"For each person there is a sentence — a series of words — which has the power to destroy them." -PhilipK.Dick
I am working to get a new set up for my site, so stand by. It has been a while since I even touched this thing. It has been neglected, forgotten, and sent into sad ancient (by internet standards) decay. Soon it will be shiny and new. But right now, please excuse all the glitches and crappy design from my messing with it. As a metaphor for my incompetence, here is a stock photo I didn’t pay for that represents the situation:
It has almost been a year and, yes, I am still working. I have sat in the basement coordinating stories and writing at home on my own time. It has been nice and simple. Well, that is a lie.
I have been learning the job, then learning how to do it well. Then with writing, I have been teaching myself to sit and, at least, stare at the computer. Following what you want to do with your life is always a daunting undertaking and I find myself wondering if it wouldn’t be easier to just do the job well and rise through the ranks. Truth is, I don’t wonder. I know it would be easier to just do my job and try for promotions and follow the set path of a working within a corporation. Of course it isn’t a given that following that path would bare fruit, but it is easier. Easier than finding the energy to work more when you are not being paid for it yet. I am keeping up the faith though.
Even if it is easier to follow the work path, I don’t think it would make me happier. And, that, is the real important thing in life.
Anyway, I am reading a lot. I am reading Neil Gaiman’s book, Good Omens, and Ernest Cline‘s book, Ready Player One. Both I recommend.
That is all for now. I keep telling myself I will keep this blog up and failing. Oh well, I’ll still do it every now and then.
Best,
ALC
P.S. Written but not read.
A desk job.
I have been doing less and less freelance work, which is okay as I had been doing more and more work on my novel. The down side was it also became more and more difficult to feed myself. So, seeing as I needed sustenance to persist, I got a job.
It isn’t a bad job by any means. I work at Twentieth Century Fox as the Coordinator of the Story Department. Doesn’t that sound fancy? I enjoy saying it. It makes me seem like I am helping guide stories, flying above in the clouds with paper propellers, to their docking bays of movie magic. I guarantee that is not what I am doing. But I want you to think that anyway so I will leave the truth a mystery.
This new job now allows me to write during my evenings and weekends, at the very least. The job is only from 9-6 with an hour lunch, so there is no more worry about when I can earn money and when I can write for me… and eventually you, whoever that may be one day. But basically, for me.
Any-who’s-it’s, just needed to keep my non-existent fans up to date with why I haven’t written in a while. As I see it, this is the most publicly-private diary in the world. I guess I will start using it more.
Keep up the good work imaginary friends,
ALC
To become and create
A leader,
Someone who stirs a crowd
And molds a group think
To make waves in masses
To do what they believe is right,
It is not enough to simply be
Passionate
About something,
To follow it is,
But to lead a rebellion
There must be more to a person.
There needs to be a calm command
That begs obedience
And emits charisma
That draws attention
And captures devotion.
Love and hate paired into a resolve
That inspires others to follow.
A willingness to let go of self and
Mold into the living persona of the cause.
Without this true devotion
Only failure follows.
So
Be the leader.
Be the cause.
Be the pebble in the shoe of your opposition
That drives them mad
And makes them want to chew off their own leg
To rid themselves of the pebble.
A cause does not listen to criticism,
Its only focus is completion.
It is not a person
And neither can you be.
You must fight all voices
That may disagree or question.
You will find this hard,
But you must martyr your former self
And become strong in resolve.
You, and only you,
Can bring change to the oppressive force above.
And as you stride through the door of victory,
Finding your place among the clouds
And Gods
Who rule those below unwilling to make the sacrifice
Only you had the brilliance to become,
In the wake of terror that comes with you,
A leader will grow
To cut you down.
Check out my new article on The Huffington Post about pop culture, politics, and the way we bastards view them. Tried to keep it on the short side because of the attention span of the average online reader. Which means you can take the time to click the link and read it. It’s sad that I have to entice slothful readers by saying “Oh, don’t worry, it’s short. You wont have to take too much time to learn and better yourself.”
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/adrian-louis-chandler/pop-culture-or-politics-o_b_3985084.html
It’s a strange thing, trying to be a writer. There are long periods where you don’t want to tell people what you are working on. Not that it’s a secret or anything mysteriously intriguing like that. It is simply because if you talk about it you might end up not doing it. The act of talking about it almost gives a sense of satisfaction, like you accomplished something. On the other hand you can get bored of the thing you are working on because you talk about it too much and when it comes time to sit down and do it you might become tired of the work you were so gleefully discussing. So I find it good to just go missing in action and let people think I am lazy or procrastinating or some other damning personality trait. Sooner or later my work will come out and it will be nice to hear people say things like, “I thought you just told people you were a writer to get laid.” At which point I will smile and nod, as if being a writer is anything but sitting in a room by yourself daydreaming into a computer screen about the cool stuff that might be.
This room is filled with chance encounters.
Tonight we sip off our week’s adventures
in order to dream of new beginnings
and let slip false starts.
We huddle together away from the night,
but still sit with our fabricated shields.
A mass of singular beings
wishing fervently to connect.
This room,
filled with clanking ice and glass,
soiled with half-hearted smiles
and necktie nooses
and magnetic skirts
and sweet perfume,
all I see is you.
I tried to look away,
only to be drawn in again
and again
by what my mind believes could be.
I have not yet heard you speak,
or know that you hate cheese,
or smiled with you on a rainy day,
or shared a tandem dance
on a foreign beach
with no wish to go home.
I do not know
who your first kiss was stolen by,
who gave you passion for the summer,
who was blessed
with your first flirtatious smile
that later broke their heart.
I do know that,
as your glass kisses your lips,
so too do I wish to feel your breath
and have you breathe me in as well.
I do know that
you outshine any other here tonight
with a simple curling of your lip
as you catch my gaze.
What I don’t know
you can teach me in time.
What I do may yet fade.
But tonight,
bless me and make me your thief.
Time makes sand of all things,
but tonight,
let us chase away clocks
and crowds
and armor
and allow this present
to build a moment which will,
for now,
tear down the walls of eternity.
Suddenly the Renaissance Fair article I am writing matters less and less in light of the explosions going on in Boston right now. It feels like more Bread and Circus, something to take your attention away from the ghoulishness of the society we live in. I DO know that we need these escapes from time to time, but that time is not now. Now is time to look into what is happening in our world and in our country and find some semblance of understanding so that we can better ourselves and each other. It is time to act like the first responders at the site of the blasts and run towards the problems and not shy away from the horrors of our world.
I personally will be keeping up on this tragic mayhem and concluding what best I can do to help.
This weekend I will be enjoying the pleasurable company of knights, pirates, wenches, and, most of all, mead. That’s right boys and girls; the Renaissance Fair is coming to town. I will be donning my best medieval attire and mixing in with humans who are seemingly saturated with the belief that you can never be too old to dress and talk like characters from “The Game of Thrones” or “The Lord of the Rings” or (insert favorite pop culture fantasy reference here). Although, keep in mind this is not Comic Con, these are people who seem to take this kind of dress up to a whole new level. This merriment is not something for all. Some might scoff and call them childish or absurd; however, it may be just a great escape from the monotony of a desk job that calculates the risks of someone’s behavior in order to decipher the proper amount at which to insure their life.
So what is the truth? Are they demented lunatics who have lost sight of reality or are they normal men and women who are just out to have a good time with likeminded people. I hope to infiltrate their ranks, in my camouflage of poorly bought garb and mead drenched lips, to find out more about this cavalier subculture.
I hate waiting for responses to queries or to see if something I sent in will be published. Right now I am doing both. I have sent in a new article to The Hugffington Post Blog and a query to The Tolkien Society about publishing my essay. This is truly the hardest part of writing. I would almost rather receive a quick “no” than wait. Almost.
If you are interested you can find both the hopeful article and essay under the “Articles” tab above. The Huffington one is titled “On the writer” and the Tolkien essay is called “The Monsters are the Critics.” Tell me what you think. At least maybe that will fill the void that waiting has left.
