Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category
Discussing Daughtry’s SFnal, Dystopian Single, “Artificial”
The other day, I heard a new song from Daughtry, the band fronted by former American Idol contestant Chris Daughtry. Daughtry is known mostly for their single “It’s Not Over.” That’s a hopeful song, in its way, about the ups and downs of relationships. But the new song, “Artificial,” definitely is not hopeful. In any way.
“Artificial” is about human beings being supplanted by robots, AIs, synthetics…the world has turned poisonous, and the scenery looks like an old Mad Max movie, which sets the scene for the dystopic lyrics. For example, the second verse includes the lyrics, “No sickness, no dying, no disease/no begging for mercy on your knees. No God, no religion, no beliefs.” This may seem somewhat innocuous, especially to secular humanists, but the choruses definitely aren’t. “Welcome to your worst nightmare. Days are getting dark, you should be scared. It doesn’t have a heart. Plug into the new you…the death of who we are is right here.” (I jumped a few lines down, thus the ellipsis.)
Because Daughtry himself is muscular and fit–especially for age 44–he plays himself being uploaded into the “perfect,” human-looking robot. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, it doesn’t exactly work out.
Now, why did I say fortunately, or maybe unfortunately? Well, in this dystopic nightmare of a world, that’s apparently the only way you’re going to survive. It’s a travesty; it’s not human, as the lyrics say. The whole bit about “no begging for mercy on your knees” is about compassion, and about how the robots–or whatever they are–don’t have any. They’re just beings, without true emotions; they think, but they don’t sleep. They can’t admit to fear, even if they feel it–then again, they don’t feel much of anything–and it’s obviously not the way a human being wants to live.
There is a second level to “Artificial,” though, that’s more relevant to me as a writer and editor. There’s a real problem right now, that’s grown significantly worse in the past five years, with AI programs grabbing hold of people’s work–whether music, art, writing, you name it–and not paying anything for this. If one, single AI was the creation of some guy in his basement who had no money at all, then maybe this wholesale “borrowing” (read: using without paying) would be understandable even if still wrong. However, the AI programs are being developed by some of the biggest and wealthiest companies in the world.
They don’t have an excuse. They should be paying writers, musicians, artists, etc., for the use of their works if they’re going to be used to try to bring about a better and more comprehensive version of AI (artificial intelligence).
So, the lyric “It doesn’t have a heart” in “Artificial” could, conceivably, be talking about Google. Or Microsoft. Or whomever else that’s trying to develop an AI. If they had hearts, working souls, and even an ounce of compassion, they’d not have taken so many different people’s work without paying for it.
They certainly don’t seem to have ethics, either. Or they’d be paying writers, musicians, etc., for their work. As they should.
So, getting back to “Artificial,” Daughtry seems to be saying that in the not-so-distant future, there will be copies of what he does. Purporting to be what he and his band have actually done. (Maybe he’s referring to deep-fakes, in an elliptical way.) But it’s “ice cold, mechanical. Artificial.”
A real musician, a real band, playing in real time (even if it’s recorded and played back in any medium), has a nuance and resonance that, so far anyway, synthetic programs can’t match. The sound, itself, may seem to be easily replicated, but it’s not.
You might be asking, “Barb, what are you talking about? The YouTube video will always play the same version of the song, with no variations.”
But in live performance, there will be variations. There have to be. Every time a piece of music is played, sung, or performed in any way, it’s going to be a little different in one way or another. That’s because it has life. Purpose. A sort of drive that infuses the music, makes it far more than simply numbers on a page represented as notes (and put to lyrics, in the case of Daughtry’s “Artificial”).
In short, music has soul. The best music, made by thoughtful musicians throughout our recorded history, has touched something in us, something profound. (Even something as silly as “Purple People-Eater,” with the lyrics of “one-eyed, one-horned flying purple people eater,” will make us laugh. Laughter, itself, can be profound in its way. So sayeth I, at any rate.)
Chris Daughtry and the rest of his band, Daughtry, are excellent musicians. They put together songs that tell stories. They have multiple levels in at least some of their songs (as seen with the recent song “Artificial”), which shows a remarkably fluent and in-depth understanding of what they’re trying to do. There’s life to their songs. And just a bit of edginess (which I appreciate), along with outstanding performance values, brings about the best of results.
So, “Artificial” is a departure for Daughtry due to being dystopic. But it’s a welcome one, especially under the circumstances. I hope they write a whole lot more songs about whatever they feel like, as there’s no way an AI could ever reproduce their passion, drive, wit, and ability.
Do not accept substitutes, people. (Further the writer sayeth not.)
Discussing Other, Alternate Timelines
Folks, the last several weeks have been extremely challenging. I am unable to say why, as what’s going on mostly does not pertain to me…let’s just say it’s a family health crisis and be done with it.
Anyway, I knew I should write a blog, but about what?
I could write about sports — the Milwaukee Bucks made a coaching change, mid-season, which is quite unusual — but that didn’t seem right.
I could write about politics — some of what I’m seeing from people like Rep. Elise Stefanik of NY (R) is extremely disquieting. (Rep. Stefanik seems to have the attitude of “Vice President or Bust” and is doing her best to ingratiate herself with former POTUS Donald Trump despite her past voting record, which shows at one point she was a moderate.) But again, that didn’t seem right…though I do admire Nikki Haley’s pluck in refusing to get out of the Republican primary, mind you. (She’s right that only two states have spoken. There are 48 states and a number of US territories, plus the US emigres abroad, that have yet to vote and thus indicate a preference.) While Haley is almost certainly not going to win the Republican nomination, any more than Bernie Sanders was going to win the Democratic nomination in 2016, Haley can highlight important issues to voters and ultimately make a positive policy difference (if nothing else).
And while that was a long digression about politics, that’s not what I want to talk about today. I am a SF&F writer, no matter how little-known, and thus I think about a lot of stuff most other folks don’t. I’ve done this for a long time, mind you; my Elfy books, which feature alternate universes (where the Elfs lived — don’t call ’em “Elves” as that’s a swear word to them– and the Elfys were created, among other races), were not the first time I’ve ever thought about alternate universes. I may have thought about them even sooner than age fourteen, which is when I read Philip K. Dick’s classic MAN IN THE HIGH CASTLE, which features an alternate universe where the Nazis and the Japanese won World War II.
I’m not the only one to think about this, of course. There are other writers who’ve discussed this in various ways, such as Doris Lessing and the more recent book THE FUTURE OF ANOTHER TIMELINE by Annalee Newitz. But my own ruminations lead me to how my own, personal timeline could’ve been changed by the following events:
2004: Instead of dying after four heart attacks, Michael has one heart attack and survives with brain and body intact. He does cardiac rehab, which I fully support him doing, and we get another ten-twenty years together rather than two. More books of different types result, and at least some of Michael’s artwork survives. (In this timeline, I have one piece of Michael’s artwork. That’s it. It was a brief drawing of what the uniforms looked like in his Atlantean Union universe.)
But even if Michael had still died in 2004, I had another possible better timeline with which to work, as follows:
2011: Instead of dying of a massive stroke, my good friend Jeff Wilson lives despite the heart virus that nearly killed him. He does cardiac rehab and anything else they suggest; after six or eight months of treatment, he’s allowed to leave the rehab hospital (really a nursing home). During this time, we start to date, long-distance…maybe I even manage to visit him in Fort Collins while he’s in the hospital, as it’s under the threshold of altitude that I can tolerate. (Jeff knew I get high-altitude sickness at about 7000 feet and it gets worse the higher up I go.) Books and stories follow, and whether we ever progressed beyond a very solid friendship or not, things would’ve been much better all the way around for both of us.
And even if Jeff had still died in 2011, I had yet another possible, better timeline to work with, as follows:
2014: A good friend, someone I had no idea that was interested in me, makes a play and I respond. (This happened in real life, though not in 2014.) Things progress. Books and stories follow. The relationship is serious enough to perhaps lead to marriage, and despite some major difficulties, we manage to overcome them and forge a life together.
Of course, that timeline didn’t happen either. So how about this one?
2020: Covid-19 does not happen. Millions of people do not die. (If this was lab-grown in China or anywhere else, it does not escape the lab.) People are not shut in for weeks, months, or years; there is no such thing as public-shaming over mask-wearing (I believe masks can help, especially if you, yourself, are ill and don’t know it; you won’t give it to someone else that way. But shaming people is wrong.) There’s no such thing as kicking people off public trails because of fears that they might get Covid…one of the dumbest things I ever heard, yet it happened to a good friend of mine in 2020. (I wish that hadn’t happened to him, too. As we found out later, Covid is not likely to spread outside with the same frequency as it’s going to spread inside with the greater density of people to work with.)
And as we all know, unfortunately that timeline didn’t happen either.
I’ve avoided some of the obvious ones, mind you. (Some folks may be asking, “Why not go back to 2000 and have Gore win instead of W.? Why not go back to 2016 and have your choice, Hillary Clinton, win instead of Trump?” Or even this: “Why didn’t you eliminate the war in Ukraine?”) I think many others have gone over those possibilities, and I wanted to make you think more about smaller, more personal decisions rather than stuff like that. (Well, with the exception of Covid, of course, though Covid caused more small-scale upheaval than just about anything in the past fifty years in my own not-so-humble opinion.)
So, what other timelines could you have had? What other timelines do you wish you would’ve had? (I know I wish Michael would’ve lived. Everyone who’s ever read this blog or known me in any way whatsoever should know that’s been my most fervent wish.) And is it still possible to create a better timeline in the future than the one we fear may happen? (I hope so, otherwise I’d not do anything, much less write this blog.)
Details from the Covid-verse
I just read that generative AI (chatbots, roughly) tend to write better headlines than human beings, which is why you are getting the above-mentioned headline. (And no, I did not use AI to come up with it.) Enjoy at your peril…or something.
Last week, I tested positive for Covid-19. The symptoms were not what I had expected. I still had some sense of taste/smell; what I had mostly was bronchitis, followed by a ton of sinus involvement and general “icky feeling” along with body aches, muscle weakness, and more of a type of malaise. (No, “icky feeling” isn’t exactly the same as malaise, at least not in my book.)
Because of this, when I went in, I thought I had RSV. (For those who haven’t heard of that, it’s a different type of respiratory virus that can cause many of the same symptoms.) All I knew was, I was sick, I felt lousy, I had almost no energy, and I wasn’t the only one in the family with these symptoms. (Two out of three tested positive is all I’ll say about that.)
So, they did an overnight test for Covid, both flu strains, and RSV. Covid came back positive.
As most long-term readers of this blog surely know, I never wanted to get Covid. I have asthma. I knew that if I got Covid, it was likely going to be a bad case of the sucker, and that I would not be able to do much of anything for several weeks…which has unfortunately proven to be the case. (I’d wanted to write this blog for the last ten days, for example. It didn’t get done until now.)
For me, Covid mostly was a case of “bad cold/bad flu” with a ton of coughing, high temps, body aches, etc. As it came on the heels of my father’s recent passing, I was already at a low ebb, energy-wise, so perhaps it hit me harder than it strictly needed to do, for all I know.
What I found out, when I tried to find out how much Covid was in this area of Wisconsin, is that the state now tracks Covid through wastewater (i.e., how much Covid is in the, um, effluvia when we flush our toilets). To no surprise, Racine County, Kenosha County, and the part of Milwaukee County that’s closest to me are all in the “very high” range (nothing is higher than that on the scale, either). But it’s nearly impossible to find out how Covid’s doing, elsewise, unless you want to see how many people are put in the hospital.
Mind you, anything that keeps you out of the hospital, no matter how nasty it is and no matter how much it gets in the way of your normal life, is now considered a “mild case” of Covid. So, despite how sick I’ve been, and despite how sick other family members have been, far and near, with Covid (a few of my cousins have had it in recent months, too), we all apparently have “mild” cases.
Hmph. (Or better yet, harrumph.)
I’ve had all of the various booster shots (read: vaccinations) but one, mind you. This last one, I’d meant to get before Dad died. It didn’t happen. It makes me wonder if things would’ve been better if I’d managed it…anyway, as soon as they let me, I will get the next booster shot, because I really don’t want this to hit me this hard (or worse) again if I can help it.
I know that ultimately, life is a crapshoot. We have no idea when we go out anywhere if other people are sick, much less with what. Sometimes they don’t know yet that they are ill, for that matter; there are folks who get Covid (much less other illnesses) who have no symptoms at all, so they’d have no reason to test themselves, but they can still pass Covid on to other people. You can get Covid in the grocery store, in the pharmacy, at a restaurant (if you go in; I still don’t), literally anywhere.
That said, I’ve tried hard to avoid it. (Much good that did me, but still.)
All I can ask you, readers of my blog, is this: If you are ill, don’t be afraid to get tested. It’s better to know than not. And it’s a lot better to stay home if you’re ill rather than get a bunch of people sick like Typhoid Mary did, way back when (if you don’t know the story, Mary was a kindly soul who tried to help others, but she was a carrier of Typhoid. Even after knowing she had it, she still tried to nurse the sick, and caused people to stay sick and/or die a lot sooner because of her being a Typhoid carrier with few or no symptoms).
I know it’s awful to be sick. I do.
I wish I weren’t sick now (though I am well enough to at least type this out). But all I can do now is warn you to please keep getting your booster shots, try to remain socially distant if you can in crowds (this isn’t always possible, granted), and wear masks when out unless it’s impossible for you to do so. (There are some folks who can’t wear masks due to past trauma and/or other reasons.) I have tried to wear masks whenever possible — with my asthma, sometimes it just hasn’t been possible! — and I do my best.
You do your best, too, eh?
About a Girl (Dog), Part 2…and Other Stuff
Folks, I wanted to give you a brief update regarding my Mom’s dog, Ms. Brat (also known as Bratty). She’s still hanging in there and is starting to use her front paw more and more. She is drinking water and has sporadically eaten in the past week. She’s always been picky about her food, so it’s nothing new that nothing we have tried to give her has pleased her. (It’s the same with treats, too. Sometimes she loves one variety of treats but won’t touch the other; other times it’s vice versa.)
Mom and I have been cautiously optimistic regarding Brat’s health. That said, sometime this week Brat is going into the vet’s office (a new one, as our old one retired a few years ago. Most of the routine coverage has been done at places like Petco.) in order to rule out any other problems. (For example, this not wanting to eat much at all thing is new. Why is this going on?)
Anyway, I have been doing what I can this past week to deal with mundane issues everyone on the face of the Earth has to deal with from time to time. I’ve also written some into the novel I’m writing that’s a prequel to a friend’s novel series. Once I get up to the time his series starts, I plan on writing a parallel story from my character’s POV. (I figured if Anne McCaffrey could do that in Nerilka’s Story, so could I.) It’s fun trying to fit the various pieces together, and add in small touches that my friend had in subtext but were never overt, or things that make sense from my character’s perspective (he’s a fifteen-year-old prodigy of a sort, but doesn’t realize it as he mostly thinks about what he lacks rather than what he has, as people tend to do at age fifteen).
When I get to the point I know it’s going to be a real book — into the 80K to 90K range — I’ll discuss it more. Until then, just think good thoughts for me, eh?
Because of focusing on this book, I’ve written almost twice as many words this year as I had all of last year. There’s still a month and a half to go, so I’m going to try to eclipse last year’s total and leave it in the dust. (Go from twice as many to three times as many, at the very least.) Or, in other words, I’ve written about 33K words and know there’s much more to say from my young character’s perspective.
As far as editing goes, I have two long-term edits that I must finish up soon. One I’ve taken a great deal of time on, partly because I love the author’s work so much and partly because there just haven’t been enough hours in the day to get everything done. (Too many crises, not enough of me, as it were.) The other, I’m starting a third pass on–this one’s nonfiction–and is the third book in a series of self-help books. (The first one, it’s more like a fourth or fifth full pass. But I’ve stopped and started many times in the past months.) Plus, I have two books where my client wants me to update their original files with better editing, along with two new novels…never a dull moment around Chez Caffrey, that’s for sure.
Finally, I watched in sadness as my Milwaukee Brewers flamed out in the playoffs earlier this month. They had a great regular season, winning 92 games and losing only 70. But in a best of three series, you must win one game to force Game Three. The Brewers bats were quiet, one of their best pitchers ended up coming up with a dreadful injury (he will miss nearly all of 2024, it’s been reported; the pitcher’s name is Brandon Woodruff) and couldn’t pitch, and despite sparkling defense I guess it just wasn’t meant to be for the Brew Crew this year.
One of these years, the Brewers will go to the World Series again. They last were there in 1982, when I was a youngster. I remember the series well, in fact, and would’ve never dreamed back then that the Brewers, forty-one years later, still hadn’t managed to go to the World Series again, much less win it.
But it won’t be this year, and I find that both vexing and sad.
I may write a longer post about the Brewers in a week or two, mostly because I remain so conflicted about how the season went. To have a great season like that, only to meekly bow out — at home, no less, as the Brewers’ record was better than their opponent’s record — after two uninspiring, even insipid, games just made me feel awful.
So, that’s about it! Keep thinking good thoughts for Bratty, would you? And if you have any thoughts re: anything I’ve discussed here, go ahead and share ’em. I’m always happy to talk writing, editing, or just about anything else. (As I’m sure you know already.)
Life, Prayers, Friends, Frustration, and Futility
I know I haven’t blogged in a bit, but the last few weeks around Chez Caffrey have been hectic, to say the least. I’ve been hip-deep in one edit, chin-deep in another (don’t ask), have nearly completed a third edit, restarted a fourth edit…and carved out a bit of fiction writing time for myself, too. (Not as much as I wanted. Not as much as I would’ve liked. But some.)
And, of course, I have had all the usual Real Life Issues (TM) to deal with, too.
Sometimes, I feel utterly frustrated. I want to be able to do more. I only have so much energy; it’s a finite amount, and some days it seems like it’s trickling away without my notice. There’s only twenty-four hours in a day, and it seems like I need at least twenty-six to get everything “normal” done (I know; define normal). That’s before writing, of course, so if you add in writing, along with music composition (which has taken a back seat the last few weeks as well), I’d probably need at least thirty-two hours in a day to do everything I feel I must do.
Which, of course, is flat-out impossible.
Because of the recent “sadiversary” observance (which I’ve discussed elsewhere here at my blog), too, I have been reminded of how much faith my late husband Michael had in me. He believed my writing, my music, and my music composition all mattered. He wanted me to succeed, to thrive, to be happy, and to be creative (not necessarily in that order).
I wonder, sometimes, how much I’ve managed to do in this regard. Life gets in the way. There isn’t enough of me, and there are way too many different things that must needs doing, stat…then add in the fact that a couple of my friends are in major distress right now, plus another one is watching his spouse die by inches and can’t do anything except be by her side as she no longer recognizes him…well.
Frankly, I have felt extremely frustrated over it all. I have wondered if life is just a futile thing, because there are so many things I can’t do and so many things I wish I could do (such as restore my friend’s wife to health). I believe we, as human beings, are striving toward something — empathy, creativity, passion, purpose, maybe all of it? — and yet we face so much frustration along the way.
Is it worth it?
I think so, or I wouldn’t be here now, blogging about it. I believe life is not only is worth it, but it matters so much, so intrinsically, that it’s nearly impossible to plumb the depths of just how much it matters.
That said, there are moments where I wish I could do a whole lot more than I am. There are moments where I wish, just for one moment, I could hear my husband Michael tell me that yes, what I’ve done makes sense, and yes, what I’m doing makes sense, too, and yes, what matters is that I’ve given it my best effort.
As I’ve always done. Yes.
He knew that, about me. And he knew that about life, too.
Some say that life is all about the journey. I think that’s only part of it. Yes, we journey along, and yes, we learn things on our own journeys, too. But it’s also about figuring out what’s important to you, and how to go about doing those things while pulled in seemingly a million different directions.
So. I’ve felt frustrated, and wondered if life matters, and thought about futility for the past week-plus. (Yes, some of this would’ve come up because of the “sadiversary” observance. But I think much of the rest has come about due to my friends’ various struggles, and my wishes that I could ease their burdens in some way as it doesn’t seem like I’ve been able to do a lick of good in any regard.)
What do you do when you feel frustrated? What do you do when you think everything is just futile, or pointless, or just not worth it?
I know what I do is go on. I put one foot in front of the other, do my best not to fall, and just keep going. Even if the direction doesn’t seem right, and even if sometimes I need a course correction or two, I just keep on keepin’ on.
But before I go, I would like to ask a favor. Please, if you have energy to spare this week, pray for my friends. Pray because they are good people who need good things to happen rather than the bad things that have accumulated over the past few months (months that have seemed like decades, at least to me). Pray because no one deserves to feel so terrible for so long. Pray because human beings should care about one another.
I’ve never asked this before, and I may never ask it again. But I need to ask it now, as way too many of the people I find meaningful and wonderful in my life are struggling. I can’t do much to help other than listen, which of course I’ve done…and pray, which I have been doing for a while. My prayers, however, do not seem to be anywhere near enough to positively affect the outcome.
That’s why I chose to blog today and to discuss all this difficult stuff. I want to help my friends, dammit; I want, somehow, to give comfort to them, and the feeling that their lives aren’t hopeless or meaningless or worthless.
Does anyone else feel this way? If so, tell me in the comments. Please.
When Times Are Bad, Keep Going (Cautiously)
What do you do when you encounter something that’s a difficult, intractable problem?
This thought has been one I’ve mulled over for the past several weeks, perhaps aided by the hot, humid, and nasty weather we’ve been dealing with in Wisconsin the last few weeks. There also has been long-term damage seen in the Canadian wildfire situation, not to mention Lahaina burning to the ground out in Maui. These are difficult, intractable problems that need a long-term solution, and when nothing seems to be changing — especially with regards to the Canadian wildfire problem, as it’s gone on for at least three months — it can be difficult to remember that things, in time, will likely improve. The weather changes and isn’t always awful (or at least isn’t always awful in the same way); the way we deal with long-term issues can change, too, if we wish it and work hard at it.
I know I can’t do much about the weather except adapt to it. I also know that I can’t do much to help those who are struggling with worse problems than I have, especially those that are weather-related like the Maui situation and the two hurricanes that hit Florida last week, except listen and perhaps pray while hoping for better, while continuing to deal with whatever situation I’ve got in front of me.
It’s frustrating as Hell. I dislike it intensely. But the only way through a bad situation — whether it’s weather or anything else — is to keep going. You can’t put your head in the sand and say, “I think it’s sixty degrees F outside with no wind” when it’s over 100 degrees F when the humidity has been added into the mix. You can “think cool thoughts” all you want, but that won’t change the facts.
Maybe it’s because I’m feeling more curmudgeonly today than usual, but I think this one thought is the only thing that makes sense to me: keep going, even when the situation is bad, even when everything seems pointless and stupid. Don’t give up, even if you have to retrench in some weird way just to be able to deal with whatever that’s going on that’s causing you distress. Take a step back, if you must. But don’t deny reality, because that’s pointless; don’t deny when things are bad, because that more or less gaslights yourself (as in, you don’t trust the results you, yourself came up with); don’t forget that as bad as this is, you’re smart and driven and human, and will find a way around this or any other obstacle, given time.
I also wanted to reiterate something I discussed a while back that Sharon Lee and Steve Miller put into one of their Liaden Universe books. When you’re ill, whether it’s from the heat or the cold or just because you picked up something that is giving you fits, you need to take a step back and get your rest. Eat well, hydrate well, and rest, if you are not feeling well, no matter if it’s from allergies, asthma, Covid-19, or anything else.
Also, do your best to find the humor in life whenever possible. Laughter is sometimes the best medicine of all.
Anyway, these are the thoughts that have been on my mind. I hope they’ve made a bit of sense…and for those of you struggling with intractable problems, know that I wish I could wave a magic wand and make things more bearable for you. (I don’t know how much good it is to know that, mind you. But it is the truth.)
Tell Negative Self-Talk to Take a Hike
Folks, I’ve recently realized something that I think has value. And that is exactly what I said in the title line: tell your negative self-talk–the stuff that hits you in the middle of the night, or maybe at other times, that says nothing you do will ever matter and that no one wants your creativity, thank you anyway–to take a hike.
See, because of my initial training as a musician, I know a lot about failure. Very rarely does a musician get through a performance playing everything the way they wanted. If you get all the notes right, you didn’t get the feeling right. If you got the feeling right, you missed notes. Maybe near the end of the concert, you thought you were finally going to have a perfect one…and then something went wrong at the last minute.
We’re human, so nothing is ever going to be perfect. This means if you want perfection, whether it’s as a writer or as a musician or as anything, you are doomed to disappointment.
Now, as for negative self-talk: it can be insidious. “Well, your sales record shows that no one wants what you write…” is one of the biggest problems I have right now, and I have to throw it out.
Besides, I know better than that. Sometimes you can do everything right, and for whatever reason, it’s not time for your books yet to make any sort of dent at all.
How do I know this? My friend Loren Jones had it happen to him. When his books were picked up by Twilight Times Books several years back, he did far better than he’d done with a previous micro-press. Same books. Same editor (yours truly). Better visibility and covers. Which all led to more sales–far, far more sales.
Yet Loren’s work hadn’t changed. He wrote good novels, then and now.
See, all we can do is our best. We can’t force the world to notice us, or our hard work. We can only continue to do the work, because it matters to us, and because it’s the only thing we want (and need) to do.
It can be difficult to tell those awful words inside you, that tell you that nothing you do matters or ever will, to take a hike. But you must do it.
Don’t let your fears keep you from realizing your dreams. And those fears include, most definitely, negative self-talk.
One Step at a Time
Folks, I figured this week’s post should be about something we all need.
Is it optimism? Well, optimism never hurts, but while I believe optimism is helpful in the main, it’s not going to get you to sit down and write or create (not by itself, anyway).
Is it faith in yourself and your ideas? Well, again, this does not hurt and can only help.
But when you have much faith in yourself, and you’re not sure your ideas will ever matter, what do you do then?
What I try to do is to take a step back, see the big picture, and realize that while I can’t control the market (or the court of public opinion, either, truth be told), I can control what I do.
I know that for myself, creating something new is absolutely essential. Whether it’s in music or words (no matter what type of words, either, as sometimes a poem can say more in two short pages than a novel can in hundreds), cooking something different, or just being willing to experiment a bit to learn a new skill (how I learned latch-hooking, years ago, and needlepoint, much less how to make an oboe reed and/or finish off a clarinet or saxophone reed) can help me keep going.
Life, you see, is as much about learning as it is about anything else. That includes learning new things about yourself, your talents, and the uses for same.
So, when I lack optimism, I tell myself that I’ve done creative work before and will do it again.
When I worry that I don’t have enough faith in my ideas, I put that to the side and keep going anyway.
Persist, persist, persist. That’s my motto.
It should be yours, too.
Barb Caffrey's Blog 