Future Visions

So, I recently decided to publicly come out as neurodivergent – ADD (ADHD without the hyperactivity), ASD (self-diagnosed high-functioning Aspergers) and childhood PTSD – a potent combination because of the dynamic complexity of the conditions, which I’ll delve into on a future post.

This will come as no surprise to those who know me well, and likely explain a few things to those whom I’ve spent time with but don’t know me as well. And now, to be clear on a couple of things…

I know it’s in vogue for people to take an internet test and declare themselves on the spectrum. Not to diminish those self-diagnosing and dealing with genuine ASD but that’s not how it happened for me. Both of my daughters were officially diagnosed as on the spectrum and after some prompting I started self-examination as well, since in different ways they are chips off my block and many of the traits apply to me as well.

Then, yeah, I honestly assessed my self using some those tools and no surprise, the results ranged from “most probably” to “oh yeah, you sure do.” Since I don’t need to spend a couple grand to tell me what I already know, I’ll stick with the self-diagnosis. At least for now.

The ADD was medically diagnosed, after both of my daughters were diagnosed and (again) I recognized the same traits in myself. As for the PTSD, I do invite readers to read my “What Remains Undone” post further down on this blog.

The other thing – why now? The IT contractor I work through did a DEI program on neurodivergence and was looking for neurodivergent panelists to participate – I decided it was time for me to step forward and be part of the conversation.

More details on that, in an upcoming ‘Part Two’ post – “My Neurodiverse Voice.”

Ernest Hemingway purportedly wrote the following very short, six-word story: “For sale, Baby shoes, Never Worn.”

While this may (or may not) be true, it continues to inspire writers to come up with similar uber-short stories.

In that spirit, I came up with an even more concise uber-short five-word story, besting the Old Man by a word. This was first posted on my Facebook page on April 23, 2014 (feel free to search my FB feed if you don’t believe me.) I would even go so far as to claim that it has a three-part arc with a beginning, middle and end.

Story Title: Jesus Returned

“Jesus returned, looked, and wept.”

Copyright © 2014, Tom D Wright. All rights reserved.

(Originally a guest post, May 5th, 2016 on the Ragnarok Publications Blog)

I am enormously privileged as an artist. Not due to race or age or gender or even where I was born, though those factors can help or hurt, depending on the circumstances. In fact, the privilege I refer to largely erases those factors—the emergence of independent publishing.

A writer would have to be a true hermit to not be aware that the landscape for authors has changed dramatically. The paradigm shift brought by the advent of digital and online publishing is no less profound than the one brought by (in large part) Gutenberg and movable type.

And I believe this shift brings (creative) writing back to its true roots as a storytelling medium.

Storytelling by its nature is a one-to-many experience shared by the teller and the audience. The magic of writing captures and preserves that experience in a uniquely ethereal way (the subject of another post). But prior to the introduction of movable typesetting, writing was essentially a one-to-one relationship, frequently dissociated by distance and/or time.

Whether the writing was on clay, papyrus, scrolls or vellum books, each work had to be made by one person (either the original author or a copyist acting as a proxy for the author) and went to one person. This intensive process of copying limited both the creation and the dissemination of written content, in all its forms.

The advent of printing presses transformed written content into a one-to-many relationship, with an impact on both readers and authors which can hardly be overstated. An author could reach an enormous number of readers, who were no longer limited to an elite few.

But at a cost.

Having worked in the printing industry, I know full well what is required to turn a manuscript from author copy into a stack of books, not to mention the subsequent marketing, distributing and selling to the mass market which gets it to readers’ bookshelves. The traditional publishing industry emerged to bridge this labyrinth between the author and readers, but the complex nature of the process itself became an impediment which turned both authors and readers into relatively passive participants.

Yes, an author could choose what and whether to write, but the publisher decided what to accept. And readers could decide whether to purchase or not, but the publisher decided what to offer.

Don’t get me wrong, my intent is not to disparage traditional publishing, per se. The reality is that publishers have finite resources and must be highly selective about which authors they expend those resources and expertise on. Technology enables traditional publishing to deliver far more titles per year than a century ago, but compared to the overall population the ratio is still fairly small.

All this to say that, up until recently, dissemination of the written word remained relatively restricted. Now those barriers have fallen with the advent of the internet, the development of print-on-demand and e-commerce.

Which has profound implications for me as an artist.

Unlike publishers, I can create art unconstrained by how commercially viable it might be, without compromising on quality. Firefly is proof that artistic excellence does not ensure commercial success. Being ‘indie’ means I can (and do) experiment with creative formats of storytelling that don’t fit into neat, marketable niches. For instance, my latest project, The Malhutan Chronicles is what I call a novella-novel—a series of SF murder-mystery novellas which together form a complete, cohesive novel-length arc.

But the real metamorphosis, which I believe has not yet fully emerged, is the other side of the author-reader relationship with impacts to both traditional and independent publishing on multiple levels.

I found myself pondering this during a recent class given by Cat Rambo on Creating An Online Presence. Along with freedom comes responsibility, which in the case of indie publishing includes the process of promotion, marketing, distribution, sales, etc. The challenge of course, is how to accomplish this without requiring authors to stop authoring—a goal that is in the best interest of author and reader alike. And marketing is something that most authors dread, with good reason.

As an unknown indie author, I’m still at that point where I directly connect with many of the readers who are enthusiastic about my work. I really feel it is a privilege when a reader lets my voice into their inner world for a period of time. The author in me doesn’t want to market, I want to connect with readers and share my work with them—not because I want to make money, but because I want to tell them stories. It is why I love to do readings, and it makes me an awful marketer.

Perhaps it seems immodest but I’m certain that in time I will become, if not famous, certainly much better known than I am now. Enough so, that I will not have the same direct connection with most of my readers that I currently have. Which is what makes being an indie author so important—the reason I need to be an indie author—because I believe this encourages that more synergistic, dynamic relationship between author-and-reader, that of a storyteller-and-listener.

And I don’t want to lose that.

Because my soul longs for a better world, I have a real problem with Star Trek.

It wasn’t always so. I grew up watching re-runs of the original Star Trek series—yes, in those primitive days, prior to the advent of cell phones and personal computers, when the state of the art in computer gaming was computerized ping pong.

Star Trek depicted a utopian society which managed to transcend race, class and cash, leaving behind need and greed.  The post-60’s era was a time shaped with uncertainty and turmoil, but also the optimistic promise of better days in the future.  We watched moon landings and viewed mind-altering images of Earth from lunar orbit.  The rosy dawn of the digital age brightened on the horizon, about to be ushered in by C3PO and R2D2.

There are times, now, when those days seem like a surrealistic memory.  Particularly in the current climate of political and social fanaticism, which I find not only disheartening but socially destructive.

The topic of surviving on minimal wages along with growing economic disparity recently triggered a profound melancholy in me.  I worked my share of minimum wage jobs back in the day, and a combination of hard work and hard choices have brought me to a point which some (who don’t know me) might call privileged, but which I call fortunate to the extent that we create our own luck.  So, I am not so far removed from those times that I do not retain a deep empathy for those who stumble from one day to the next.

What disturbs me most is the vitriol emerging from the battleground of social media, where competing viewpoints wage war for political and social supremacy.  One example is a young woman with the courage to publicly express what countless of her peers silently feel, then someone else publicly responds with scathing criticism.  Personally, a subsequent response to that criticism nicely summarized my own sentiments.

My training in counseling taught me that people tend to judge others through the lens of their own experiences and abilities.  I have to wonder how much the pervasive problems with drug abuse, homelessness and suicide among today’s youth are rooted in an increasing sense of hopelessness, confusion and a sense of being abandoned by society.  A recent column by a millennial nicely summarized the challenges facing this generation, not the least of which is a suicide rate (triple what it was when I was their age) that is now the second leading cause of death.

Those who are indignantly sitting up, muttering that they had a hard life and made something for themselves, so why can’t these people—take a deep breath, appreciate your accomplishments, and search within for some empathy toward those who don’t have the same external and internal resources you have.  Humans are an extremely diverse species, and not everyone can be a mountain climber.  We need each other, even if we don’t realize it.

While we now enjoy some of the technology envisioned in the Star Trek series, the more significant social conditions remain as intractable as ever.  The reality is that, while better technology can make life easier, that in itself does not equate to a better society.  I appreciate a good smartphone app as much as anyone, but our society has not eliminated homelessness; far from it.  Medical care is increasingly sophisticated and comprehensive, yet inaccessible for a significant portion of society, and often financially devastating.

For years I have posed a question to friends, which came up recently during a NOVA episode entitled “Rise of the Robots.”  What happens economically as more work, and even entire job sectors are performed by robots?  An interesting thought experiment is, if 100% of work was done by robots, how would that economic output be distributed to humans?  At what point do we transcend the need for someone to own everything?

This leads to my problem with Star Trek.

I concede unequivocally that, compared to virtually all of human history and too much of the present day world, those of us in the developed world are better off than most of us appreciate—but we could do so much better.  The original series (and for the most part the subsequent sequel series) not only portrayed a richer, brighter world but, more importantly, conveyed the message that we CAN do better.

The problem is that Star Trek takes place centuries in the future; one that is so distant and unreachable that it seems more fantasy than promise.  That utopian vision offers no bridge for us to get from here to there.  I suspect most people would likely agree that we are moving in the wrong direction, and I increasingly get the sense that we have lost that belief in a better future.  We can’t afford to wait hundreds of years for change to show up.  I wrote “The Malhutan Chronicles” to portray that bridge; an example of how a truly cooperative society might work.

The point is that we won’t build a better world by attacking each other.  My contribution is through writing stories that I hope are entertaining as well as thought-provoking.  Whether they are read or not, I will continue to do my genuine best, because what I write is my contribution to promoting change and growth now—not centuries from now.

Because I see the ultimate defining trait of being human as that we are indeed capable of choosing how to be, of changing oneself with intention and deliberate effort.  Certainly, the greed for wealth and power will remain a challenge for individuals, but human society can grow and change if we cooperate and work together.  Genuine change does not come easily, but we must believe we can do it, and do it now.

But we have to choose to change.  And stop tearing each other apart.

Because the bottom line is that, in order to create a better, more cooperative world, we must never stop working at it in whatever way we can.  Together.

As a writer, I am frequently asked about my writing process. Surprisingly, these questions come as much from other writers as from non-writers, which I believe reflects the angst many artists have over what can be a mysterious process.

This is how the writing process works for me today.  It’s different than it was last year, and I’m sure it will change over the next year or two.  And that leads to my first point, which is that what works for each writer will be unique both to that person and to where that person is in their journey as an artist.  The one thing I think must be true for every serious artist of any sort, is an obsessive compulsion to practice her or his craft often and regularly.  Talent without practice is a rusty sword, whether it’s a katana or a bokken.

One popular topic is whether to outline or not to outline.  I personally find it very difficult to effectively write without at least creating some minimal structure.  When I go to the beach of my creativity, I need to at least establish some sort of sandbox.  How close will it be to the water, how wet will the sand be, how large is my sandbox and what tools will I use on the sand?

I’ll blame it on my ADD but without defining some of these criteria I tend to wander aimlessly, so I create a very loose, informal bullet point list of the basic structure of the story.  I recently realized that if I strung all these points together I would more or less have a synopsis, but I haven’t tried that (yet).  To be sure, none of these points are written in stone, and once I begin writing I often modify, delete or add to the bullet list in the midst of a session.  And as I progress and delete each completed item that gives me a sense of accomplishment as well.

When I sit down to write, I use anchor points to slip into a creative mindset.  If I’m at home I have certain clothing I put on while writing and wherever I write, I listen to specific music.  I have numerous playlists with titles such as ‘writing1’ and ‘writing2’ and, depending on the project, I sometimes create a custom playlist. Then I stick with that playlist for the duration of the project.

When and where I write varies.  For a long time I wrote on occasion, when I could carve some private time on a weekend or evening…and I made little progress as an artist (see above point about talent without practice).  When I reached a point where I decided to be serious about my craft, I made a job change that added a one-hour commute each way on a train and I bought a Macbook Air.  The fact that this change came with a significant salary bump was a nice bonus.

Now I write for an hour in the morning while going to work, often for an hour during lunch and another hour on the way home.  If I’m deep in the process, I will often sequester myself for two or three hours when I get home.  You know you’re a writer when, while flying standby you get bumped for several hours and that’s good because you get quality writing time in the food court.  So now I write when and wherever I can.  Louis L’Amour once commented about being able to write on the side of a highway…I didn’t always get that but now I do.

So when I sit down with my loose list of points, how does that turn into coherent prose that carries a reader into another world?  That’s where the mystery comes in.  All I can say with certainty is that I don’t force it.  Within that sandbox I’ve laid out, I simply start shaping sand.  The emerging forms often surprise me (and hopefully the reader) because all I specified in my bullet point is ‘Sally quits her job’ but it’s not until I start shaping the story that I see that Sally did so by posting pictures online of her boss sleeping with Sally’s boyfriend and when she quit Sally decided to fulfill her lifelong dream of crewing on a starship passenger liner.

At that point, I let the creative puppy off its leash and it frolics in the sandbox until it’s eaten up all the points on my bullet list and it doesn’t come up with anything else to add.  Sometimes the puppy finds some buried bones, and that ends up in there too.  That’s when I have a completed rough draft.

For some writers moving into the editing and revisioning phase is onerous and dreaded, but for me it’s an equally creative process, albeit in a very different way, and pretty much all of the above points apply.  I see rough drafting as digging up the gemstones and the editing/revising as turning those stones into jewels.  It’s just as creative for me, and often it’s in this later phase that seemingly drab stuff I wrote earlier turn into some of the best parts of the story.  More than once I’ve had that, “Damn, I didn’t realize that was in there” or “Ohhh, NOW I see why that’s there” experience.

Some writers are nervous about sending out their work but not me.  By that point, the story is grown up and I’m ready to push it out of the nest so it can fly on it’s own.  Sometimes it comes back to live at home again for a while, and I’ll do some additional work on it, but generally I have no shortage of nestlings waiting to be raised up in their turn.

So this is my writing process as of today.  Check back in a year.

Why am I doing a Kickstarter for The Princess of Panchala? First let me answer the easy questions.

How often do novels get funded on Kickstarter? A quick walk through Kickstarter’s Fiction Project pages shows that quite a few don’t succeed, but a surprising number of them do. To be honest I’m not certain of the breakdown, though I’m sure Kickstarter could provide enough statistics to dry out your eyeballs. But that’s not really the point, more on that in a bit.

Why am I linking through my website rather than directly to the Kickstarter page? While clicking through might put off some people, having a very simple link makes it much easier to promote, and some people that I ask to promote my project don’t care to link directly to Kickstarter. But there are more compelling marketing reasons than that as well. It’s very easy and simple to tell people to go to terramythos.com rather than a complicated URL with slashes and dots. And go to Google and type in “terramythos” (everyone, please, go ahead…it only strengthens Googles algorithms) and see what comes up…my site, my Kickstarter page and at the bottom images of my Kickstarter graphic and my bio picture.

So why Kickstarter, when I don’t have any published novels? While that’s not entirely accurate at the time of this post, I’m not at liberty to disclose more than that yet…let’s just say that publishers move at glacial speed in more than one respect. And while my published credits are meager, again that’s not really the point, which I’ll get to shortly.

Why do this when the odds are so much against success? Our society places far too much emphasis on success, without valuing the benefits of experiencing failure. Already I have probably learned more about marketing and self-promotion than a $400 seminar could teach me in a weekend. Sure, I would like it to succeed, but I’m not afraid to fall down because I’ll learn so much more than sitting on my arse waiting for luck to tap me on the shoulder.

Why not self-publish or go the traditional route? Getting published is far more of a game of chance than we’d like to believe. While nothing can take the place of solid craftwork, there are a sickening number of superb artists that get no recognition simply because they haven’t managed to be in the right place at the right time when the right person was there. But I also believe that to a large extent we make our own luck, and I do not want to be an Accidental Artist.

Which is where I’m really going with this. I have spent many years honing my skills, face to face with some really crappy writing and worked hard to get to a point where I honestly believe I have worthwhile material to share with the world. I will be the first to state that I still have far to go as an artist, and my greatest fear is that I reach a point where I don’t think I can do better, because that is the day that I stop growing.

So all this to answer the question, why do this Kickstarter? To publish a book, yes, but more than that. To publish the first book of a series, yes, but that’s not all. What this is really about is to Kickstart me as an artist.

It is no accident that midway through my Kickstarter video I display the Om symbol (ॐ) and say that I hope the viewer will join me on my creative journey. I have trained and practiced to get to this point, and am ready to set out for my Mount Everest.

I’m not going to look back, and I do hope people will join me.