Obviously, as with any novel, there was a great deal of thought as to what to include in Coincidence.  But there was also a good deal given as to what to leave out, namely anything to do with foreign affairs.  The novel begins more than a year before 9/11 and jumps to a few months after the invasion of Iraq, yet no mention of anything political is made.  The closest is a few older gentlemen watching C-SPAN in a Dunkin Donuts.

Given the nature of the novel (the fact that it shows the lives of a number of characters in 2000, 2003, and 2006), it would’ve been easy to show the effects of America’s foreign policy on the common folk.  Someone goes to war or has an epiphany watching the news.  Hilarity ensues.  But, the thing is, I did just that.  I showed exactly how these people were affected by our country’s overseas energy expenditures: with complete and utter apathy.

I had a far-left philosophy teacher talking about Bush, the war, and so on in the Spring of 2004 who disagreed when I said the American public wouldn’t react until the war touched a grandma in Nebraska.  To someone who subscribed to a number of political publications (and who felt the need to discuss his hatred for Bush rather than anything, say, related to the class’ supposed topic of existentialist writers), the idea of apathy toward our country’s foreign policy just seemed absurd.

But the characters in Coincidence are mostly based on reality, and those people held nothing but apathy.  Josh, ten when the towers fell and about to turn twelve as our armies attacked Iraq, is more worried about touching his first breast than anything happening beyond state lines.  Chris and Mizdail would only think about it if something usable came face-to-face with them.  Ty, I’m sure, was awfully amused by the “heroics” of the soldiers, while Andreas McCombie watched in wonder as so much negativity flowed into the ether. 

No one thought twice about enlisting.  No one had siblings that ran off in blazes of glory.  The closest thing to a military base is two exits over on the turnpike.  Very few flew and therefore felt the affects of post-9/11 travel.  This may become an entire chapter in American history books, but these characters don’t even mention it.  Why?  Because they’re completely detached from it.  History may write this as a terrible time that affected all Americans; the current media that remain as “classics” by then may reflect that as well. 

But an estimated 30,000 Iraqi casualties by April 2003?  In reality, in general, many of us simply yawned (at best).  To write that our characters trembled as the world burned, to make it seem like they cared at all, would be the greatest fiction of all.

“Tonight these chemicals are sunlight, golden sunlight” – Filter’s “Drug Boy”

I was going to get so much done tonight. The way I figure it, I have nearly 30 episodes of Coincidence to record for Podiobooks, for instance. However, I didn’t realize what was on TV this evening. Sounds like a cop out, but there are only a few events I like to catch on the television (Flyers games being the first vice that comes to mind). If pressed I’d have to say I downright loathe the medium.

For a long time, I named “Cable Guy” as my favorite movie. Say what you will, but it resonated with me. “Somebody’s gotta kill the babysitter”? Yes. Hell yes. That babysitter raised me from the time I was 8 and my mother took up to 5 part-time jobs to make up for the husband she had just left. It, with my two similarly aged pals, molded me during my formative years. And like most good children, I grew up resenting what groomed me.

It’s not the vapidity of it that bothers me. Trends, by their definition, change. It’s the complete and utter vacuum of productivity. I vaguely recall an older storyteller from television’s yesteryear claiming that a good series can be understood through sound alone. If you can tell what’s going on through sound effects, the score, dialogue, etc., then the producers have done their job. Unfortunately, few follow this nowadays, choosing what they feel is a more “immersive” experience that just so happens to require the full attention of all your senses.

This isn’t to say any particular medium is better or that this even applies to anyone else.  I’m just sick of explaining why I don’t have cable.  It’s bad enough that I have about 18 stations I don’t care about.  It’s all about productivity.  Reading I still find productive because it’s teaching me something, namely language and narrative techniques.  Television, it can be argued, can teach these things as well (in theory).  But really, isn’t that a bit of a stretch?

“If the real thing don’t do the trick, you better make up something quick” – Heart’s “Barracuda”

This was originally titled “The Past 24 Hrs in the ePub World,” but then shit got real.  Things I’ve learned the past 3 days:

1. No matter how many times you look over a file before submitting it, you’ll miss something.  This isn’t so bad with Amazon if you do it right before bed.  Their process takes about 12 hours, so by the time you’re up and active, it’s done.  If you realize you forgot something after you wake up, though, expect a day of hitting F5.

2. Though you are living in a mostly digital world and dealing with digital files, there are still human beings working as gatekeepers.  These people are a) swamped with work, b) working within business hours, or c) reading their email whenever the hell they feel like it.  Regardless, there isn’t much you can do about it but be patient.

3. Smashwords goes into great detail about formatting of the document, etc.  I must’ve screwed up my Style or Smashwords self-admittedly buggy previewer was acting wonky, but either way, the last paragraph of every section seemed to change font.  Not knowing whether this would be passed along to the other retailers, I had to go through and modify every section-ending paragraph. 

4. When adding images to your document in Word, make sure you Insert them.  Copying and pasting will usually result in the image not working in other formats.

5. Some people are great conversationalists but can’t write an email, just like some are passable vocalists (or podcasters) but find trouble reading on mic.

6. Reading a script verbatim is possibly the most frustrating thing I’ve ever done into a microphone.

7. Do not provide unsolicited feedback and then, when I thank you for said feedback, tell me how you’re not here to give feedback.  I will be confused…confused in an enraged kind of way.

8. I know I tweeted it, but it needs to be said again: I’m thankful for my sociopathic side, for it helps me deal with impolite gatekeepers.

9. I’m not designed for excitement.  I originally thought this was a problem with self-promotion, but I’m beginning to find there’s something deeper.  I feel like such an ass for this whole thing.  I have music on Amazon.  It’s a simple, free process.  What’s there to be excited about?  But there’s still that level of excitement.  My classical and romantic sides are deeply conflicted about this.  I think I’ll go deeper into this later, but…Gah.  It’d be much easier to be full of myself.

“I want the brightest, I want fluorescence” – Faith No More’s “The Crab Song”

Ages ago, in the Before Time, Mike DeAngelo (writer of the Child of the Stars trilogy) told me I seem happier when I’m making music than when I’m writing. This was during the very beginning stages of Coincidence, when I didn’t really know where it was going. My mind’s been stuck on this memory lately because, I think, I haven’t written any lyrics or melodies in a while.

Toward the end of Coincidence, I kept telling myself I’d get back into it as soon as the novel was done. But then the website had to be made. Beta readers had to be corralled. The final read-through/proof had to be completed. Podiobooks had to be researched. And so on and so on. Plus there’s just no interest. My mind is stuck in Levittown ‘06, at that final moment in August when…Well, you’ll have to read/hear it to find out. But I’m there. Behind a tree with a notepad, humming Le Tigre’s “My Art.”

Music just seems easier to produce.  For one thing, it’s much shorter.  You tell yourself it’s going to be a 4 minute track, you outline it, you fill in the spaces…bam.  Done.  Easy.  A melody or a hook may have you scratching your head for a bit, but there comes a point when you go, “Ahh…Done.”  I don’t feel that when writing.  “The End” means nothing.  These characters are living beings.  They had a life before I decided to take my snapshot; most of them will have lives afterwards too.  Maybe another photo will be taken of them later. 

The easier part with writing (or so I think, so I hope) is promotion.  You can talk to just about anyone about it in a very short amount of time.  I could talk to a teenybopper about my later Gary Numan-inspired darkwave/EBM, but it would take a while to find the right comparisons and connections.  And even then, what are the chances the teenybopper will even like it?  Maybe s/he knows enough to have a basic idea of dark dance music, brooding melodies, distorted beats, etc.  But maybe that knowledge comes from an older sibling, a friend, whatever that s/he doesn’t see eye-to-eye with musically. 

Writing?  “It’s a work of fiction.  Two brothers growing up in the suburbs:  One vying for power through a system of drugs and crime; the other trying to find his purpose.”  Done.  Most people will know what fiction is.  Most people will know, though they may not be able to call it this, what literary fiction is (“He didn’t mention dragons or robots, so I guess it’s one of those ‘normal’ novels where people just talk and stuff”).  And most people should have some basic understanding, even if they did neither of these themselves, of doing drugs and/or finding your purpose.

So is one better than the other?  Music moves me.  And if I’m not in the mood for a “moving” track, I can skip to the next one.  It’s also relatively quick (sometimes easy) to produce.  Novels are easier to talk about, and they’re set in worlds where…Well, they’re in places that I’m always at.  Your imagination can set you as the protagonist, wearing a combination of knight / mutant / man-turned-cyborg-turned-hot dog vendor clothing, with a variety of hero lines on the tip of your tongue as you’re walking into your boss’ office to ask for a raise.  It’s much more difficult to combine all your favorite melodies/lyrics into one harmonious track.

Either way, I feel the need to produce both.  And right now, I’m in the writing zone.  Maybe that’ll change tomorrow.  We’ll see.

“They think that your early ending was all wrong” – Filter’s “Hey Man, Nice Shot”

I haven’t been keeping up with the blogging lately, and I blame work for that. Not that I’ve been super busy per se, just the fact that I’ve been reassigned to a new department and have been elbow-deep in training.  My mind’s been stuck in “Am I doing this right?” mode, which means I haven’t been listening to podcasts on writing, etc.  In the midst of the transition, one of my writer friends at the company was laid off (The Poet, who provided her poetry as lyrics on Black Ring’s “Rough Sect Sessions”), so there goes someone who I could have daily writing conversations with, should I choose to.  I need that level of immersion to talk about writing and its related topics.  As it stands, I can tell you about numerous details of the inner workings of phone books ‘til your heart’s complete and utter death of boredom.

I think this may relate to my inner circles and self-promotion in some ways.  See, call it the Libra in me, but I can’t focus on one thing that much.  My brother can talk to you about cars (parts, repair, the differences between a ‘67 Camaro RS SS and the ‘68) for hours, but I just don’t care about that level of detail in anything.  I think Pirsig would call me a Romantic in that sense.  But it’s that level of immersion that helps you get accepted into the circles of your interests.  Do I want to be in those circles?  Eh.  I haven’t seen a reason to be.  And if I am accepted because I know X and Y, who’s to say I’ll actually like anyone there?  I would much rather prefer to casually find and like an individual that brings me into a circle than the other way around.

This laughs in the face of self-promotion, though.  Knowing someone is everything, according to some.  Connect to others, make yourself available, immerse yourself.  But what if you just don’t give a damn?  Salon’s been running a fair amount of articles this week about gender inequality within the publishing world, specifically fiction/novels.  I glance over the pages, but…Is it the fact that it deals with published authors (or those who’ve attempted standard publication)?  Is it the fact that I’m supposedly part of the majority of jaded white male writers?  I don’t know.  Nor do I care.  But I have this nagging feeling that I should.

How is one supposed to work him/herself into a group with a particular set of interests/politics if one just isn’t interested in any of it?  I want to write.  I want others to consume.  My other interests and desires connect me to people who share their own experiences/interests, which provides fodder for the writing and so on.  Beside the political/business advantage of having “connections”, what can immersing myself in writing circles do?  “Oh, you’re entire life is driven by the need to write too?  Cool!  We should hang out and compare our sickness!”  Replace “write” with “drink” and you have codependency.  Replace it with “eat human flesh” and you have a level of folie à deux.

“There are all zeros around here” – Ladytron’s “International Dateline”