Tuesday, February 12, 2013

12 February 2013

      I edited my manuscript for close to seven hours today. Not even bragging, I finished a first edit of the first part and it wasn't even that difficult. It was difficult sure cutting and being forced to own up to my mistakes (mere slips of fingers, but also ignorance etc.), but sitting there, for that long not getting distracted was a breeze. The time didn't fly by but it moved, and I edited and I felt totally focused and engaged. Plus I acquired a few hundred words in the process. Realized my font was at 13.5 and not 12 so, after fixing that, I'm close to 97 pages. I think I worry about my output and page count too much.

      I've been looking into publishers and manuscript requirements. I recently decided I was finishing up a first part (ending where steven goes to the institute) which beginning on part two is exciting though, aside from the broad story arc, I'm not sure what the next step in the story will be. It was good to go back and edit, I got a sense of the earlier parts of the story, parts I wrote 6+ months ago and had forgotten. I also had to go back and change what could have been some glaring plot errors (though they do not come to mind right now). Watched Cormac McCarthy's hilarious slouched Oprah interview. It made me happy when he said that he always had faith that things would just work out. I don't think I should rely on luck but maybe just not worrying about other things and just having faith can get me through (not that I need to -get through- anything but whatever). Just hoping really hard that if I work my ass off at writing all the other bits will fall into place. Will probably just need to work my ass off at those other parts (publishing etc.) too. Have this naive fantasy that they will just fall into place (a la Sam Pink's writing just being 'discovered') when in reality I think I need to think about and pay attention to these things a bit more. Considered Massive attack's 'Teardrops' as Steven's theme, then looked it up and found out it is the theme song for House so...that won't work.
     Not sure exactly what I'm doing, though writing feels right. Feel so much more productive than at Numira. Still like science a whole lot, and not totally cutting out the prospect of going to grad school but, why should I do anything else if this seems to work so well. My only previous hang up was that I wouldn't write 'enough' but when I can easily bang out 1000-2000 words a day should I really worry? The character are finally becoming real to me, I can see their rooms, their facial expressions. I feel like I annoy others because this is becoming all I care about at this point. Snapped at Molly today because I was almost done with my edit and she asked me if I wanted to go for a walk. Total solitude would be nice, though I would go crazy. Read some alt-lit stuff today, my interest in it has for the most part waned completely except for a few select writers associated with the movement. Not sure whether this is a good gamble. Seems like it could be a fruitful wave to ride but then, in spite of my many efforts, it was just never something that clicked with me. Feel like my writing style is just too 'normal' for alt-lit type folks to be interested in (with previous exceptions i.e. sadcore dadwave and chris dankland linking me). Suppose this isn't really my decision, just what happens and what will happen.
    Thinking that I should try to get this published seems 'audacious'. It's the only word that comes to mind. "How can you have the audacity to do this?" and "Who is going to want to buy this story?" because "This story about a bunch of lame ass college students?" No one. And yet I'm not bothered my this. My apathy toward these functional and practical questions is approaching a pathological degree. But it's what I want to do. I, for the first time probably in my life, feel self motivated to put enough work into something (the story) to get it accepted by someone else, someone 'authoritarian' or like 'the man'. But what if 'something' happens? This surely can't go on indefinitely. It just doesn't seem possible. Read Roth and Delillo and McCarthy's wikipedia pages last night (Kafka too). Felt terrified. Want to get into that circle but also don't. Want to to join this upper crust white guy circle but also want nothing to do with them. Don't find myself caring about 'exploring jewish ameican identiy' or 'postmodern international relations' or whatever it is that delillo writes about (still haven't read any of his stuff). Just want to write about my friends, and strange experiences and transcendence and uneasy feelings of unreality. Had a feeling the other day that writer's write then just have praise thrown on them, and make a little money. Want to think of myself rather as one day 'contributing' to a literary line of thought, much like in science where researchers are influenced by those before them, then add a little bit, add new ideas and techniques or whatever then are cited in the future by later researchers. Seems the most pure way to do things. Guess that exists (modernism into postmodernism, anxiety of influence and all that lit-crit bullshit) but it is not as concrete or central to the writer's mind as in science. Working on pieces for NADA and Signed at this point, need to do that tomorrow morning. Should probably figure out submitting to other journal as well, though I just don't feel motivated to do this, seems like a lot of effort for minimal pay off to (not) get published in an on-line zine right now. Feel like maybe my best bet is to just do some voo-doo shit, sell my soul to devil for writing skills, connections etc. Wish I new more literary people so I could get their input on my work before trying out bigger places, get the feeling everyone is so busy with their own stuff that reading my manuscript would be a hassle and not ever worth asking about.
    Why is anyone letting me do this!?!!?! Aren't there the safe guards in place is society so that over educated white kids who stumbled into DFW and Gaddis don't get so uppity that they think they can just not get a job and just write about the last few years of their lives? Where is the police division meant to keep this type of thing from happening  Society has failed it appears. Whatever. I'm happy. I could do this forever. If I could find a way to secure $800 a month I could just do this and be happy and roll with it all.

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