Category: Juvenilia

A fresh start

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It’s been a couple of days since we settled into our new place, with nearly everything unpacked and put away. We’re still organizing as we go of course, but for the most part it’s all where it needs to be or at least close by. And both cats have been monitoring and supervising every step of the way.

I made the decision early on to keep a lot of my stuff down in the garage storage until further notice so as to not crowd everything in our now-shared office. This means that most of my notebooks, early writings, journals, and so on are down there, still easy to access but locked away. It occurred to me that I don’t need them immediately. Not to worry, they’re in closed plastic bins and out of harm’s way. [And besides, my juvenilia has definitely seen worse storage times.] Whenever I finally get around to restarting the scanning project, they’ll be ready to go.

In the midst of all this, I realized that this gives me the opportunity for a completely fresh start here in the new office. When you’re living in the same place for over fifteen years, it’s kind of hard to go cold turkey on some of the habits and processes you’ve become so used to. So instead of trying to find where I left off with all of that journaling and longhand writing and so on, I’m just going to start a new moleskine notebook. Spend a little more time just enjoying listening to music instead of obsessively collecting and organizing it. Pick up those art supplies and have some fun during downtime. And most importantly, instead of finding a place to put up my whiteboard schedule (and not wanting to damage these pristine walls on day one), I’m just going to try my hand at working without one.

This doesn’t mean abandoning my two current projects, of course. I’ll need to pick up where I left off with the Trilogy Remaster, and I still need to finish off Theadia and start in on its revision and eventual publication. Those two have been at the front of my mind ever since we started this whole moving house chaos two months ago. Give me a day or so and I should be back on track!

Do I know where I’m going to go from here? Not entirely…but I’d like to think that’s a good thing. I’ve given myself a clean slate as it were, and I definitely need to allow myself to experience those more often.

Juvenilia and Poetry

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It’s a trick I learned from working on music history chronology: sometimes things just make a bit more sense when you put it all in the correct order. How one thing ties in with another, perhaps influences something else, all while putting it in a clearer context.

Not counting that bit of extracurricular fun I had in fifth grade, my poetry and lyric writing started sometime in the early months of 1988. The IWN had been completed and its sequel started, and I’d also just finished a very silly John Hughes-influenced screenplay (also my first completed one) in the fall of 1987, and to top it off, I’d just bought myself a cheap bass guitar for $25 downtown and was about to teach myself how to play it. [There were two to choose from, and the other one was shaped like an Uzi submachine gun — no, I’m not kidding — so I grabbed the headstockless one instead.]

I kind of fell into writing poetry because I wanted to try something different. I also wanted to start a band and would be doing so at the start of 1988. With that plan in mind, I figured I’d also need to start writing some song lyrics as well. I latched onto my favorite influences at the time: the goth wordplay of The Sisters of Mercy, the oblique artiness of Wire, the doom and gloom of The Cure and the quirky love songs of Depeche Mode.

The first couple of attempts weren’t all that serious, but I wasn’t taking my assignment all that serious to begin with. I wanted to have fun with it! Most of it would be written in notebooks and on scraps of paper, written in my bedroom. By late summer of 1988, however, I came up with an idea: what if I take one of these numerous notebooks I have in my room — say, this Mead composition book that I rarely used for school to begin with — and started writing in it?

But that was still a few weeks away. Right now I had more pressing things on my mind: my best friends from high school — the ones who were all one year ahead of me and had graduated that May — were about to head out of town and off to college. That hit me pretty hard, and not just because they were all going away…I’d always been the ‘last’ in one way or another. The youngest sibling, the youngest in my extended relations of numerous cousins, one of the last kids of my age in the neighborhood. Usually last picked in gym class as well, of course. It was not so much a sense of abandonment as it was a profound sense of being left behind because I wasn’t allowed to catch up. That would haunt me for quite a number of years.

And it would be the impetus of a lot of my poetry, lyrics and fiction writing around that time. I found solace in listening to music and losing myself in my creativity for a few hours. That composition book would be where I’d bleed out whatever was going on in my head. And I’d also given myself one rule: no boundaries here on the page. If I felt safe in writing something heartbreaking, or horrifying, weird or embarrassing or even hilarious, then I wouldn’t hold myself back at all. My first attempts were sketchy and slight at best, but by the winter of 1988 I’d found the voice I’d needed. I just needed to keep going.

Revisiting these poems now, so many years later, I’ve been able to put this all to rest and in its proper order. I can look at these with emotional distance and appreciation. Putting these in their proper order and context, without holding back on any memories or subsequent clarity that might arise, has indeed brought on both in abundance. Answers finally given, clarity finally achieved.

More on Rereading…and Transcribing

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All this rereading of my finished novels, WIPs and backburner projects has also kicked off more rereading, this time of my early longhand writing. Right now I’m going through some of my old chapbook poetry and lyrics, transcribing some of them and making personal notes. Why? Well, why not?

One of the reasons for doing this now is that I’m conducting a writing experiment. I’m assigning myself to work on something every day, without fail. I’m assigning myself simple things like doing some fun Walk in Silence (the book) work on 750Words and this poetry transcription. Easy writing that would take less than an hour out of my day. That was the impetus: I wanted to see if I could do a full month in a row. I started on June 1, kept on going, and I haven’t missed a day yet, so that’s nearly two months right there. Not bad at all, really. I see no reason why I should stop now.

I’ve mentioned before that I’d assigned myself a transcription project back in the summer of 1995 and into spring of 1996. I’d done it then as I’d finally had access to a computer and wanted a digital copy of my juvenilia for safe-keeping as well as for easier access. [There was also the fact that I’d done it as a distraction to avoid falling into a self-loathing spiral due to my failure at staying in Boston, but that’s another story.] That was the last time I’d done it to any considerable extent. This has become a bit of a problem in the present time, because a lot of that work was written using the MS Write program which no longer exists, and WRI files don’t translate well at all to Word or Notepad. I have the printouts…but I’d really like to have the digital versions once more.

Why am I doing this instead of writing novels, you ask? Well, I’m getting there. The rereads of the current work are preparing me for the novel projects. Refreshing my memory of the novel projects I’d like to work on next. And I still have a ways to go before I’m fully ready. It’s prep work.

It’s also interesting to read words I’ve written that I haven’t reread to any serious extent for nearly three decades. While there’s a lot in there at my most inexperienced, there are also smaller gems: unique ideas and impressive passages that merely needed the work of a much better writer. I had to start somewhere, and I wasn’t afraid to start at the bottom just like everyone else. I’m also finding elements of myself then that explain who I am now.

That’s what’s making it worthwhile: looking back in order to move forward.

Juvenilia

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I still have pretty much all of my juvenilia here in Spare Oom. Poems I wrote in fifth grade for an extracurricular project, the origins of the Infamous War Novel (my first completed project) and its several versions, the numerous maps I’d draw in the margins of school notes and on book covers, the various story ideas that lasted a few pages and the novel ideas that lasted just a little longer, the several unused Murph comic drawings, the silly exquisite corpse stories between me and my high school friends. I’m only missing a few things, really…some of my early art, a few stories I may have thrown away in embarrassment, things like that.

I don’t read it all that much, but I do think about it now and again. I do so because it reminds me of where and how I started. My dad was a local news reporter and I grew up with a lot of adults assuming I’d do the same considering I too wanted to write, but even then I knew that style wasn’t for me. I loved the idea of making up stories. I tended to have a vivid imagination and weird dreams and I wanted to use them. I must have come up with a few dozen decent ideas — again, most of them lasting only a few pages — before I sat down and started writing the IWN. [And even that one took multiple tries over a few years before I clicked with the first complete version. That was just the one that stuck with me the longest.]

This is partly why I’m okay with having several trunked story ideas over the years. Some of them I truly enjoyed working on, others not so much. Some were written as an emotional outlet, something that needed purging. Some written with the best of intentions but ultimately with little personal connection. Some written in desperation because I needed to do something to balance out personal real-life issues.

I consider my juvenilia reaching into my early 20s. Everything just before I started The Phoenix Effect was written with the idea that I would learn this craft one way or another, on my own terms. It was certainly frustrating to see a number of my college classmates zip by me with relative ease and see print, but I had to remind myself that I wasn’t writing the same thing. I had my own reasons to do this. The Phoenix Effect (and to some extent the unfinished novel before it, True Faith) was different. It was the dividing line between sunny-eyed ‘I wanna be a writer!’ dreaming and ‘I am a writer’ determination.

I’ve used a few ideas from this trunked work elsewhere. Meet the Lidwells! has a few ideas nicked from my abandoned coming-of-age idea Two Thousand, for instance. That novel also uses a few song lyrics I’d written years ago. The universe of Diwa & Kaffi originated from a horror story I’d come up with in high school that I retooled into something completely different. This sort of thing is normal for most writers, actually. There’s no rule against borrowing some of your favorite unpublished scenes elsewhere! But for the most part, I’ve kept them stored away in notebooks and folders in a few bookshelves here. They’re well sorted (I did a major sorting project a few years back) and well-kept so I have no worries about them ever being lost, damaged or misplaced.

Will I ever use any of it in the future, though? Who knows. Probably not, but I’m okay with that too. Maybe I’ll post bits of them in the future, or maybe I won’t. Some writers have donated them to their local library. I doubt I’ll ever get that popular to warrant that, but it’s certainly fun to dream that.

It doesn’t matter that they may or may not be worth to anyone else, but they’re worth something to me, and that’s what matters.