Okay, stop me if you’ve heard this one:

A 37 year old guy who hasn’t made one red cent on his writing decides to quit his full-time, well paying job, and work on his writing.

The punch line? Not really sure yet. See, it isn’t so much a joke, a story, or even an anecdote. At least not yet. It’s what I’m doing. Last week I put in my notice at my job. I’m taking a few months off to write.

Next week I take my final class for my bachelor’s degree. After 16 years of work, off and on, I am finally finishing. I go back and forth between being embarrassed about how long it has taken, and just being relieved and feeling like it’s a major accomplishment.

The past several years I’ve been focusing on creative writing and literature classes. Not the most practical courses for someone who works in the computer field, but it’s something I wanted to do. Much like taking this time off. It doesn’t make sense, but this is one of the few times in my life where I’ve decided I want to do something for myself and am actually following through with it. My life has been a series of things I have to do, need to do, and just happened to do.

No one should get the idea that I think I can make a living as a writer just yet. But I do want to give the impression that my writing has improved in the past year or two and that what I’m doing now is pretty good. And if I’ve just spent all this time and money (holy crap, the money!) on this degree, I owe it to myself to spend a few months doing the writing thing. While I’m writing, though, the resume’s will be going out as well.

Two more weeks at work and then it’s all about writing. Models, household stuff, photography, but mostly about writing. I’m going to go back to the Stephen King plan of 2,000 words a day 5 days a week (Stephen actually recommends 2k words EVERY day, but I think everyone realizes he’s a machine). I’ve got a couple of short stories to finish cleaning up, and two agents are waiting for me to send them the first fifty pages of my novel “Copper and Kerosene”. After that housekeeping is done — and I’m actually going to try to get a lot of that done within the next few weeks — then I’m starting my second novel. Hell, I figure that the only thing an agent would like better than a finished novel is two of them.

Money is going to be tighter, and Kristen will probably freak out a few times (but she’s happy for me and said it’s a great idea; further proof that I picked a good woman, or maybe a good woman picked me) but that’s nothing that hasn’t happened before. I get to spend some time focusing on what I want to do, what I think is important for me, and I plan on enjoying it for however long it lasts.

So, a 37 year old guy who hasn’t made one red cent on his writing decides to quit his full-time, well paying job, and work on his writing.

The punch line? Not really sure yet. I’m working on it.

You can be certain that warm weather has arrived when the new crop of red Swingline staplers start showing up in Hoboken. Here’s a triple-shot of some I completed this past weekend.

While the above title is very applicable to modeling, this time I’m talking about a story.

A writing group can be a blessing and a curse. Being in Altered Fluid is definitely more of the former than the latter, considering all of the great writers I get to work with, and all of the friendships that have grown out of the group, but sometimes it can cause issues with the writing process.

Example: I’ve got this story I’ve been working on for, no kidding, ten years, off and on. I pull it out from time to time, work on it a bit, and then put it away for a while. The writing group has seen it once before, and with the recent armada of pirate anthologies coming about, I gave it another go. It’s a piece set on a privateer during the War of 1812. Not pirates, but close, and unique enough that I thought I’d have a shot. The group read it, gave me suggestions, and I ran with it.

That’s when the problems started. While editing it again for submission, I ran up against two issues. One was trying to implement all of the suggestions. For some reason I forgot they are just that: suggestions. Sometimes when I think I’ve got something that’s close, I can get in the mindset that I need to just do what the other members of the group say. Hell, they are published writers, after all.

The second problem was word count. I was two thousand words over what was stated on the submission guidelines. So I started cutting and hacking at it. Completely removed the beginning that I was fond of. Cut down on the ending, back story, etc.

I sent it out. It was still long, but the pub said they were interested in the concept and maybe they’d have room for it.
I just got the rejection notice this week. They liked it, but in the end it was just too long, and maybe it would benefit from putting back the pieces that I mentioned I’d cut.

So I read it. And I didn’t recognize it. What was this? I didn’t write this, surely. Well, the plot was there, but it was so, well, stripped of any essence, flavor, or color. Essentially it was an elongated outline of the story I had originally written, and it just wasn’t as good. I had taken a story that I really liked and tried to change it so that everyone else would like it, and now the only person that needed to be happy with it — me — didn’t like it.

Every writer has seen this, I’m sure. Taking a story you like and compressing it or stretching it, changing characters, plot points, anything, to try to make it fit a market. It is in no way a situation unique to me, but this is the first time I’ve really noticed myself doing it. What’s the fun of being an unpublished writer if you’re not going to write the way you want to?  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not being as arrogant to say “I’m glad they didn’t want it.  I didn’t want them to have it anyway!”.  That’s crazy talk.  I’d have been happy to make a sale, but since I didn’t, I am glad that I now get a chance to work on this some more.

And so my story goes back into the chest for a little while longer. Not too long, though, as I do really like what I’ve got there, and I’ve already done some tweaking on the previous draft. Already it does a much better job of conveying the story I want to tell, and it is doing it in the way I want it to.

It’s broke for now, but already looking better, and the next time I’ll try to listen to my inner voice a bit more and the outer ones a bit less.