The past two years I have taken part in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), simply as an excuse to flex my writing muscle in an avenue that doesn’t involve USB ports or touch screens. It’s also an opportunity to step outside my comfort zone, since I don’t normally write fiction. The last two years however, my dedication to the idea has fallen somewhat (read: very) short of the goal of writing a 175 page, 50,000 word novel by November 30. In fact I’ve yet to make it through a second page. It would be easy, and understandable, to blame my failure on the fact that I spend all day sitting in front of a laptop writing as a means to pay (some of) the bills. Or to claim that the additional work load of being a full-time student makes finding the time to write a novel literally impossible. This year I have decided there are no more excuses. I’m not guaranteeing I’ll actually finish a novel, but I will make an honest attempt to do so in the time allotted.
In the spirit of keeping myself honest I’ll be posting excerpts from it here as I finish them. Note that these excerpts will not be carefully proofread, if proofread at all. I will run a spell-check then post. All editing will be done after the manuscript is complete.
I encourage anyone to post critiques, suggestions, and point out my errors after I post sections of the story.
NaNoWriMo officially kicks off November 1, so check back that night for the first part.
Warning: Despite what this post might lead you to believe I have not been smoking a lot of pot recently. But, I have been reading Brian Greene’s ‘The Elegant Universe
Perhaps it’s a reflection of what a huge dork I am, but one of the most frustrating things in the world to me is knowing that there are things that we, as humans, are actually incapable of knowing. And I’m not talking about intangibles, or the spiritual realm. There are things in our physical world that we will never be able to understand, no matter how advanced our science.
For example — the Big Bang. Our science has evolved to the point where we can map out the sequence of events that took place mere fractions of a second after the Big Bang and the creation of our known universe. While we can’t explain why or how many of the events transpired, scientific theories (such as string theory) are working towards a complete understanding of the forces at work.
But even if string theory is able to take us all the way back to the moment of the Big Bang, that is where our understanding will cease. We will never be able to understand what existed, if anything, before the creation of our universe. Is ours just one of many universes? Was it spawned from an existing one? Are we the rebirth of a former universe that collapsed on itself? We will literally never know.
It is my understanding (and please physicists out there correct me if I’m wrong) that any record of a pre-existing universe, or information about the origins of ours would have been destroyed at the moment of singularity which we believe would have preceded the Big Bang.
This isn’t a “what does it all mean” moment. I don’t care what it means. I’m merely interested in the facts. It’s not just disappointing, but depressing that there are things we will never know. Not even long after I’m dead and decayed. Perhaps this is the one place where I’m actually envious of those who have faith and religion. Not to be glib about it, but for them the answer is clear — it was god. I can take no such comfort.
So after thinking that everything was squared away (though I wasn’t assuming anything with CSI), I get a call today telling me that I need yet another letter from the chair of the English department explaining that the graduate level (read above 300) writing course I’m about to take qualifies as an above 300 level writing course. Make sense? No? I didn’t think so.
Well this makes it official that there is no way in hell that I am going for my masters at CSI.
Update:
Well I got my letter saying I’m graduating. I won’t feel better until I have that diploma in my hand.
I should feel relieved and excited, but the whole experience left such a bad taste in my mouth.
For those of you who have been following me on Twitter you’re well aware that I am currently battling the College of Staten Island (CSI) for my diploma. Unfortunately 140 characters severely limits the amount of information I can share… I’m pretty much limited to venting vague frustrations. Some of you may be wondering what exactly could I be doing running back and forth to CSI so often. So let me tell you about this week in my struggle, which should give you an idea of the ridiculous bureaucracy and ineptness that I am forced to endure.
I am currently one class shy of my bachelor’s degree. An accomplishment almost nine years in the making. Unfortunately CSI is not offering any classes this summer that fulfill my requirement to graduate. So after calling an adviser I’m told to go see the chairperson of the English department, who may grant me an exception to take another class in its place. This requires I go to the English office to see a woman, who has been very helpful, but I’m sure is getting sick of looking at me. When I walk in her secretary greets me, “Didn’t we get you straightened out yet?” To which I can only hang my head, and in a sullen voice explain my situation. Unfortunately the chairperson is not in, and I have to come back another day.
Two days later I’m back on the CSI campus. Armed with my usual stack of records, letters, etc. The chairperson tells me there is one class I can take, a graduate course in autobiography writing. Unfortunately she doesn’t have the authority to let me, as an undergraduate student, take a graduate level course. She gives me the number of the graduate program director, and I call him from outside the English building. No answer. I leave a message and head home.
As I’m pulling up outside my apartment, the director calls me back, and says he’s more than willing to help. Unfortunately he has no idea what the protocol is for getting me admitted to the class, so I’ll have to figure that out.
It’s to late to call the registrar’s office at this point, so I have to wait till the next day. After fighting with the rather convoluted CSI automated phone system — because they don’t list the number for the registrar’s office on the web site — I get through to a woman, who after 10 minutes of hemming and hawing (and putting me on hold), tells me she has no idea either. She directs me to call a particular woman in the graduation office.
Why the graduation office would know how to register for this class, and why the registrars office (whose single task is to handle registration for classes) doesn’t is beyond me.
So I wait till the prescribed time (she was apparently out of the office till two), and call. I tell her I’ve been specifically instructed to call her and that she may have the answer to my question. Without even pausing, she promptly transfers me back to the registrar’s office! The same woman I spoke to earlier picks up the phone again, only this time she knows the answer — I assume its because this time she listened when I spoke. She tells me that all I need is a letter saying I’m allowed to take the course. But apparently the letter doesn’t need to be from the graduate program director, just from the chairperson of the English department.
Ugh…
This is just a tiny taste of the crap that goes on at this school, where the best you can hope for is to speak to someone who is pleasant, but useless.
If you’re interested in seeing the angry letter I wrote that got me a personal appology from the president of CUNY and the CSI administration let me know I may just post it.
For the last two years I’ve been writing for AOL and Switched as a freelancer, and while I do enjoy the work, anyone in the industry can tell you — blogger isn’t exactly the highest paid profession on Earth. So for two years I’ve handled a part time job at the store I’ve worked at on and off since I was about 16, while writing and going to school. But recently I’ve crossed the threshold from busy, to barely able to find the time to eat, as I’ve finally started finding some more freelance assignments. Something had to give, and clearly it was going to be the register jockey day job.
So as of May 31st I will be taking the leap and trying to become full-time freelance writer.
There isn’t much room for error here. So it’s with a equal amounts of excitement and fear that I completely give up the safety of a reliable pay-check and steady work and instead try to support myself doing something I love. Will I fall on my face? Does it really matter?
More than anything it’ll just be nice to say to people, “I’m a writer,” when they ask what I do for a living, as opposed to rattleing off a laundry list of odd jobs. And the less time spent listing my various sources of income the more time have for other things — like blogging… here… for free…
Ok so clearly I was kidding myself trying to survive with Google Sites as a way to manage brand “me” on the Internet. So the old dog was put down and from its ashes has risen this blog.
You’ll still find links to my pro-blogging up top, as well as some of my non-tech writing. And I’ll be updating here from time to time with things that strike my fancy, but sadly have no place in my professional writing life.
Random passers by may find what ends up on here a bit on the schizophrenic side, but what can I say, I’m part of Generation ADD.
