Travis Thrasher's Blog, page 43

Artist

This thing is yours.

Don't let it go.

The echoes of yesterday bounce off today and tomorrow.

The shadows follow you and only you.

Nobody knows where you've been or where you're going.

Nobody is looking out for you.

Nobody else cares about yesterday or tomorrow except for one person . . .

The same person who produces.

The same person who believes.

The same person who struggles before dawn and after dusk.

Everybody likes a winner after they've won.

But nobody pays attention to the sweat and the toil before the race.

They can say whatever they want when they're in control.

But ultimately they don't know a thing about you.

Numbers and figures don't define an artist.

Boxes and brands don't define a soul.

If the outcome never exceeds their outlook, does it mean it's a failure?

Do they really understand true success?

The calendar turns and they change their point-of-view.

A new year means a new name.

But you're still the same.

And those desires haven't gone away.

This is what really truly defines who you are.

Not the moment where you break out.

But the moment when the flames begin to die down.

The moment when many other sane individuals would call it quits.

The moment when others would count the hours and the cost and call it a night.

But that's why they're not you.

Because they would fold.

They would go back to the ease and the comfort.

Back to the calculations and the confidence.

But for you, it's just you.

And for you, the decision was already made a long time ago.

It's not a choice anymore, but a life.

And this life is about creating and crafting and trying and failing. It's about waking up and trying something and going to bed realizing that the something wasn't all you wanted it to be. Then waking up the next day and trying again.

Then again.

And again.

Nobody else needs to understand this drive or this desire.

Nobody else needs to pay any attention.

Nobody else needs to see you sitting there, doing your thing, hoping and praying that one day . . .

Most won't be there if that day arrives.

And if it does, few will really understand what it took to arrive.

But you understand.

You remember.

And you never give up.

Not because you want to prove anybody wrong. But because deep down inside, you know this feeling you have is simply . . .
Right.

Friday Afternoon at The Tower

So It Begins . . .

Top 100: #58

"Deep Blue" by Arcade Fire
Here
Are my place and time
And here in my own skin
I can finally begin
Let the century pass me by
Standing under night sky
Tomorrow means nothing

I was only a child then
Feeling barely alive when
I heard a song from the speaker of a passing car
And prayed to a dying star
The memory's fading
I can almost remember singing la, la la, la la la la
La la, la la, la la la la

We watched the end of the century
Compressed on a tiny screen
A dead star collapsing and we could see
That something was ending
Are you through pretending
We saw its signs in the suburbs

You could never have predicted
That he could see through you
Kasparov, Deep Blue, nineteen-ninety six

Your mind's pulling tricks now
The show is over so take a bow
We're living in the shadows la, la la, la la la la
La la, la la, la la la la

La la, la la, la la la la
La la, la la, la la la la
La la, la la, la la la la
La la, la la, la la la la

Hey
Put the cellphone down for a while
In the night there is something wild
Can you hear it breathing?
And hey
Put the laptop down for a while
In the night there is something wild
I feel it, it's leaving me

La la, la la, la la la la
La la, la la, la la la la
La la, la la, la la la la
La la, la la, la la la la

Crossroads

I didn't start writing to become a brand or to earn the big bucks.
I write because there's something in me that needs to get the words and the stories out onto the empty page.

Early on I realized that writing was important, that it was cathartic, that it was vital to my very being. I could say the things I normally couldn't say. I could make sense of the thoughts and feelings rumbling around inside of my head and my soul like an unstoppable tornado. Writing would quiet those thoughts and feelings for the moment.

I entered the publishing world because of this desire to write. I had the great fortune to come to understand the business side of writing, for all the better and for all the worse. I was soon able to see the two sides of the coin when it came to books: the personal side and the professional side. One is about art, the other is about commerce. One is extremely personal, while the other should never be taken personally.

For thirteen and a half years, I was able to see and study this world. I did my homework. During that time, I was fortunate to be published and start my writing career.

I say all that as I come to a crossroads in my current writing journey.

Fourteen novels published. Four more being released this year. Things are really happening for me. I'm breaking through, right? I'm finally successful, right?

Success is a subjective thing, just like stories can be. Here's my reality—with all the books I've published, my sales have been low. And with each subsequent low-selling story, those numbers begin to stick around and haunt you. You can't change them. They're in THE SYSTEM and that system decides what bookstores order and don't order. Book sales are the number one thing publishers look at to decide what books to publish and not to publish.

The reality is that my low sales and lack of a brand have made it very difficult for me. Bookstores don't know what to make of me. The same can be said about consumers.

So . . .

Is it time to decide to go away for a while and stop releasing books?

Is it time to pick a genre and a publisher and bet it all on them?

Is it time to go back to school and study the craft, a craft I feel I still have so much to learn about?
Is it time to write the most commercial and marketable story I can and forget about those other 18 works of fiction?

Is it time to finally listen to all those writers and readers out there who share stories about e-book successes?

I stand here at the crossroads and know this: I've been able to have these variety of stories of mine published, and I'm grateful for that. I wouldn't change anything about those stories or my publishing history.

What happens tomorrow and next month and next year, I know this for certain. I'll be writing. I will always be writing. Regardless of how I'm able to pay bills and provide for my family, I'm going to keep doing what I started doing in third grade.

There's a lot about this writing journey that I deliberately don't share. I don't want to whine or brag or delve into too many personal things. But regardless of what happens, I'm optimistic. And if you've read my writing or this blog, you'll know that I'm not prone to optimism. Yet there are a lot of exciting things that are going to happen this year. I'm excited about the possibilities. I'm excited about these stories that are still inside of me, waiting to come out.

I'm excited to see which door will ultimately open next, and where I'll find myself heading toward when I walk through it.

Writing Tip #66

It's impossible for real life not to impact the story you're writing. In small or big ways. Yet that's what I love about writing fiction--how the story you're telling is a piece of your own personal history. How it's unique to the time and the season you're writing it in.
Let me share two examples from last year.
I was fortunate to work on two collaborations last year. The first was a book I cowrote with musician Mark Schultz entitled Letters From War. I was first approached by the publisher back in November of 2009, then got the green light at the first of the year. I knew that I had other books to write, and that the story needed to be handed in around May of 2010, so I started to write the novel without a contract.
Like many things in publishing, the contract took a while to nail down. It was something different for all parties and because there were several people involved, it took time.
Meanwhile, I kept writing, hoping I'd soon sign a contract, worrying a bit that I was doing all this work for nothing. I just kept waiting, and waiting, and waiting.
And, in many ways, that's what the story is about. The main character is waiting for word on her son whose MIA over in Afghanistan. This waiting that I was going through had a direct impact on my writing. I felt like I could put myself in her shoes in some strange way.
Here's a quote from Letters From War that sums this up:
Her whole life has been waiting. Waiting for word. Waiting for the knock on the door. Waiting to get a phone call. Waiting for an e-mail. Waiting for a letter. Waiting to read, words to hear, to know, to understand, to find out.
The same thing happened when I was working on my other collaboration from last year, the book I cowrote with Jimmy Wayne entitled Paper Angels. In the story, a man is dealing with the prospect of losing the business he'd worked so hard to build, all while he and his wife are weeks (or days) away from the arrival of twins. Of course, this story addition was added because I was going through much the same in terms of waiting for our two little girls to be born. Needless to say, I was quite nervous.
Here's a line that was written from the man's perspective:
He wanted to believe that everything was going to be okay, that he would be able to provide the way any other father would. The future, however, remained very cloudy.
Both of these paragraphs are ones that could have come out of a journal I was writing at that moment. In a way, each story was a journal of sorts.
The feelings and impressions and experiences that a writer is dealing with as he's writing a story can be sprinkled or poured into that story. That's the beautiful thing about writing.
Don't be afraid of putting things you're currently dealing with in the story you're writing. It makes the story real and has the potential to make that story very powerful.

Top 100: #57

"Walking In My Shoes" by Depeche Mode
I would tell you about the things
They put me through.
The pain I've been subjected to.
But the Lord himself would blush.
The countless feasts laid at my feet,
Forbidden fruits for me to eat.
But I think your pulse would start to rush.

Now I'm not looking for absolution,
Forgiveness for the things I do.
But before you come to any conclusions -
Try walking in my shoes,
Try walking in my shoes.

You'll stumble in my footsteps,
Keep the same appointments I kept.
If you try walking in my shoes.
If you try walking in my shoes.

Morality would frown upon,
Decency look down upon.
The scapegoat fate's made of me.
But I promise now, my judge and jurors,
My intentions couldn't have been purer.
My case is easy to see.

I'm not looking for a clearer conscience,
Peace of mind after what I've been through.
And before we talk of any repentance -
Try walking in my shoes.
Try walking in my shoes.

You'll stumble in my footsteps,
Keep the same appointments I kept.
If you try walking in my shoes.
If you try walking in my shoes.
Try walking in my shoes.

Now I'm not looking for absolution,
Forgiveness for the things I do.
But before you come to any conclusions -
Try walking in my shoes.
Try walking in my shoes.

You'll stumble in my footsteps,
Keep the same appointments I kept.
If you try walking in my shoes.
Try walking in my shoes.
If you try walking in my shoes.
Try walking in my shoes.

Writing Tip #65

Who says you need to write the story before writing the dialogue for a climactic scene?
Who says you need to write books one and two before you come up with a last conversation in book three?
Who says you need to sign the contract before coming to the inevitable conclusion?
If you think about a story and the characters long enough, it can happen. You can be taking your garbage out and look up at the sky and recount dialogue between two characters as if they're talking right there in front of you. You can go back inside and email yourself the conversation.
Saved for down the road.
There are no rules. If the writing is meaningful, it's meaningful. If it works, it works.
And if a story floats around long enough in your head, it takes over, allowing you to eavesdrop and take notes.
Just make sure you're ready to write them down.

Top 100: #56

"The Stairs" by INXS
In a room above a busy streetThe echoes of a life
The fragments and the accidents
Separated by incidents

Listen to by the walls
We share the same spaces
Repeated in the corridors
Performing the same movements

Storey to storey
Building to building
Street to street
We pass each other on the stairs

Storey to storey
Building to building
Street to street
We pass each other on the stairs

Listen to by the walls
We share the same spaces
Repeated in the corridors
Performing the same movements

The nature of your tragedy
Is chained around your neck
Do you lead or are you lead
Are you sure that you don't care

There are reasons here to give your life
And follow in your way
The passion lives to keep your faith
Though all are different, all are great

Climbing as we fall
We dare to hold on to our fate
And steal away our destiny
To catch ourselves
With quiet grace

Storey to storey
Building to building
Street to street
We pass each other on the stairs

Listen to by the walls
We share the same spaces
Repeated in the corridors
Performing the same movements

Storey to storey
Building to building
Street to street
We pass each other on the stairs

Want To Read 40 Now?

I'm giving away six copies of the advance reader of 40. I've had a lot of requests for it so I wanted to do an exchange. I'm giving six copies to eager readers with the request that they post reviews on Amazon.com as soon as the book is available. Of course, I want honest reviews, so this little bit of bribery won't hopefully skew their opinion.
If you're interested, send me an email at travisthrasher@mac.com. The first six entries will get books. Thanks.
**UPDATED: That was fast everybody! Thanks for the interest. For those of you who responded and didn't get the first six, I'll pick another winner by tonight. Thanks!