Frugality vs Practicality

It’s come to my attention that I need a new phone. I have a flip phone that came free when I renewed my contract, and it feels like being the last kid on the playground with training wheels.

Of course, before rushing off to grab a bright, shiny iPhone-Droid-Skynet thingamajig, there is reality to take into account. I have an apartment I can just afford, groceries to buy, bills to pay, student loans to deal with soon, and of course fun to have. I’ve never considered myself a cheap person, and I probably worry more than I should. Then again I haven’t gone cloths shopping since Halloween. I just don’t see the point spending extra money on anything, be it designer cloths or comedic boxer shorts. Who before bumping uglies says “Wait, before we do this, don’t you think it’s hilarious how my junk makes Pinocchio’s noes grow?” No one, that’s who. At least not people I’d like to know.

Even so, as a writer and fledging member of the ever expanding digiverse, it’s important to be connected. Yet I’ve gotten along just fine without a smart phone. Logic, however rarely factors into such purchasing decisions. Like Smeagol and the One Ring, I just wants it precious. Even if I use it for the same things that my iPod and flip phone can do now. Is it really necessary to tweet my annoyance at the MBTA right as it’s happening (i.e whenever I need it) or can I wait a few minutes until they tape the tracks back together and I get home? I suppose it’s just the freedom of the former I’d enjoy, as though twitter wasn’t already filled with crap no one really needs to know.

The other thing is my strong sense of prioritizing. Going out to movies, museums, trips, dining, these are my priorities. Not the latest version of Angry Birds or marketing tweets. For dinner, I’m not staying in. As is our friday custom, my girlfriend and I will go to Deep Ellum for some of the best food in one of the chillest bars in Boston. I’ll likely order at least two nine dollar Manhattans. Why? Because they are worth each and every drop. If the glasses were edible I’d eat the damn things.

Life is all about priorities. Some people want cloths. Others want gadgets. I want delicious cocktails, fine food, a roof over my head, and some other things that we are not close enough to discuss yet. Suffice to say, there are some wholes in my wallet that could be patched up. But if that hangs over your head with every decision in life, you’re just feeding a bank account, and not truly living.

Cheers. Off to the bar.

Defining Quality

When discussing the craft of writing, a professor of mine once said "The cream rises to the top." He followed this immediately with "On the other hand, shit floats."

People by nature have alternate views on quality. I, for one, have loved each book in the Song of Ice and Fire series. I love the characterization, world building, and the sense of reality, even if the story moves at a glacial pace from point A to point A1/4. Others believe the books have dropped in quality largely because almost nothing really happens. Given the subjective nature of taste, how can one say which view point is more valid than the next? Sure ((Spoilers)) ending Dance with Dragons with Dany's runny yellow dysentery wasn't the most epic conclusion to a novel many people waited several years for. I had the benefit of reading the whole series over the course of the summer, so I didn't need to wait from one installment to the next. Besides, there are other books out there while you're waiting.

This is what gives me a measure of reservation when I dive into an anything self published. The snooty might think that if the book was quality, a publisher would have snatched it up, there would be a movie adaptation, with key characters making appearances through action figure lines and lunch boxes. Of course, getting the attention of an agent or a publisher isn't an easy thing. More often than not, it seems you'd have better swimming up a waterfall. Some writers have connections, some get lucky, some have iron clad persistence, and more power to them. Others get sick of the querying, tedium, and rejection, and opt for self publishing. Years ago when I was thinking of shopping a manuscript, the rule of thumb was that bookstores don't carry self published work. Now, it appears bookstores don't carry much of anything. The two Borders I knew of in Boston have closed shop. The gigantic store fronts remind me of those big, skeletal T-Rex you'd see in a museum; fossils from a forgotten era.

It's also true that a published book can be just as much pure bile as a self-published one. They only grow popular because someone made a movie about them, and suddenly Vampires sparkle, stalking is cool, and the toughest choice in a young girls life is choosing necrophilia over bestiality. I have certainly read self-pubs that were better. I've also read self-pubs that were so juvenile I was convinced an eight year old on a crack binge found his father's computer and started playing bongos on the keyboard.

In the end, I think, quality is all in how one defines it. I like a good story. I don't care if it's high brow, low brow, unibrow, whatever. Tell the story that you want to. Own it. Love it. But if you ever try and sell me on sparkling ninjas I'm coming after you.

So. Here we go again.

This is perhaps my sixth attempt at starting a blog. This, much like Yoga and regular exercise, was usually one of those things that seemed like a good idea and lasted a week at most. Four of these, going back several years, were about writing. If writing wasn't difficult enough, then writing about writing certainly was. Then there were two others, diaries of sorts, based on all the "hilarious" crap that went on at work. But that wasn't for me. Why bring that kind of crap home with you? So this is going to be about writing, books, and the written word in general. At some point, when I finally finish a manuscript, there will be some shameless self promotion as well. Given my productivity, prepare for a blitz sometime next decade. It will probably be for a short story.

I think one of the reasons I never kept up with a writing blog was the fear that I had nothing new to say. There are dozens of talented literary professionals blogging about the craft, and probably 1,000 times that made up of fellow hopefuls and wannabes. But then again, what in the writing world is new? What hasn't been done? Truth be told, nearly everything has been. Be it literary fiction or genre fiction, stories are told and re-told. Some in unique, interesting ways. Some such blatant rip offs the offending author should be dragged into a back alley and flogged with a typewriter. So why shouldn't ideas, trials, and inspiration be blogged and re-blogged? Anything to help keep the dream alive for fellow hopefuls deserves to be read and should be written. Passing the torch, as it were, from one wannabe novelist to the next.