There’s a scene I like in Rocky where the bartender criticizes a guy on TV and Rocky calls him out on it. The scene goes something like this:

[TV shows heavyweight champion Apollo Creed being interviewed. Apollo encourages kids to stay in school: "Use your brain. Be a doctor, be a lawyer, carry a leather briefcase. Forget about sports as a profession. Sports make ya grunt and smell. See, be a thinker, not a stinker."]

Bartender: Will you take a look at that guy? I mean, where are the real fighters gonna come from — the pros? All you got today are clowns.
Rocky: Clown?
Bartender: That’s right, clown.
Rocky: You callin’ Apollo Creed a clown?
Bartender: Well, what else? Look at him.
Rocky: Are you crazy? This man is champion of the world. He took his best shot and became the champ. What shot did you ever take?

The bartender says something about how Rocky’s unhappy with his life, and then Rocky gets fed up and leaves.

What I like about this scene is the disconnect between their mindsets. Rocky acknowledges and respects Apollo’s accomplishments. Rocky understands that to become champion, Apollo needed to take charge of his life and take some hard risks. The bartender, on the other hand, is a typical hater.

I think that on some level, the world is divided into two camps. People who take charge of their life, and people who think that’s just too hard. This quick interaction between Rocky and the bartender demonstrates both camps really well.

For most of my life, I was in the second camp. I imagined that I needed to settle for what was put in front of me, and that the interesting and exciting lives were reserved for other people. I was sleepwalking through life, doing this and that, but never really enjoying myself.

I made a conscious decision to change all that, and started taking more risks. This past year, though, I realized that I was falling on old habits. I found myself working in a dead-end job that made me unhappy, and doing little to change my situation.

During one of my lunch breaks I was reading an article about creative writing schools. I found myself remembering what I had set out to accomplish in life, and yearning to be surrounded by fellow writers while immersing myself in their stories. I regretted the fact that I was suddenly aware of how I was clearly wasting my days away at a job I didn’t enjoy, and how it was distracting me from the writing life that I wanted. I kept reading.

The article described the Writers’ Workshop at the University of Iowa as the most renowned in the country. It mentioned how competitive the workshop was, and how the number of people accepted into the program was a relatively small number.

It seemed like a long shot. It seemed hard. It seemed like something that would not happen for me, and was clearly reserved for other people. In spite of all of these initial thoughts, I imagined what a privilege it would be if I’d get to participate.

I have realistic expectations. I applied to a backup school in case my first choice for an MFA creative writing program doesn’t work out for me — but I did apply.

I’m taking a shot. It might work out, and it might not. If it doesn’t, then I’ll have to take another shot after that.

Too many people never take their shot. They don’t take a shot at happiness, at their dreams, or at life. Maybe they’re afraid of failing, or being told “no.” Maybe they think they don’t deserve the life they want, or that they’re comfortable where they are, or that they need to focus on something else for now.

Sometimes we have legitimate excuses for biding our time. More frequently, though, they’re just excuses. We make things up to justify our current existence.

A few weeks before Christmas, I finished the bulk of my application to the schools. It was 60 pages thick and made me smile. I collected everything that needed to be sent away using a checklist, and I dropped everything into the mail with my fingers crossed.

It’s a gamble for a chance at a life that I may never see. But I’m trying my best to reach out for opportunities that aren’t right in front of me.

I may never be champion of the world at anything. Still, I’m taking my shots on my own terms. It feels good.

If you’re unsure of what to do with this year, try taking a shot at the life you’ve always dreamed of. That way, if they’re successful, you can look back with pride knowing they were responsible for the life that you’re living. And even if they’re not, then at least you took charge of your life, and took some hard risks.

4 Comments »

Last night I went to bed thinking that I was done. I had completed the 80 pages that I had set out to write to include with my application, and felt glad that I had accomplished it by the end of November as planned. Today I sat down to re-read my “masterpiece,” though and proceeded to pick apart my opening chapter.

I couldn’t help myself. I saw areas that needed improvement. Things that were unclear, or inconsistent, that needed changing. The first time I’m writing something my primary objective is to get the thoughts out on the paper. If something still needs work I’ll come back to it later and edit it until it’s finished.

The thing is, there really is no “finishing.” Not for most writers, anyway. A girl in my writing group constantly reminds me how “There is no ‘finishing,’ only ‘deadlines.’” And she’s right. If I let myself, I will edit this piece in pursuit of perfection forever.

Some of it needs work. A quick edit I did earlier in the month involved me quickly going through and removing all of my stupid cursing. It’s a bad habit I have when writing a first draft. My strategy is just to KEEP WRITING AT ALL COSTS and so sometimes when I’m trying to think of what to write next I buy myself a split-second of time by slipping in an extra, unnecessary curse word. Although they were all removed in my first “quickedit” when I actually started reading the story there was a lot that I wanted to change.

I find the writing process interesting because now that I’m 80 pages into the story, the character I was first writing about was an unspecific, barely described shape of a man that was thrust into an unusual situation. As my story developed, the character became more fine-tuned and understood. I didn’t realize exactly who I was writing about until later, so the first chapter focused more on the things around him than the main character.

That was okay at the time, because it allowed me to get the story idea out — but today I essentially re-wrote the first chapter.

I didn’t expect to have to do this, because when I was writing it the first time I thought it was fine. But coming back to it after enough time where I almost don’t even recognize my own writing, where I can view it with eyes that know where the story is truly headed, gives me the benefit of editing with certainty — I know that I’m really improving this.

Improving writing might mean taking things out. Unnecessary words bother me. Improving writing might mean adding things in. Clarity is important. Improving writing might mean realizing something you wrote in Chapter 1 is inconsistent with a detail you wrote in Chapter 15, and correcting things appropriately so they make up a coherent storyline.

Meeting a page goal was one goal. The next goal is to make it better than it is right now. It’s a competitive school, and not a lot of applicants get in. I’m viewing this piece as something that could be a ticket to a new life among fellow writers. I imagine that I won’t get in, given the odds. But I want to give it my best, you know?

I need to move forward. I spent over four hours today obsessing over individual sentences and individual words in a single chapter. I’m forgiving myself for investing that much in such a small section of the piece because it’s the hook. Maybe it’ll be the only thing the decision maker reads. But I can’t spend forever on it. There’s a deadline involved.

I told myself that I’d forfeit writing in my blog for the month of November in favor of focusing on my manuscript. It’s important to me. November’s over and there’s still work to be done, but I’m confident I’m practically done. Last night I imagined that I was, and today I learned that I wasn’t.

It’s cool. I’m almost finished. I think so, anyway.

Yet part of me thinks that I’ll refuse to send this away to be judged until the last possible moment. It’s not that I’m obsessed with being perfect, or that I’m a terrible procrastinator — it’s just that this is something that’s important to me, that also happens to be something I enjoy. There’s no “finishing” the things that you enjoy. You just keep doing them.

2 Comments »

When I started telling people how I’m thinking of going to school for creative writing, many of them said “Of course you are.”

I’m surprised at how many people recognized the writer in me before I recognized him myself. As I’m contacting former professors and professional colleagues for letters of recommendation, I’m receiving a lot of positive encouragement regarding my writing pursuit:

“I’m not surprised to hear about your interest in writing (after all, you won an award for the best journal in the Foundations of Computer Science course and consistently wrote great journals in the other courses you took with me).”

“I’m sure you’ll do well. I remember how your eyes lit up when we interviewed you and I mentioned writing skills!”

“Seriously, even when it comes to simple email messages, your writing is tactful, thorough, and engaging. You’d be a fool not to make your career in writing.”

Their comments reminded me of other compliments that I’ve received, and I began to piece together all of the signals that I’ve missed regarding my interest in writing.

I remember how when I was in college, I was attending Computer Science classes. Once all of my programming obligations were done, though, I’d spend my free time writing. I’d publish my thoughts and experiences online, on a website I hosted from my dorm room. It was fun for me, and I did it purely for recreation.

When I took the website down because I moved home during the summers, people would contact me saying they missed my writing. They wanted their daily dose, and were anxious to find out when the site would be back up. Although I was only writing for fun, people were telling me they were basically addicted to it.

I should have taken it as a sign. But I missed it.

Later, when I would channel all of my feelings into poetry or fiction stories, people would be impressed. When those who were close to me actually had an opportunity to read some of the things I’d written, they’d say “Shaun!? What are you doing in computer science? You are a writer!”

I should have taken it as a sign. But I missed it.

I remember how a girl once read the intro to one of my stories-in-progress. She asked for more, but when I explained that I wasn’t planning on continuing that story, she got mad. She glanced down at the last page, looked up at me with a face of disappointment, and then said “I think I’d actually pay to read more of this.”

I should have taken it as a sign. But I missed it.

In spite of all these obvious signals, I imagined that my writing was just “a silly hobby.” I thought that it was only a side-project, or a thing to do to pass the time. How could it possibly be anything more?

Instead of focusing on writing, I really concentrated on my computer education. They say that “hindsight is always 20/20,” and after many years in the computer industry spent working jobs that I didn’t enjoy, I looked around at the career path I had taken and wondered “What the hell happened?”

At the end of my college career, I stopped writing for a long time. I told myself how “Now it’s time to get serious. Now the fun is over, because it’s time to work.” I didn’t understand that work could be fun, if I’d only chosen a career path doing what I loved to do.

Writing is my passion. I know that now. Strangely, others seemed to know it before I did. So I’ve made some mistakes. Thankfully, it’s never too late to turn back.

In 2007, four years after college, I started this blog. I’ve tried to move it forward ever since. It’s not perfect, it’s relatively unknown, and I only consider it mildly successful — but it’s fun for me.

I like making observations about life and sharing my perspective. I understand how nobody will ever relate to every single thing that I say, but people will still read for their own reasons. And sometimes, I’ll write something that really strikes a chord with someone, who knows exactly what I’m talking about. They’ll contact me, tell me their story, and thank me. Hearing from people that become inspired by my blog makes it all worthwhile. It encourages me to keep writing.

Now, after four years of blogging, I’m trying to take my writing to the next level. I’m trying to get a formal writing education and Master’s Degree. There’s a chance I won’t be accepted into the creative writing workshop, and that fear of failure terrifies me.

That said, it’s impossible to deny who I am. I am a writer. I write because I must. To not write is suicide. It’s difficult to express, but really everything that I do gets tucked away in my brain like it’s being “saved for later.” All of my experiences can be used to illustrate an idea, describe a point I’m trying to make, or even inspire a fiction story.

It’s like there’s a tiny, unsatisfied writer in my head who is watching the world through my eyes. Whenever something interesting happens, he won’t shut up about how “This would make a great story!” Furthermore, he won’t let me sleep or relax until I’ve written something down for the day. He’s a determined little pest.

It all boils down to this: People really are “made” for things. Creative types need to create. For me, it’s writing stories. For others, it’s writing music. Similarly, some people need to build homes, or design buildings. Some people need to take cars apart, and then put them back together. Some people need to paint. My point is, there’s something in this world that we are constantly drawn to, because we are made for it.

How you spend your time defines who you are. Your interests are your passions, and your life’s passion is the one thing that simply won’t go away.

It’s what keeps rearing its head when you ignore it. It’s what you think about doing when you’re busy doing other things. It’s what keeps you up at night.

It’s what you are. And it’s impossible to deny who you are.

You may be able to set it aside for a few years to focus on other priorities — but your true calling is always in the back of your mind, waiting for its turn to take the reins. Once it finally does, you’ll feel a bit foolish. You’ll realize “Oh yes, of course. Of course! This is what I love to do! This is what I should be doing! Why didn’t I start doing this sooner?”

I don’t know why I didn’t start sooner. It’s probably a combination of having too much pride, not wanting to admit that I made a mistake, and the fear of having to start over again. All this considered, I’m excited to really embrace who I am.

I am a writer. What are you?

8 Comments »

A friend of mine was getting married. One of her friends who was part of the bridal party was notorious for running late all the time, so in anticipation of her being late to the wedding, she was told the wedding was much earlier than it actually was. On the day of the wedding, she arrived in a panic since she was over an hour late. The bride explained how she knew her all too well, and had actually given her a fake starting time for the ceremony in order to give her some breathing room.

Maybe it was a bit embarrassing for an instant, but I’m sure that she was quickly relieved that she wasn’t late at all. I found this story both funny and endearing. We all know people who are habitually late to everything they’re invited to, and although that characteristic can be infuriating when you’re trying to meet for dinner or a movie, it can be endearing once you’ve accepted that person for who they are.

Although I’m quite punctual when it comes to making plans, when it comes to meeting goals I can often fall behind. For example, I’ve had this recent goal to write 80 pages of a manuscript as part of an application to the University of Iowa’s Creative Writing Program. It’s one step in a larger plan to transition to a writing career.

The thing is, 80 pages of a book-in-progress is a lot to ask of me. In my experiences, fiction is SO much harder to write than blog posts or journal entries, because you have to make it all up from nothing. Furthermore, you can’t just write down a general idea — you must write down everything. Every motion, every decision, the beginning, end, and all of the in-between stuff. So although I’m good at coming up with main ideas for stories, when it comes to the task of actually writing them I lose focus.

I frequently know where I want my story to begin and end. Connecting the two using complete chapters with believable characters in a coherent storyline is the hard part. In order to even come close to achieving that, I must force myself to focus on the small parts. I keep my head down and my pen to the page and press the story forward even on days when I don’t want to.

Now, my goal was to write 80 pages by the end of October. It’s practically the end of October, and I only have 51 pages written. I’m short of my goal.

The thing is, I tricked myself — much like the bride fooled her friend.

When I gave myself this assignment, I tacked an index card to my goal board. It read: “80 page manuscript due November 30th”

While working towards this goal, this is the time frame I thought that I had. I planned accordingly and worked towards it, but didn’t quite make it. Fortunately, I gave myself some breathing room.

That is, when I set out to apply to the school I knew myself well enough to understand how it was going to be really difficult. Not wanting my future self to fail at meeting the goal I wanted to accomplish, I exaggerated the requirements for the application.

An “80 page manuscript due November 30th” was my first deadline. It’s a personal deadline that I made for myself with the understanding that it’s what I needed to shoot for, but was likely to miss.

When I reviewed the University’s website again today, I saw that the actual requirements and submission deadline were different:

“30-80 page manuscript must be postmarked by January 3rd”

I felt so relieved! I imagined that I needed to get 80 pages written by the end of October, so that I could have another few weeks to review and edit it, so it could be ready for submission by November 30th. As a result, I’ve written 51 pages towards an 80 page goal that’s really only the maximum number of pages. Furthermore, I have a whole extra month to finish and refine the piece I plan to submit!

The University’s website indicated other parts of the application that I had forgotten about: Letters of recommendation; official transcript; a personal statement. I started working on these other requirements today, so that they will also be ready before the January 3rd deadline. I feel like I’m going to succeed at this, because even if I don’t finish and refine all 80 pages of my manuscript, at the very least I will have enough to submit my application.

When it comes to reaching your bigger goals, especially the ones that are long-term, there will be a lot of opportunities to lose focus. My past self was really clever, purposely inflating my goal in order to ensure that I’d take action early and work towards it. I clearly knew that there would be days that I’d lose to other priorities, whether they were unexpected obligations, or days simply lost to “putzing around.”

I think that’s normal. Whenever you make plans for what you want to do with your life, you can’t be expected to be working on those plans all of the time. You’re going to lose some days. You might fall behind. If you leave yourself some breathing room, though, you’ll be pleasantly surprised at how you’re still on time.

Add Comment »

I was reading an article about how writers envision their “perfect writing space.” Once they have the space to do it, they’ll dedicate a room to their craft, purchase an expensive writing desk, and furnish their writing space with things that inspire them. After their perfect writing space is made, though, they prefer to write anywhere else.

I couldn’t help but laugh about it, because I’m guilty of this myself. In my last apartment, I had a 5′ x 9′ pantry attached to the kitchen. Instead of using this tiny room for storage, I had a great vision of using this tiny room as my dedicated writing room. I imagined myself hunched over a small desk, writing into the late night, and finishing the first draft of my first book — all because I could finally get some privacy to focus on my writing.

I set my thoughts into motion. I covered the cold tile floor with some carpet. I bought a small writing desk, and assembled it inside the room. Finally, I sat in every chair on the sales floor in Office Depot and selected the most comfortable one. My writing room was complete.

And yet it wasn’t. I had started writing longhand, but I imagined that if I was going to get serious about writing, I needed a laptop. It would be my “dedicated writing laptop” for my “dedicated writing room.”

I spent the money to get my laptop, but then it mostly remained untouched in my writing room. From the little use it was getting, I had essentially purchased a $1000 paperweight. Why wasn’t I writing?

I imagined that it must be because my writing room was so drab. White walls, with nothing to draw inspiration from. I bought and framed a 30″ x 24″ poster of Rocky, the greatest underdog story ever told. I hung it on the wall across from my desk so that it could help inspire me. But it wasn’t enough.

I bought a corkboard, and hung that on another wall. I used it to capture all of my great writing ideas as they came to me, by writing the ideas down on an index card and tacking them to it.

I bought a surfing calendar, and hung that on the wall next to the corkboard. It helped hide the ugly breaker box, reminded me of each passing day, and made me smile whenever I checked out the new month’s surfer girl.

I bought a tiny corner shelf, which I mounted across from the door. It was just big enough to hold a radio alarm clock. This way I could keep track of time, and maybe listen to the WRIF as I worked.

I bought a small, single-shelf bookshelf. I mounted it behind me and above my desk. I filled it with some of my favorite novels, a pocket dictionary and pocket thesaurus, as well as some “How to be a Writer” books, my favorite of which was called “How to Write a Damn Good Novel.”

After all of this preparation to build my perfect writing space, I still avoided it. The only time I went in there was to water the plant.

What was really happening, was that I was using the idea of writing as a form of not writing. I was imagining that I could build a writing space so that I could look at it and say “See? I am a writer. Just look. Look! Look at all this writing stuff!”

The truth is, the time spent creating my writing room was a form of procrastination. It was tricky though, because it was a hidden form of procrastination. I fooled myself, because I honestly felt like the things that I was doing were productive. Later, when I moved out of that apartment and realized how I failed to write anything at all in that room, I understood just how stupid I was being.

There’s an episode of The Office where Michael Scott has quit his job to start his own company. On his first day of his new life, he plans to start working “after breakfast.” In order to avoid having to deal with the overwhelming amount of work he has to do, he simply keeps making breakfast.

I think that in some ways, we all have these goals that we’re planning on doing, but when it comes to actually doing them we get scared. We think that we’ll fail, or become overwhelmed at the amount of work ahead of us. Consequently, we choose to busy ourselves with other projects instead.

I know that whenever I have an approaching deadline, suddenly the task of doing laundry doesn’t seem so bad. In fact I look forward to it. While I’m at it, I figure I’ll also change the sheets, and then make the bed up real nice. Similarly, I’ll decide to wash the dishes, and then the task expands and I’m suddenly be wiping down the kitchen counter. That leads into cleaning the whole kitchen, and before I know it the apartment is spotless.

Although I’m proud at the cleanliness of my apartment, I then go into panic mode. My deadline is much closer, but I’m no closer to finishing my work before it arrives.

Hidden procrastination is tricky like that. You’re accomplishing something, but at the cost of not accomplishing something else. By saying “Yes” to the distraction, you’re saying “No” to the thing that really needs to get done.

Maybe that thing that needs doing is bigger, more important, and consequently more intimidating — but if you say “Yes” to procrastination often enough, you’ll never achieve the real goals you’re anxious to accomplish.

Fight back. Ignore the hidden forms of procrastination in favor of the real tasks that need doing. Don’t tell yourself you’ll start after breakfast, or once the laundry’s done. Not later, now.

My new apartment lacks a writing room. I wrote this article while sitting on my sofa. I’ve learned that I don’t need a dedicated writing space to be a writer.

To be a writer, I just need to write.

2 Comments »