Choices and Dreams
Had kind of an interesting day at work today. Well, the last half of it was interesting; the first half bored me to tears.
First, we had an office party. We have them pretty much every month, to celebrate the birthdays for that month — it’s pretty cool. If nothing else, it’s an excuse to get away from the monitors for a little while.
This time though, they were celebrating because, aside from the birthdays, we just had our big trade show — RSNA — and our product was a big hit. I sat out most of the fireworks leading up to the trade show for personal reasons, so I kinda kept my distance throughout. Didn’t really feel like it was my thing, you know? Honestly, it felt kinda sad, watching every one else celebrate and feeling (entirely of my own volition, I assure you) a little left out.
Anyways, after that, my manager calls me in to talk to me. He’s been wanting to talk to me ever since I returned, so I was curious as to what exactly it was about. Basically, it was an “are-you-sure-you-can-do-this-job-we-need-you-to-be-focused” kinda talk. After that, I started feeling a little more in the game, you know? I mean, I wasn’t chomping at the bit to get working or anything, but it got me going a little.
See, both of these are related in my mind. The party was kinda something I always wanted to be a part of. I always wanted to be the corporate kinda guy, where you do trade shows and you work long hours and everything. Then you celebrate with the staff on a job well done. The lecture, well, I never really expected to have such a talk. I always expected myself to be on top of the game, if that makes sense.
And I know I could be. This’ll probably sound pretty damned arrogant, but I know I could be a damned good coder there if I wanted to give the effort.
The problem arises in my writing. I want to give my effort to that. I want to devote my time and energy to working on characters and plot sketches and stuff like that. I don’t want to be the corporate kinda guy anymore. I don’t really care about getting an office or anything like that anymore; I’ve … well … honestly I gave up on that dream, because it just didn’t seem realistic, knowing myself the way I do.
And the time that I’ve spent in the past couple of months pursuing the writing gig, well, that was wonderful. That felt real. That felt like I was being authentic, being honest with myself, instead of trying to be something I’m not. It was hard work, but it was effortless and honest hard work.
So where do I go? Love or money, the eternal question… Not that I really need to be asking it right now anyways. The answer is pretty obvious at the moment: there’s too many bills that need to be paid, and I’m not making a dime at the pen yet. But still, now I’m in a position to get/have a dream I used to have, when it’s no longer the dream I want.
What would you do, in that situation? Pursue the old dream, because it’s pretty much already there? Or would you puruse the dream you have at the moment? I always hear people talk about “always follow your dreams”, but I can’t say I’ve ever heard any advice on what to do when your dreams change…
Anyways, it’s bedtime, so I’ll catch you on the flip side.
–Matt
Day Job and A Little About Shattered
In the past few weeks, I was lucky enough to spend some time pretending to be a “full-time” writer: get up, write for a while, try to take a nap, try to arrange marketing, try to take a nap, write for a while, so on and so forth. It was pretty damned nice, but, as with everything that’s enjoyable, it had to end, and I’m back to the day job now.
Well, temporarily, at least 
I’m still hoping that the re-release of Like Glass and the release of Shattered will change that (hoping, not expecting). So, I’m considering it “long-term temporary” for now.
Speaking of Shattered, I’m still waiting to hear back from my early reviewers on that one. Trust me, as soon as I have something to post about what they say, you’ll hear it (well, read it). I guess that it’s about the right time to tell you more about it, since the story line itself probably isn’t going to change much in whatever drafts are left to work on.
If you don’t already know, Shattered is the sequel to Like Glass, and it picks up the story of our “hero”, Rob, a few months after Like Glass ends. Without going into too many details (because they’d not only spoil Shattered, but possibly Like Glass as well), Rob takes back to music with much more passion this time around. Things don’t go that great though, as he’s forced to deal with fun stuff like depression, suicide, and the death of a close friend.
Remember, if I’ve said nothing else about the book, I’ve said it’s supposed to be darker than Like Glass…
Anyways, I need to start getting ready for the grind again. Make sure to pick up your copy of Like Glass, now with a 20% discount throughout the end of the year, when the first edition will not be available anymore. Catch you on the flip side.
–Matt
Choices, Choices, Choices… Part II
First off, I’d like to thank everyone who commented earlier; I don’t get a lot of comments here, so to get three lengthy comments on the same post means a lot to me — seriously, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it.
I’ve come to a decision though. Well, kinda. Let me first assure you that I’m not going to give up on writing; that came out earlier, and it wasn’t quite what I meant. What I meant was that I’d be giving up on the business side of writing. That means that I’d still be writing when I got a chance, but I wouldn’t be trying to make money at it. Simply put, I’d have the “normal” day job/hobby arrangement that most people have, instead of wanting to make a day job out of my hobby, and do what I currently do as a day job for my hobby (that wasn’t very “simply put”, was it?).
Anyways, as I said, I’ve made a decision as to what I’m going to do. I’m going to keep at this whole marketing/writing-business thing for another week, till Tuesday, 11/25/2008. I have a few irons in the fires, and we’ll see what happens with those. If things don’t pan out — and trust me, I’ll let everyone know if they do, even people who don’t really give a rat’s ass — then on Wednesday, the 26th, I’m going to hang up the “pen” (well, keyboard) for a couple of weeks and just relax. I might write; most likely I’ll just play video games or something. Odds are though, if I do anything that has any redeeming social values, it’ll be programming related.
If things do, however, pan out as I’d like them to, well, we’ll see what happens then.
So, rest assured: for at least a week, you’ll still get plenty of “Matthew Cory just posted about blah; check it out…” status updates on Facebook, and plenty of spam from my groups (if you’re a member) asking for discussions on this or that. If I get bored I might even make more flair to send at you, or find some other Facebook application to use to spam you with
Until next time,
–Matt
Choices, Choices, Choices…
I’ve accepted a couple of things about myself that fairly recently learned. A lot of people might consider them flaws; I don’t. They’d be fairly easy to change, I assume, if I were to try, but I think I’ll keep them.
The first thing is that I’m a terrible multi-tasker. At least, when it comes to the big scheme of things. I’ve always been this way; in high school, I played piano quite well, but didn’t keep up with my studies. As a programmer, I taught myself almost everything I know, at the expense of music. Same with writing — since I’ve rediscovered the joys of creation, I do so at the expense of software development: I haven’t written a line of code in almost a month, even though it used to be a favorite hobby of mine.
The second thing is that, when I find something I enjoy, I dig in tooth and nail. I just cannot let it go — not only do I get tunnel vision and ignore most everything else, I’ll work at it incessantly. That led me to become a good pianist, a good programmer, and (as some will say, I hope) a good writer. The flip side to that coin is I do get burnt out on stuff fairly quickly. Instead of running a marathon with something I love, I sprint, and expend all my energy in a week, or a month, instead of a lifetime.
Hopefully you can see the relation between the two. I find something that I love, and I ignore everything else as I burn the candle at both ends, most often with a blow torch for added effect.
Recently, I’ve been able to take some extended time off from work (well, there’s a reason behind it — a good one, not in trouble or anything — that the observant mind might discover if they read between the lines of some of my recent posts). In this time, I’ve had the luxury to discover what life would be like if I were a “real” writer, able to work full time on marketing my book and writing my next one. I have to say that it’s been absolutely wonderful.
Unfortunately, the time for returning to work is drawing near, and I’m left with a choice: do I continue focusing on writing while I have the opportunity, or do I just relax for the next few weeks and enjoy the time off?
The reason I’m away from work would dictate I take the time and just enjoy it. I’ve lost my love for software development, to put it bluntly. It’s hard for me to live having just a “job” to pay the bills, one doing something that I no longer care for. I’m not a jobber — if my heart’s not in it, I can’t see doing it.
I’ll be completely honest with you, I’d hoped for a lot from this time off. I expected that I’d finish Shattered (right now only about a third of the way through it). I hoped to possibly get some kind of income started with Like Glass, either through a traditional book deal or just through online sales. Maybe even find an agent and just get things lined up before going back to work.
And, in all honesty, none of that seems to be coming to play. It’s been a lot of fun, don’t get me wrong — and quite stressful at times, true — but at the end of the day, I still need to pay rent. I know that a lot of people spend years trying to get published. Hell, I know that a lot of people spend years trying to write a novel, period. But I have a damned hard time doing software development for a living, then coming home and working on a book. Hell, right now I’ve been having a hard enough time just working on the book and trying to market the old one — I’ve been getting the tunnel vision on the marketing side, instead of the writing side.
So maybe it’d be better just to let the writing go for now, and enjoy my first “vacation” in almost ten years. Enjoy the time off, play video games and read. Then maybe I’ll want to work again when the time comes. Maybe I can get the writer/marketer junkie out of my system, and can focus on writing code again.
If I go that way though, I feel like I’m just giving up. I know I’ve given the writing stuff a decent effort, but there’s always that thought that one more day could get that big contract, could get that one sale that starts the career. Hope springs eternal, as they say.
Maybe it isn’t giving up though. Like I said, I gave it an honest effort — in my opinion, at least — and it just didn’t happen. That doesn’t mean it never will, just that it wasn’t in the stars for now. I can get some well-needed rest, and hopefully go back to work and be happier there.
Maybe, maybe maybe…
Yet Another Quickie
Can’t write a whole lot today; been house-sitting (well, apartment sitting) for the weekend and it’s time to pack before the Mrs. and I get on our way to work. But, I did want to drop a quick post just for kicks.
No programming stuff today — I’m a bit burnt out and I’m trying to save what little is left for work. Worked for most of the weekend and put in almost 12 hours yesterday trying to get a patch released, so right now coding is not top priority.
Moving back home has given me quite a bit of … inspiration? Almost, but not quite. Anyways, I’ve had a lot of story ideas brewing in the back of my mind since I got out here — some “real life” stuff, some fantasy/sci-fi stuff. I know I have at least one story — hopefully a full novel — that’s set out here that I’ve been letting simmer for a while now; it’s not quite ready to show itself just yet, but it’s getting closer.
Anyways, I need to start getting ready, so I’m cutting this one short. Just wanted to get something written down; haven’t paid this thing much attention lately.
Off to smoke.
I Am Not A Writer
(Originally posted on http://mcory.wordpress.com on 12/20/07)
In total contradiction of the epiphany I wrote of yesterday, I think I won’t call myself a writer. I actually received some comments on that post — a modestly rare occurrence — that incited quite a bit of thought last night. I have two reasons behind it, one admittedly a little petulant in it’s start, though I’ve since come to honestly agree with it, the other a bit more rational.
The first reason was most definitely inspired by the comments yesterday of Mr. Cliff Burns, particularly this:
“The terms ‘writer’ and ‘author’ confer status because we associate them with great artists and storytellers from down through the ages.”
There was much more to his comments, and I beseech you to read through them — he does make decent points. Regardless, this particular sentence stood out in my mind. It’s very true, what he says, and I can completely understand that trying to associate one’s self with the likes of all the great writers of the past is quite wrong.
That much I could live with though, as I wouldn’t feel as if I were putting myself on the same level as Poe or Melville or Steinbeck or anyone. There are also, however, quite a large number of writers in this world who do have the arrogance I spoke of yesterday, that “you can’t call yourself a writer because <blah>.” By calling myself a writer, true, I’m associating myself with some of the greatest names in history; however, I’m also associating myself with the likes of those people who have too much pride to let anyone else into the little clique.
And, by the definition I’d given yesterday, I’d also be associating myself with people like Hitler (who actually has published more than many who call themselves writers, myself included), and I’m sure quite a few others who no one would ever want to be clumped in with under the same title.
(Yes, you may cry Godwin’s Law)
That’s my petty, immature “inner child” talking. I don’t like him much, but sometimes I can’t control him. Well, I could, but sometimes it’s just more fun to let him take the reigns. The second reason I hope you’ll find less childish.
What is the point of calling one’s self a writer? There is no practical reason, regardless of whether one is worthy of the title or not. It’s purely psychological, giving yourself an identity of any kind. I say this not in terms of profession, as calling yourself a writer has marketing potential behind it (”marketing” might be a bit of a strong word for what I mean, but I hope you get the point).
If I call myself a writer, all it does is make me feel better about myself. It gives me a little psychological foundation to stand on so I can get through the day, since that’s something that I want — I want to make my living by writing, I want to study the craft, I want to get that thrill from bringing a story to the close I’d had in mind on a daily basis.
What I call myself has no bearing on any of that. Calling myself a writer does not give me a pen to write with (or a keyboard, as is most often my case). Calling myself a writer does not in itself give me that thrill I desire. If I wrote for the next twenty years, calling myself a writer would still give no benefit to my life.. None of that is related to what I call myself in the slightest.
In fact, what I call myself — whether it’s “writer” or something less controversial — has absolutely no bearing on the world anyways. I am me, not some label I decide to give myself, or that someone else decides to give me.
I am not a writer. I am a person who writes, and who loves writing. Likewise, I am not a software developer; I am a person who writes computer programs and websites, and enjoys it sometimes. I am not a musician, I’m a person who plays piano and writes music sometimes.
Right now, I’m a person who needs to get out and have his cigarette so he can get ready for work.
I Am A Writer
(Originally posted at http://mcory.wordpress.com/ on 12/19/07)
I’ve come to a conclusion that puts things in a whole different perspective. It isn’t anything mind blowing, but it’s a subtle concept that feels great when I try it on.
For most of my adult life, I’ve identified myself as a software developer. Even more so now that I can officially call that my job title. It’s what I went to school for (kinda), it’s what I’ve focused most of my energies on the past several years, it’s been me for quite some time.
There’s absolutely no reason I need to keep thinking that if I choose not to. There’s no reason why I can’t redefine myself as the mood suits me, why I can’t look at life and say “You know, this is what I do for a living, but it’s not who I am.” So, who am I?
Today I call myself a writer; that may change tomorrow, or even later today. That part’s irrelevant — why do I even need to “be” anything? The important thing is that I don’t want to be so closely tied to an industry — any industry, really, just programming in particular at the moment — that I don’t give myself the opportunity to try something else, to see what else is out there that I might love to do.
This comes up from a very common and generally harmless question that we all ask others: “So, what do you do?” It’s often one of the first questions you’ll ask someone, or be asked, when you meet them for the first time.
I hate that question.
Not that I don’t have an answer for it — always have. I just don’t like it. It’s very limiting; if I ask you “So, what do you do?” then from that point forth, you are associated with your answer. All your hopes and anxieties, dreams and fears, aspirations and failures are summed up in your response. I’ll never be able to look at you again without thinking “He’s an engineer” or “She’s an administrative assistant.” You are no longer a person; you are a job.
Okay, I might exaggerate somewhat here — you’re still a person. But my perception of you is now tinted; your choice of career will still come through as an identifier the next time I see you.
Unfortunately, that question is often clarified as “So, what do you do for a living?” That’s a terrible version, as it forces the “standard” response — a programmer, for myself. I ask it when I meet someone for the first time too, though I try to avoid that — “Where do you work” is better, as it subtly breaks the relationship between the person and the job.
So, thinking that, how do I want others to think of me? Not as a programmer. Not that I’m ashamed of it — not by any stretch — but it isn’t “me”. There isn’t really any aspect of me that can be summed up with a single response to such a specialized question. I don’t really want to be pigeonholed as a writer, either, but, as that’s where I’m wanting to go with my life at the moment, it’s more appropriate than identifying myself as a programmer.
I’ve come across a rather arrogant train of thought over the past year and a half that I’ve been giving writing a half-way serious effort: “You can’t call yourself a writer because…”
Bollocks, I tell you. (Or bullshit, if you prefer a more Americanized response.)
There is absolutely no reason whatsoever someone can’t call themselves a writer. I’m writing this blog; ergo, I write; ergo, I’m a writer. I’ve written short stories and a novel. I write emails and shopping lists and notes and poems. I am a writer.
Am I a professional writer? No. I pay my bills by developing software. Am I a good writer? That’s entirely up to you; I think so, and most who have told me anything about my writing have said they think so too, but your mileage may vary. Am I even a published writer? Not yet.
I’m still a writer though. Odds are that you are too, if you choose to call yourself that.
For some reason though, there seems to be quite a few people out there who want to put themselves on a pedestal because they’ve accomplished a certain feat. Which is perfectly fine — you worked hard on your MFA/series of novels/articles/short stories; take pride in it. Unfortunately, a lot of people have a bad habit of denigrating the accomplishments of others. “You aren’t a real writer if you don’t have your first book published and your second one ready to go.” “You aren’t a real writer if you don’t have <insert degree or award here>.” “You aren’t a real writer if you haven’t done/don’t do this, that, or the other thing.”
It’s petty and entirely useless — odds are, whatever qualifications someone tells you that you need in order to call yourself a “real writer”, they have those qualifications. Such people should be sterilized and imprisoned. There’s always someone who’s done more, who’s better qualified to be a “real writer” — if you ever start to think otherwise, or find someone who does think otherwise, I have two words for you: Harry Potter. Seriously, if you’re going to start placing requirements on yourself, you might as well set them high: you aren’t a real writer until you’ve created a cultural icon, have movies made (or planned) of all of your books, and have more money coming in from royalties on merchandise alone than the GDP of a small country.
Alas, that I could vent endlessly (and I could), but the time has come to go be a programmer for another eight hours. And to smoke; can’t forget that.
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