Patterns... or... Here we go again.
It's happening again. I'm seeing these patterns reveal themselves in my life. I enjoy them so much because (whether you think it's a delusion or not) they make me believe that there is a reason and a purpose for the people, challenges, and events in my life. I like thinking that there is a reason and intelligence behind my struggles and my successes.
1. Steinbeck is my favorite author. I was doing a general Internet search of Steinbeck (I can't remember what prompted it) and I found a quote about "poor people." Here it is: ﻿﻿﻿"If you're in trouble, or hurt or need - go to the poor people. They're the only ones that'll help - the only ones."
2. On Facebook, I saw the film of the experiment in which a supposedly homeless child was out on the street, and the only one who helped him was a legitimately homeless man. In the comments, I supplied the quote.
3. Yesterday, in a job interview, I was asked to explain why people are poor. Well, this is a near impossible question because there are so many reason why this could happen to a person. I thought about myself at the age of seventeen when I lost my parents. I was so, so fortunate that my parents were able to care for me financially beyond their deaths. If they hadn't, I can't imagine what I would have done. I thought about myself, in shock and grieving, barely able to complete high school. How could I have tackled high school, college, and a job??? I can't even imagine what would have happened to me.
About an hour ago I woke up, unable to sleep. Ate an apple, heated some milk, and now my eyes are droopy. I spent the last half an hour reading the sequel to Dark Corner as it is so far. And so far, I'm pleased. Writing is so strange for me because I don't remember what I write. It might was well be someone else writing this stuff, because I don't recognize it. I just revise and edit it. I recognize my voice in the writing, of course, and I recognize my goofy love of paranormal stuff. Sometimes it embarrasses me how much I love ghosty, psychic stuff. I guess it touches on the same reason that Harry Potter is so popular. Doesn't everyone wish that the occult (why would I used such a loaded word as "occult" when I could say "magic" and make it more wholesome and Disney, somehow?) were more palpable and malleable? That we could take the elements of our life that are not to our satisfaction and use it to alter and repair the problems? So, I'm not such a freak for being attracted to the occult. I always was interested, and it made my mother really nervous when I was a kid. Truthfully, I'm no practicing pagan or Wiccan, or whatever the appropriate label is, but I still find it all fascinating.
The point to this blog (gag) is something I heard on public radio (gag). You know, I just love public radio, even as the world news tortures me. This was the show Radiolab, and what really got my attention was the opening of the show, rather than the intended theme. The question author Eugene Thacker (In the Dust of this Planet) was answering for himself was whether he should still write the books he felt compelled to write if he knew no one would read them. And I've already given away the answer with the word, "compelled." Of course he would write them. I feel the same way. Writers are a dime a dozen. We were born with this internal drive to put fun house mirror reflections of ourselves out to the world. It might be fun if these creations made money or if people actually read them, but ultimately that is not the reason they exist. If the end goal of money and readers was the only motivator, there wouldn't be much (if any) high quality texts out there.
I like to write. When I come back to read and revise, I'm usually pleased with what I have done. Now that Dark Corner is out there in book form, I feel embarrassed about it for some reason. I'm sure that if I read it again I'd be pleased with it. It became just the sort of fun that I wanted it to be. I loved reading books in that same style when I was a child, so I do admit to liking my own story. I think it is the innocence of it in this cynical world that embarrasses me, but I write for myself. I really do.
That doesn't mean I would turn down financial success if it came my way. Being firmly part of "the other 98 percent" money would be a miracle. But if it means I have to stop writing and put a bunch of time, effort and money into marketing, I would just prefer to write my books and let them float out there in the unknown. Now if I had a prayer or spell, I would just create time to write, because 4:00AM is not ideal.
I am making a point to write a post today because I am really happy and content. I don't much feel compelled to write when I am in a happy mood. I use writing to cope with darkness, and sometimes to express that strange, deep feeling I get when my family is out of town and I am alone. Today is nearing its end and though it was an ordinary day it was also quite a satisfying one: took my son to a flexibility workshop with Bill "Superfoot" Wallace (great with kids, by the way); went on a rushed trip to Target with my daughter; arranged for shipment of a new color printer to replace my still-under-warranty Epson; worked with my children on our model of a Viking ship; went to church (snore); and paid bills while watching the old Franco Zeffirelli's old mini-series, Jesus of Nazareth (awesome) while paying bills.
Part of the reason that I am happy is that paying my bills didn't seem so terrible. Most people would probably think my finances are pretty awful, but today I felt like I could at least meet my bills. I'm not adding to my debt, anyway. That, for me, is a reason to be happy.
Today, I also put a few feelers out about about Compulsion Reads which is possibly up for sale. I have too many irons in the fire to run another business, but I think it is such a wonderful idea that I pray some bibliophile will take it over. Readers need some tool to lead them to the treasures sitting amongst all that indie-junk, and high quality authors who self-publish deserve to have their work promoted. Maybe some voracious reader will see this post and take over the biz. That is my hope. A good idea should not die.
Finally, I am thinking about it. It is percolating in there. The time is coming to outline the next novel in my series. I have a loose idea about where it is going to go. I have had doubts about writing it because publishing certainly not been a lucrative vocation, yet Robin is calling. Maybe I'll do my usual -- write it and stick it in a drawer. Maybe I'll just send the Word file to those few people who have read Dark Corner. I'm not sure, but I do know that it wants to be written -- and that is another nice thought to close a cheerful day.