Today marks the beginning of an epic journey for myself. Not unlike Odysseus, I am on my way home from battle. The road will be full of trials and tribulations; the Internet will be a distraction like the Sirens, luring me away from my goal with its sweet song of procrastination. I pray my leap of faith will be worth it in the end.
I quit my job to pursue my dreams of being a journalist and a writer. Today is my first day of unemployment. But I am not wasting my time. I will be applying for jobs across the country in search of that one paper, magazine, website or organization that will realize my passion for news and the written word. I have begun research for a freelance piece on ghost hunting, its rise in popular culture and its presence here in town. I will posting here more often. I will be resuming my fiction writing and seeing where that leads me.
Any rejections I receive (and there will be many, I'm sure) will only mean that I haven't found my place just yet. I won't stop until I'm employed and published. And even then, I won't really be stopping. Writing is now and will be my life. This is what I want for my life.
Of course, none of this would be possible if it weren't for the support of my family. My wife is being overwhelming gracious, understanding and encouraging. For that, I am forever grateful.
This is no longer an experiment. This is for real.
Showing posts with label Motivation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Motivation. Show all posts
Monday, April 5, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
Cormac McCarthy and a Discussion of Motivation
No one does anything without a reason. Even if you sit at home and do nothing it is with a purpose: to do nothing. Therefore it is important that our characters have motivation to do what they do. I remember one of the staple questions in fiction workshops was "Why?" Why is the character doing this? But since we are good writers we don't just want to write, "Jack killed the neighbor because he was mad." We want to show why he did it. The reader should be able to discern a reasonable motivation for a character's action.
Currently, I'm reading "Blood Meridian or the Evening Redness in the West" by Cormac McCarthy. The book is about a band of renegade cowboys who travel through Mexico slaughtering Apaches and Mexicans. It's not a story for the faint-hearted and the violence will make you gag more than once. On the surface it's about the racial hatred and land-ownership disputes in the 1840's and 50's in west Texas.
I thought I understood this basis of the motivation, a sign of the times, hatred between Texas and Mexico. But still the violence (killing women, children and infants; scalping them all) didn't quite seem justified. I felt frustrated and was beginning to feel McCarthy just wanted to write about violence. And then I came to a particular passage last night.
One of the band of "warriors" simply referred to as "the judge", a leader among the men, had a habit of collecting samples of the land they passed through. He would kill birds and stuff them, press leaves of newly discovered plants and sketch the landscape. When one of the others asked him why, he explained:
"Whatever exists, he said. Whatever in creation exists without my knowledge exists without my consent....These anonymous creatures, he said, may seem little or nothing in the world. Yet the smallest crumb can devour us. Any smallest thing beneath yon rock out of men's knowing. Only nature can enslave man and only when the existence of each last entity is routed out and made to stand naked before him will he be properly suzerain of the earth."
He goes on for a little while and sums up thusly, "The freedom of birds is an insult to me. I'd have them all in zoos."
After reading that it came to me. This is all about control and dominance. To these men the Indians and the Mexicans are nothing but something that is beneath them, anonymous creatures. The world will not be theirs until each Apache is discarded and scalped for collection. No life but their own is sacred. In saying all this the judge exposed the motivation for the entire group's actions.
And that is what we are all after, isn't it? Control. To varying degrees, of course. Some of us want to be commanders of our destiny. Some just want to know that they can control where they are sleeping from night to night. So where is your character's sense of control, and how much do they want? Where is your sense of control, and how much do you want?
Currently, I'm reading "Blood Meridian or the Evening Redness in the West" by Cormac McCarthy. The book is about a band of renegade cowboys who travel through Mexico slaughtering Apaches and Mexicans. It's not a story for the faint-hearted and the violence will make you gag more than once. On the surface it's about the racial hatred and land-ownership disputes in the 1840's and 50's in west Texas.
I thought I understood this basis of the motivation, a sign of the times, hatred between Texas and Mexico. But still the violence (killing women, children and infants; scalping them all) didn't quite seem justified. I felt frustrated and was beginning to feel McCarthy just wanted to write about violence. And then I came to a particular passage last night.
One of the band of "warriors" simply referred to as "the judge", a leader among the men, had a habit of collecting samples of the land they passed through. He would kill birds and stuff them, press leaves of newly discovered plants and sketch the landscape. When one of the others asked him why, he explained:
"Whatever exists, he said. Whatever in creation exists without my knowledge exists without my consent....These anonymous creatures, he said, may seem little or nothing in the world. Yet the smallest crumb can devour us. Any smallest thing beneath yon rock out of men's knowing. Only nature can enslave man and only when the existence of each last entity is routed out and made to stand naked before him will he be properly suzerain of the earth."
He goes on for a little while and sums up thusly, "The freedom of birds is an insult to me. I'd have them all in zoos."
After reading that it came to me. This is all about control and dominance. To these men the Indians and the Mexicans are nothing but something that is beneath them, anonymous creatures. The world will not be theirs until each Apache is discarded and scalped for collection. No life but their own is sacred. In saying all this the judge exposed the motivation for the entire group's actions.
And that is what we are all after, isn't it? Control. To varying degrees, of course. Some of us want to be commanders of our destiny. Some just want to know that they can control where they are sleeping from night to night. So where is your character's sense of control, and how much do they want? Where is your sense of control, and how much do you want?
Friday, March 13, 2009
In Search of Motivation
Things are beginning to fall back into normalcy. I am now a happily married man. The wife and I honeymooned in the Florida Keys, spending time kayaking in the Everglades and beach hopping. We spent one full day exploring Key West. The highlight that day happened to be visiting the Hemingway Home. The Pulitzer winning author lived there and wrote many of his classics right there in that home, including For Whom the Bell Tolls and A Farewell to Arms.
Seeing his studio was inspiring to say the least. I wonder how much they would charge me to let me sit at his table, in his chair, and write just for a day. I imagine that I would be very productive to write in his huge, beautiful home on Key West. Coming home, found me getting back to my part-time job, unpacking and road noise. It feels like there are too many distractions. The grass is always greener, isn't it?
I've tried working on a schedule for my writing, get so many words done each day, each week. But I'm having trouble disciplining myself. I want to write, I enjoy writing, but some days I'm just incredibly A.D.D., getting distracted by blogs, news and crappy television.
All that said, I have made some progress this week on "Red Truck." I also had an interesting experience a couple days ago that needs make its way onto a Word document for use later in some unforeseen capacity.
Seeing his studio was inspiring to say the least. I wonder how much they would charge me to let me sit at his table, in his chair, and write just for a day. I imagine that I would be very productive to write in his huge, beautiful home on Key West. Coming home, found me getting back to my part-time job, unpacking and road noise. It feels like there are too many distractions. The grass is always greener, isn't it?
I've tried working on a schedule for my writing, get so many words done each day, each week. But I'm having trouble disciplining myself. I want to write, I enjoy writing, but some days I'm just incredibly A.D.D., getting distracted by blogs, news and crappy television.
All that said, I have made some progress this week on "Red Truck." I also had an interesting experience a couple days ago that needs make its way onto a Word document for use later in some unforeseen capacity.
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