There is so much in this world I do not grasp.

There is so much in this world I do not grasp.

I often can’t wrap my mind around the way the human race sees things, thinks, feels.  It seems so distant, so foreign.  I feel so out of touch.

The “can’t see the forest…” concept, while not quite right, can help to illuminate some of my problem:

In many situations, there is a basic, obvious concept.  One that everyone else seems to understand.  To understand so well, so deeply, that they have no idea how to explain it.  Some concept, some idea, some understanding, some feeling, that is so ingrained, so obvious, so clear to them -to everyone else- that no one has ever come up with words to explain it.  So obvious that, usually, people can’t grasp what, exactly, it is I’m not grasping.  And in my noticing that there’s something I don’t understand, in trying to understand it, in trying to break it down and in trying to get people to explain it to me, I’m often able to squeeze out amazing, tiny, yet-ultimately-useless details about it.

I can see the fungus thriving on the old growth.  I can feel the cool of the shade created by the foliage.  I can hear the wind blowing through branches and the birds, insects, & animals all around, and the flowing water of a stream.  I can describe the perennial and diurnal cycles of the topiary.  I can write poetry about my experiences and emotions within the place, poetry that resonates with others and seems to show my deep understanding and connection therein.

All without noticing that it’s a forest.  Or that when people say ‘forest’ that’s what they mean. And perhaps without realizing that the whole point of the thing is the trees – wait, did I even mention trees?

No.

Exactly.  And it goes another way, too.  Sometimes with the same concepts, though usually with different ones:

I miss all the details.  I miss the little things, the “small stuff.”  Stuff that is the totality of what most people can see.  Except that I can see the big picture.  A big picture that other people didn’t notice or -sometimes, it seems- can’t notice.  That seems, to them, to contradict the details right in front of them.  Often it’s the same frustrating situation reversed, where the one who can see the big picture as though it were obvious can’t explain it sufficiently to those who didn’t notice there was any picture to see.  I often can’t find a meaningful way to express these ideas.  These obvious things.  And even while looking at them, I often miss the details that are so obvious to others.

Oh, and then there’s dishonesty.  Willful ignorance.  Intentional injustice.

Even things as simple and everyday as violating traffic laws…  I can’t grasp why people a) do so & b) think it’s okay.  It gets harder/easier to grasp when I try to talk rationally to them about it, because it becomes clear that they’re being willfully ignorant, or don’t believe in justice, which are larger concepts that I have trouble with.  So it’s harder, because I can’t grasp why they would think/be that way, but it’s easier, too, because once I know they’re that way they’re easier to dismiss.  Oh, this person is the incomprehensible way they are because of this larger concept I already know I don’t understand.  No need to try to understand this lone case.  Keep wondering about the endemic problem.

Most of the things I can’t grasp aren’t as awful as those few.  Most of them are concepts that -if I went to good schools for another couple of decades- I could probably piece together from contexts.  Little things like the significance of certain phrases and classifications.  Things that Wikipedia struggles to define just as readily as everyone else struggles – there is no entry for this, because we all assume you already know.  Or: The entry for this doesn’t actually explain the concept it purports to, merely telling you about the history of it, or the people who are known to have been involved, and -again- assuming you and everyone else in the world already understands the core concept so intimately that it need not be said, you just came here to find out about things related to it.

Oh, and then there’s the consequences of not knowing.  Sometimes one can actually violate laws, business practices, or customs by ignorance.  In some cases, ignorance of the laws/practices exists because everyone feels that the idea is so obvious that there’s no need to mention there’s even a law to break or a particular “right” way of doing things. Or to discuss the subject at all.  In any forum.  You are simply expected to know.  And when I have the gall to ask “well, how was I supposed to know?” –The most common answer is something like “There are resources out there, you should have researched it!”  Upon pressing, I’ve never been able to get the people who give me such answers to point me in any helpful direction.  They are sure there must be resources out there, even though they’ve never seen them themselves, couldn’t name one, and have no idea where to start.

More to the point: If I don’t know that “Rule #1” exists, I’ve never heard of it, no one discusses it, everyone else just knows and assumes it is known by all… Then how can I know that I ought to go find out what “Rule #1” is?

How can I even know that there’s research to be done?  I’m just supposed to guess?  “Hmmm… I wonder if perhaps there is a thing about which I don’t know, which no one has ever mentioned, that by not being aware of I might violate [a law|an ancient custom|a standard business practice]?  I shall go research for this unknown thing, and see if I can stumble across it!”  In some cases, in my own life, in my own experience, I’ve come to the point beyond which I’ve discovered -by violating a law, or by conducting business in a nonstandard way-  that there was something I didn’t know, but was expected to know.  That I was expected to know, and that now it’s too late.  I can’t satisfy the law except by being marked criminal.  I can’t conduct business with that company / in that place / in that industry again.  I discover that there’s something I didn’t grasp -perhaps still don’t grasp- about the world, and that even if I’m now able to figure it out (and I often am not), it’s too late for doing so to do any good.

Sometimes I can recover.  Sometimes … Sometimes I don’t want to.  The following, while a current example, was not first in my thoughts when I began this post.  It is only a lone example:

For example, I don’t really understand the concept of “genre,” even now.  It didn’t even occur to me that it was something I ought to even be aware of, to think about, to try to understand, until after I’d already written four or more books.  It just didn’t occur to me.  And it was so obvious to everyone else that they didn’t mention it.  Then at some point I began to try to do “marketing” for my books, and I learned that -apparently- not only to readers assume that every book has a genre, but that authors/agents/editors have decided that every book must have a genre, and be written according to genre conventions, in order to sell.

Even then, after four or five books, even after beginning to try to comprehend the bizarre modern practice of “marketing,” it still didn’t influence my writing.  I just kept writing what I had to write. Turned out that included a book that had zombies in it.  Which, when people read and discovered it wasn’t in the “zombie genre,” really seemed to upset and disappoint them.  And they didn’t like it.  And they gave it bad reviews.  And I didn’t like that.  So I started trying to think about genre.

Apparently there were some rules I didn’t realize existed about how to write books that I’ve been violating.  I still don’t really understand it.  Don’t comprehend it.  Don’t grasp it.  But at least, right now, I’m aware that there’s something about it that I don’t grasp, so I can go looking for the possibly-nonexistent resources about what everyone else assumes I’m supposed to be doing… And… really, what I want to do… What I think I’ll probably end up doing… Is to learn everything there is to know about “genre” and then just keep doing what I was doing before.

But that’s just an example.  And I’m getting sleepy.  And I haven’t been to church in a while -which is a subject that could take up twice as many words again as this post has already- so I ought to go to bed soon so I can get up for church in the morning.  bleh.

Here is a thing about eBooks

I want to read Let the Right One In, preferably on my iPhone.  Mandy and I watched and enjoyed the film together, then she checked the book out of the library, read it & loved it.  I didn’t get around to reading it when she had it out, so I re-requested it (it’s a very popular book & there are only two copies in circulation in the Phoenix library system, so it took a while) and it came in a couple weeks ago and … I still didn’t get around to it.  I’d like to try reading eBooks (I basically never have), on my iPhone, and I’d like to see if having the book always available, in my pocket, makes me any more likely to actually get through it than merely having the huge block of paper lurking around the house, taunting me about not reading it.

Also, Mandy loved it so much that she has stated that she would like to read it again.  So:

1) I could go to a book store and buy the book (the paperback is broadly available, on account of the movie), or just order the paperback from Amazon for … looks like $8.88 used or $10.85 new (or the hardback for $9.90 used / $14.69 new) … then we’d own it & I’d be able to read it and Mandy would be able to read it over and over, and we could even lend it out if we wanted to.

2) I could buy the kindle version from Amazon for $9.99 and read it on my iPhone.  And only my iPhone.  And Mandy can’t read it again without us buying or borrowing it again.

I can’t find the book as an eBook anywhere else (though admittedly I’m not experienced at trying – where do YOU look for eBooks?), so this may be the only e-option for this title.  Amazon’s DRM means that I can either pay twice for the two people in my household to be able to read the one book, or buy the paper book and then a totally unrestricted number of people can read it.  Let me rephrase: I can buy the electronic version for $9.99 and I’ll be the first and only person ever allowed to read that copy OR I can buy a paper copy for $8.88 that’s already been read by an unknown number of people and I can be one of many people who are allowed to read that copy in the future.

There is a reason publishers like DRM and dislike used books, and it has nowt to do with readers.

I believe that publishers should do everything they can to encourage reading as much as they can in every possible way that they can.  I believe that anything publishers do that discourages reading, or that fails to encourage reading, is working against their own best interests.  I believe that the amount of money society spends on reading material relates directly to how much people are reading – so that the best way to increase spending on books is to increase reading. Duh! Please, Macmillan, encourage me.

doubts about my writing

I never used to have doubts about my writing. Not real doubts. I knew I wasn’t writing big-L Literature, the kind that stuffy academics write theses about and debate the meaning of for centuries. I also know I am certainly more than able to write above the level of a lot of mainstream, popular (populist?) authors – better than most of what makes up bestseller lists, for sure. So many books that sell so many copies are so bad… I never used to have doubts about my writing.

Not until I began getting abusive / vitriolic / 1-star & 2-star / two-line “reviews” for my books more easily than I can make sales, I didn’t.

For every supportive, helpful reader who actually takes the time to write a blog post or post a review that’s actually composed of complete sentences and which displays a clear grasp of the English language, there seem to be two half-incoherent slams someplace else.  Then there’s the occasional coherent review by someone who clearly read the book & just didn’t like it.  Fine, alright, that’s easier to deal with – though it certainly contributes to my newfound doubts.  These few low-star reviews are often the only ones on a particular site -the people who read/listened-to my books and didn’t hate them don’t seem to bother rating them & if there are people that love them, they show up less than haters- and it sometimes gives my books a “1-star average” right out of the gate.

So I’m beginning to have doubts.  Is my writing good enough?  What can I do to improve it?  Should I be writing at all?  Why can’t I seem to “engage” my audience / build a “community” / get much feedback at all?  What about the idea that every single one of these “bad” reviews I’ve seen is by someone who clearly a) didn’t understand the book, or b) wanted it to be something I didn’t want it to be?  Should I try to have a thicker skin?  Should I subvert all my intentions, and perhaps even my passion for writing, to appeal to genre readers / mainstream audiences?  Should I give up on writing what I want, the way I want, just so my books are easier to market?  Easier to understand?  Easier to blurb?  Should I disingenuously start “participating” in book blogs & book communities I have no real interest in, in hopes that doing so will net me more readers & better reviews?

Maybe my writing really is bad. Maybe my narration (of the audio versions of my books) really is awful.  Maybe my books aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on or the space they take up on your iPod or your eReader.  I get a surprising percentage of returns of the kindle versions of my books – though I don’t really know what behaviour that reflects, on such a device.  Maybe I should give up, pack it all in, turn everything off at Lightning Source, and just do art.  Maybe I should get a ‘day job’.  (Maybe I should slit my wrists.)

It’s not a good week / month / et cetera for me, right now. The depression, right now, is making basic functionality fairly difficult.  I’m not sleeping right, except when I don’t want to be.  I’m eating too much, except when I have no appetite for days.  I even, finally, fell behind schedule on the podcast.  The first 77 episodes were all on time, then episodes 78 & 79 were a day late, each.  Today … today I definitely need to edit the next episode.  Tomorrow’s episode.  I don’t want to be behind, any more.  I don’t want to be a terrible author.  I don’t want to be hated and/or ignored.  Right now, I feel that way.  Right now, I feel like shit.  Not engaged in Phoenix’s “Art community.”  Not engaged in the “Podiobooks community,” not really.  & I don’t really feel I know how to engage.  I don’t know how to be part of a community.  & when I think I’ve seen a glimpse of the how, it feels like … well, that’s not something I want to do.  In the same way you probably don’t want to have hundreds of cockroaches crawling all over you & under your clothes & into your mouth, I get squeamish at the thought of forcing myself to do “community.” I get nauseous about the way professional marketers do their work.  I recoil from the idea of creating what will sell instead of creating what I’m inspired & driven to create.

And this post, this isn’t cohesive, it doesn’t come to a point.  I’d probably cut most of this out of a book.  Actually, based on how the book I’m working on now is going, I’d probably throw the whole thing out & try to start again from scratch.  I’m not blind to the fact that this post lacks focus, lacks a central idea, lacks a resolution.  I’m also aware of the fact this this “blog” is really just a personal journal.  This is my thoughts & feelings as I’m thinking them and as I’m feeling them.  It’s not a marketing tool.  I’m not trying to win keyword wars & earn money from ads.  This is a journal.  This is me.

wishing I hadn’t renamed my blog, right now

Calming down.

I’m calming down.

I get too upset, too easily.  Little problems sometimes feel very big.  Little frustrations, little failures, sometimes feel very big.  I can get very emotional.  A little while ago, a few words, a realization, a revelation, a simple email, got me so upset, so angry, that my vision literally went blurry.  A few words.  A small mistake.  A communication failure.  And anger.

I’m trying to calm down, though.  I’m calming down.  Nothing can be done.  Anger can do no good.  Emotional turmoil can not help, here.  Nothing can.  Too late.

Here we are: It’s May 1st, it’s supposed to be the deadline for my contest.  You remember the one, where I ask people to tell me what Forget What You Can’t Remember is about, and the winners get free books & maybe their name in my next novel?  Timed to coincide with the Podiobook’s completion two weeks ago, when hundreds of people would suddenly be able to consider and answer the question.  Plus, by using a mid-roll ad, I could have a quick announcement of the contest inserted into the Intro of every episode of FWYCR downloaded from Podiobooks.com.  Starting three weeks ago, a couple of chapters before the final chapter was posted, the ads were supposed to be started.  This would have let everyone who was partially done with the book know about the contest, and the ad would have continued after it was complete -which is a trigger for a lot of people to go dl the rest of the book, and for many who like to listen to an entire book at once to begin- for the two weeks leading up to today.  I had also hoped that this would spur people who might not be keeping up with new episodes to try to get through the rest of the book in time to enter the contest, and that if people started thinking about answering the question 3 weeks ago they might have a better chance of coming up with a good answer by today.  In addition, my contest was announced over at Podioracket (I recorded an audio insert for them, similar to the one that was to be inserted mid-roll at podiobooks.com), and I blogged about it and tweeted it and talked about it with friends.

Yet I’ve only received two responses so far.  Two.  Two?  Dozens of people have bought the paperback.  At least 176 people have downloaded all 31 episodes from Podiobooks.com (and over a thousand have at least got the first chapter).  Something like three thousand chapters should have had a reminder of the contest in them.  Is my work so seriously a failure to engage an audience that only two people were willing to send an email to try to get a free book?

It’s hard to say.

See, the email that got me so upset was one that let me know that the person over at Podiobooks.com that I trusted to turn on the ad-insert … never turned it on.  Maybe it was my fault for not being clear enough, or for putting too many thoughts/words into a single email.  Maybe it was my fault for not checking sooner to be sure that they’d followed through.  Maybe it was their fault for not doing it.  Turns out it doesn’t matter whose fault it is – as is generally true, placing blame can’t alter the outcome of events.  Deciding whose fault we think an error is doesn’t go back and run the ad in three thousand episodes.  Nothing does.  Nothing can go back and make the hundred and fifty plus people -who were actually engaged enough with my book to keep current with the episodes and/or to get the whole book as soon as it completed- aware of the contest.

I could extend the contest.  2/3 of the people who have at least downloaded two chapters haven’t finished downloading the rest of the book.  I could extend the contest, make up a new version of the mid-roll ad, and hope that some of the people still listening will bother to answer.  That’s certainly a possibility.

Instead, I’ll probably just send books to the two people who entered, put both their names in my next novel, and say ‘fuck all’ to running contests.  And to relying on other people to do what they say they’ll do.  And to the thought that I could ever build a fucking fan base.  I’m pretty sure I could name all my fans, right now, and count them up without running out of fingers.  I’ve been putting out books for five years, podcasting books for nearly a year, and I can’t get three people to send me an email to win a free book?

fuck all

Time, sleep, kittens from above

Frustrated. Time, energy, ability, focus, all frustrated. Sleep 4 hours here, 10 hours there, never know how long I’ll be awake or how soon I’ll be able to wake, when I sleep. Weeks, now.  Trouble getting ‘work’ done – podcasting on time, painting anything new, putting together videos, writing… Even thinking well, clearly, coming to anything.

Right now, as I write this, I’m having trouble sitting here watching a movie.  That’s why I have the computer in front of me; sitting still for a movie wasn’t working.  It isn’t a bad movie.  My mind and body are simply … unable to focus.

Semi-nocturnal, lately, which has been causing problems, so Thursday night I went to bed at 10PM.  Of course, I couldn’t sleep past 2:30AM, though I tried staying in bed another hour after.  Got some stuff done in the late morning, but crashed for a long nap in the afternoon.  Got up in time to finish the podcast before Mandy took me to the Sweet 16 party (formal dress) of the daughter of one of the teachers she works with.  Couldn’t really get to sleep right when we got home.

Friday night around 2AM, as I was meaning to go to bed, I heard this noise coming from the ceiling.  Like something moving around up there.  I’d heard it before, but … this time is seemed to be accompanied by mewling.  The sound of kittens.  I resolved to peek my head into a nearby hole & see if I could see what it was, and after a bit of difficulty I managed to see that a cat had apparently had a litter of 5 kittens in my ceiling.  For a couple of hours I thought about and tried to see if I could get them out through the existing hole, but that didn’t work out.  Not getting into any details here, but if I could have done so without alerting Mandy/Rachel to it (they have a soft spot for cute things), I would have destroyed & disposed of the lot of them in the middle of the night.  I went to bed with morning light coming through the windows.  Slept until early afternoon.

Got up, checked with my dad (whose house I live in), broke a hole through the wall and extracted the kittens.  Photos here.  Found the opening where the adult cat had got in originally and sealed it up, so she couldn’t get back in and cause problems.  Guessed the kittens were 2-3 weeks old.  Bought some cat milk.  Spent the next eighteen hours or so trying to get them to eat any of it.  I guess kittens that age are supposed to be eating every couple of hours.  In between hours-long fighting to get them to eat much at all (save the very eager one that gladly ate every time I offered) we tried to find them homes – asked our friends & family and everyone on twitter, Mandy blogged about it, called all the no-kill shelters she could find online (they’re all full up), and around 9AM Sunday morning I finally passed out, intending to get up again in a couple hours to try to feed them again.  Thankfully, Mandy took care of feeding them the next couple of times so I could get some sleep.  I got up in time to take them down to the Arizona Humane Society this afternoon, where I was told that since they don’t have a bottle feeding program, unless the kittens immediately started eating solid food, they’d be immediately euthanized, and would I like to keep them for a week and try to get them on solid food, myself?  No.  I just don’t want cats living in my ceiling.  It was near closing time, and the entire staff of half a dozen women and young women -all quite susceptible to cute- immediately protested their euthanasia and got to work trying to convince them to eat solid food.  A bit of quick paperwork, and we were out of there.

I’ll probably be up again all night tonight, at this rate.  Maybe I’ll go down to Super WalMart and return the other container cat milk I didn’t end up opening.  Should probably wait for tomorrow when I can stop by the Sam’s Club, too, to pick up the 5lb bag of shredded cheese that’s on our grocery list.  Maybe I’ll try to sleep, or play a game of CIV:Rev.  Maybe I’ll try to write a few thousand more words toward my book on being a MicroPublisher. Maybe I’ll just bumble around, frustrated & unfocused until I pass out.