So, I started what was supposed to be a rewrite… except it isn’t.

I added the framing device and a new "introduction" from the author of the rejected manuscript that doubles as my novel (save for the opening passage from the narrator’s prior book that had been opening the novel). Then, it was right into the story as it has appeared for a while now. And, it worked.

For some strange reason, everything flows fine with the framing device. If anything, it is just small, cosmetic tweaks that jump out. Things where the character is anchoring a moment too obviously from the present, as though he doens’t have the knowledge of what comes next. If anything it is providing a roadmap for the narrative, and clearly highlighting things that are not on course. Small words and phrases here and there, an odd sentence, but no major gutting.

The section where I was conflicted about continuing bang up against the new tone as irrelevant, so there was something there, it was just hard to see it before, since it worked fine in a linear story.

In any event, this was one of the most painless rethinkings in the book to date, although when I first envisioned it, i thought I was doing nearly a from-scratch rewrite. It was more just lining up the book I wanted to write with the book I had largely already been writing.

Phew… dodged a bullet there.

So, checked out the new Wachowski Brothers movie today, first showing (yes, I know they only wrote it), since I’m such a Matrix nut.

My hesitancy against graphic novels turned into movies continues to be an accurate predictor of movies that will seemingly please comic book nerds but not people unfamiliar with the source material (see: Sin City, Daredevil, X-Men, From Hell, League of Extraordinary gentleman, etc.).

I mean, here’s the deal. I loved the look of it. I even liked the action sequences (not overly-long Peter Jackson bloatfest here). I liked the pacing, sets, music. But then we get down to the nitty gritty, the characters and the story, and it all falls apart.

V, played unnecessarily by Hugo Weaving in a mask with the inability to see any emotion, is trying to take down the totalitarian system that is controlling England, promising to blw up Parliament in one years’ time. The girl, played by Natalie Portman, ends up being saved by V from a rape by the corrupt police, so she follows him to see him blow up a tower and tell the country of his plans. Then she somehow gets involved in the plan, and ends up imprisoned, and all of this other stuff that seemingly doesn’t connect, at least in any plausible manner.

I mean, sure The Matrix was a mind-blowing movie, and the sequels were definitely tough to wrap your head around the first time you saw them. But, I’m getting the sense that, much like Syriana and Munich, V for Vendetta is a movie that purports to be about big ideas and big questions, except it is actually devoid of both, aside from raising enough issues to convince you there is more going on than it appears.

This is the first movie I saw in a theater for quite some time, as the Hollywood output lately has been dismal. I’m not sorry I went today, as this was a good action-packed, effects-laden popcorn movie. But all this hype about the movie being about terrorism and vigilanteism and political uprising and dystopian futures… sure, it’s all there, but at the end of the day, I felt it was far outweighed by style over substance.

And, I’ve come to expect more from the Wachowskis. Although, based on the reaction to the Matrix sequels, no one else may be.

The main reason for this site is because I wanted to somehow document the process of writing my novel. While not everything is on-topic, I think everything that does happen in my life contributes to what happens with the book, as well.

The current and, to be fair, ongoing dilemma with the book is that I just have this issue with tone and voice. More to the point, in writing a book in the first person, there almost seems to be some need as to why the protagonist is telling me this story. When I’m being told a story by the person to which it happened, my first thought is why I am being told this story. The fact that the story is fictional does not seem to relieve me from this narrative constraint. In fact, the element of fiction places a larger burden on it being told well. Generally, I know what I’m getting when I am buying non-fiction, it is explained up front to me.

With my novel, this issue has been responsible for the most delay, procrastination, and writing dead-ends. Nothing else comes close.

Here’s the main dilemma spelled out. I love the immediacy of the story the way it is being told at present, but why the narrator is telling this story doesn’t exist. I also think this lack of focus makes it come apart a bit in the third act, but my editing isn’t there yet. I like to flatter myself by thinking I am thinking 20 chapters down the line and trying to get on the right course before the known choppy waters ahead.

However, I do have a framing device for the story that resolves all of this. I actually love the framing device. It explains why the narrator is telling this story, gives you a better picture of what the journey is, adds elements of suspense, but I’m really in love with the way in which the story is being told now.

In short, the way I want to frame the story, which really gives the book an amazing sense of purpose, drive, and reason for existing. But, at the same time, when this perspective from which the narrator tells the book is added, a lot of what I’ve written… while it would still exist as part of the narrative, comes from a place that then robs it of a lot of the spirit and wonder that make it so alive to me.

So, the tone and writing I love, without the framing device, knowing full well that the spine and purpose of the story will get seriously muddled in the third act? Or, behind curtain number two, a framing device that flat-out make me know exactly where the book is going, provide more clarity and drive for the narrative, but render a lot of my current text not up to snuff…

It’s really a battle between head and heart. My head sides with the framing device and the clarity, because as a reader, that is what I love. My heart loves the way the story unfolds now, the characters, and the pacing.

The framing device is also minuscule, which I love. A lot of framing devices are artificial, although essential. Like Interview With A Vampire puts the framing device in the title, the vampire, for the duration of the book, is being interviewed. Now, reading the book, you nearly forget this is happening, since the interviewer has so little to do with the story. It’s basically monologue with a vampire, interrupted by this interviewer who is basically being handed a great story despite his questions. but, as a reader, you’re there. you know why the story you are reading is being told.

My framing device, albeit unwritten as of yet, is literally one page at the front of the book. Done. The rest of the book exists in its own vacuum without any callback to the framing device. If anything, I’m cribbing more from Nabokov than Palahniuk with this move, which is a step in the right direction. Nabokov (in the few books of his that I’ve read, as I am going intentionally slow to savor them, unlike the Chuck books, which i read too fast and spoiled their joy because i got so accustomed to his style and voice) always seems to include some framing device that stands outside of the main book you are reading. In Pale Fire, it is a complete frame of literary interpretation of a 999-line poem, which ends up taking on a life of its own in the footnotes and narrative about how that poem was written. Lolita are the unpublished journals of their dead narrator Humbert Humbert.

My own inexperience with the novel is why I potentially chose the wrong path initially. As has been the case in every single instance so far, the short story I wrote has been the path, and the short story was framed. Every move away from the map that came out of that burst of inspiration has caused a lot of work and rewriting. This may be that time again.

That said, most of my time is spent thinking, not writing. The reason for that is because of these issues. At this point, this story is in my blood. It courses through my flesh. In fact, if one were to take a step back, these characters I am writing about are doing huge things and building up full lives at the same time I sit in my apartment, going to bed early, not going out dancing or anything else, in order for them to do that. It is something I consider a worthwhile sacrifice. Others could call it insanity. It is, admittedly, a fine line.

An example of what this affects is that in my book, the character writes a non-fiction book, as I’m sure I’ve noted here before. Excerpts from his book appear throughout the narrative at present, mainly for expository reasons. I hate exposition. I think it is why I gravitate away from fantasy and science fiction so much, their worlds always need such explanation, and the things they explain are nearly always the only things that happen in the story. In Lord of the Rings, (don’t get me started on this movie, I really disliked it) one character always feared going into the next forest, or over the next hill cropping, and then would have to explain to the others why he was fearful. It would be that rumor has it there are monkeys with clubs in the trees ahead who attack anyone who comes through their forest. Oddly, no one else had heard of such a thing, but yet, the next 20 minutes of the movie is the battle between the people walking up a hill to toss a ring in a volcano fighting off monkeys with clubs.

The non-fiction book in the larger fiction book got me around having to have my characters explain the process of things in the book. You could cut to the non-fiction in advance of that knowledge being required by the reader, and the characters can plow on with the audience on their side. Plus, the narrator’s book is written as a mass market fitness book, so the language was incredibly direct. It’s not like I was making the reader interpret the poems of the narrator or anything.

Instead of writing the excerpts as they were needed, since they were clearly expository, well… there’s no way to say this that doesn’t seem extreme: I wrote the narrator’s book. It’s about 120 pages long. A lot of passages were things I would never need in the fictional book I’m writing. Part of me wondered if that was getting me better into the mindset of the character. Some marketing side of me said it the fictional book ever took off, I already had my spin-off book half-written. (Like JK Rowling wrote a secondary book on Quidditch for potter fans). but largely, it just felt like the right thing to do.

The introduction to the character’s book actually starts the draft of the current incarnation of my book.

However, if I go with the framing device, exposition is not a problem, because we know why the narrator is addressing us. It is more direct. There is no need to dance around it. He can explain anything directly because it is built into the form of the book.

I guess it is not too big a reveal to say that the new book, if written with the framing device, would actually be one page advising the narrator of the overall book that the lawyers for the national program he created say the draft of the book he wrote to explain the scandal and how things got to the point that they did would violate the terms of their out-of-court settlement, as well as risk exposure for more lawsuits. So, basically, you get a brief window into why the manuscript he wrote can’t be published, very little information as to what happened, knowledge that there is a scandal, and that he feels the need to defend himself. Done. Then, the rest of the book is that manuscript, with no other framing device whatsoever.

It is the smallest thing, really, but it just opens up the whole book to me in such a great deal of clarity. But, some of the more… novelly things in the current draft would seem out of place if framed like that. No one would get that lyrical and cute telling their own non-fiction story, flashing back to a prior book they wrote, when the stage has already been set to justify straightforward exposition. The book the character wrote, while being referenced, would probably not appear throughout the text as it does currently. I would, however, give the story a bit of license as far as telling his story as artfully as possible, despite it being a tell-all memoir and not the first-person narrative with a hint of omniscient tone that exists at present.

Giving the character a place in time, though, changes a lot. Right now, the character is living the story in a linear fashion. Adding the framing device says the character has already lived what you are reading, because it is the beginning of a memoir, so the writing is somewhat different from the get-go.

Then again, the biggest advice Stephen King has always given is that you need to learn to "kill your babies." Take the thing in the book you love the most and remove it. It is the thing that doesn’t belong.

Even my interview with Chuck revealed his advice on second drafts and the need to tear them up and retool them: "This is just ink on the page. It’s not chiseled in stone. You can throw
it away. You can throw as much of it away as you wanted, and it really
doesn’t matter. There’s nothing sacred about it. All of my rewrites
have to change radically. Otherwise, I have no excitement about doing
them. It would just be grunt work, unless I really got to hack and
burn."

It’s probably clear here that I am not really debating. I am justifying what might be a huge rewrite. The justification being that I am seeing the book I want to write, all of the "problems" resolving themselves. If anything, it is more a debate of trying to justify the book I have written with the book that needs to be written.

I can’t put value on my time, insofar as the amount of time it took to get the draft I have. If anything, this will go ten times faster, and a lot of the text I have will fit into the new mold, it will just need some prodding and shaping.

I’ve said this before, and I do believe it to be true even if it’s not: I think there is a huge imperative for me to deliver the most amazing, perfect book that I can, with no concessions for time, money, or anything else. The publishing world isn’t waiting on me. I haven’t missed any deadlines. So why not deliver something that reflects my best possible effort? To stick to trying to fix what I have rather than work on what I know will work is laziness. And the world, rightfully so, doesn’t reward laziness, nor should it.

If I know how to write the best version of my book, that is my job. Making the text vital and alive is my challenge. I don’t want my book to be successful despite its flaws (although there are probably some flaws outside of my current field of vision). I don’t want to sell the bad CD with the one hit single. It is the choice between artist and hack, and I need to take this seriously enough to do what is obviously right. And the right choice always seems to be the one with the most work, it seems.

So there you have it, transparency into my real-time thought process in what I think is a turning point toward the novel being finished, and sooner rather than later at that. I’m curious to see what results from this decision, but it just seems like everything I write is grounded on such a stronger foundation in this direction. Time will tell…

There is a chance I potentially unraveled my issue with the tone of the book, might have fully resolved it, we’ll see when i get back from the gym. The weather is calling for rain this afternoon, and it makes no sense to stay in and writing when it is not raining and then head out to the gym when you know it will be raining, so I’m flipping the schedule.

A few minutes ago, after the realization about the book tone, I lamented that it happened so "late" in the day, that the day was already getting away from me and I’m just having this ephiphany. The advantage with my day having started at 5:40 a.m. is that late epiphanies happen before 8:30 a.m.

I think my tonal issues were either very subtle or very obvious, depending on whether I want to think of myself as intellectual or stupid. Either way, the issue seems to be that I was confusing tone with what was happening in the book at that time. So, in the first and sixth(?) chapters, there are huge bursts of activity, a palpable energy, and those passages do have a great degree of uplift to them. The character does and says things in those moments that make them inspired, fun to read, and energetic. As the book is told in first person, it seemed I was not separating what the narrator was saying in those moments with how the character was telling the story at that time.

The goal is an even tone from end to end, even when there are moments of heightened action or emotion. So, after the post office and gym run, I plan to read what I have so far and assess whether the problem hasn’t been that the tone was uneven throughout, but rather the narrator got pulled into the action of telling his story, rather than letting the action itself do the heavy lifting. The old ’show don’t tell’ chestnut.

As fate would have it, I got 2-3 chapters past where I got held up last time, also feeling that same gnawing tonal problem bearing down on me. There is clearly something there. Hopefully it is about to be unlocked. I’ll report back later with my findings.

This morning’s post-intellectual debate pre-writing breakthrough will be a run to the post office and the gym. The post office is the bigger deal, as it kind of puts something out of my mind that need not have ever entered. On Friday afternoon, I decided to take a nice lavender bath, having put in about four hours of writing/editing, and feeling there was another 90 minutes or so in me, provided I gathered my thoughts for a bit before diving back in.

Seeing as it was Friday, I thought that my Entertainment Weekly was sitting downstairs in my mailbox. It was. This goes well with a relaxing lavendar bath soak. A big part of my writing process is finding things that are just mentally challenging enough to pull my focus from the book, so that I can more effectively background task what needs to be done with the book. I don’t quite know why that is, but it does work. At my desk, this role is performed admirably by Ms. Pac Man, but she doesn’t do as well in the bathtub.

Sadly, there was another envelope sitting there next to my Entertainment Weekly. This one was from the IRS. I tend to only get one correspondence from them each year, my tax refund. But, seeing as I haven’t yet filed my 2005 return, I knew this couldn’t be it. Instead, it was a notice that I owed them $33,000 in back taxes for last year. Technically, it was an audit, but delivered with bureaucratic bluster assuming it was in the right from the get-go. Sort of a "We know you owe us this money, but if you think we’re wrong, here’s how to appeal" mentality.

Looking at it quickly, it is obviously incorrect and just a matter of E*Trade sending them a 1099 for selling my Macromedia stock options. Now, I did sell them through E*Trade, but through a special options program they had with Macromedia, so that all of my income from the options was reported directly on my W-2 and both federal and state taxes were paid on it. The IRS wanted me to file a special capital gains Schedule D form, which is clearly for income "not reported on another form."

Somehow, knowing this was wrong, and (hopefully) easily correctable did nothing to let me put it off to the side and continue on with my day. The lavendar soak became a quick, functional bath. The Entertainment Weekly was overshadowed by thoughts of the IRS. And the background tasking on the book evaporated.

So, this morning’s post office run is an attempt to put this audit out of my mind, at least until I hear back from the IRS. Knowing I read their materials, responded promptly (telling them that when selling my $28 options at $30, I paid taxes on the $2, not the $30, since that is all I saw from it, etc.) with my stock earnings clearly posted on my W-2, documentation from Macromedia saying non-qualified stock options sold would be posted as W-2 income, and a statement outlining my 2004 stock sales, which all match the dates/trade info from the E*Trade 1099, this should put it to rest. Famous last words? We shall see.

So, that is the news for the day. It is now 9 a.m., the post office just opened, so I’ll head down there, double back to the gym, have some early lunch, and then dive back into checking on the book and hopefully putting the tone issue to rest once and for all.

Tonight, I am going to the first Arctic Monkeys concert in the United States on their first club tour. Had I known that buying $15 tickets for this show in January would have enabled me to turn them around for $150 each today, I certainly would have loaded up with a lot more. And it is certainly tempting to bail on the concert and turn them for such a hefty profit, but I really like their album, and want to check them out, so I’ll be there.

First of all, the new schedule is going amazingly well. In fact, after the first day, I’ve been waking up 2-3 minutes before my 6 a.m. alarm, so that’s good. It is also so freeing to get the writing done, and then the gym done, and know the rest of the day until 10 p.m. is mine.

Today, a new element will be folded into the mix: reading. So, the afternoon will be about restarting Flaubert’s Madame Bovary. I wasn’t too far in, but the momentum is gone.

The big news was the Oscars last night. Although I was rooting for Brokeback, it is still great knowing that I actually liked so many of the Best Picture nominees. I was good with anything but Munich taking the prize, really. I personally think Brokeback resonated more, but I am always attracted to smaller, personal flicks over bigger societal things.

Went to a party last night, and I actually won both the movie trivia quiz (which netted me a Breakfast at Tiffany’s DVD, a movie I have never seen, so that is cool), and picked the most winners from the show as well (amazing, because I didn’t go with who was picked to win, but who I wanted to win… the difference was mainly I nailed a lot of the random guess categories (design, editing, art direction) which got me a chance to pick between Walk The Line or the new Wallace and Gromit movie on DVD. I went with Walk The Line.)

I have to say that although I wasn’t a big fan of Syriana, George Clooney was definitely the best acceptance speech last night. While it might seem like he wasn’t appreciating the gravity of the moment, the beautiful thing was that he just spoke. He gave on collective thank you to everyone, but it wasn’t a list of him thanking his agent, the person who gets his coffee in the morning, etc., etc. Whereas Philip Seymour Hoffman, whom I adore, rooted for, and was ecstatic to see win mainly did a list of thank yous and only brought it around when he began talking about his mother.

Still no word from that job I hope to get. Bad timing, as I was hoping to pop home this month for a visit, and the time I wanted to be there is dwindling, with the two-week advance booking requirement. At first, I was concerned about the writing momentm if I went there, but with my mother working again, it seemed like the time would be there.

Well, just wanted to write this up before getting going here today, while waiting for the caffeine to start its magic. Catch ya later…

(a.k.a. "one last bout of procrastination")

This morning is where things change. Yes, yes, I’ve likely said that shit before on here. But today, dear reader, I am doing something about it.

Yesterday, I walked around on like 2-3 hours sleep all day, so that when it hit 10 p.m. last night I was tired. The flip side of that is that when my alarm went off at 6 a.m. this morning, I was rested.

The idea is that the book will get six hours of attention a day, minimum. Not only six, but the first six (well, once I have my oatmeal at least). This is the schedule that got the book written, so it is fitting that it will also get the book finished.

It’s time to draw phase one of my life to a close, which means by June 1 of this year, I want to be finished losing weight (not a stretch, I’m less than 10 pounds from goal; 20 from when I plan to stop, as "goal weight" of 180 pounds will also be the new ceiling, so whenever I hit 180, it is time to watch intake) and have a finished book.

I got serious about finishing the weight loss on January 1. The book? Well, I guess that would be (checks today’s date) March 4.

For people in my life, that won’t change too much. It means when I have lunch with people it will be 1-2 p.m. instead of noon.

It means I want to be in bed by 10p, so no clubbing for now, although that said, I plan to make it a point to hit EndUp or Eagle on Sunday afternoons just to be doing *something* social along those lines.

It also means no, umm, "exciting" stuff within an hour before bed, so shows like "24" and such will be viewed the following afternoon, so I can settle into sleep thinking about the book and not how Jack Bauer will get out of his current pickle.

It means planning more activity into my schedule. This is the strange paradox of how things work. By doing my writing first, I actually have more day left in which to do things. Because, despite the less than rosy output, I was always eternally optimistic I would work on the book every day, so even when that didn’t happen, I wouldn’t go and do things like see movies or such, because I hadn’t done my writing yet. By doing it, the rest of the day opens up to possibility that hasn’t existed for a while (so stupid, but true).

It means my gym activity will be an afternoon event, rather than a morning event. Not a big deal.

It means I will possibly start answering "How’s the book coming along?" more, since there might be something to say, although honestly, the answer will still not be too interesting, but that’s beyond my control.

It means no caffeine after lunch, so sleep comes easily.

It means caffeine in the morning. Mmmmm…. tea.

I think the biggest thing people don’t realize is the huge connection between my life and the book. I’m not talking how much memoir is in the fiction or anything like that. I mean that finishing the book will effectively close a huge chapter in my life. If I knew the next chapter, I might not avoid it as much. But, as that is not the case, I still do.

But similar to what is about to happen in a few minutes in Microsoft Word, it’s going to just be time to stop focusing on the whole of the next chapter, or the book overall, and just get caught up in the moment of the word, the phrase, the sentence. Is this thing in front of me what it needs to be, and changing it when it isn’t, and keeping it when it is.

So, writing a book is basically the same way you write a life.

The most important thing is just focusing on the now. The past is over. The future will take care of itself.

(And, for the record, this is being finished at 7:30 a.m., so I will work on the book until 1:30 p.m., this blog post didn’t cut into today’s time, just delayed it.)

Postscript: OK, I had to come back and share when I saw this. I just went into Word (I wasn’t lying, I really am doing this shit today, and saw the following on the title page: (Initial Draft Started: 3/3/2005)" Well, that’s quite the wake-up call, no? A year. This draft has been written (well, started, but still) for a year. Time to wrap it up. Yikes. Good kick in the ass before I even hit the first word of the book… *shudder*

Post-Postscript: I made it to nearly 1 p.m. (It’s 12:48 right now) and just hit a chapter break, so wrapping up. Still going from nothing to 5ish hours is delightful for me. Did three chapters today, although that will slow down over time, as the early chapters already had a good batch of editing, so the later ones will need more attention. But, as with every other writing and editing pass, I still really love this book.