I'm back

Okay.

It's been two months since my last post. Not at all what I was hoping for, but life sometimes takes interesting turns.

When I left off, I was writing fiction daily and making good progress on my novel. Then I had a thought (that touch of ADD reared its ugly head). If I am going to write a book, I might as well tell the story that had the biggest impact on my life over the last decade. That story, worthy of putting down in memoir form, involves a previous incarnation of myself.

I once had a farm in Africa.

Wait. Wrong story.

I once had a cheese factory in Colorado.

There we go.

Ten years ago, my wife and I created a cheese factory out of thin air. With no experience and even fewer expectations, we began making cheese and marketing it under the Bingham Hill brand. Our first batch was a hit, earning us a gold medal at the American Cheese Society annual competition in Napa Valley.

We then watched in amazement as our cheeses became an overnight sensation. Well-known food and wine publications featured them on their covers . Catalogue giants sparred over who would get to feature them in their holiday catalogues. Elegant restaurants and fancy cheese shops included them on their menus. We grew by leaps and bounds.

But then, due to a comedy of errors and tragic misfortune, it all vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The lawsuits have only recently been put to rest.

Losing Bingham Hill Cheese Company was a near-fatal blow. But with a bit of distance, I came to realize that our journey makes quite a story. There is entertainment value in our successes and failures, and I bet others would enjoy hearing our tale.

So I wrote a query letter outlining my story and submitted it to a dozen literary agencies. Almost half of them requested a full proposal, which surprised me to no end. I quickly pounded out a proposal, including a 30-page writing sample, and submitted it to a couple of the agencies. But then I immediately regretted doing so.

After reflecting, I realized I had rushed the writing sample and had done my book concept an injustice. Getting it right would require slowing down.

So now I've spent the last several weeks trying to figure out the correct tone for the story.

The good news is, I'm getting close. And when it's just right, I will submit my proposal to the remaining agencies and see where things go.

If the memoir takes off, the novel will have to wait. But if it fails to get off the ground, I'll return to fiction. In which case, I may be the first person to ever proclaim the following:

"I always have my novel to fall back on."

I hope to resume regular posting here. However, I may have to re-title my blog. Can I get a little help?

-Tom

So many books, so little time

Fiction writing has been on hold for the last week.

I received interest from a few literary agencies in a nonfiction book I'm writing. I sent out queries to a dozen agents and received requests for full proposals from three of them. Very exciting.

The book is a memoir of my experiences as owner and cheesemaker of Bingham Hill Cheese Company. The company rapidly rose to national prominence and just as quickly crashed and burned.

I spent the last week writing the proposal and will send it out Monday or Tuesday. At that point, I can resume work on my novel.

While the development interrupted my work flow, the process of writing the proposal was valuable and instructive. Working on two projects at once has helped me become a more disciplined and productive (albeit schizophrenic) writer.

Wish me luck.

Writer's Block

The inspiring view from the Poudre River Trail

I'm having a terrible time getting back into my story today. I seem to have hit a wall of sorts, which comes as a surprise, considering how well things went last week.

I blame it all on John Steinbeck. I've been reading his book, "Journal of a Novel," which is a compilation of letters he wrote to his editor during the writing of "East of Eden." The book offers glimpses into Steinbeck's state of mind as he worked through his manuscript.

What I've learned is that in writing a book, there will be periods of progress followed by periods of stagnation. When his productivity slowed, Steinbeck was no different from me. He procrastinated. He doubted himself. His optimism waxed and waned, and he alternated between seeing the importance of his work and being frightened that he'd produced a valueless pile of.... um...paper.

Here are a few excerpts:

July 6, 1951

...I feel just worthless today. I have to drive myself. I have used every physical excuse not to work except fake illness. I have dawdled, gone to the toilet numerous times, had many glasses of water. Really childish. I know that one of the reasons is that I dread the next scene, dread it like hell...

October 22, 1951

So, we go into the last week and I may say I am very much frightened. I guess it would be hard to be otherwise - all of these months and years aimed in one direction and suddenly it is over and it seems that the thunder has produced a mouse.

Last week there was complete exhaustion and very near collapse. I guess to anyone who has not worked in this way it would be hard to conceive this kind of slow accumulated weariness. I don't know of any other work that requires month after month of emotional as well as intellectual concentration...

October 27, 1951

...Yesterday's work was no good. I had to throw it out. I made a bad mistake in saying when I would be finished and now I find myself trying to make it when I said I would. I'll have to stop that - stop it cold. This book is more important than the finish...

The way I see it, Steinbeck condones today's lack of productivity as an inevitable step in the writing process. I feel so liberated. So literary. But right now, I'd rather feel like a published novelist, which would require breaking through this block and putting down some paragraphs.

Usually when I'm stuck, I take a brisk walk along the river and get my thoughts in order. I use the break for multiple purposes, as this is also my opportunity to exercise and listen to music. I recently expanded my exercise regimen by picking up a pair of river rocks and using them as makeshift hand weights. Regulars on the trail must see me as half mad, shirt off and headphones clamped over my ears, swinging stones over my head and curling them back and forth as I power walk down the trail.

me and my stones

Sometimes I use the stones as potato-shaped drumsticks and play along with the music in my headphones. I get a lot of smiles when I do this. But this way, I'm sure to be in shape should Dave Matthews finally grow weary of Carter Beauford's playing and ring me up.

The rocks fit me so well that I've claimed them as my own. I keep them stashed behind a bush and retrieve them at the beginning of each walk.

But I've finished my walk now, and I'm back at my desk procrastinating by writing this blog entry.

That's it. No more posting. Time to work.

"Hard" writing versus "soft" writing

Window to another world

900-year-old cliff dwelling at Mesa Verde

I'm back from family vacation, and as predicted, I returned with a clear head and renewed creative energy.

Unfortunately, finding time to write during our trip was all but impossible. Days were spent driving to destinations, setting up and taking down campsites, cooking, cleaning, soaking up the natural world, and getting back in touch with my family.

I suppose I shouldn't be disappointed in my output during the trip. It was a vacation, after all. The break was regenerative both for my family and for me, so it served its purpose well.

Through our travels, I rediscovered the beauty and diversity of the Colorado landscape. From the remote solitude of the Flat Tops Wilderness to the jagged 14,000-foot peaks along the San Juan Skyway, from the shops wedged against the cliffs of Telluride to the 700-foot dunes in the Great Sand Dunes National Park, I was amazed (again) at what lies in my backyard. We visited half a dozen places I would feel comfortable calling home some day.

But it was Mesa Verde that left the most lasting impression. I visited the park as a nine year old and wanted to return primarily for the benefit of my children. It was a surprise that I was the one who couldn't stop blathering about how incredibly cool the park and its ruins are.

More than once, I pictured myself in the yucca sandals of the Anasazi Indians. I scaled the canyon cliffs and subsisted on venison and pinon nuts. I experienced the dangers of a life with predators and disease and perpetual drought. I lived a life of practical beauty through the artifacts left behind: arrows, sleeping mats, impressive masonry and pottery - all preserved in the dry mountain air and the cliff dwellings themselves.

Corny? Probably. But the place affected me. Perhaps as a kid I hadn't yet developed the imagination necessary to fully appreciate a place so rich in history.

The photos and the memories and the time with family are treasures that will last.

As for the writing? I don't feel that the lack of words typed equates to a lack of progress. I found that my downtime was just as valuable as sitting in the chair.

Writers talk of "hard" and "soft" writing time. Hard writing time consists of sitting at a desk and banging out words. But writing a novel requires time away from the computer as well. It is during those "soft" times - those quiet moments of reflection - that breakthroughs are often made.

Some of my better ideas have come when away from my desk. I might be walking along the river, doing yard work, or staring into a campfire. It is during these moments that unlikely connections are drawn, plot ideas come together and characters take shape. It's all part of the process.

I returned to writing Monday with a voice I didn't know I had. I pulled adverbs and adjectives from my draft and stripped sentences bare. The remaining skeleton told a story that was previously buried in excess verbage. The few descriptions I left cut through the clutter and stood tall. And the words flowed. I re-wrote Chapter 1 and tied it into Chapters 2 and 3. I outlined future scenes and made a plan for going forward.

On Thursday I submitted a draft of Chpater 1 to my online writing classmates. I've only received a few comments so far, and the criticism is on the mark. I need to be clearer when I'm entering flashbacks and I need to expand some of my background concerning characters' relationships. When living a story night and day, it is easy to forget that readers are not privy to what is in my head. As a result, I was lean on details in a few places.

But there were comments from readers that encouraged me as well. My imagery seems to be effective. I have painted a believable picture of the mental state of my principal character. Descriptions of scene are working. I find all of this very helpful, since I have not previously shown my writing to anyone.

In summary: from a writing perspective, my vacation was a success. I made progress on my novel without having to type a word. Now it's time translate that progress into sentences. I intend to submit Chapters 2 and 3 to my class in two weeks, so I have plenty of incentive to get on with things.

Write on.

Writing on the road

(photo of La Garita Wilderness)

This week, my family and I will embark on a 12-day road trip through western Colorado. Stops will include:

• The Flat Tops Wilderness
• Glenwood Springs
• Aspen
• Marble
• Paonia
• Telluride
• Mesa Verde
• Durango
• Weminuche Wilderness
• La Garita Wilderness
• The Great Sand Dunes
• The Royal Gorge
• Cripple Creek

My challenge will be to continue writing without disrupting our family vacation. Also, I hope to move forward with the online novel writing class. I am scheduled to submit the first 5,000 words of my novel on August 8 for review by my classmates.

I plan to write on my laptop and communicate with my class via Iphone. I have a converter that will allow me to plug my laptop into the cigarette lighter. Ideally, I will rise early and write while my wife and kids sleep. Perhaps I can also get some writing done during drive time (laptop perched upon the steering column???) Maybe my wife should drive...

Vacations have always been a period of renewed creative energy for me. Whether it is the change of routine, the extra sleep, or the new sights and sounds, my mind seems to wake up when I leave home. Hopefully, this trip will be no different.

Early in my marriage, my wife and I joined her parents for a week on the Gulf of Mexico. I was working on a recording of my songs at the time and had been stuck on lyrics for months. I found inspiration on the beach and wrote most of the lyrics for my record that week.

Likewise, I have done some of my best writing in ski lodges, airports, hotel lobbies, and the like.

Come to think of it, those same times have served to renew my relationship with my wife. Maybe she's the reason I feel inspired.

Here's to dramatic vistas, effortless narrative, and sharing a tent with my wife.

My new favorite song

"Geraldine" (live) by the Yellowjackets

from the album Twenty Five

When I hear this song, I am a young romantic living in Boston during the 1950s. I rise in the afternoon and spend my evenings smoking Chesterfield Kings at the jazz club below my apartment.

Those were the days. Except I wasn't born yet.

Brand new day

Yesterday was a day to be forgotten. After undergoing hideous, disfiguring surgery, I spent the day in bed doped up on Vicodin and watching Andy Griffith re-runs.

I posted last night that nothing could stop me from writing 1,000 words a day, not even a dental implant. I stand corrected. After that post, I fell asleep and never looked back. I start this morning a day late and 1,000 words short. Can I make up my lost progress? Time will tell.

But I emerged from my pharmaceutically-induced fog as a more humble and insightful writer. The things I have seen! The horrors I have known! Today I leave my demon behind and switch to ibuprofen. With a clearer head and a sorer jaw, I will continue on with my novel.

Expect a progress report this evening.

Writing under the influence

Today I had an implant placed in my head.

Okay, it was a fake tooth. And more specifically, it was screwed into my jaw bone. I am now writing under the influence of Vicodin, which is doing a decent job of controlling my pain. Until this evening, it also controlled my ability to write.

And this brings up an issue that every writer likely faces: when is it acceptable to take a day off from writing?

My short answer: never.

But you just had an implant, you say. Surely you can take some time off to recover. You are so macho!

I could babble on about artists and pain, and how without suffering, there could be no real art. But the truth is, I am weak. I don't trust myself. If I take a day off, who's to say I won't take a week? A month? Before long, I could be questioning whether I even want to write a book. Couldn't I just read one???

I equate the decision to write a novel with going on a diet or making a New Year's resolution. With each of these commitments, a case could be made on any given day to justify taking a break. I may even have a legitimate excuse for doing so (pet hamster died, college buddy in from the coast, dental implant). But taking a day off makes getting started the next day all the more difficult. And then I'm on that slippery slope. After a few more days off, I might as well just give up.

Choosing to write a novel is an odd sort of commitment. It requires thousands of hours and tremendous self discipline (not exactly my strong suit). No one is looking over my shoulder or monitoring my progress. The world has little interest in whether I finish or not, because in all likelihood, my book is crap -- most are.

So I rely on habits to get me through. Each day, I sit at my desk and flog myself into putting a few more words down, hoping that someday, in the not-too-distant future, I'll be glad I stuck it out (as opposed to joining the civilized world and earning a living).

I have come to the realization that being a writer means writing every day, whether I feel up to the task or not. Even if I write crap. So that is exactly what I intend to do.

I have 1,000 words to write. Don't be surprised if this chapter is strangely reminiscent of Hunter S. Thompson.

"We were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold..."

Writing about the American Dream

I've become fascinated with novels that grapple with corruption of the American Dream. In my mind, many of the best American novels explore this subject, so it's not surprising that my novel attempts to cover some of the same ground. Some of my favorite stories working this vein include:

• John Steinbeck's "The Winter of Our Discontent" and "Of Mice and Men"

• F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby"

• Richard Yates' "Revolutionary Road"

• T.C. Boyle's "Tortilla Curtain"

• Arthur Miller's "Death of a Salesman"

In each of these stories, characters misinterpret or manipulate the spirit of the Dream to meet their own needs. In doing so, they descend down a dark path toward self destruction, often taking down those around them.

The term "American Dream" was originally coined by James Truslow Adams in his 1931 book "The Epics of America." Even before Adams articulated the concept, the Dream played a role in driving immigration to the United States. Throughout the world, people have long seen America as a symbol of opportunity, entrepreneurship and freedom of spirit - ideals that are universally desirable.

My own definition of the American Dream: In America, anyone - regardless of economic class, color, or sex - is free to use his or her talents and drive to achieve their maximum potential.

So what is it about this concept that lends itself to corruption? Trouble arises when "maximum potential" is equated with maximum wealth or power. When opportunity is confused with entitlement. When happiness is expected regardless of one's employment of talent or drive. Or when one person's dream is in direct conflict with another's.

For a time, I worked as coordinator of a politically charged watershed management project at the base of Pikes Peak. This experience exposed me to a fascinating juxtaposition of the Old West vs. the New West, as the ever-expanding city of Colorado Springs imposed its will on established ranches and municipalities around it. Here the American Dream was in sharp focus, as strong-willed ranchers, developers, businessmen, and politicians fought to exploit the land and the region's resources to suit their own interests. Everyone had an agenda, and no one was interested in compromise. The struggle was epic, and in retrospect, served as a study in character.

I met some fantastic people through my work on the project (here I use the term "fantastic" to mean "so extreme as to challenge belief"). Some of their stories and situations serve loosely as inspiration for my novel.

The setting for my novel is the Front Range of Colorado, where rapid population growth has pushed cities into the backyards of older, established ranching families. I am exploring three primary characters that are in various stages of living the American Dream.

1. A fourth generation rancher is clinging to his lifestyle and fighting to protect his family legacy.

2. A burned out, failed businessman is taking refuge in a rundown farmhouse nearby.

3. A rising developer has his sights set on the rancher's property for a major project.

The rancher and the businessman dislike each other initially but eventually form an odd friendship in their mutual time of need. As the rancher spirals downward, the businessman regains his strength, and together, they hatch a plan for moving forward with their lives.

Should be easy, right??? If I can wrap all of this into a 100,000-word novel I would want to read myself, I will be thrilled.

I have tried writing this story a few different ways, from different points of view. I am currently writing in first person from the perspective of the failed businessman, who by witnessing and participating in this conflict regains purpose in his life.

In a previous version, I wrote in the third person, alternating between the rancher and the developer. I left the businessman out of the story.

My biggest challenge has been avoiding stereotypical good guy/bad developer angles. I am consciously working to present all characters fairly and honestly, allowing each to have positive attributes as well as flaws.

Next week, I may post a passage or two from my draft.

One footnote: the watershed project I mentioned eventually went down in flames when the city of Colorado Springs realized they were being painted as the bad guys. They took control of the funding, got rid of anyone who disagreed with their views (read: me), and made sure project participants were too busy conducting studies to form an opinion about anything.

Ahhh...government at its finest.

The role of hope in writing a novel

Yesterday I started an online novel writing class offered by Gotham Writers' Workshop. This is my first class in 15 years, and my first experience with online learning.

While it is too early to tell whether the benefits of the course will outweigh the cost, I was intrigued from the outset by the stories shared by my fellow students.

We come from all corners of the U.S. and both sides of the Atlantic. The subjects explored in our novels cover the gamut of human experience. In many ways, we couldn't be more different. Yet we are bound by the common hope of selling our novels to a publisher and seeing our works in print.

For some of us, this has already been a lengthy journey. Many of my classmates have been closet writers for years or even decades, reluctant to share their work (or even the fact that they write). One student is working on the ninth draft of his first novel. Another has written "quite a few stories" and has yet to see any of them published. Another published her first short story and is now afraid to submit anything else for fear of rejection.

And yet we write on, dreaming of glowing reviews, best seller lists, and book tours.

But how likely is it that any of us will ever get our novels published? And should we achieve that goal, what are the odds that we will sell enough books to justify the expenditure of time, let alone convince our publishers to take a chance on any subsequent efforts?

The sad truth is that most "writers" never finish their novels. Of those who finish and submit their manuscripts for publication, less than 1 percent ever make it to print.

Self-publishing Web site parapublishing.com offers statistics that suggests most of us are kidding ourselves:

• A third of high school graduates never read another book for the rest of their lives.

• 42 percent of college graduates never read another book after college.

• 80 percent of U.S. families did not buy or read a book last year.

• 70 percent of U.S. adults have not been in a bookstore in the last five years.

• 57 percent of new books are not read to completion.

• 70 percent of books published do not earn back their advance.

• 70 percent of the books published do not make a profit.

(Source: Jerold Jenkins, www.JenkinsGroupInc.com)

• About 120,000 books are published each year in the U.S.

(Source: www.bookwire.com)

• A successful fiction book sells 5,000 copies.

• A successful nonfiction book sells 7,500 copies.

(Source: Authors Guild, www.authorsguild.org)

• On average, a bookstore browser spends 8 seconds looking at a book's front cover and 15 seconds looking at the back cover.

(Source: Para Publishing, www.parapub.com)

My wife recently commented that if a person takes on a project as large as writing a novel for any reason other than personal satisfaction, he is likely doing it for the wrong reasons. She's probably right. Publication is elusive, but making a living writing fiction is all but impossible. The process of writing a novel must be undertaken for different reasons altogether.

So why do people do it? I suppose hope plays a significant role, as it does in anything. Whether it is writing a book, raising children, buying stocks, earning a degree, or any other endeavor that requires investment and risk, hope is the essential ingredient that makes it all seem possible.

And who knows? One of my classmates could be the next Stephen King.

Where would we be without hope?

On drums...JOHN STEINBECK!!!

Each afternoon, I leave my office for an hour and walk along the river. As I walk, I usually listen to music on my Iphone, as this is the only time of day I can choose songs without fear of judgment (some of my tastes are considered unpleasant and/or embarrassing to my family).

As a lifelong drummer, I lean toward music that features drummers who practice their craft as an art form. Today I was struck by the realization that writing and drumming have a great deal in common.

A writer's craft is to establish irresistible rhythm and cadence in a story, using well-chosen words, punctuated phrases and varied sentence structure to build to an emotional climax. A drummer does this as well, choosing notes instead of words and punctuating his phrases with fills and crashes.

As with music, a good writer knows that it's not the notes you play that matter. It's the notes you don't play. Economy of language often separates professionals from amateurs.

Great writers and great drummers assert their presence without drawing attention to themselves. When at their best, a performance can be enjoyed without really noticing the artist. A guise of transparency, or verisimilitude, belies the virtuosity hidden within.

The best writers have a musicality to their writing, adding lyrical and melodic components to their language. Drummers do this too, by carefully placing the tones of their drums and "colors" of their cymbals.

When on top of their game, true artists make everything look effortless. Complex works like Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment could never be enjoyed if written by a hack. The same is true of Keith Moon's playing on Quadrophenia.

Sometimes, keeping it simple is the most challenging approach. Just ask Ernest Hemingway or John Bonham (if either of them were alive). "Simple" should never be confused with "easy." As Hemingway said, "know how complicated it is, and then state it simply."

A handful of drummers move adeptly from style to style. Jeff Porcaro comes to mind. Porcaro was perhaps the T.C. Boyle of the drums.

As for combining sheer technical abilities with impeccable taste and style? I would choose Vinnie Colaiuta (drums) and Phillip Roth (keyboard).

Today I will practice writing rhythmically and lyrically, only crashing when absolutely necessary.

Beginnings of a Novel

Like many people, I have always wanted to write a novel. But I've never done anything about it.

Oh, I've started a few novels (who hasn't?), and even breached the 50-page mark on one occasion. But 50 pages does not a make a novel. In truth, I'm no closer than I was when infected with the writing virus 30 years ago.

I was in the 10th grade and had received high marks on a district-wide writing exam. The exam used as a writing prompt a photograph of an abandoned house on the prairie. As an angst-ridden teenager in the Seventies, I saw in the photo a post-apocalyptic wasteland, so I wrote a story about life after nuclear war. Rather than send me to the school counselor, the district judges gave me an award. I was instantly hooked.

That early brush with success was enough to convince me I had the necessary talent to write a novel. Within a few days, I had expanded my dreary story to include characters and plot. I read a lot of science fiction at the time, so I drew inspiration from Arthur C. Clark, Isaac Asimov, and Robert Heinlein. My story centered around a small group of survivors who escaped our dead planet and spent their days hurtling through space in search of a new home.

After thoroughly depressing myself, I became preoccupied with other interests (girls, drums, basketball) and the novel project died. But my dream survived.

At DePauw University, I again received positive feedback for my writing - enough that I eventually chose to major in English Composition. I enjoyed my creative writing classes immensely but really had no idea what to write about. My stories were adolescent and lacked real world experience (I recently confirmed this by re-reading them).

After college, I moved on to professional pursuits. I wrote plenty over the years, but not much fiction. Instead, I labored over video scripts, feature stories, and company newsletters. For a while, I even served as business writer and editor for a Gannett daily newspaper.

I also read a lot. My tastes expanded to include some great writers, including Phillip Roth, John Updike, Ernest Hemingway, Annie Proulx, T.C. Boyle, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Richard Yates, Sherwood Anderson, and Edward Abbey.

Unfortunately, I still have nothing to show for my lifelong goal of writing a novel.

It has now been 25 years since I graduated from college, and hardly a day has passed that I didn't ponder the possibility of writing fiction. Some days I am overwhelmed with ideas for stories. I have lived through more than my share of ups and downs, and have enough life experience to fill a library with novels. The time seems right.

And now I also have the time.

Last month, my wife suggested I spend the next year writing full time. It didn't take much to convince me. I quickly jettisoned my responsibilities, found a small office, and began to write. Just as quickly, I succumbed to the familiar demons that plague many writers: Self doubt. Perfectionism. Procrastination. Intimidation. Loneliness.

The signs were everywhere: I needed help. Otherwise, I risked squandering my golden opportunity.

I researched motivation, goal setting, and visualization. I joined a local fiction writer's critique group. And I signed up for an online writer's workshop. This week, I returned to writing with a fresh approach, moral support, and a list of goals.

My primary goal? To complete a first draft of my novel in six months. That gives me until the end of 2009.

All I need to do is write 100,000 words in 180 days.

A thousand words a day, five days per week.

Can I do it? We'll find out.

This blog will serve to catalogue my novel writing experiences. I'll share my hopes, dreams, fears and observations along the way. I'll post some excerpts from my writing. And maybe by the holidays, I'll be blogging about about how easy this whole process has been.

I hope you can join me for my journey. Wish me luck.

-Tom Johnson