for that job. I really never left my neighborhood if I could avoid it, and my neighborhood had everything I needed. Even when I had friends who lived OTP, I would try to convince them to come to me.
I have never been a morning person, and remember that this was only a few months after I graduated from college, so getting up in the morning had yet to become a regular thing. While I like coffee, for some reason I decided to make a change, so instead of filling my travel mug with java, I filled it with Lemon Zinger tea.
I don't know which came first: listening to the above song by Radiohead as soon as I got into the car in the morning or drinking this tea -- because the two are strangely connected. Listen to the song. It's pretty bizarre.
The song is fairly depressing and that probably seems like an odd choice for the first thing I heard as I started my commute. But I need time to wake up, and I don't have the energy for anything upbeat. To this day, my commute mixes start with a few relatively slow songs, building into more upbeat fare.
I worked at that job for three months, ten years ago, and every time I hear this song I think of that drive.
October 27, 2011
Poser
The problem, if I were to boil it down to just one thing, is that I don't really care about any of this.
And by "this," I mean my job.
I don't care how to use Drupal. I don't care what new SEO tricks are out there. I don't care what Google does or doesn't do. I don't care how much we pay per square foot for office space. I don't care how much traffic our sites get or what the bounce rate is. I don't care about anything other internet companies do or who used to or currently works for them. I don't even care how much money we're supposed to make.
You can see how this would be something of a problem.
Were this my old position down south, this wouldn't be a problem. I was a worker drone then, who only had to speak when spoken to and was only spoken to on rare occasions. I could go to work, log my 8 hours, and go home. I didn't have to interact at all if I didn't want to, with people or with the job.
I can't do that here. My role has expanded and this office is smaller and now I'm expected to contribute something to conversations about things I have no interest in.
And it's not that I don't think knowing these things would be useful to me. I'm sure I will learn more about SEO in the next two months than ever learned before. I'm sure I will be a wiz at Drupal soon. And I'm sure that knowing these things will only mean good things for my resume and for my future in this industry. I just don't really care about my future in this industry, and I really don't see the point in any of it.
Not that I'm having an existential crisis here. It's actually more of an Office Space crisis. Say I make my sites better, the company makes more money, I get a promotion, and repeat. I just don't know what the ultimate goal in that scenario is. To quote every television show that's ever mocked actors, "what's my motivation?"
Part of this, I know, is lack of ownership. Just like Nicole, I take a lot of pride in what I do, and in being someone that others rely on. So far I haven't been in a position to accomplish much, so there's not a whole lot of pride going around. If anything, all of my positive feelings about this job come from the fact that I have it, that I am making a significant contribution to our household. I'm stepping up to the plate and being responsible, which is always a good feeling for me.
And that's generally enough to get me through most jobs. But I find that my interactions here have put me in the unfortunate position where I have to be fake. And I hate being fake.
Don't get me wrong, I'm entirely capable of being completely disingenuous, and I'm often times not even aware I'm doing it until after the fact. I can quite literally get myself to believe my own BS to the point where I don't feel kind of dirty about being a poser. But this is not one of those situations. I know I'm pretending, even if I'm pretty sure no one else does. And it gives me the creeps.
I'm sure a lot of this will change the longer I'm at this job. Over time, I'll become responsible for more and more things, and each of my accomplishments will make me feel good about being here. But there's always going to be a part of me that just doesn't care, and that part of me will always struggle in this environment.
On one hand, I suppose this all comes with having a passion like writing. On the other hand, I suppose most people feel this way, but find ways of coping -- like having kids, for example. And perhaps down the line that will make it better. I'm pretty sure it will.
For now, I will, as they say, fake it until I make it, and hope that's enough.
And by "this," I mean my job.
I don't care how to use Drupal. I don't care what new SEO tricks are out there. I don't care what Google does or doesn't do. I don't care how much we pay per square foot for office space. I don't care how much traffic our sites get or what the bounce rate is. I don't care about anything other internet companies do or who used to or currently works for them. I don't even care how much money we're supposed to make.
You can see how this would be something of a problem.
Were this my old position down south, this wouldn't be a problem. I was a worker drone then, who only had to speak when spoken to and was only spoken to on rare occasions. I could go to work, log my 8 hours, and go home. I didn't have to interact at all if I didn't want to, with people or with the job.
I can't do that here. My role has expanded and this office is smaller and now I'm expected to contribute something to conversations about things I have no interest in.
And it's not that I don't think knowing these things would be useful to me. I'm sure I will learn more about SEO in the next two months than ever learned before. I'm sure I will be a wiz at Drupal soon. And I'm sure that knowing these things will only mean good things for my resume and for my future in this industry. I just don't really care about my future in this industry, and I really don't see the point in any of it.
Not that I'm having an existential crisis here. It's actually more of an Office Space crisis. Say I make my sites better, the company makes more money, I get a promotion, and repeat. I just don't know what the ultimate goal in that scenario is. To quote every television show that's ever mocked actors, "what's my motivation?"
Part of this, I know, is lack of ownership. Just like Nicole, I take a lot of pride in what I do, and in being someone that others rely on. So far I haven't been in a position to accomplish much, so there's not a whole lot of pride going around. If anything, all of my positive feelings about this job come from the fact that I have it, that I am making a significant contribution to our household. I'm stepping up to the plate and being responsible, which is always a good feeling for me.
And that's generally enough to get me through most jobs. But I find that my interactions here have put me in the unfortunate position where I have to be fake. And I hate being fake.
Don't get me wrong, I'm entirely capable of being completely disingenuous, and I'm often times not even aware I'm doing it until after the fact. I can quite literally get myself to believe my own BS to the point where I don't feel kind of dirty about being a poser. But this is not one of those situations. I know I'm pretending, even if I'm pretty sure no one else does. And it gives me the creeps.
I'm sure a lot of this will change the longer I'm at this job. Over time, I'll become responsible for more and more things, and each of my accomplishments will make me feel good about being here. But there's always going to be a part of me that just doesn't care, and that part of me will always struggle in this environment.
On one hand, I suppose this all comes with having a passion like writing. On the other hand, I suppose most people feel this way, but find ways of coping -- like having kids, for example. And perhaps down the line that will make it better. I'm pretty sure it will.
For now, I will, as they say, fake it until I make it, and hope that's enough.
October 25, 2011
Where I'm From
I've always been proud of the fact that I'm from Ohio. I feel like it grounds me. I like being from the Midwest. Aside from the amazing inability to really process anything, the Midwest -- and specifically Ohio -- has given me a lot.
I'm also strangely protective of Ohio. I will mock my native state to death, but if someone else does it -- someone else who has never even set foot there -- then I take it personally. I'm allowed to make fun of Ohio because I love Ohio and all the shit it's put me through. Far more good than bad came from spending my first 24 years there.
It also became something of a calling card for me. Just as I had become "Kyle in Los Angeles" to so many people back east, in Los Angeles I was the guy from Ohio, or at least the sadist who cheers for all the Cleveland sports teams. For every time I might have been insulted because I was from the Midwest, there were at least three times that I felt really sure of myself because of it.
So here's the strange thing: I'm no longer Kyle from Ohio. I've suddenly become the guy from Los Angeles.
It's weird just typing that.
Now, to a certain extent I'm happy to be the guy from Los Angeles, usually if it's within the context of the fact that I now live in the suburbs. I'm at least a little happy to have a distinction made that this is not my normal environment, so perhaps I should be forgiven for my lack of suburban etiquette.
At the same time, it's somewhat unflattering, because people from Los Angeles are...well, I'm sure you know. I realize that Los Angeles doesn't seem to have the hive mentality that people in New York or Chicago have, they don't have a shared identity because of their geographic location. But it is there, at least a little. And after nine years in that city, I know it's rubbed off on me.
At a certain point, I will no doubt stop putting "the" in front of the highway numbers. I suppose that will be the first indication that I've assimilated. Buying a mini-van will probably be the second.
Anyway, it's just strange to me, that I'm now associated with Los Angeles. I suppose it one final way for that city to hang on to me, like an STD you discover a week after a short, torrid affair.
Now back to my Jack Daniels and writing, two of my constants, no matter where I call home.
I'm also strangely protective of Ohio. I will mock my native state to death, but if someone else does it -- someone else who has never even set foot there -- then I take it personally. I'm allowed to make fun of Ohio because I love Ohio and all the shit it's put me through. Far more good than bad came from spending my first 24 years there.
It also became something of a calling card for me. Just as I had become "Kyle in Los Angeles" to so many people back east, in Los Angeles I was the guy from Ohio, or at least the sadist who cheers for all the Cleveland sports teams. For every time I might have been insulted because I was from the Midwest, there were at least three times that I felt really sure of myself because of it.
So here's the strange thing: I'm no longer Kyle from Ohio. I've suddenly become the guy from Los Angeles.
It's weird just typing that.
Now, to a certain extent I'm happy to be the guy from Los Angeles, usually if it's within the context of the fact that I now live in the suburbs. I'm at least a little happy to have a distinction made that this is not my normal environment, so perhaps I should be forgiven for my lack of suburban etiquette.
At the same time, it's somewhat unflattering, because people from Los Angeles are...well, I'm sure you know. I realize that Los Angeles doesn't seem to have the hive mentality that people in New York or Chicago have, they don't have a shared identity because of their geographic location. But it is there, at least a little. And after nine years in that city, I know it's rubbed off on me.
At a certain point, I will no doubt stop putting "the" in front of the highway numbers. I suppose that will be the first indication that I've assimilated. Buying a mini-van will probably be the second.
Anyway, it's just strange to me, that I'm now associated with Los Angeles. I suppose it one final way for that city to hang on to me, like an STD you discover a week after a short, torrid affair.
Now back to my Jack Daniels and writing, two of my constants, no matter where I call home.
October 23, 2011
On a Sunday
I'm in my office, trying to do some real writing for the first time since we moved. Nicole is taking a break from trying to organize the kitchen to make brownies.
I still feel like we're going to go back to Los Angeles at some point, as if we're just visiting. And I have to say, given that I have to go to work every day, this is a horrible visit.
I actually kind of wonder when it will all hit me. There are moments when one thing or another will kind of knock me upside the head, but I haven't had a moment when all of the changes settle in. I went from going into an office 3 days a week, to going in 5 days a week. I'm no longer an anonymous worker drone. We went from a two bedroom apartment to a house with at least three times the space. We went from living in the city to living in the suburbs. And that's just the big things -- innumerable smaller things have changed.
Is this how it happens? Do we make these huge changes to our life and never really absorb them because we're too busy trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy?
I think it will hit me when we go back to Ohio. Being away from what is my new home will make me appreciate it, I'm sure. I'll be happy to come back, happy to be home. Distance will help me process just what we've done.
Not that life has settled down. There are still a lot of things going on, they're just very different things than they were before.
The people at my new office say "dude" a lot.
It's also interesting to see how much more structured my life has become, or perhaps it's only like that right now, as structure gives me something to hold on to. I no longer live in a building with a gym, so now I have to actually get up and drive to one. Suddenly I'm figure out my daily morning routine down to the minute. Suddenly my writing schedule becomes more rigid. And suddenly Thursday nights have become really exciting for me because I know the next day is Friday.
I can feel time slipping by and it worries me. I see all of my energy diverted towards things I don't really enjoy and it worries me. I see all these unfinished stories, these scraps of ideas, and it worries me.
One of my worst habits as a writer is writing lines in triplicate, like I just did above, and like I did in the paragraph before that, too. It's a habit that took me years to break, and even then I still revert more often than I would like. There's a nice cadence to that three line structure, though. There's a certain sense of weight that comes with it.
I find myself waking up on Sunday mornings and looking forward to sitting on the couch and watching football. I don't even know how that happened.
I say all this with the complete belief that it will get better, not that it's bad now. I will get comfortable and find my rhythm, my cadence of three lines. Tonight I write. Tomorrow I go to the gym. Friday I get new comics in the mail. These are the things that are me.
And I'll start blogging again.
Did I also mention that I'm doing all of this with my favorite person in the world?
So I've got that going for me.
Which is nice.
I still feel like we're going to go back to Los Angeles at some point, as if we're just visiting. And I have to say, given that I have to go to work every day, this is a horrible visit.
I actually kind of wonder when it will all hit me. There are moments when one thing or another will kind of knock me upside the head, but I haven't had a moment when all of the changes settle in. I went from going into an office 3 days a week, to going in 5 days a week. I'm no longer an anonymous worker drone. We went from a two bedroom apartment to a house with at least three times the space. We went from living in the city to living in the suburbs. And that's just the big things -- innumerable smaller things have changed.
Is this how it happens? Do we make these huge changes to our life and never really absorb them because we're too busy trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy?
I think it will hit me when we go back to Ohio. Being away from what is my new home will make me appreciate it, I'm sure. I'll be happy to come back, happy to be home. Distance will help me process just what we've done.
Not that life has settled down. There are still a lot of things going on, they're just very different things than they were before.
The people at my new office say "dude" a lot.
It's also interesting to see how much more structured my life has become, or perhaps it's only like that right now, as structure gives me something to hold on to. I no longer live in a building with a gym, so now I have to actually get up and drive to one. Suddenly I'm figure out my daily morning routine down to the minute. Suddenly my writing schedule becomes more rigid. And suddenly Thursday nights have become really exciting for me because I know the next day is Friday.
I can feel time slipping by and it worries me. I see all of my energy diverted towards things I don't really enjoy and it worries me. I see all these unfinished stories, these scraps of ideas, and it worries me.
One of my worst habits as a writer is writing lines in triplicate, like I just did above, and like I did in the paragraph before that, too. It's a habit that took me years to break, and even then I still revert more often than I would like. There's a nice cadence to that three line structure, though. There's a certain sense of weight that comes with it.
I find myself waking up on Sunday mornings and looking forward to sitting on the couch and watching football. I don't even know how that happened.
I say all this with the complete belief that it will get better, not that it's bad now. I will get comfortable and find my rhythm, my cadence of three lines. Tonight I write. Tomorrow I go to the gym. Friday I get new comics in the mail. These are the things that are me.
And I'll start blogging again.
Did I also mention that I'm doing all of this with my favorite person in the world?
So I've got that going for me.
Which is nice.
October 3, 2011
Eve
I have a thing for eves.
Christmas Eve, New Year's Eve, All Hallow's Eve -- even the eves that don't get official designations, like birthday eve or anniversary eve or, in this case, moving eve. The night before means almost as much to me as the following day...sometimes more.
It's amazing how location can define you. When I told a friend of mine I was moving he found it hard to believe, and just said to me "Kyle lives in Los Angeles." Because that's who I've been -- I'm the guy who lives in Los Angeles.
Part of that is my own making. Living in Los Angeles is something of an oddity for people from Ohio. New York and Chicago are generally the big cities of our choice. I found that whenever I returned home and told people where I was living, they were genuinely surprised. In a lot of ways it became my defining characteristic. Word got around. I became the son/grandson/brother/uncle/friend who lived in Los Angeles. And I'll fully admit that I took some pride in that, as if it made me special, or at least unique.
This isn't to say that being associated with Los Angeles has always been a good thing. Sending out query letters and submissions to agents, publishers, and literary agents has always concerned me, because I felt like my address undermined my ability. I felt like being a writer living in Los Angeles made it seem like I wasn't serious, because everyone in Los Angeles was a writer, even if they were all writing screenplays. I felt an imaginary bias against my location.
The part of me that's still in his 20's doesn't want to leave Los Angeles. The part of me that turned 36 today is ready for the next step.
Ready or not, Danville, California, here I come.
Christmas Eve, New Year's Eve, All Hallow's Eve -- even the eves that don't get official designations, like birthday eve or anniversary eve or, in this case, moving eve. The night before means almost as much to me as the following day...sometimes more.
It's amazing how location can define you. When I told a friend of mine I was moving he found it hard to believe, and just said to me "Kyle lives in Los Angeles." Because that's who I've been -- I'm the guy who lives in Los Angeles.
Part of that is my own making. Living in Los Angeles is something of an oddity for people from Ohio. New York and Chicago are generally the big cities of our choice. I found that whenever I returned home and told people where I was living, they were genuinely surprised. In a lot of ways it became my defining characteristic. Word got around. I became the son/grandson/brother/uncle/friend who lived in Los Angeles. And I'll fully admit that I took some pride in that, as if it made me special, or at least unique.
This isn't to say that being associated with Los Angeles has always been a good thing. Sending out query letters and submissions to agents, publishers, and literary agents has always concerned me, because I felt like my address undermined my ability. I felt like being a writer living in Los Angeles made it seem like I wasn't serious, because everyone in Los Angeles was a writer, even if they were all writing screenplays. I felt an imaginary bias against my location.
The part of me that's still in his 20's doesn't want to leave Los Angeles. The part of me that turned 36 today is ready for the next step.
Ready or not, Danville, California, here I come.
September 30, 2011
Finality
I'm not entirely sure what to do with myself.
This is more than likely the last time I will write in this apartment. Oh, I might make some notes here and there over the few days we're still here, but as far as actually sitting down at my computer and writing, this is probably it.
Given that writing has ultimately dominated my life, and that I am, by my very nature, melodramatic, this all seems very important. Since that's the case, I'm having trouble deciding what, exactly, it would be appropriate for me to write tonight.
Right now I'm downloading episodes of MTV: Unplugged. This is mostly due to the the 20th anniversary of the release of Nirvana's "Nevermind." I spent the weekend listening to Nirvana's entire library which, of course, involved their "Unplugged" session. And it made me wonder if I actually had digital copies of all the episodes of "Unplugged" that I had watched back in the day.
Turns out, the only one I have is by Pearl Jam. So I went digging for R.E.M. And then Soul Asylum. And that's what I'm doing right now.
For the record, the unplugged version of "Somebody to Shove" is pretty sweet.
I have a couple of short stories and at least one book in the works. But apparently I've decided that the best way to leave this apartment is by blogging. I can't argue with that.
I mentioned to Nicole earlier that it looks like we just moved in. There's nothing on the walls. The shelves are empty. All but the essential clothes and kitchenware have been packed away. The cats are thrilled to have so much space in the closet to sleep, not knowing that it's a precursor to days of torture for them as we drive them six hours north and introduce them to a new home.
My normally cluttered desk is disconcertingly clean, save for a small stack of paper, my headphones and MP3 player, some bills, my wrist braces (which I should be wearing) and my Cleveland Indians hat.
Now I'm really digging this R.E.M. unplugged. Lord knows I could devote an entire blog to this band, now that they've called it quits. That reminds me that I should e-mail my brother, which in turn reminds me that I should e-mail my grandmother, not to mention my parents.
I have a strange affection for endings, made all the more stranger by the fact that I have such a hard time coming up with them. These are important moments. This is the time to take stock, the time for quiet reflection. Ending a chapter means starting a new one and I am a fan of both.
I think I'm going to go work on that book now. I should probably go out the way I came in: fighting the good fight.
This is more than likely the last time I will write in this apartment. Oh, I might make some notes here and there over the few days we're still here, but as far as actually sitting down at my computer and writing, this is probably it.
Given that writing has ultimately dominated my life, and that I am, by my very nature, melodramatic, this all seems very important. Since that's the case, I'm having trouble deciding what, exactly, it would be appropriate for me to write tonight.
Right now I'm downloading episodes of MTV: Unplugged. This is mostly due to the the 20th anniversary of the release of Nirvana's "Nevermind." I spent the weekend listening to Nirvana's entire library which, of course, involved their "Unplugged" session. And it made me wonder if I actually had digital copies of all the episodes of "Unplugged" that I had watched back in the day.
Turns out, the only one I have is by Pearl Jam. So I went digging for R.E.M. And then Soul Asylum. And that's what I'm doing right now.
For the record, the unplugged version of "Somebody to Shove" is pretty sweet.
I have a couple of short stories and at least one book in the works. But apparently I've decided that the best way to leave this apartment is by blogging. I can't argue with that.
I mentioned to Nicole earlier that it looks like we just moved in. There's nothing on the walls. The shelves are empty. All but the essential clothes and kitchenware have been packed away. The cats are thrilled to have so much space in the closet to sleep, not knowing that it's a precursor to days of torture for them as we drive them six hours north and introduce them to a new home.
My normally cluttered desk is disconcertingly clean, save for a small stack of paper, my headphones and MP3 player, some bills, my wrist braces (which I should be wearing) and my Cleveland Indians hat.
Now I'm really digging this R.E.M. unplugged. Lord knows I could devote an entire blog to this band, now that they've called it quits. That reminds me that I should e-mail my brother, which in turn reminds me that I should e-mail my grandmother, not to mention my parents.
I have a strange affection for endings, made all the more stranger by the fact that I have such a hard time coming up with them. These are important moments. This is the time to take stock, the time for quiet reflection. Ending a chapter means starting a new one and I am a fan of both.
I think I'm going to go work on that book now. I should probably go out the way I came in: fighting the good fight.
September 13, 2011
September 12, 2011
Los Angeles Part 5: Why You'd Want to Live Here
Somehow, when I wasn't pay attention, Los Angeles endeared itself to me. This has been something of a shock.
There was a point, roughly two years in to my stay, that I thought about moving. I'd spent two years in Atlanta before heading west, so two years seemed to be a good run for a city. Besides, I'd always felt some kind of strange kinship to the Pacific Northwest. I began doing research on moving to Seattle.
Then I met Nicole, and since Nicole works in the entertainment industry, she needed to stay here, so I stayed here.
Strangely enough, over the next seven years I found a lot to really like about this city, and even a few things to love. Oh, I'm not saying I didn't find plenty of reasons to dislike living here, because anyone who tells you they love everything about Los Angeles is a filthy liar. But I'll admit that I've grown surprisingly attached to this town, and for the strangest reasons.
For example, there's something appealing about living in a city whose baseline creative output can best be described as below average. I'm not saying there aren't some works of genius coming out of the City of Angels, but let's face facts: Hollywood generally produces crap. And it all comes from Hollywood. The television shows, the movies, and the books by celebrities or people who know celebrities -- it all comes from the same place. But the fact that this town regularly produces awful material is oddly comforting, as if the bar is so low that someone like me can jump it.
There's also something appealing about living in a town that exists to monetize creativity. I realize that might sound awful, but ask anyone who engages in any kind of artistic endeavor, and they will tell you that actually making money from what they do seems incredibly daunting. And I know that there are a lot of sharks in the water in Los Angeles, but there's also a system in place, a mechanism that can take a project and find a way for people to pay for it.
Combine those first two points and you have a city where you can come up with a really crappy idea and make a ton of money off of it. It really lends itself to a rags to riches fantasy. Because of this, of course, everyone and their dog walker has an idea, a screenplay, or a head shot. The disregard for quality by much of Los Angeles is counteracted by the sheer volume of people trying to cash in. In fact, if I lived in any other city, I would probably be less hesitant to refer to myself as a writer, but here I don't like the connotations that such a title brings with it.
There's an entire class of people here that are "creative professionals," a title that baffles me because I have a hard time reconciling that those two ideas are compatible. I suppose this is more a reflection of my own creative process than anything else, but still. To live in a place where you're surrounded by people who make a living being creative (regardless of how good or bad what they create might be) is pretty exciting.
And, honestly, living among such a diverse group of people is just as exciting. Our building is made up almost entirely of twentysomethings and older Russians. I've interacted with the people from dozens of different countries, endless background, and various orientations, socioeconomic statuses, and political views. I have never lived in a place as diverse as Los Angeles and I doubt I will ever live anywhere that comes close to matching it.
Combine those last two points with the constant rhythm of this city, the drunks stumbling down side streets when the bars close, the ghetto bird shining its light down upon as, the parades for pretty much any occasion, even the crazy homeless people who yell inspired, otherworldly poetry as I walk past them. Los Angeles is sensory overload of the best kind -- the kind that makes you want to create.
These are the things that I will miss about Los Angeles itself, at the least in the broadest terms. I'm sure the specifics will come out in the near future.
September 8, 2011
Dude, What the Hell?
Where oh where have my regular blog updates gone? The answer, my friends, is blowing in the wind.
Aside from being out of town for the holiday weekend, I have a surprising amount of non-paying writing to do. I'm also suddenly busy at work, which cuts down on how much I can get done during the day.
So what the heck am I doing with myself?
Well, in a week or two the "Unrequited" eBook will be available pretty much everywhere. I will, of course, keep you posted on that one.
I'm preparing for a virtual book tour. Basically, a bunch of blogs that do book reviews are going to post reviews of "Pray" on specific days. Some of them also ask for guest columns by yours truly and possibly interviews to boot. So that's a whole thing, as you can probably imagine.
And I'm sure it comes as no surprise that I've been more involved with writing about comics. I've met a few nice, talented creators recently who have been so nice as to show me some work in advance and ask for my comments. I've also been chosen to co-write the What Looks Good column on Comics Bulletin which I'm really excited to do. It's a new venue for my comic book ranting and raving!
I've got this other thing which I've been making mysterious comments about that isn't a HUGE deal, but is incredibly appropriate for me. I'm sure I could probably talk about it, but I'm waiting until everything is signed off on so I don't jinx it.
Also, it's short story season once again! The vast majority of literary journals are connected to universities in some way, shape, or form, so September 1st has become the defacto start of short story season, when schools are back in session and accepting submissions. Given that I've had nearly as much success getting short stories published as I have getting books published, this is always a challenge for me. So it's re-write and submit over and over again.
Finally, there's the new book I'm currently working on, which requires more world building than anything I've ever written before and, in turn, is really slow going. It's difficult, because I know this book can be great, to the point where I'm almost scared I'm going to fail it.
Needless to say, all of this has left me little time for blogging, but I'm going to try to get back to it. And, today's my Friday, so I should have time, yes?
Aside from being out of town for the holiday weekend, I have a surprising amount of non-paying writing to do. I'm also suddenly busy at work, which cuts down on how much I can get done during the day.
So what the heck am I doing with myself?
Well, in a week or two the "Unrequited" eBook will be available pretty much everywhere. I will, of course, keep you posted on that one.
I'm preparing for a virtual book tour. Basically, a bunch of blogs that do book reviews are going to post reviews of "Pray" on specific days. Some of them also ask for guest columns by yours truly and possibly interviews to boot. So that's a whole thing, as you can probably imagine.
And I'm sure it comes as no surprise that I've been more involved with writing about comics. I've met a few nice, talented creators recently who have been so nice as to show me some work in advance and ask for my comments. I've also been chosen to co-write the What Looks Good column on Comics Bulletin which I'm really excited to do. It's a new venue for my comic book ranting and raving!
I've got this other thing which I've been making mysterious comments about that isn't a HUGE deal, but is incredibly appropriate for me. I'm sure I could probably talk about it, but I'm waiting until everything is signed off on so I don't jinx it.
Also, it's short story season once again! The vast majority of literary journals are connected to universities in some way, shape, or form, so September 1st has become the defacto start of short story season, when schools are back in session and accepting submissions. Given that I've had nearly as much success getting short stories published as I have getting books published, this is always a challenge for me. So it's re-write and submit over and over again.
Finally, there's the new book I'm currently working on, which requires more world building than anything I've ever written before and, in turn, is really slow going. It's difficult, because I know this book can be great, to the point where I'm almost scared I'm going to fail it.
Needless to say, all of this has left me little time for blogging, but I'm going to try to get back to it. And, today's my Friday, so I should have time, yes?
August 31, 2011
Send Help! I'm Trapped in a Bubble Gum Factory!
The above title comes from a comic strips that came with Bazooka Joe bubble gum (do they still do that?). It stuck with me all these years because of it was equally funny and potentially horrible. In my little kid brain, I could picture a reality in which some guy really was trapped in a bubble gum factory, and his only way to get a message to the outside world was to put it in the packages that were being shipped out.
There are times when I miss being that blissfully naive.
Anyway, this popped into my head because I'm currently trapped in a cubicle and it's slowly driving me insane.
Nicole and I refer to the nights before I have to go to work as "school nights." And I NEVER do anything on a school night. This isn't even really because I have to work, it's because I get up before work and go to the gym. I once had a drink or two on a school night and even that upset the balance of my universe the next morning. I'm sure I would have been fine had I just been going to work, but like I said, that's not the case. So I am chaste on school nights.
But last night was the midnight sale for the new DCU at Meltdown Comics here in Los Angeles. That sentence probably didn't make any sense to some of you. Basically, one of the largest comic book companies in the country decided to start over from scratch with all of their titles, and last night was the beginning.
Honestly, I wasn't entirely interested in picking up the comics; I could have waited until the next day. But it was also the last day of work for my arch nemesis Chris, who I have an ongoing friendly feud with. Turns out, however, that Meltdown was only allowed to sell the comics published by that one company just after midnight, which means I have to go back again today, anyway. And Chris is actually working all day today. In other words, I went out on a school night for no real reason.
That said, it's always good for me to go out and be social, even if it's not my natural tendency. It's always been hard for me to muster up the energy to socialize and even harder for me to maintain that energy. It's sometimes hard for me to realize that socializing is a necessary part of life, and that everyone needs at least a little bit of human interaction.
And I did have a good time, even if my feet hurt from standing for much longer than I normally stand. That and the fact that I'm barely managing to stay awake today have underscored at least one thing: I'm not as young as I used to be.
With that, it's back to trying to keep my eyes open as I stare at this computer screen.
There are times when I miss being that blissfully naive.
Anyway, this popped into my head because I'm currently trapped in a cubicle and it's slowly driving me insane.
Nicole and I refer to the nights before I have to go to work as "school nights." And I NEVER do anything on a school night. This isn't even really because I have to work, it's because I get up before work and go to the gym. I once had a drink or two on a school night and even that upset the balance of my universe the next morning. I'm sure I would have been fine had I just been going to work, but like I said, that's not the case. So I am chaste on school nights.
But last night was the midnight sale for the new DCU at Meltdown Comics here in Los Angeles. That sentence probably didn't make any sense to some of you. Basically, one of the largest comic book companies in the country decided to start over from scratch with all of their titles, and last night was the beginning.
Honestly, I wasn't entirely interested in picking up the comics; I could have waited until the next day. But it was also the last day of work for my arch nemesis Chris, who I have an ongoing friendly feud with. Turns out, however, that Meltdown was only allowed to sell the comics published by that one company just after midnight, which means I have to go back again today, anyway. And Chris is actually working all day today. In other words, I went out on a school night for no real reason.
That said, it's always good for me to go out and be social, even if it's not my natural tendency. It's always been hard for me to muster up the energy to socialize and even harder for me to maintain that energy. It's sometimes hard for me to realize that socializing is a necessary part of life, and that everyone needs at least a little bit of human interaction.
And I did have a good time, even if my feet hurt from standing for much longer than I normally stand. That and the fact that I'm barely managing to stay awake today have underscored at least one thing: I'm not as young as I used to be.
With that, it's back to trying to keep my eyes open as I stare at this computer screen.
