The Singularity Rising

I finished The Singularity in 2015.

The ending was solid in my not-so-humble opinion. At the end of the book, I said I didn't want to make the decision for anyone; I wanted them to think about what they would do.

That's a half-truth.

I did want the reader to decide Caesar's choice, but I also wasn't completely sure what Caeasar would do. I thought I knew, but I wasn't sure, and more--that choice would have far ranging impacts.

A little while ago, Caesar started speaking to me again. His story wasn't finished and the underlying question of free will still tugged at me. I know the answer that I wanted to give, but I needed to understand Caesar first.

So, with the answer finally figured out, I've begun The Singularity Rising. It's a three book series, around 200+ pages per book. I'm working on the third now, and I think the end is going to be powerful for anyone who read The Singularity.

It certainly will be for me.

2,000 Hours of Dedicated Practice

I crossed 2,000 hours a few weeks back, though I didn't realize it.

At one thousand hours, I said, basically, that I was a competent writer. The 1,000 hours that I put in had allowed me to do a decent job of describing the world around me and my thoughts about it.

At 2,000 hours, I have a bit bolder statement to make, but I believe it to be true.

I'm better than 90% of all fiction writers.

That isn't the most arrogant thing I've ever written, but that only speaks to my arrogance and not the actual statement.

While I think saying that could ruffle some proverbial feathers, I'm okay with that. Kobe Bryant said recently, discussing he and other greats (Peyton Manning, Federrer, etc.):

"We’re not on this stage just because of talent or ability. We’re up here because of 4 a.m. We’re up here because of two-a-days or five-a-days."

If I'm better than most, it's because of the time I put in. Very little of this has to do with internal talent, but with the fact that I write for hours each day, read for hours each day, and comb through my own work looking for opportunities to get better the way a crack addict will comb through the carpet to see if they dropped any gear they could use.

Perhaps I'm losing my ability to be humble about this, and given that I have another 8,000 hours to go, it might be best to keep quiet.

At the same time, though, if you don't like hearing that I'm most likely better than you, work harder.

On 'Tropes' ... or where writers mess up.

The rage in writing circles right now is ... hmm, what's the word I'm looking for? Imitation, I suppose is the polite way to say it.

I saw someone say the other day that writers should buy the top books in their genre and literally put them into a Word doc. From there, the writer said that people should break them down by word count per sentence. Sentence structure. Pacing. Tropes (this means themes and plot). Then they should copy what they find while putting in a few unique twists to make their book not a direct copy.

This is, without doubt, an easy way to make some cash. A lot of people are doing it. Indeed, an artist I know just launched his career by doing something similar to this.

I've thought about this a lot, wondering whether that's the way to take my career. Clearly, from a capitalist perspective, we want to give customers what they want, and if they're clamoring for certain things, it would be wise to give 'em what they ask for.

I decided--for now--that I think such a route is disastrous in terms of long term thinking.

I don't want my books to imitate anyone else's. If I tried to emulate James Patterson, I'd basically be selling my soul, and I'm not willing to do that. More, though, what separates me from any other writing doing those things?

The greats--from Hemingway to King--didn't break down books to see what sold. That's not to say they weren't influenced, as all of them read prolifically, but the words they put out were their own.

I hate when people quote Steve Jobs, mainly because I've studied the man a good bit. First, no one wants to really be him, as he was a pretty shitty individual for much of his life, and second, no one else is Steve Jobs. However, he didn't imitate. He stole, sure, but then he combined things in a way that had never been considered before. 

Look at PCs. For decades, they all simply imitated each other, putting out crap that sold really well. You couldn't distinguish an HP from a Dell, though. It didn't matter which one you bought, because you were getting basically the same thing.

That's what I believe will happen/is happening with this 'trope' mentality. Authors will commoditize their work.

Someone responded to the earlier discussion around breaking a book down into a Word document with something along the lines of, "if people listened to this, there would be a lot more intense competition. They won't listen, though, and that's good for me, because I'll keep raking in money."

That's fine and probably true. However, what you're missing is the chance to be great. Give people things they hadn't thought of before; make them wonder questions that have never been posed to them; make them see things in completely new light. Long term, that's building a brand. Long term, that's going to satisfy customers. 

Homogenization is for hacks. Perhaps hustlers, too--as it takes a lot of work to imitate at such a granular level. But a hustler can most definitely be a hack.

I'll choose to be one, but not the other. See ya at the finish line.

How do you get to Carnegie Hall?

Practice, of course.

A lot of the people close to me are nearly ready to block me on Facebook, and deleting my number/asking me to delete their number. This is due to meditation and my obessiveness with spreading the benefits. That's okay--I don't really like them anyway. ;)

Actually, everyone I know who has started really does enjoy it. They say it's hard, but they can tell there is something to it, something happening in their minds. However, like most people who start a book, they do it once every ten days. (I know this because I stalk them ruthlessly through the Headspace app). 

Meditation is the greatest investment I've made in my life, but once every ten days isn't going to get you the type of happiness, contentment, and peace that you're wanting. I'm not sure if enlightenment is possible through meditation, though supposedly the Buddha reached it--but I do know that you won't ever near it unless you're meditating daily. I'm not talking about hours a day. I'm talking about 10-20 minutes. 

Taking 10 minutes and concentrating on your breath. Forgiving yourself when your mind ventures elsewhere, and coming back to your breath. That's it.

Someone asked me the other day how I have time to write and meditate, combined with a full time job. I asked them if they had time to eat. You make the time for that what matters most.

Take ten minutes, every day, and start concentrating on your breath. When your mind wanders, realize it has wondered, and bring it back to the breath. In that moment, you're both controlling your mind and practicing a very real sense of self-forgiveness, both of which will transfer over to the rest of your life.

Probably Shouldn't Have Written The Singularity

I'm about 90% positive that when I go wide with The Singularity (meaning, I start putting money behind the books in marketing), negative reviews are going to pour in. I kind of considered this when I started writing it, but didn't care. 

The book is dark, much darker than The Devil's Dream--and that's saying something. The Devil's Dream, at its core, was a story about love and maybe redemption. The Singularity, at its core, focuses on one question: does humanity deserve free will? It's not a new question by any means, and if I add anything to the discussion, it might be a different view of the extremes to both sides of the answer. 

In doing that though, the book became very, very dark. And the whole time, I tried to stay true to what I wanted to add to the free will discussion--that humanity can be a very, very evil thing. That maybe the case which says we shouldn't be allowed free will is actually stronger than the opposite. I couldn't do that with redemption. I couldn't do that through love.

I couldn't stay true to the story by creating heroes full of hope, and villains who necessarily lost (no spoiler alert, because I still don't know how the thing ends). However, people hate this stuff. I got a one star review today because the story was too dark. I don't care about that, but I just wonder if economically, was it a dumb move? Maybe.

I had to write it though, I think. I needed to see it through, for myself, if no one else. Why can't people dig dark, depressing, novels with little to no redeeming characters? ;)

Like dark stories? Get it here for free: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple

Doubt

This has nothing to do with the film, besides that it might be slightly overrated. I really do dig Hoffman, though. Death comes to all of us, but he left his mark.

I write with a tremendous amount of doubt circling above my head. To be honest, it's probably more doubt than any other writer I've ever met. Back when I worked with the Pizza Sage, I asked him if he had a word count goal each day (think of it like a minimum page goal you have to write), and he said, "No. I could write ten thousand words in three hours or I could write ten. But if I write ten, you better believe it's the best ten words you'll ever read."

I don't have that at all. Every book I write is worst than the last one. Every character I create is duller, less motivated by intrinsic fears and desires. Every word I put down is inadequate. 

I'm not making this up. It's a struggle, to say the least.

I read the other day that King said he still has doubts, and the interviewer was like, "Really, bro?" He said he was scared that he wouldn't tell the story well. I think my doubt is different--it's that everyone is going to realize I'm a hack. That, indeed, all these people who write me wanting the next book are just a part of some grand conspiracy to build me up. 

It doesn't make a lot of sense, when I write it out like that, I guess. I only write this because I just finished my newest novel, Nemesis: Arrival, and I was sure that my editor would probably quit working with me once he read it. Instead, he said it was the best thing he'd read of mine yet--in so many words--and I was truly shocked. It's not until someone else reads my work that the doubt clears for a second, that the cloud I write in falls away and I can see a bit of blue sky. Until the next book starts, I suppose.

Anyways, to steal a phrase from my editor, back to the salt mines.