A Work in Progress…

Here’s a quote from a 2005 writing class student autobiography:

I’m both proud and ashamed to say that I only read fiction. I can’t remember the last non-fiction book I finished but I love novels. It’s not surprising that most of my writing projects take on the form of novels. Unfortunately, over the years I’ve learned that my scope has significantly exceeded my skill and discipline. I have three half-finished novels that take up space on my hard drive. Two of them get picked up every two months and revised or mutated, but rarely added to. They’re both very alive in my head, just not so much on paper.

And so I wrote. I wrote and I wrote. By 2008, I finished the first full draft of a novel and even sent it around. I dreamed of movie deals, and agent interest, and any interest…

Well, I revised. And I did a NaNoWriMo for a new novel. And I kept taking classes. In the spring of 2010, at a college reunion, I said aloud: I want to be a science-fiction writer.

It was a weird thing to say. I read a lot of literary fiction. I’m not a cosplayer, don’t own a lightsaber. Yet, most of my preoccupations were highly speculative (a word I wouldn’t learn for a while to come). 

2010 sticks in my mind because, despite lack of publication, or writing routine, or anything that might possibly justify the title “writer,” I was bombastic enough to proclaim: “I shall be writer.” It was a moment of naive candor and I’d said it to other people. I was on the record with myself. I was accountable.

Time has snuck past me. I’ve be cranking away for somewhere between five and twelve years and it feels like I’ve both come a long way, and that I’ve barely begun. 

Newsflash: 2013 to end soon

It’s December. Seriously. December.

Excellent news, though. Nature Futures will be publishing a short of mine called “No Fury Like a Woman Cold Called”. It’s an homage to PK Dick crossed with a little Douglas Adams and a dash of David Ives. Or something. So that’s super-cool.

I spent this year pursuing higher education in the form of a Certificate in Television Writing from the Writers’ Program at UCLA Extension. Managed to cram that puppy into nine months and have turned out my first spec (Burn Notice so it’s already stale) and a spec pilot Shrinks (I want to go with Mental, but it was the name of a series just four years ago, who knew?). So that’s kept me busy. It’s nearing the launchpad for general acclaim-seeking after a pro critique and a few more drafts.

Yesterday I had inspiration for the novel that’s been gathering viruses on my hard drive. It’s got a killer first 150 pages and a fun but unsatisfying ending. I’ve been stuck on this simple question: how does society unknow something? That’s all I had to figure out. And maybe I have. TBD.

I haven’t been nearly as aggressive with short fiction as I should. Maybe 2014 is a year to do that. I have a YA dystopian thing that keeps clawing its way into being, six years after that market got flooded.

Finally, I have this crazy idea I’m calling mindpunk for the time being. Freud. Einstein. Nineteenth century Vienna. Physics. Repression. History. That one’s a bugger.

Vita brevis, ars longa, occasio praeceps, experimentum periculosum, judicium difficile