According to my word of the day e-mail from dictionary.com, the writing of my novel has become an idee fixe.

idee fixe \ee-day-FEEKS\, noun;
An idea that dominates the mind; a fixed idea; an obsession.

I mean, obsession would work just as well, but it’s not nearly as pretentious as say ee-day FEEKS.

Hot!

So, if idee fixe lands itself in the novel, you will know where it came from and be able to say, he doesn’t know all these big words, he just puts them into his novel ASAP before he forgets them.

With this week’s concert festivities, I’m not planning to write. That seems to be the smarter method, as opposed to trying to cram writing in here and there when it isn’t inspired.

This way, if it happens, it’s a bonus.

Catch ya’ll next week,

Jeff

Yikes…

This afternoon, I decided to bang out a “simple project” before doing my writing, and I just finished, at nearly midnight.

I decided to bring the writing diary entries on here from Oasis, since I wanted them all in one place. When the site crashed, though, I lost all the dates (after I pared down the XML by hand). So, instead of just putting diary entry #1, etc.., with no context, I hunted the entries for clues.

For example, one entry mentions that I had tickets to a Lyle Lovett/Bonnie Raitt concert, but sold it so I could write. So, that led to a lot of online searching to find when they played in Concord, etc.

Needless to say, it took much longer than I had hoped/wanted. Oh well, it’s done now.

So, the truly bored of my three readers can now read 2002 diary entries online. Most dates are accurate, the times are random. About 90% of the dates are accurate, the rest are guessed.

There is also a lapse in December 2002/January 2003, as the old Oasis site crashed, and there was nowhere to post any of it for those months. But the more you read this, i would think the ever-recurring themes are obvious enough by now…

Jeff

I basically did nothing but sit and watch movies today. Not supposed to write today, so that’s not a problem.

I still wish I could get to the point whereby I can just shut society down and write my book. Not know there is a new Jim Carrey movie. Or, more importantly, not care.

But, on some level right now, movies are a solace. (Hmm, apartment building just shook, minor earthquake? Will have to check the earthquake site and find out later). Anyway, movies are the only event in my life right now whereby I don’t think about my book.

At work, concerts, theater, pretty much everything else I do, the book is churning around subconsciously. I know it is there.

Usually on Saturdays I catch an early matinee, and occassionally, a double feature (without paying for the second movie, of course). When I refer to the movies, I often tell family or friends that I like the $3.50 matinees (since I pay $7 and see two movies).

But today, I really had no plans, and things just sort of lined up. I put in a full workday at the theater.

Starting at 10 a.m., and ending at about 5 p.m., I saw (in order) Bruce Almighty, Down With Love, The In-Laws, and Xmen 2. My first $1.75 matinees.

Sad enough, but then I was considering buying a ticket for the sneak preview of The Italian Job at 8 on the way out, but thankfully it was sold out. Of course, what do I do tonight? Watch Adaptation, rented from Netflix.

Sad to say, but the best movie all day was Adaptation. Of course, how could I not fall in love with a flick about a self-deprecating writer who thinks he is unable to write anything worthwhile? Hell, I’ve even taken Robert McKee’s story seminar, which is featued in the movie.

So, a quick run-down on what I disliked about the other movies. I swear, I would have loved all of these more a few months back. I have flipped some story switch in my head now, and when movies don’t add up, I find them unsatisfying. It can be the simplest thing, but now I’m like, “Bullshit,” and it can sink my opinion of a whole movie.

Bruce Almighty: The premise is clear. Jim Carrey becomes God, and his miracles are making his girlfriend’s breasts bigger, smiting people who have wronged him, and using his powers to put him (as a TV news reporter) right at the scene where amazing things happen all the time. I guess my biggest problem with the movie was the character arc. I can see Jim as a self-obsessed, egocentric TV guy just fine. But, there is never any change once he becomes God. He uses his power to help himself. Yeah, he slowly realizes he can do good with his power and blahblahblah, but I just couldn’t fathom anyone remaining that self-absorbed throughout such a story. And the big payoff, the a-ha moment towards the end, where he realizes how he has acted throughout his relationship with Jennifer Aniston, it makes you wonder what God sees in him to give him this power if he’s so clueless about the main interpersonal relationship in his own life.

Down With Love: I joined this movie 5-10 minutes late, as is sometimes required at the $1.75 matinee. But, basically, this movie is having so much fun making you think of other movies that it never really stands as much of a movie on its own. I am a big fan of the Rock Hudson/Doris Day sex comedies. I have Pillow Talk on DVD and all. Love that stuff. But it seemed like they were so focused with playing on those conventions that we never got to the point where they broke free and told a new, interesting story. The movie looks great, Ewan McGregor is a delight (as always), the dialogue is fun, and the movie does try to shake it up toward the end, as the characters do a bit of turnaround that was clever. I don’t think Renee Zellwegger had the presence for this part, but then again, who could stand up to a Doris Day comparison in a movie like this? If anything, though, I think it made me want to rent more old movies of this ilk, moreso than this new version.

The In-Laws: Loved the original, as I’ve always had a fondness for Peter Falk. Must be embracing my inner curmudgeon, or something. Anyway, this remake is just stale. I haven’t seen the original in ages, but it just seemed like the new version had a lot of flaws. I’ve never done any international travel, but Michael Douglas seems to go from the Czech Republic to Nova Scotia to New York (or whatever city the main action takes place, can’t recall) in a day. Then, he and Albert Brooks fly to France and back, again, under a day. But the big thing, and perhaps Alan Arkin was the same in the original, can’t remember, but the Albert Brooks character is seemingly in mortal danger, and he never gets past being incredulous that Michael Douglas is a bad father and not someone he’d like to have as part of his family. There is also a section where Albert Brooks and a “gay” warlord share special moments, and it just seemed dated to play to the gay nonsense, like it was worse that this guy might be interested in him than the fact that he also wants to kill them. And, the movie is tagged with a line, as the gay warlord is being carted away, that he’ll probably enjoy prison. I’ve really just had a problem with the whole prison/gay sex issue, so not a big fan or that being funny. Like people insinuating that someone going to prison will have to endure something much worse than the solitude of incarceration, they may get to be somebody’s bitch, and endure the worst possible thing ever, sex with another man. I mean, it would technically be rape in prison, in most instances. So, the whole rape angle, blurred with the gay angle, blurred with the sex with a man being the worst thing ever angle, just seems so played out. And if you are thinking things like this at the end of a comedy… not quite successful, is it?

XMen 2: I had been deliberating about seeing this, and actually didn’t intend to, but it had started 15 minutes earlier than when i was walking by, and they show like 10 minutes of trailers there, so I figured i didn’t miss much. In fact, I didn’t see the scene when Alan Cumming goes through the White House, which i’ve seen in previews, so that must start the film. My deliberation was about not particularly liking the first film. It just seemed loaded with so much exposition, and tons of characters all with one power, and ultimately the takeaway was “who cares?” I had been told, repeatedly, that this movie was better than the first, but that represented such a low bar for comparison that I figured I’d see it on DVD. I will concede this is, in fact, better than the first one. But, I’m still on the side of, “but who cares?” And yes, I know Bryan Singer is gay, and there is a whole mutants = gays subtext, and there were some hot guys in it. I’m still not buying it. I seem to have an aversion to comic books, and nearly every movie based on a comic book. So few are done wel. Didn’t like Spider Man, Daredevil, and the list goes on and on… much like Lord of the Rings, I will not be following the cinematic exploits of the X-men after sitting through what was amusing, but ultimately nsatisfying, twice…

So, there you have it, in case anyone else is planning their own $1.75 matinees in the near future.

Jeff

(Postscript: Entertainment Weekly asked the same questions about the gay subplot. Good to see I’m not being an overly hyper-sensitive fag about things)

Boring night, just edited a lot of the recent writing. Wrote some, but not much. I found that I was kind of going from very human chapter, to a very detail-driven chapter. And everything I wanted to write today was all workmanlike plot nonsense, so I would rather write nothing than have that pablum waste my time.

The plot needs to be hidden or even shown through characters and action. But that wasn’t coming out of me today. It was a lot of details that I am working out in my head that I might need to know to write this chapter, but everyone reading the book will be best served by me figuring out how to make it interesting, or just dump it.

So, I guess in some sick way this is progress? I mean, there are enough prior examples of me going on for pages on this kind of tripe, only to delete it later. Now, I just stop wasting my time and don’t continue writing it. When does the third part kick in, when I subconsciously know that is what is in my head and wants to pass itself off as writing for the night, and it is smothered in its sleep before it is even born on the page? That’s the goal.

I mean, the previous chapter needed a good edit, and now it is filed away, never to be heard from again until I finish the book. This chapter will be finished this weekend at some point.

The week ahead is rather rocky, though.

Tomorrow, I go to Gay Day at Great America, which is just an annual event where the park is shut down to the public, and from 5 to 1, we just go on thrill rides. Sure, there are gay comics, dance areas, and other stuff you would expect, but I’m all about the thrill rides. I really need to go there more often.

Saturday will probably be dinner and a play.

Sunday or Monday, I’m going hiking with a friend.

And, as is the custom lately, a TON of concerts hit me one after another. Some purchased months ago, some recently.

Wednesday, Flaming Lips and Liz Phair (no writing beforehand, friend coming in will want dinner).

Thursday, Blue Man Group, going alone, will write that night.

Friday, Coldplay, probably no writing.

Saturday, technically no shows, but Imperial Teen is playing nearby if I want to make it a solid block.

Sunday, Idlewild and Pearl Jam. Can write beforehand.

So, we’ll see what happens this week. Typically, I am a bit amped after a show and can’t fall immediately back to sleep, but… will that mean I can write? We’ll see…

I am pretty much open for the rest of June, no concerts aside from beck/Dashboard Confessional, a gay film festival that I really want to avoid for the most part, and then, of course, pride. So, June will largely be productive, I’m just killing off the last few days of May with some possible downtime.

When people hear me complain about the fact that I have, in most cases, great tickets to a lot of great sold out shows, they want me to just feel good that I’m rewarding myself because i’ve been working so hard lately. If I could disconnect in that way, I would. Truth is, during each concert, I will be fine. Afterward, it will gnaw on me that I didn’t write that day. That is the reality.

In large part, I am being so diligent about writing lately just so I can finish sooner, and get my life back. Although, there will still be another draft/polish after this one. But it will happen after 2 months of not even looking at the book, during which time very few people will get to read the draft, and then I go back through it, and do what is my last pass before trying to sell it.

So, that’s where things are at now..

Jeff

I think about the implications. Of diving in too deep. And possibly the complications.

OK, sorry, I realize those lyrics are a bit overkill. *rimshot*

So, tonight is a bit strange. It will look like I missed a day, when in fact, it is nearly 2 a.m. and I just finished up the writing.

Yesterday’s break in the schedule did have repercussions. The gym in the morning? Didn’t happen. I had dinner plans with friends after work, so going after work tanked, too.

But worst of all was that when I got home at about 7:30, which is typically a good time for me to still start writing for the night (2.5 hours yet before my old bedtime), I was just in NO mood to do it. Instead, my feeling basically consisted of one thought: I am so tired.

Of course, that was understandable given that even though I didn’t go to the gym when my alarm ticked off at 6 a.m., I didn’t return to sleep. I did that half-procrastination, the bath that wakes you up a bit into the resignation that you are in no mood to work out, followed by the concession that you can waste additional time, skip the weight training, and just do cardio, buying you an hour, followed by giving up on the whole thing eventually.

So, when I got home this evening, I was wiped. And, my thought was clear. Screw the writing, I’ll just go to bed. I toss the TV on to kill time, at about 9, planning to go to bed at 10, watch some horrible reality show on my one ghosted channel that barely comes in… and I fall asleep.

I wake up at about 11:30, and my reaction is typical. I should move from the couch in this room to the bed in that room.

Thankfully, something intervened, and I had a thought: I didn’t write earlier tonight because I was tired. I just had a nap, so shouldn’t that make me rested now?

And so it goes… I just sat down and banged out five pages in the last two hours. It was a little slower output than I would have liked. But, tonight, I was writing the chapter where the name of the premise of the book is revealed for the first time, so there wasn’t a clear writing plan tonight, only that I knew what I intended to write.

This is yet another example of something that barely existed as a fleeting thought in the previous draft of the book. Do I ever mention anything I like from that draft? Seems I just diss it more than anything.

So, was more creation tonight than trying to improve on something, and that always goes slower.

Then again, it’s stll in keeping with my goals. I mean, I know people who delight in a page a day. I’m more in the James Frey mentality, even though I haven’t read his new addiction memoir. In that Salon interview, they share the note he keeps posted to his iMac: “A page a day. Anything less is unacceptable you punk-ass-bitch-motherfucker. Anything less is unacceptable.”"

I’d like to say I go easier on myself. But why keep a diary if you intend to lie?

Jeff

I’m trying to title a diary entry without ellipses one of these days… not sure if I can do it.

So, tonight is one of those sucky nights. I come home, geared up to write, watch the news while eating dinner… and then wake up after having fallen asleep. But now I’m in the zone of should I just write, or am I still able to go to bed in an hour. Then again, what good is keeping up “the schedule” if I’m napping during the writing time?

I really need to go kamikaze and start writing my book like I’m a college student and not a law professor. Write at all hours, go to the gym when it fits into the schedule, and maybe live through a day at work without 8 hours sleep. It can’t be that awful. I mean, it’s kind boring and drawn out as it is, maybe being half in the bag will be an improvement?

As much as I know this schedule works, I think it is too constrictive. If I am writing, and I look to my right and see 9:20, something in the back of my head says, “Hmm, better wrap it up soon…” and I hate that.

Because, working on my novel is the best part of my day. I hate the gym. I hate work. I hate watching everything I eat so I can lose more weight. The only zenned out time each day is when I get lost in the novel.

I know I’ve said it before, but I can tell that people aren’t sold on this. There is a disconnect between my words and my actions. The problem is the only time I discuss or even write about writing my novel, I’m not doing it. There is no overlap. If I’m writing this diary, I’m not working on my novel. If I’m writing corporate nonsense for “The Man,” I’m not working on my novel. Any time I am in contact with any other human being, I’m not working on my novel.

But to keep up this “schedule” and organizing my life to ensure this window to work on the novel exists, frankly, sucks. I don’t like one bit of it. So, when people ask me how the book is going (to which I will always respond “good,” with no further elaboration, in case anyone wants to just play that conversation out in their head without my direct involvement), my thoughts go to what i have to do that day to ensure this three hour window of time is opened up so that I can write. Do i need to cook lunch and dinner at the same time, since I won’t have time to make a lunch for work after the writing. Do I have to run a quick errand before I can get home and settle in? Did I commit myself to something to wedge in before the writing, which will potentially run long, and put me in that place of wondering whether to write or bag the night as a free day?

All of that is what goes through my head when people ask about the writing, or I talk about the writing. So, I always seem slightly perturbed by the notion of having to write the book. But, I think I’ve explained in this diary before (although i wouldn’t know since I don’t actually read this diary, I just write it) that my disaffected, resigned tone is about everything else. The writing, when everything else is off the table, and I am here and inside the book, and nothing else exists. It is total, blissed out fun.

That doesn’t happen every night. Some nights it is work, and I bang through it because that is what you need to do. But the nights where you find that bliss (or that yellow, I suppose, if you read trippy Rosie O’Donnel editorials in The Advocate), it just rocks, and there’s no place you’d rather be.

So, you know what?

I’m done writing this diary for the night.

And I’m done keeping a schedule like an old lady.

I am going to post this entry. Shut down all my applications, and just work on the book, until 12, 1, 2, 3, 4, who knows (safe bet is on 12).

I will set my alarm to go to the gym in the morning, and if I’m too tired, I will roll it back and workout after work, and then I will just write until whenever again.

And since only one clock is in my field of vision when I’m writing, i think it’s time to find that roll of black tape and silence this bitchy LED prison I’ve concocted.

It’s time to stop putting all my energy into making sure I’m at my best for the part of my day that is, typically, the least important chunk for me, since it is not about reducing my body or building my novel.

Jeff

(Postscript: For those of you betting at home, the correct answer was, indeed, 12. Eight new pages in a littleover two hours. Cool. Now let’s see if the gym thing pans out on six hours sleep instead of eight.)

… and then shit happens and then you’re going that way.

Tonight ended up being more writing exercise than writing. Was writing Chapter 7, and I felt felt like I was wasting my time. Chapter 7 shares the same setting as Chapter 6, so I just felt I was walking in the same scene, showing progress literally.

Remember what happened last time? OH! Wait to you see how it changed even a tiny bit more this time around!!

Boring.

So, tonight, I took something Tom Spanbauer told me. I’m not sure if it was in class, or on the beach, or on the phone (and I desperately owe him a phone call one of these days), but he basically doesn’t plot out his books. Whenever he doesn’t know what to do, he just puts the characters somewhere and has them talk and they find their own story.

Without thinking it out, I just started writing a scene with the same two characters, but just set the scene after the event, in the corner booth of a local diner, and it immediately made it more personal, human, but still seems to be getting a lot of the same information across. But now, it starts to open up the characters a little more.

It’s still not done, more work on this tomorrow. But feeling optimistic about it. I didn’t like the two chapter in a row as they were.

Journalism made me so literal. How long will it take to kill all of that off? Something happens at this location, so let’s go to that location and show it. Blah… this is going to take forever.

If only I could have been happy in journalism. I was good at it. Not the boring tech journalism, that’s even more mind-numbing than what I do now. But, daily reporting did have its benefits. It was the most literal thing you could do. Go somewhere, look, write what you saw. Fill in the gaps. If you can do that well, and be happy, it’s a pretty cool gig.

Happiness in employment, always the deal-killer.

So, yeah, I need to watch more Quentin Tarantino. Learn from the master of juxtaposition. I mean, Reservoir Dogs is a movie entirely about a failed bank robbery where the only thing you don’t see is anything to do with the bank or the robbery. They areplanning to rob the bank, going over what will happen at the bank. next scene, some guy is shot on the back seat wondering what went wrong at the bank. That is Tarantino’s stock and trade.

Pulp Fiction seems more interested in the asides between the characters than the actual plot half the time. To the point where when John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson decide not to enter the college kids’ apartment door and keep walking down the hall, the camera doesn’t even follow them, like it’s waiting for them to proceed with the movie. Hilarious stuff. Subtle a lot of the time, too.

I do wonder if I’m doing the book a disservice with this diary. Anyone reading it may get the impression that it’s a train wreck, but that is the risk. I’ve said all along that I’m writing this for me. Once my book is published, I don’t plan to read it again, aside from, well, you know, readings. But this diary will be a continuing record of my process. The cryptic stuff above are real scenes to me. I know chapter 6 was in a gym, and chapter 7 was supposed to be a gym, but now it’s in a diner. If that changes the course of the book, it is documented here. If it ultimately means nothing than three wasted days before i write the damned scene in the gym where it belongs, oh well, that is OK, too.

Tonight’s little experiment may be a failure. It may be a crossroads for the book. It may be the crossroads that uplevels it by making it more human. who knows? All I can do it write and see what happens. I do remain confident that, despite these little fissures, the overall prognosis is good.

Then again, I have to think that to keep sitting here and writing…

Jeff

so much more to do.

No writing today, I’m sorry to say. I ended up walking from the bay to the ocean as part of the Bay to Breakers event in SF, which is an insane footrace with people in costume, naked, many pushing kegs of beers, etc. But, it started at 8, which meant I got up at 6:30, and I wasjust beat when I got home…

So, an overwhelming feeling of tiredness pretty much ruled the day, and I had to debate whether to take a nap and be able to write, or stay tired so I can fall asleep easier tonight. I think I nodded off for a bit, but for the most part, I’m hoping to fall asleep in an hour.

If I end up unable to sleep tonight, then I will have made the wrong decision.

We shall see..

Chapter 7 tomorrow, I promise. I may even have to miss a Frogs concert in town tomorrow, sad as it is to ever have to write that. Starts at 9:30, though, and I really don’t want to start the week off on a bad note, not to mention, I’m already most likely going to gay Day at Great America on Friday, so we can only disrupt the writing so much…. heh.

Jeff

The Matrix Reloaded was a trip. I may end up going again tomorrow morning just to see if i can sort out some of the details. Toward the end, they toss so much information at you, it does make it hard to keep up.

Even if it ultimately doesn’t make sense (and I may need to wait until the trilogy ends this fall for a complete assessment), the movie is still one of the most satisfying sequels ever. I’m not quite sure if it can, or even cares to, stand as its own movie. For instance, there is no backstory given, the entire set-up of the first movie is barely hinted at in this one, even though it is all crucial information to understand why anything is happening.

The Wachowski brothers seem to accept that everyone saw the first movie going in, and move on from there. It is still a dazzling spectacle, and ambitious as all hell.

I do respect Hollywood for its level of insanity. I mean, I have no deadlines. I’ve worked on this book much longer than Hollywood would ever allow. in Hollywood, the ink barely dries on a scipt that isn’t quite done, and they already are off shooting a teaser trailer for a movie that isn’t in production, but that will unspool in less than a year, and cost more than $100 million.

All of the directors age prematurely meeting insane deadlines, and then one day, the movie is released and (unless you are George Lucas or Peter Jackson), it’s pretty much done. Never revisited. A race against the clock, and they walk away knowing they did the best they could in the time they had. It has to be liberating. Of course, the first book is hopefully the only one I will ever write without a deadline, and it is a learning process just as much as a writing process, so it will ultimately get faster, cleaner, more efficient.

Tonight was mainly just the final polish on chapter 6. trying to even the pace out, putting action “on the body,” such as adding a personal detail like someone plucking lycra tights repeatedly on their leg as opposed to saying “she seemed nervous.”

So, I think I’m done with Chapter 6. Time to start nailing chapters and moving on. The book is at a place where it is about to get interesting, in that, I sense I am about to take a different turn than I did in the two previous drafts. So, I am coming to the end of the familiar, as far as setting, interaction, and how things progress, and going in a new direction, so I think my writing is subconsciously slowing up, as the familiar is always safer. But, it is time to bitchslap my subconscious and tell it to get over itself.

Chapter 6 is going in the vault. Chapter 7 begins on Sunday, and I’m not sure exactly what needs to occur.

My drafts have been rather spotty. The first draft was more an exercise in discipline than craft, just forcing me to sit down and bang it out. My guess is that two of my existing chapters are longer than what passed for a first draft. it is more like a detailed thematic outline for a book than the actual book itself.

Draft two was closer to reality with some things I truly love, which make me optimistic that I am on the right path with the book. Toward the end, it was clearly going off in the wrong direction, and was never actually finished.

So, while I’m on what I call Draft Three (to mainly avoid describing the different incarnations), in some ways, I feel i am writing the first pass at the actual book. i mean, if this were a true third draft of the completed book, I would be here trying to hone, edit, tighten, and shrink it down to its fighting weight. Instead, I am still writing more than anything.

Typically, I start with a completed second draft chapter as inspiration, pasting it into the bottom of the Word document. But then I write it from scratch again. When I finish, I see what things I said in the previous draft that didn’t make it in, and then I make a judgement call as to whether it needs to be resurrected. and when I’m done, the second draft version is either worked into the new text, or deleted.

I don’t think this method will be used again. I think I have a much better sense of what needs to be done the first time around now. And, as fate would have it, many of the things I need to write for Act Two have yet to be written, so I am starting from scratch, so thosechapters will be fleshed out, detailed, and everything they need to be from the start.

I do worry about characterization, though. How real the secondary amd tertiary characters are. On one hand, the book is told from a first person perspective, and the narrator is rather self-involved. So, if a character is irrelevant to him, does that mean I get away with just broad-stroking them? or is that just a reflexive cop-out building a case for itself?

Oh well, I honestly can’t answer these thigns until I write “The End,” take 6-8 weeks away from the book, and then open it up with fresh eyes, and see what exists. For right now, i just need to persevere. It’s all I can do.

But, if we are truly in The Matrix, this is a sucky way to be spending my fake reality. Holed up in my apartment, writing a book that won’t be real. Then again… if we’re all in the Matrix, will is still be as real to us, since we don’t know any better?

Time for bed…

Jeff