A Personal Pep Talk

"I had found a medium that required no collaboration or approval. No equipment, other than the computer I already owned. It had no union rules and no producers. I could do whatever the fuck I wanted. After all this time I found that the novel is in fact punk rock."
--Craig Ferguson




I’ve been having a bad week when it comes to getting into that headspace where I need to be to write. It started with the crisis of conscience that came with logging into my Facebook author page to be assaulted with a notice that 14 people “unliked” the page in the last three days. Did I really need to know that, Facebook? I would have been fine not knowing that ever. I wouldn’t have even noticed. But, Facebook had to tell me and now that’s all I’m thinking about. I shouldn’t take it personally, but I do. It bothers me that I do, too.

Whenever I have those crisis of conscience moments where I start to question writing, I always bust out the quote in the .jpg attached to this post. It’s from Craig Ferguson’s autobiography “American on Purpose.”

When I first read that line, it made sense to me why I do what I try to do.

I didn’t grow up in Minneapolis, but I was there for about five years during a very formative period, from the ages of 17-22. I attended a lot of concerts with my buddies Matt and Scot. We went to First Ave. and the Seventh Street Entry a lot. We met a lot of really cool bands–my favorite of all the bands we ever met was House of Large Sizes. Dave and Barb of HOLS encompassed that punk rock, DIY, we-don’t-need-no-stinkin’-approval spirit of just forming a band, writing songs, playing shows for all you’re worth, and letting the chips fall where they may. I’ve probably seen HOLS play more than fifty times. Every time was worth it.

One of my favorite T-shirts HOLS sold was one that had tab reference on how to form three guitar chords. Then, on the back of the shirt it said, “Now go form a band.” Hell, yeah. Three chords and the truth. That’s all U2 needed in the beginning, right?

The world of publishing is a lot like the world of music. There are the big novels that get put out by the big corporations. Writers like Stephen King, Nicholas Sparks, Tom Clancy, JK Rowling, etc..–they’re the U2s or the Aerosmiths or the Adeles. They’re the writers that are going to sell a billion copies no matter what.

Then you have much smaller, but still high profile writers like Vince Flynn, Lee Child, and Jodi Picoult–they’re that next level of music–represented by bands like Coldplay or Dave Matthews. They can sellout an arena, no problem–but they have to work. They have to tour. They can’t just subsist off album income alone.

Then you’ve got the next level–lower profile writers who do well, but have to keep working. There are tons of these writers. And tons of these bands. They’re the sorts of journeyman bands who are still out there, still playing, and still making music even though people don’t listen to them like they used to, and maybe they only had a hit or two before sort of fading into the background.

Me, I’m more like the guy who is playing his own garage with the door open hoping people who pass by on the street will stop in and enjoy what I’m doing. There are as many of us out there as there are garage bands trying to “make it.” But, hey–you gotta start somewhere, right? Maybe you’re not a slick musician. Maybe you don’t have the engineers and production facilities to make your album sound awesome, but you have GarageBand on your Mac and you invested a couple hundred in a mixing board and a halfway decent mic. You can do this.

I will never understand why people look down on independent publishing or solo writers. To me, they’re the same as bands just starting out. Go watch the movie about CBGB’s (not a great film, but still worth a view). Not the bands that got their start in CBGBs in an era when disco and overproduced rock albums were what the major productions houses were pumping out. Do you think we’d even have the Ramones if they were forced to go through the machine of major production? Or the Sex Pistols? Or Blondie, Crowded House, or the Police, etc…

This is what I have to tell myself whenever I get to the point where I really don’t feel like writing again. I just picture that garage band getting their feet wet on the stage at the Seventh Street Entry. I hear the heavy chords and screamed lyrics. There is feedback, missed notes, and a bad mix from the soundboard. It might not be perfect, but at least they’re not quitting.

I just repeat that to myself. At least they’re not quitting. At least they’re not quitting. At least they’re not quitting.

Even when I feel like it, I don’t quit. Tomorrow will find me at the keyboard again. I guarantee it.