AS I PLEASE XIX: ME VERSUS MY BRAIN
Tonight I walked out of the longest preliminary hearing I have ever attended -- over five hours in length. The ordinary "prelim" usually lasts a few minutes; an extraordinary one might go on for 30 - 45. Five and a quarter hours is unheard-of, and contributed decisively to a twelve hour workday. Now, when my ADHD-addled brain is forced into long and intense periods of concentration on any subject other than writing, I emerge from the trials exhausted and in dire need of letting my mind ramble in any direction it pleases. This is how I relax and unwind without bellying up to a bar, something I have largely given up since I began to lose weight five months ago. So buckle up, friends, because I am going to hit you with yet another glimpse into the chaos and disorder which lies between my ears:
* I have now lived back East again for over three years, and am still getting used to the idea of seasons. In Southern California, we have two of them: one is called Summer, and the other, Not Summer. Summer does not require an explanation, except that it lasts about twice as long as an Eastern summer, say 5 - 7 months. Not Summer is a kind of leftover, which at its coldest and wettest may vaguely resemble winter, but generally feels like very mild fall weather, with chilly nights but temperate days. In Pennsylvania and Maryland, distinct seasons, though certainly affected by climate change, still exist and often pack a wallop. Tonight, for example, still a few days shy of Thanksgiving, it is 44 degrees and raining hard. Do not take this as a complaint. I desperately missed seasons when I lived in Los Angeles and now that I have them, I greatly enjoy them, even when they manifest in such a grim way as tonight. The truth is that I grew terribly bored of the "endless summer" teenage wardrobe that SoCal demands; little is more pitiful than a middle-aged man dressing like he's still in high school.
* Last weekend I was in Miami to accept the Reader's Favorite Gold Medal for my fourth novel Sinner's Cross. I had never been to Miami before, and I must say, since we're talking about the weather, that it reminded me very much of L.A., what with the palm trees and the diversity of faces and slight to middling shabbiness; the exceptions being humidity and the ultra-prevalence of Cuban music. One cannot, of course, learn much about a city in 48 hours, but I got a taste of it, anyway, and even slammed down a hideous, fruit-infested, drink called a Miami Vice, which reminded me to do a "Memory Lane" blog about that iconic 80s show. I suppose residents of the actual city tire quickly of references to it, but for me, Miami will always and forever be associated with Crockett and Tubbs, just as Las Vegas will forever be associated (in my mind) with CSI. The funny thing is that, as a former entertainment industry stooge, I know how little cities portrayed on television actually resemble themselves in real life. It's all fakery and sleight of hand. All that having been said, I enjoyed my brief visit, and even more than that, enjoyed receiving recognition for my book. Such moments of triumph are rare for authors, and must be savored: you will forgive us if we crow about them.
* Working twelve hours seems monumental to me now, but when I worked in the entertainment industry, anything less than this figure struck me as shockingly slight. On film location, I have worked a 24 hour day almost entirely on my feet, and in video games I once clocked 29 hours straight, albeit from the seated position. I have experienced 80 - 100 hour workweeks for months on end, and in these very pages documented a 30 day "workweek." I know there are people who work much harder; I am just pointing this out because as a government worker, I seldom go over 40. The difference, of course, is consequence. A mistake on a movie or film set or a video game studio is important in the sense it costs money and possibly standing; a mistake in the criminal justice and law enforcement world can be disastrous. If people in my line of work seem unnaturally drained by four-thirty, it's usually a question of responsibility, not laziness.
* Another thing I will say in favor of the much-maligned "government worker" is that the stereotype of the lazy, sullen, slovenly drone who sits at a cubicle, listlessly tapping a keyboard while awaiting quitting time and never doing a stroke of avoidable work, is far more apropros of highly paid private sector workers than it is of the vast majority of GC's I've worked with in Pennsylvania or Maryland, or who I saw in Washington, D.C. growing up. In my experience, government workers, far from getting paid little to do nothing, are usually massively overworked, and spend most of their shifts hustling ceaselessly from one half-finished task to the next: if anything, most wish they could work a few extra hours just to clear their desks. If it seems as if they never accomplish anything, it is because emptying the ocean with a spoon is hard work. Indeed, with a few notable exceptions, the hardest workers I have ever seen were in public service jobs that paid, in some cases, a third or even a quarter of what that person could make in the private sector. In contrast, the best gigs I worked in California all but encouraged laziness and a facetious, sophomoric, surfer-boy approach to work.
* Incidentally, I was asked recently by a police officer if I missed Hollywood. The answer was no. Sometimes, however, we lie without realizing it when asked questions of this sort, so I gave the matter some thought in private afterwards, and came to the same conclusion. My experience in the industry was fascinating and occasionally deeply rewarding, but like living in the dormitory when I was a freshman in college, it is more fun to reflect upon than it was to experience, and while I wouldn't trade it for anything, I am not sure I would ever repeat it -- not, at least, on the terms I was forced to accept before. Hollywood thrives on naive enthusiasm and a willingness to work very hard indeed for bum pay, little or no credit, and (sometimes) less than zero respect. Enduring this, and learning from it, has made me a much tougher, savvier negotiator in the publishing world than I ever was a journeyman effects artist or industry flunky: I can and do say "no" to projects that don't pay me enough, or deprive me of credit for work done. I learn slowly and painfully, but I do learn.
* Speaking (more) of work done: Exiles: A Tale from the Chronicles of Magnus is now ready for release: I just have to decide when, exactly, I'm going to release it. A book tour is scheduled in March of 2024, so with the end of the year drawing nigh, I'm thinking Christmas Week the most likely time, perhaps with a brief pre-order available via Amazon. You may or may not remember that this novel, my fifth, is a full length prequel to the novella Deus Ex I released at the end of 2021. Because I am telling the story of Magnus out of order, in different ways and through different points of view, I may have a bit of a time moving this novel. However, since it is a passion project, written out of the sheer love of storytelling rather than commercial reasons, I don't give a damn: I've discovered that if one is patient and relentless, the audience will eventually take their seats. It may be a small audience, but that is also irrelevant: as I once said in an interview, writing isn't something I do, it's something I am. And I do carry one maxim from the entertainment industry to heart at all times: whether the audience is 50,000 or 50 or 5, put out the same damned energy. After all, they paid for the show.
* I have now lived back East again for over three years, and am still getting used to the idea of seasons. In Southern California, we have two of them: one is called Summer, and the other, Not Summer. Summer does not require an explanation, except that it lasts about twice as long as an Eastern summer, say 5 - 7 months. Not Summer is a kind of leftover, which at its coldest and wettest may vaguely resemble winter, but generally feels like very mild fall weather, with chilly nights but temperate days. In Pennsylvania and Maryland, distinct seasons, though certainly affected by climate change, still exist and often pack a wallop. Tonight, for example, still a few days shy of Thanksgiving, it is 44 degrees and raining hard. Do not take this as a complaint. I desperately missed seasons when I lived in Los Angeles and now that I have them, I greatly enjoy them, even when they manifest in such a grim way as tonight. The truth is that I grew terribly bored of the "endless summer" teenage wardrobe that SoCal demands; little is more pitiful than a middle-aged man dressing like he's still in high school.
* Last weekend I was in Miami to accept the Reader's Favorite Gold Medal for my fourth novel Sinner's Cross. I had never been to Miami before, and I must say, since we're talking about the weather, that it reminded me very much of L.A., what with the palm trees and the diversity of faces and slight to middling shabbiness; the exceptions being humidity and the ultra-prevalence of Cuban music. One cannot, of course, learn much about a city in 48 hours, but I got a taste of it, anyway, and even slammed down a hideous, fruit-infested, drink called a Miami Vice, which reminded me to do a "Memory Lane" blog about that iconic 80s show. I suppose residents of the actual city tire quickly of references to it, but for me, Miami will always and forever be associated with Crockett and Tubbs, just as Las Vegas will forever be associated (in my mind) with CSI. The funny thing is that, as a former entertainment industry stooge, I know how little cities portrayed on television actually resemble themselves in real life. It's all fakery and sleight of hand. All that having been said, I enjoyed my brief visit, and even more than that, enjoyed receiving recognition for my book. Such moments of triumph are rare for authors, and must be savored: you will forgive us if we crow about them.
* Working twelve hours seems monumental to me now, but when I worked in the entertainment industry, anything less than this figure struck me as shockingly slight. On film location, I have worked a 24 hour day almost entirely on my feet, and in video games I once clocked 29 hours straight, albeit from the seated position. I have experienced 80 - 100 hour workweeks for months on end, and in these very pages documented a 30 day "workweek." I know there are people who work much harder; I am just pointing this out because as a government worker, I seldom go over 40. The difference, of course, is consequence. A mistake on a movie or film set or a video game studio is important in the sense it costs money and possibly standing; a mistake in the criminal justice and law enforcement world can be disastrous. If people in my line of work seem unnaturally drained by four-thirty, it's usually a question of responsibility, not laziness.
* Another thing I will say in favor of the much-maligned "government worker" is that the stereotype of the lazy, sullen, slovenly drone who sits at a cubicle, listlessly tapping a keyboard while awaiting quitting time and never doing a stroke of avoidable work, is far more apropros of highly paid private sector workers than it is of the vast majority of GC's I've worked with in Pennsylvania or Maryland, or who I saw in Washington, D.C. growing up. In my experience, government workers, far from getting paid little to do nothing, are usually massively overworked, and spend most of their shifts hustling ceaselessly from one half-finished task to the next: if anything, most wish they could work a few extra hours just to clear their desks. If it seems as if they never accomplish anything, it is because emptying the ocean with a spoon is hard work. Indeed, with a few notable exceptions, the hardest workers I have ever seen were in public service jobs that paid, in some cases, a third or even a quarter of what that person could make in the private sector. In contrast, the best gigs I worked in California all but encouraged laziness and a facetious, sophomoric, surfer-boy approach to work.
* Incidentally, I was asked recently by a police officer if I missed Hollywood. The answer was no. Sometimes, however, we lie without realizing it when asked questions of this sort, so I gave the matter some thought in private afterwards, and came to the same conclusion. My experience in the industry was fascinating and occasionally deeply rewarding, but like living in the dormitory when I was a freshman in college, it is more fun to reflect upon than it was to experience, and while I wouldn't trade it for anything, I am not sure I would ever repeat it -- not, at least, on the terms I was forced to accept before. Hollywood thrives on naive enthusiasm and a willingness to work very hard indeed for bum pay, little or no credit, and (sometimes) less than zero respect. Enduring this, and learning from it, has made me a much tougher, savvier negotiator in the publishing world than I ever was a journeyman effects artist or industry flunky: I can and do say "no" to projects that don't pay me enough, or deprive me of credit for work done. I learn slowly and painfully, but I do learn.
* Speaking (more) of work done: Exiles: A Tale from the Chronicles of Magnus is now ready for release: I just have to decide when, exactly, I'm going to release it. A book tour is scheduled in March of 2024, so with the end of the year drawing nigh, I'm thinking Christmas Week the most likely time, perhaps with a brief pre-order available via Amazon. You may or may not remember that this novel, my fifth, is a full length prequel to the novella Deus Ex I released at the end of 2021. Because I am telling the story of Magnus out of order, in different ways and through different points of view, I may have a bit of a time moving this novel. However, since it is a passion project, written out of the sheer love of storytelling rather than commercial reasons, I don't give a damn: I've discovered that if one is patient and relentless, the audience will eventually take their seats. It may be a small audience, but that is also irrelevant: as I once said in an interview, writing isn't something I do, it's something I am. And I do carry one maxim from the entertainment industry to heart at all times: whether the audience is 50,000 or 50 or 5, put out the same damned energy. After all, they paid for the show.
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ANTAGONY: BECAUSE EVERYONE IS ENTITLED TO MY OPINION
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