Uncategorized

Why Write Now?

~ Donald J. Lund

Write right now.  And then every moment every after.

It does beg the question, why?

For those souls who discovered the writer within and then dedicated themselves to the craft at far younger ages than me, more power to you.  There is a part of me that tugs at the question of why it took so long to jump into this with both feet, but I’m not big on regret.  I think it took all of the moments, previous jobs, life experiences, piles of miscues and flat out failures to reach a place where the light only illuminates the path I am on now.

As noted previously, I’ve always known what I wanted, but the practical aspects of such a pursuit pushed the priority to write on to the back burner.  It took several life events to literally shake things up so radically, my entire life perspective was altered about everything I thought I knew.

I was certainly going through the motions, doing what society deemed I do next, finish a college degree, find an acceptable vocation, work a job 10-20 more years and retire to shuffleboard or travel to warm places.  And then on a day when I was walking around in a deep funk, my wife hit me with a question, “Why did you ever stop writing? You’re a writer.”

I wasn’t certain my loving wife, who has a busy career of her own even read any of my newspaper articles over the years.  The fact that she had, and she noted the impact those words had on her and the community did give me pause, and I had no answer to her question.  I really didn’t know why.

The next life changer was losing my father.  He was the healthiest, happiest man I knew and he was taken from this world far, far too soon.  A seemingly innocent misdiagnosis of indigestion turned into stage four esophageal cancer.  If they caught it any sooner, the incredibly brave 14-month battle could have gone my Dad’s way, but it didn’t.  I still wonder the how and why it happened.  However, his indelible mark on my existence was to truly live happily each day.  He wasn’t a laid back chill kind of happy, he worked very hard everyday, played hard, and laughed at just about anything.  It was his example of how to approach each moment that further altered my perception.

A few months after Dad was gone, I walked into a college classroom taking a course about writing plays.  As an English minor, it was a random selection and to be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted to learn about this particular process.  The professor, a published playwright herself, began a class discussion about the excuses potential writers make.  We covered most of the bases, fear of being unoriginal, trying to write the next ‘great’ story versus simply writing, expertise on certain topics, fear of critique, not enough time, and a number of others.

Suddenly I was surrounded completely by kindred spirits.  Humans who shared the same passion and held the same fears as me.  For years, I utilized every one of the excuses posted onto the white board in front of the classroom.  I was not alone.

You know what else?  Writing plays is an absolute blast.  Any topic, any conversation, with proper format and structure can be a play.  Okay, so it sounds so obvious now, but it certainly felt like discovery.  My fellow students were all incredible talents, and they were each very kind and supportive at every step of the creative process as we all exchanged edits and critiques.  Our professor packed in more information into a semester linking every aspect of what it would take to become a successful writer.  The class was more than inspiring, it was transformational.

Everything I’ve done leads to this moment.  The military time to help my wife finish college, the painfully unpleasant corporate job that followed, the joy of journalism for a decade, the life in and around comic books and artistic creativity on multiple levels, and the seemingly endless pursuit of education bring me the experience I use to generate my own adventures on paper.

A loving supportive family, a wife who somehow likes me for me, two frighteningly literate sons, a Mom who reads my silliness, my talented brothers three, and lasting friendships across various state lines and several decades all helps a bunch as well.  Actually, I don’t know that one can be thankful enough of a great support system.

Why write now?

My path is clear, the excuses are gone.  It is who I am.  Words beyond this blog may or may not entertain others, the stories may or may not be of epic quality, but it sure is fun trying.

Infinity Monkey

~ Donald J. Lund ~ 2 Comments

Primates and their keyboards.

I’m guessing most folks have heard about the probability theorem in various forms regarding the potential of a room full of monkeys typing for infinity would eventually be able to assemble words in proper order to recreate Shakespeare or the Bible and other substantive works.  Sometimes I’ve heard it is just one poor monkey trapped in this imaginary hell that lasts for all of time.  Sometimes the monkey gets some help from other sad monkeys as they team up to endlessly pound at letters on a keyboard.

The math side of such a proposition is more interesting as a scientific examination of the possibilities throughout infinity versus the actual chances of such feats accomplished by primates without any particular language skills or unpleasant eighth grade grammar classes.  On the literary side of the coin, the implications appear less flattering.  The suggestion being that with enough time, anyone can bang out Shakespeare, or great literature in general.

Math may show those monkeys can indeed accomplish anything with a keyboard.  But why are other crafts left out of the probability exercise?  Can’t we sit around and figure out what monkeys could do with power tools, a pile of sheet metal and a car part store for all eternity?  Could they build a space ship and leave us all behind?

Writing is so easy, even a monkey could it.  Writers simply need time and a keyboard and that is all there is to it.

Of course, that is if we decide to consider such a concept. Putting words in order to make sense and communicate with others is one thing.  However, utilizing words to inform, entertain or evoke emotions from readers is not exactly monkey business. Although it seems, at times these days, that nearly everyone is writing for others.

In the platinum age of information, a Universe where we all can blog, tweet, self publish and selfie ourselves into infinity, the monkey theory may very well be in motion at a slightly more evolved level.  It doesn’t make it easy, it makes it harder.  If nearly all literate members of society have something to say, and as such, if we’re all talking, writing and communicating at the same time — is anyone listening?

Hundreds of channels of television, more movies, books and ebooks than ever before, the process to create among a creative society is daunting and makes it feel like an infinity is needed to accomplish basic goals of finding an audience.

The reality is, this monkey’s infinity is quite finite.  I don’t have the time to worry about whether or not my words will eventually generate something along the lines of William Shakespeare, or Chaucer or my blogger neighbor across the street.

This monkey has a unique perspective on existence. My stories and shared bits with the planet have a probability of similarity, sans guarantee of greatness, but they will be  the letters I selected during my limited time span.

Besides, if I don’t get to assemble not so random words and pound away at a keyboard every single day, I tend to go a little bananas.

Journalists Need Not Apply

~ Donald J. Lund

When I decided to jump into this endeavor with both feet, I did my due diligence tracking down writer groups, organizations and websites available to help writers in their quest to reach various goals.  Publication is certainly one such goal, but good feedback on material, or networking with like minded souls also seems important.  Although, existing stereotypes in fiction paint a picture of reclusive creators.

In the adaption of Stephen King’s Misery to the big screen, I imagine when the word writer or author pops into the minds of many people, the visual goes to James Caan sitting in a far away, remote mountain place in order to avoid humanity completely.  Obviously, such a strategy can backfire if one encounters the wrong human in times of need.  Johnny Depp’s protagonist writer in the film Secret Window also goes for the cabin in the woods, and loses his mind along the way.

The message seems to be that maybe writers shouldn’t go too off the grid for too long or bad stuff happens.  I have been able to avoid danger thus far, and instead have searched for more experienced voices and groups for some help along the way.  One such group looked pretty cool, and no need to cast aspersions, but I was about to send them a note requesting more information and tripped over a line that essentially noted that journalists didn’t count as writers.

In a way, I understand.  This group is built on folks who have published poetry or fiction, and some non-fiction elements compiled into book form.  Apparently, it is way too easy to get a byline in a newspaper or magazine.  I would guess if someone published a book with a series of newspaper columns they could get by security at the front door.

As a journalist for about a decade, I’m actually not too offended.  There is a bit of a cavernous leap from me reporting on a county budget, or writing a column about a high school building lights for night time sporting events to trying to publish a book, play or screenplay.  Stringing words together to first form sentences and then paragraphs and pages is one thing, telling an entertaining story over several hundred pages is a whole different animal.

So, I am not deterred.  I am not packing my bags to disappear into a winter storm or try to strand myself alone on a remote island.  The words on the page have to ultimately be all me and mine, however, I need not take every step alone.  I’ve already received encouragement beyond the awesome support of my wife and mom.  There are a lot of folks out there creating all kinds of stories in this platinum age of information, and plenty of help out there for those looking for it.

From classes in college, to books, Internet groups and a pile of social networks offering bits of wisdom for the process.  All tools I will need along the way.  And I think the increased contributions across every corner of the web are all pushing more than the quantity of material to read or watch, I think the quality is hitting some all time records as well.  Sure, plenty of bad stuff too, but quality television like Breaking Bad could not have happened two decades ago.  The club was far more exclusive, limiting the range of creativity.  Now it seems no matter how dark the corners, or crazy for humor, there is room for it in a book, on screen, or on stage.

The bar should be set high, and like many a journalist before me, I can make that leap.  As long as I don’t stay alone too long or get rescued by someone living in my fictional reality.

Sanity Check

~ Donald J. Lund

Ever drop a substantive idea in front of family and friends, and a strange silence fills the room instead of the enthusiasm you were hoping for?  I think it goes for just about anyone who proposes something outside of life’s “normal” operating parameters.  A fairly decent writer, Stephen King observed:

“I have spent a good many years since―too many, I think―being ashamed about what I write. I think I was forty before I realized that almost every writer of fiction or poetry who has ever published a line has been accused by someone of wasting his or her God-given talent. If you write (or paint or dance or sculpt or sing, I suppose), someone will try to make you feel lousy about it, that’s all.”

Well, if super successful scribes are fighting the same battles, it makes it all that much easier.  Although, I’ve actually not spent a great deal of time among standard social expectations.  I may have been voted least likely to join the United States Marine Corps by anyone who knew me at 18-years old.  When the money for college was not there, it was an attractive option for someone who really loves his country.  Imperfect, yet, the best country around, even if people are happier per capita in Norway and Finland.

After hanging out with Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children for six years, life got a lot more interesting with children of my own.  Our two sons became a focal point for both me and my wife.  I worked when I could, but spent several years at home as a stay at home dad.  Oh sure, now it is cool, everyone is doing it.  But, as the only dude in a grocery store in the middle of the day in the 1990’s, it was weird.  I wouldn’t trade a second away for that time I was able to spend with those amazing kids.  Did I mention this was Wyoming?  If you think Colorado has some conservative takes on life, try being Mr. Mom around real cowboys and guys in hard hats standing around oil rigs all day.

Of course some folks will always see me as being silly to spend the rest of my waking life writing.  I’m more than okay with that.  Let’s jump back to my very favorite Stephen King quote about pursuing the craft:

“Writing isn’t about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end it’s about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life as well. It’s about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Getting happy. …this book…is a permission slip: you can, you should, and if you’re brave enough to start, you will. Writing is magic, as much the water of life as any other creative art. The water is free. So drink. Drink and be filled up.”

Yes, I am crazy, but thanks so much for checking in on the status of my sanity.  I am off to get a drink of water, and get happy.

Two Steps Forward

~ Donald J. Lund

I have always been a writer, I just didn’t always allow for it.

From the first book of poems in fourth grade, to a flurry of articles generated throughout those semi-glorious middle school days, I have always been putting words on paper.  Prior to that I discovered via some Irish genetics I loved to tell stories and really expand the boundaries of imagination merely to entertain anyone willing to listen.

My first audiences for some of those stories were my younger brothers and cousins but they were fairly kind as far as critics go.  And, to their credit, they all caught on rather quick when I tried to pass off some of my tales as true.  One summer, we discovered an empty grasshopper exoskeleton in the back yard and I was able to generate an entire saga about organized wars and troop movements among the insects, based on that find.  A few too many details perhaps, but they figured me out by sunset.  That and I couldn’t keep the grasshoppers I found in any notable formation.

Falling in love can deter some writing careers, and a young marriage needed real money, so my words would have to wait.  Six years in the United States Marine Corps, and then two in the world of defense contracting offered a practical monetary solution.  Then, my brilliant and beautiful wife embarked on her ambitious career as an engineer, which in turn, opened the door back up for this self proclaimed scribe.

Nearly eight amazing years of working in radio, writing news and sports copy, commercials led to a concurrent run as a sports editor in the great state of Wyoming.  An absolute joy that involved more hours than were available in the week, and not much cash to show for it, but getting paid any amount of money to write offers a level of happiness not often found in life.

A move back to Colorado and a substantive downturn in both newspaper and radio jobs led me to a decade of retail life, owning a comic shop, and continuing my education along the way.  Being surrounded by great stories and art and getting to discuss film and music with hundreds of customers and fans of the medium fit rather well in my meandering path as a wordsmith.

Now, just about one half century into existence, my calling was always clear, but now is the time to finish the stories, make up a bunch more and wait for someone to figure out my story is too weird to be true.  Creative minds are easily distracted, and well, no one ever advised anyone to go off and dream of stories to tell.

Whatever else I do, published or otherwise, writing is life, and thus it truly begins.