Eighty-one days isn't such a long time. That's the day Stick will be coming out.
One of the nice benefits of having a book like The Marbury Lens, that's received a decent amount of attention is that I'm finding now that I'm being contacted with a lot of readers all of a sudden who are seeking out and connecting with some of my earlier books.
This is a very nice thing, as a matter of fact.
I've received a number of emails this week alone about my second book, In the Path of Falling Objects, which is a kind of psycho road-trip set during the time of the Vietnam War, when there were plenty of Americans who had fairly good reasons to question everything that was happening around them.
An awful lot of that book is based on true experiences, too.
There were plenty of times during my life when I told myself, "One of these days, I'm going to write about this." (For example, I spent an awful lot of time alone in the former Yugoslavia. I was even there during the fighting of the civil war. One of these days...)
In any event, several (yikes) decades ago, I took a road trip with two great friends of mine. We drove down into Mexico. It was one of those trips where I kept telling myself, One of these days, I'm going to write about this
Some things about the trip I won't write about, but one of the stranger (and more publishable) realities was that for much of the trip I had to sit in the back seat of my friend Mike's car with a life-size tin statue of Don Quixote.
Mike didn't steal it or anything. He saw it down in Mexico, and for whatever reasons he just had to have that statue.
And, since I was the most compliant of the three of us, I was elected to sit in the backseat and keep Don company all the way through Mexico and back home. Don, as you may know, became a character in In the Path of Falling Objects, and yesterday I was asked about him.
Well. When Rich Deas was designing the cover for the book, he wanted to know what that statue may have looked like, in case it could be an element on the cover. I knew that even after all these years my friend Mike would still have Don. Don became quite a friend of ours. He was perfect company, and didn't drink to excess.
Anyway, I contacted Mike, who lives in Texas, and asked if he knew whatever happened to Don. Mike said that he still had Don with him, but that he creeped his wife out so much she made Mike keep him up in the attic. I asked if he'd be willing to send me some pictures for the art department at Macmillan, and Mike went up to the attic and snapped some for us.
Ah... memories of Don Quixote in the backseat.
Here's the real man of steel:
12 comments:
My god that thing is awesome. Too bad he doesn't have Rocinante.
I'm impressed, but laughing!
Your blog posts are a great reminder to younger writers, as well as older ones, that the best writing comes from living and not from being cooped up at a desk staring at a blank page.
Jonathon,
That, honestly, is the number one bit of advice I give kids who ask about being writers.
And I'll say something else about In the Path of Falling Objects which I think Matthew will find interesting (since he is currently reading the book):
The letters from the character Matthew in the book, who tells a parallel story from Vietnam, are about 90% verbatim taken from letters my older brother wrote home when he was a child fighting in the war in Vietnam. I saved them. They're sitting on my bookcase directly behind me as I write this.
I don't even want to admit how old I was before I realized that Don Quixote was really DON QUIXOTE, not Donkey Hodey (like Mr. Rodgers said.)
He's a handsome devil, I'll give him that. (Er...Don Quixote, Not Mr. Rodgers.)
Thanks for the anecdotes.
In the last few hours, I have been contemplating my "writing life" (which turned two years old on Sunday). I haven't been to any conferences and I haven't entered any agent contests. I really thought that that's what I was working toward.
But holy crap, I have been so wrong.
I've been working toward something worth writing about. Ya know...living life and all that.
So now I am contemplating how I will balance my blog as I drift away from the online platform I have built up.
If only I had finished a book within the last two years...I wouldn't be blathering like I am now.
Moral of the story: re-prioritizing.
Jonathon,
You have it right. I know there are going to be people out there who will take personal offense by this. I mean nothing personal to anyone. Conferences are largely a waste of time. They extort funds from people who haven't got anything to write about and never dedicated themselves to learning the mechanics how to write in the first place.
That said, there are occasional examples of extremely talented and hard-working writers who, by attending conferences, were able to connect with agents and editors they never would have met simply because of the geographic or economic realities of where they live.
That's the one-tenth of one percent scenario. And those writers (and I can name some, but won't) have always had rich life experiences that became watering holes for their creativity -- as well as craft and intelligence -- already going IN to those conferences, and they've written some beautiful books.
Yeah... go out. Bump into stuff. Learn. that's the horse that will pull your cart. The conference/contest route is a tired old donkey.
Hope that doesn't piss too many people off.
I actually knew that it was heavily based on your real brother (can't remember where I saw you say that) but I didn't know they were almost the exact letters. It sort of makes the whole story so much scarier knowing that it's basically true.
And I would never go to a conference to try to hob nob with agents. That seems utterly pretentious to me. I am going to WFC this fall (where I hope Shannon will drive me up to meet Andrew) but that's only because my CP Simon is making me go, so that we can get drunk and throw parties in our hotel room. We don't even have tickets to the actual conference.
I was wondering why all the writers I really love are old as hell like Andrew. Now I know: they've lived long, interesting lives filled with stories worth telling.
I wouldn't worry about it Jon, there isn't any one sure-fire recipe that will work for everyone. There's nothing wrong with your journey being your own.
old as hell.
I'll come down to San Diego for WFC and hang with you, Shannon, and Simon.
We'll see who's old as hell.
Shannon might not be allowed out of her writer's cave, though.
You're in much better shape than me, Andrew. Besides, old is just a state of mind. Like people who don't prance.
Can't wait. I'll have to bring you something. Maybe a bottle of Knob Creek.
Oh hell. Don is way more fabulous than I ever could have imagined.
Matthew, I'm not sure if this is where you read it, but on my interview with Andrew, he spoke about the letters that his brother wrote home from Vietnam.
Drew,
Love the Quixote! I'm also reading In the Path of Falling Objects, and that bit about your brother--I can't imagine how intense and difficult it must have been incorporating those into the book. The book I'm currently writing (hopefully, this will speak to Jonathon's concerns; I've been there) is a YA contemporary in which I've incorporated all sorts of rich details from my own personal experiences. Despite my youth (I'll be 23 in Sept), I've had a rich life. Particularly high school, because I went to private boarding school. Joined choir, traveled a lot, had a lot of unique experiences.
Basically, what I've learned is that you never truly know how unique your own story is until you start writing it down. Or, at least, bits of it. Talk about flavoring your fiction!
Good luck to you, Jon! :)
(And Drew, 81 days is WAY too long to wait for STICK. Just sayin')
I think you might be right, Lady Reader. I remember reading your interview with him.
Post a Comment