Aw, Shucks
Wow, my readers are the best! Your comments made me all warm and fuzzy. And some of them were damn insightful. Thanks, guys and gals.
I have to say, I kind of regret having tacked on all the self-condemnation at the end of my previous entry. I wrote a great story and then tainted it with all the self-criticism. To be honest, originally those feelings were going to be the point of the entry; my story of coming out to Kirk was just going to be the background, and my main point was going to be that I was so envious and jealous that he’s the type of person he is, and that I’m not, and that he has a book out and I don’t. Of course, it wound up reversing itself, and the story became the main point, thereby making the entry much more entertaining. I don’t know if people prefer to read my stories or if people prefer to read about all my self-doubt and worry and confusion. My opinion is that my moments of negativity and self-doubt become tiresome to read about after a while, and that it’s much more enjoyable to read a good story.
And when I kick myself publicly, people respond with comments such as “you’re a great guy!” and “I really like your writing!” Don’t get me wrong, I love it — but I start to feel like I’m sitting in an AA meeting or something. Worse, I start to worry that people are going to think that I only express self-doubt here in order to elicit praiseful public comments about me. There’s probably a bit of truth to that. I mean, like any human being, I need and want praise. But I don’t want people to mistake my articulation of my doubts for an attempt to milk that praise.
At least not an explicit attempt.
Perhaps that’s the verbal equivalent of putting up one hand in protest and making a “keep it coming” motion with the other, but so be it. Here at the Tin Man, we’re honest, and we revel in our insecurities.
Anyway — I received a great e-mail, which, in addition to some of your comments, made me realize that there’s some dysfunction inherent in the desire to be published. For me (and probably for some others), the desire to be published is symptomatic of a desire to gain approval, a desire to win, a desire to have my talents recognized. I don’t care about the money, which is a good thing, because published authors who make money are few and far between.
(Where the hell did that expression come from, anyway? “Few and far between?” Far between what?)
I’m a competitive guy, but passive-aggressively so. My competitive spirit is at war with the feeling that competition is wrong and unproductive. So instead of fighting like mad to trounce my perceived competition, I just sulk about it. Isn’t that easier?
It’s always been this way. Winning never earned me much praise, so I figured, why bother? When I was a high school junior in Tokyo, there was this written math competition among students from several different international schools in the area. I took the pre-calc exam. Among all the students who took the pre-calc exam from all the different schools, I came in second place. My parents shook their heads and said, “Typical.” They assumed I just didn’t want to come in first and that I’d somehow sabotaged my performance. And they spoke so forcefully that I wondered if I had.
But if I’d really wanted to sabotage my performance, you’d think my score would have been much lower.
Anyway, I don’t know why I’m this way. I don’t know why I’m so competitive. I tried to figure it out in therapy tonight, unsuccessfully. But I’ll get there.
So much for gazel-naving.
In other news, I can’t wait to see The Lord of the Rings, which opens in less than an hour. I haven’t been this excited about a movie in a long time. Stupidly, I hadn’t bought an advance ticket. But tonight after therapy I walked over to a movie theater where it’s playing, and I managed to get a ticket for tomorrow night. I’m seeing it late — 11 p.m. It’s a three-hour movie, so with previews and transportation I probably won’t get home until after three in the morning. But since I’ll get to see it on opening day, it will be worth it. I’m seeing it by myself; none of my friends here are Tolkien fans, and I didn’t want to see it with a non-Tolkien fan. But I figure, I read the books alone — I can see the movie alone. And I’m not reading any reviews until after I’ve seen it.
I went to the Twentysomething holiday party tonight. My friend UrbanPlanner went last year and met his boyfriend there; they’ve been dating a year now. I didn’t meet anyone there, but I did get to chat with some acquaintances, and I went out to G with them afterwards.
So, life goes on.
I was gonna comment on your “Kirk” entry, but I didn’t ’cause 1) I fear that I already take up more than my share of bandwidth on your comment pages (not that you or anyone has ever said so, though), and 2) everyone pretty much said what I was going to say.
But, oh hell, I’ll add my $.02 anyhow… your previous entry is just another reason why you’re my favorite blogger, and why I keep coming back. It was Classic Tin Man material, I’m tellin’ ya — wonderful, wonderful stuff. And it was interesting that you said in your next entry that maybe you shouldn’t have tacked on your self-recriminating remarks at the end, because I was thinking exactly that when I first read it (but didn’t want to say so, since the “Kirk” entry was strong, regardless).
Anyhow, the main thing I wanted to say is what Jonathan, I think it was, said in the previous comments section — that you’re already the success you aspire to be.
It’s funny — I’m friends with a super-talented guy who walked away from his nascent acting career (he was even in a couple small indy films) and now just works a “regular” job because he didn’t see himself ever really “succeeding” — which he defines as being “a star.” I think that’s hooey. The world is full of people who are out-and-out successes, true stars in their own constellations, even though the vast majority of us will go through life without ever knowing of them.
You know where I’m going with this: like I said, you already are the success you aspire to be. A publishing deal, as desirable and worthy a goal as it may be, doesn’t confer legitimacy on you. You’re already The Real Deal. You’re certainly something of a “god” (small ‘g’) to me, just as Kirk was/is to you — and from what I can glean from others’ comments, I’m not the only one who feels that way.
On the other hand… speaking of book deals, Sarah Kate, in your comments section the other day, said something that I’ve thought, but never thought to vocalize, for some time now: that maybe we’ll be reading your entries compiled in book form some day. I totally believe that to be possible. Probably even probable. You’re just so good at telling a story. Your story. And, because you’re so accessible in the story you tell, so easy to empathize with, it’s our story, too.
No wonder you have so many readers. And grateful ones, at that.
Errr…
I think I must have missed something somewhere along the lines yesterday. I mean, I read all about Kirk, and I read the alleged self-condemnation at the end of it. And I didn’t read it as self-condemnatory at all.
For every published writer out there there are at least a dozen unpublished who could be. Sometimes they’re easily better than the published guys – at least in terms of writing ability. But writing well and being published are a thousand miles apart, and a whole different mind set is involved.
For a kick off, to be a published novelist (or whatever) you have to be able to write a novel. That’s a big book. Whole lotta words. More than you write in a web log entry. So you need to be confident you can sustain an idea for that long, that you can hold a reader for that long, and that you physically have the stamina to write it. Thinking ‘oh, the story about how it took me twelve years to ask out the guy behind the counter at Gap would make a great novel’ is an age away from writing the novel.
So you’ve got the text in front of you. Or you’ve got a significant portion of the text and you know you’ve got the oomph to finish it. Next stage is to convince yourself that it’s worth publishing. Your friends tell you it is – but they’re your friends, so you doubt them. You put it away for six weeks, re-read it, and you think it’s still good – that’s a bit better. But actually submitting it to an agent is scarier. Because they might say it’s rubbish. You need to develop an arrogance about your work. And that’s hard. The longer you leave it the harder it gets.
But you can’t get too precious about it. Even if you get a publishing deal, an editor’s going to get their hands on it. Someone else is going to be stroking your baby, playing with it. And even though the goal is to make it commercial, to make you more money, it’s still someone interfering with your artistic integrity, damn it!
And then there are the critics to face.
There’s a huge difference between writing for a small audience and getting something published. And that’s why it takes a kick up the proverbial arse to do it. If you’re not born with the arrogance to get away with it, you need to force yourself to do it.
I’ve come across a few on-line writers who I saw as potential novelists. One of them made a serious attempt, and realised that she didn’t have the staying power to plot out a full novel. But at least she tried.
I think you’ve got the writing ability to produce something incredibly readable. I saw the post about Kirk as another kick-up-the-arse to yourself to make you do it. Prove to yourself that you can.
Mr. Read’s writing is all flash, no soul. You are a more thoughtful writer than he is. People who achieve success in their 20s are only going to crash & burn sooner, as far as I’m concerned. What about all those prom kings/quarterbacks and queens that peaked in high school and are now pot-bellied losers??!
I saw LOTR today at noon, and it was delicious. I can’t wait to hear what you think after you see it tonight. :)
There’s a lot of storie-telling quality in what you write on tinmanic. I think that’s why you have attracted a regular crowd. Even if you feel like you are “whining”, I think you’re storie-telling needs always surpass that.
I’ve reread several posts and while most of the people would blog something like “Thursday. I feel like shit and the world is all goofy”, you always explain at lengths why you feel like shit, place it in the perspective of what’s going on, refer to earlier events when you felt shit etc.
It’s amazing. And a good read.
I’ve learned that most people at a no.1 spot have given up on a lot of things to achieve that no.1 spot – I’ve never met anyone who was born at a no.1 spot and had nothing to do for it.
“Few and far between.” I think it relates to the chronological distance between those few — in our current example, published authors who make a great living come along once in a great while.
Then again, what happens when you get a few great, wealthy published authors back-to-back, bangbang, one right after another?
“Few and not-so-far between?”
And why did I bother to explain something so obvious?
Probably as an excuse to say this — the stories are terrific reads, and the self-condemnation and waffling and insecurities just make them more human. So write as you wish to write. And we’ll keep complimenting that writing.
Maybe you should attempt to get a piece onto This American Life. You have a similiar style as the show; Most of your pieces, if a little longer, would fit in really well.
It may take you twenty submissions to finally get an acceptance, but it’d be a good, reasonable start to a larger effort. The producers of the show also seem very willing to work with someone’s creative bent (to get it into a workable medium for the show) if they think it’s a match.
For example, your whole gay-interlude on 9/11 would play really well, especially the ending (discovery of his weird website lie) not to mention his story about a brain-tumor that destroyed any hope of him possessing a frontal lobe (or whatever he said ;-). Anyway, it’s weird enough, urban enough, and twenty/thirtysomething enough to go over extremely well with their audience. It’d also take you maybe two nights worth of work to throw together a draft of the whole story so you could give them a treatment of your idea.
.rob
You’re wondering why you’re so competitive?!! I believe you answered your own question with the description of your parents berating you by saying, “typical” at the competition. I would NEVER have heard that from my parents. Only praise for doing so well! Of course, that’s probably why I don’t have a competitive bone in my body…