Discuss, please. Here in the Comments, or on Facebook or Twitter.

One way I try to accomplish getting out of my own way – which is working, [...]]]> I am toying with the notion that my most important, and hardest, job as a writer (and perhaps in life as a whole) is getting out of my own way.

Discuss, please. Here in the Comments, or on Facebook or Twitter.

One way I try to accomplish getting out of my own way – which is working, though gradually, as like any habit it takes time to instill – is breaking down the necessities of a good, effective, pleasurable, and full life (to me, different aspects of the same thing) into Five Elements:

1. Making.
2. Play.
3. Socializing
4. Exercise.
5. Maintenance.

Yeah, I like numbered lists. And the number five appeals to me. Because it does.

I consider these elements as actions I can take. They are, as I said, necessary for a full – therefore good – day.

I also am working hard to instill the habit of only allowing myself to do things that fall into one or more of those categories.

There are other ways I use to phrase the same elements to myself, when I remind myself of them. Making can also come out as Creating or, yes, as Work – since the work I get paid for is those other things. Play is also Pleasure, or even Fun. And Exercise encompasses both physical exercise, such as walking with the beloved Emma Dog on the ditch, and meditation – spiritual and mental exercise. As most delightfully and effectively accomplished, I find, walking with the beloved Emma Dog on the ditch.

My main ground rule about the Five Elements is not to get wrapped around the axle – or more appropriately: not get in my own way! – about definitions. Or about what belongs where.

For a long time – largely because I was trained in that along with many self-negating habits, and because it’s the easy, obvious explanation – I thought I had trouble performing up to my potential because I was lazy. But eventually it struck me that lazy people don’t write – and sell, and publish – 100 novels. Which, más o menos, I have.

(And yes, my above-linked Bibliography sorely wants updating. I just have higher priorities; sorries.)

Eventually I discovered the truth: I’m a perfectionist. And if I let myself, I will talk myself out of doing … well, almost anything I need/want to do.  Because I convince myself I can never possibly do it well enough.

Yes, I know it’s irrational. It’s a habit.

A habit that has a particularly pernicious application to my trying to categorize or organize anything. Again if I allow myself, I’ll get so involved in ever-descending minuteness of detail, and so obsessed with trying to fit every damn quantum into its right and proper pigeonhole, that eventually I break down in frustration because I, well, can’t.

No one can. Because perfection, while a laudable longest-term goal – pursuit of which I joyously anticipate will keep me fresh in my craft as long as I’m able to do it – is not actually attainable in the real world.

So what I do when trying to figure out which of the Five Elements a given activity falls into … I punt. I remind myself: who cares? Most important; why should I?

Writing – which is my day job (you knew that, yes?) – is, no shit, Work. Yet when I do it right – when I Let Go, Let Leo – get out of my own way – it gives me the most pleasure of anything I do. It is, palpably, Play. And also, because what’s entailed in the Letting Go, Letting Leo thing, a definite spiritual Exercise. And since, of course, if I don’t do it, I don’t get paid, and neither do the dog-food merchants nor the mortgage company nor the power companies, it’s manifest Maintenance.

I could no doubt gyrate it into Socializing, somehow. If I had more time and energy than I do to devote to this (unpaid*) piece. I’m flexible, that way. But you get the point, yes?

Which is: that’s all fine. I refuse to try to stick any activity into a given pigeonhole. Nor try to define the Elements in exclusive terms, so that an activity must and can belong to only one.

The key things are: I must do something – possibly many things – from each category each and every day. And I must only allow myself to do things that sensibly fall into one or more category. Which is, of course, the hard part.

As always, when I toss these tidbits out, I’m telling you what works or has worked for me – and when, and to the extent, I follow the Five Elements, I indeed lead a fuller, more productive, hence more joyous life – in hopes that they might work for you. I cannot promise you they will work for you – because the Second Iron Law of Writing is that One Size Never Fits All. They won’t likely cost you much – as in, nothing – and I doubt they’ll do you any harm to try. (Though no warranties: proceed at own risk!)

I will mention that I know the aforementioned Five Words and Let Go, Let Leo work and have worked for other people, and not just in writing but in other areas of life, because people have told me they do. They, as well as others they have passed the tools along to – for that’s what concepts and techniques like these are – have tried them and found them useful.

Like all tools, they don’t suit every person, nor every purpose. They’re meant to be tried, and used as one finds helpful. And if that includes simply discarding them – well, that’s cool too. It’s part of the plan.

So I submit the concept of the Five Elements for your consideration. As well as the Elements (Work, Pleasure, Socializing, Exercise, Maintenance) themselves. Feel free to mix’n'match, or define your own Elements: what actions are necessary to live what you define as a good day.

May they bring you joy and success, however you define those things.

And if they don’t serve you, forget ‘em! Or stick them back in the toolbox for a later time at which they might merit another try.

I want everyone to be happy and rich so they are fun to be around and can buy my stuff. That’s how I define my selfishness.

And by everyone I especially mean you – my beloved friends, fans, and readers.

And as always – thanks for reading!

*Pop quiz time: Writing blog posts such as this falls obviously, to me, into at least two of the Elements, maybe more. Can you spot them? Remember, if there’s a plausible argument why an action should fit, it does!

This is the image that called to mind, yes? If not, feel free to thank me. Gratuities gratefully accepted.

Because I find that, if I believe without reservation that I can make the future a better place for myself and those [...]]]> OK, so actually I am cultivating in myself unguarded optimism: straight-ahead, all-out, no-pants, face-in-the-wind optimism.

This is the image that called to mind, yes? If not, feel free to thank me. Gratuities gratefully accepted.

Because I find that, if I believe without reservation that I can make the future a better place for myself and those I care about, it helps propel me there. So it’s useful. So I do it.

Anyway, I am guardedly optimistic about at last kicking free of the breathing problems that have been hindering me since summer. Only guardedly despite my resolve to let it all hang out (see image above for the SFW visual!) because I have had good nights before, followed hotly by hideous ones.

But last night was a good night. I got a fairly long sleep, and sometimes when I woke up I was breathing fairly clearly. Unlike recently when lying down asleep for any length of time left me gasping like a beached carp on awakening.

Also, after I got over yesterday’s damn speed bump, and my breathing loosened up, the lungs stayed pretty clear until late at night. That, combined with how the night went, and the fact while when I did get up it did take a bit to pry the breathing loose it’s going pretty smoothly now, makes me feel that progress is indeed getting made.

I’ve taken the third dose of my prednisone, and I also began the threatened Ritual Scouring of the Bedclothes – including not just the stuffed animals but the pillows, which I’ve never tried washing before. So that gives me grounds for optimism, however guarded recent unpleasant experience keeps it.

Also thanks to some excellent friends on Facebook, including our Archon Masquerade Mistress Sheila “Who Is To Be Obeyed” Corwin and Casey Hamilton, I will probably gird up the loins and head into the clinic way too early tomorrow morning with the specific intent of snagging a script for some kind of long-term inhaled corticosteroid, such as Asmanex or generic Flovent to hammer down the lung inflammation that’s the root of the evil, here. I’ve had past experience of the former, which worked a packet, and caused me no noticeable bad side effects. Casey reports good experience with the latter. But Asmanex was also way pricey, and the Flovent generic might be cheaper. We shall see.

The point is: I have let this (plus, admittedly a different kind of setback a few months back) impede my forward motion more than I probably ought to have. Especially that latter thing, since breathing and sleeping are fairly important pastimes, the lack whereof will tend to distract a body. Still, I probably should have overcome my reluctance to expose myself to the whole medical experience earlier and taken action to fix this before now.

Oh, well; can’t bring back time passed. The key is I am doing what needs be done to get back to speed – then kick it up.

And it seems to be working. I will continue until it damned well does.

Meanwhile I was yesterday able to get something productive done. Not much; not especially exciting or gratifying. But necessary for progress to happen on the actual, you know. Writing. So I claim that as a win. Yay!

In reality, any day I wake up is justly a win. At the same time (and in line with the mouseover rant – and I do try to keep that sort of thing down to a dull roar here on Sense of Adventure, truly, truly) it’s not death I fear. It’s failing to truly live.

I literally believe that I was sent back here – and (since many of them told me so) that my friends expended such extraordinary efforts and money to give me a fighting chance to stay here – because I had yet to accomplish the greatest part of my Great Work: to entertain the world, starting with myself and radiating outward.

I think that is a good and worthwhile undertaking. Rewind; I know that it is a good and worthwhile undertaking.And I knowingly consecrated my life to that pursuit years ago.

So … that Great Work beckons. With reasonably clear lungs and mind … time to get back to it.

What else am I here for?

(Well, plenty. But that’s the Big Thing.)

As always – thanks for reading! Because how the hell else am I gonna entertain you?*

*OK, trick question. The Agent, who is a good Agent, is already exploring what we may call alternate media possibilities for The Dinosaur Lords and its sisters. And please to remember that’s not the only arrow in my quiver. I can say no more; verbum sap. And stay tuned!

So I finally nerved myself to go over the contracts for The Dinosaur Lords.  (I admit I was giving in to fear some, here – a habit I am working diligently to break, and making fine progress overall. Still, obviously I am still no [...]]]> … And it’s almost two and a half months yet to Halloween!

So I finally nerved myself to go over the contracts for The Dinosaur Lords.  (I admit I was giving in to fear some, here – a habit I am working diligently to break, and making fine progress overall. Still, obviously I am still no hummingbird.) Also, I got together with a lawyer who was kind enough to skim through them for me.

So, first off, they weren’t bad. More straightforward than I expected, even if that was a straightforward 29 pages. As anticipated, there were some changes from the standard contract since the last time I sold a book that was purely mine (far longer ago than I’m even going to spend any more time remembering!)

Few of them, as you might imagine, are to the author’s advantage. We need to talk about that. Later.

So, anyway, I did have some issues. Most merely amount to clarifications. There is one issue, though, that’s a pretty major one – something I simply can’t afford to sign off on as it stands.

(I’ve decided not to go  into specifics, here. Hard to see how I’ll increase my hassles or cost myself money by not running my face about negotiations publicly.)

Now my Agent – who has been completely good and kind throughout the whole process – suggests that the interpretation of my Big Sticking Point is not as dire as I fear. While I understand prevailing industry practices can be taken into account when contractual disputes are adjudicated, you can’t have two of your best friends be lawyers for years and not be keenly aware that the contract is what the words in it say. And I don’t like what these particular words say.

In one of her replies – I think she’s kindly trying to reassure me, even as she’s busily tending other duties – The Agent seems to suggest that some of her other clients, including some wielding significantly weightier names than mine (not that that’s all that hard at this point) have signed-off on similar terms without demur. If that’s correct it doesn’t reassure me that some of my friends have been so imprudent, candidly.

So where we stand is … bit of an impasse, until these matters get dealt with. Given that the Tor contract department got the contracts to me for what the contract itself calls an Agreement made May 2nd last week, it could take a while to work out. Uncomfortable. I want this done. I also want us – the Agent and me – to get paid as soon as possible.

And as I wrote in my initial response to the contracts, “this is one of the most momentous events in my now 57 years of life, not to mention my almost 37 years as a professional writer of fiction. I need to get this right.”

I couldn’t've put it better myself. Oh – right.

So thanks for sticking by me, friends and fans! I’ll keep you posted.

(So, I start off a lot of sentences and paragraphs saying, “so.” So that’s my blogging style. So deal.)

It’s here in the refrain. Listen:

  They Might Be Giants covers Chumbawamba

Seriously. That’s it. Persevere. Everything else is secondary.

I love this song (which you may buy right here), as you may guess. Also I like They Might Be Giants in general.

Even back before my late unpleasantness [...]]]> … To success in writing. Also, all of life.

It’s here in the refrain. Listen:

 
They Might Be Giants covers Chumbawamba

Seriously. That’s it. Persevere. Everything else is secondary.

I love this song (which you may buy right here), as you may guess. Also I like They Might Be Giants in general.

Even back before my late unpleasantness last year, when I was still stuck in a mire from which I could not extricate myself, the chorus “I get knocked down, but I get up again/You’re never gonna keep me down” helped me keep me going. Long enough to be given the amazing gift of a chance to heal.

And that’s notwithstanding that I don’t drink alcohol. Except for a single glass of red wine to mark important passages in my life.

(Seems to me I’m due another one of those real soon now, come to think of it.)

The song’s Wikipedia entry mentions that both Rolling Stone and AOL Radio – that’s actually a thing? – rated the original “Tubthumping” among the Most Annoying Songs. For me that’s just value added, that it annoys such notable dogwhistles. Also, is it just me, or does somebody who works for AOL – A-O-L – castigating something as being among the “worst ever” display just an epic lack of self-awareness?

Also, per HuffPo, “If the sight of a roomful of twentysomething bloggers bobbing their head to They Might Be Giants playing a hit song from 1997 doesn’t bring you joy, the Internet has failed.”

Anyway: watch. Listen. Enjoy. Learn.

And by all means feel free to hop up and down and bob your head!

I have just accepted an offer from Tor Books to buy a little thing I like to call The Ballad of Karyl’s Last Quest: A Romance in Three Volumes.

And you know what that means.

You’re more used to seeing me refer to it by the title of Volume the [...]]]> Listen up, my beloved friends and readers!

I have just accepted an offer from Tor Books to buy a little thing I like to call The Ballad of Karyl’s Last Quest: A Romance in Three Volumes.

And you know what that means.

You’re more used to seeing me refer to it by the title of Volume the First: The Dinosaur Lords.

Here’re my proposed titles for all three books of this epic, epic fantasy trilogy:

1. The Dinosaur Lords
2. The Dinosaur Princes
3. The Dinosaur Kings.

Subject to change according to all kinds of things. Including my whim.

That’s it, kids.  A long era draws to a close. A new – and grander – one dawns.

Thanks for your love and support. On this and everything.

And now we’re all going to be part of something really cool together!

This need probably not surprise us, given my Big Writing Binge of recent history. Notwithstanding that I took all of yesterday off, doing even more nothing than I intended.

I’ve spent much of the last 14-15 months learning how to push my limits without seriously overstepping them. Seem to [...]]]> Nothin’ left in the tank today, that is.

This need probably not surprise us, given my Big Writing Binge of recent history. Notwithstanding that I took all of yesterday off, doing even more nothing than I intended.

I’ve spent much of the last 14-15 months learning how to push my limits without seriously overstepping them. Seem to have to have missed a bit on that last thing, this time through the obstacle course.

Ah, well. No big thing. It’s a learning process, and will continue. Presumably as long as I do. Life, after all, is yet another skill.

Nothing of huge moment to do today anyway. I do soon need to get the draft cleaned up enough to be seen, thus sent in, and add back some of those Parts I Cut Because I Feared The Book Would Run Too Long. But not today.

I do need to issue forth, to my dismay, for basic supplies – such as cashews, which given my low-starch/low-sugar dietary habits form a staple snack in lieu of things like chips.

Also, Emma Dog needs a walk, because she’s getting painfully bored and also lest she turn into a cheese. (Daddy got two miles in with her Uncle Joe last night, meaning he’s at reduced risk of fromagification*.)

Sadly, I need to hold off the kettlebell swings, at least for a while, since I’m getting some odd pain at the front of my left knee. Overhead presses seem OK … when I have, like, energy again.

Otherwise? Carp. No idea. Figure out what I want for dinner that will require minimal effort to get in my face (although I have already made a batch of starch-free psyllium-husk powder “pancakes.” They don’t suck!) Watch some movies. Maybe try to get myself to see something other than old MST3K episodes on Netflix Streaming. Although I do indeed love me some MST3K, especially when it’s Joel.

Tomorrow? That’s a whole new day.

Or so rumor has it.

*Totally a word. A word I just made up. I get to do that. I’m a professional.

And began a new life. In what amounted to a new house.

On February 27th, 2010, I went to the emergency room, and from there into UNM Hospital. Along with life-threatening physical conditions (at least three, in fact) I was diagnosed as suffering from [...]]]> A year ago I came back from a very dark place, speaking figuratively.

And began a new life. In what amounted to a new house.

On February 27th, 2010, I went to the emergency room, and from there into UNM Hospital. Along with life-threatening physical conditions (at least three, in fact) I was diagnosed as suffering from severe clinical depression.

As part of that I’d let my house as well as my body and psyche go to pot. It had been subsumed, as I had myself, in clutter and grime I was no longer even physically able to control. It was hypothesized, while the doctors were searching for the source of the abscess in my right lung that caused the pneumonia that sent me to the e-room,  that the state of my house might have caused the infection. It turned out it hadn’t; that was an abscess in my jaw that I wasn’t even aware of.

But the deplorable state of my house had certainly contributed to my physical decline. And contributed powerfully to the feedback loop of mental and emotional decline.

So my friends banded together to fix it. From my very closest friends to people I never thought of as feeling particularly close to me (although all were friendly acquaintances at least) they performed a miracle of protracted, arduous labor: they reclaimed my house. They purged and cleaned it; one friend subsequently estimated it had taken about 400 human-hours of work.

They and others from across the country also contributed financially to repairing both my house and my me. Some ran online fundraisers. Friends also saw to my pets, temporarily taking in TJ and Squeak and paying to board Emma until I was well enough for my animal kids to rejoin me. That generosity, too, was astounding.

So … instead of a literally overwhelming mess that would have crushed my spirit (and probably made me physically ill again, whether or not it had the first time) I returned to a beautiful house, pristine and nearly good as new.

It was wonderful. I was overcome with awe and gratitude.

I remain so today.

And how am I now, a year into my new life?

Long made short: overall, better than I have in years. Emotionally as well as physically. And getting better all the time.

The severe clinical depression was pronounced cured after a period of therapy last summer. I concurred. I am not entirely sure how I got here, but I am no longer in that particular dark place mentally or physically.

Thursday I went back for my one-year recheck with the surgeon who cleaned up the lung abscess. He pronounced my X-rays “perfect” and my sundry wounds well healed. He said that, barring some unexpected change in my state, he didn’t need to see me again. It was the proverbial clean bill of halth.

My blood sugar remains under control, staying pretty much in the normal range.

When I went into the hospital I weighed, as near as I can gather, around 285 pounds. I wrote a year ago that it “had ballooned near 270″ – but I seem to recall that the last time I weighed myself, some weeks before going into the hospital, my weight was already above 275. And it continued to increase, as an effect of my out-of-control (and then-unknown) Type II diabetes.

My weight as of yesterday was 197.2 pounds. It’s the lowest I’ve weighed in the last 20 years, matching my low of late-summer 1997.

Most days I’m doing kettlebell swings and one-arm push-ups (still at an incline, though I’m working my way up to the real deal.) I’ve walked almost every day for the past month or two, and walked two miles a day for at least the past week, and only missed one day in the last two weeks or even more.

In terms of my career: well, you know about a little project I finally finished known as The Dinosaur Lords. There’s the Seekrit Projekt I still can’t tell you about (sorry!) And, since the check cleared the bank, I can tell you I’m also embarked on writing the first of a contract for three more novels in the Deathlands series.

So, not so bad on that front, akshully. Indeed, exciting things are happening; I hope to have some news quite soon. I’ll keep you posted; please keep your fingers crossed.

On other fronts – well, I’m keeping my house up fairly well. It needs dusted again; I’ll get to that. It’s unlikely I’ll ever be a whiz at housework but I’m maintaining.

I’m getting out more, meeting new people, doing more things.

I have learned some key things about myself that have enabled me to break the habits of thought that had conduced to, if not brought on, the decline which led to the clinical depression.

Obviously, I have a lot more to improve, a lot more to learn, a lot more to achieve. I don’t expect those things to change as long as I live: perfection is a goal ever to be aimed at, but ever to be mistaken for a thing which can actually be attained.

I remain, as I say, grateful to and in awe of my amazing friends. I never expect that to change, either. I can never repay what they did for me. But I will do what I can.

What I am doing, I believe I can fairly say, is making the most of the gift they gave me. I am learning to live a happy life. I am writing marvelous stories, as I was meant to do. Many of my benefactors have told me these were in fact  the gifts they intended to give me; and that I at least reward their efforts by doing my part to do those things.

To all who helped, I say, now and forever: thank you.

You will note I have not named my friends and benefactors. I have a dilemma. I literally don’t even know who all of them are. Some I don’t remember, but some I don’t know about. Indeed some have asked their identities not even be divulged to me.

I can’t bear slighting anyone. So I’ve chosen to express my gratitude generally.

More than anything I want to do the right thing – do right by those who quite literally saved my life – and made it, and make it, worth living. So if you have any comments or suggestions as to how to proceed, please share them with me. Please.

On February 27th this year I never once thought about what happened to me a year before. I find that a Very Good Thing.

So, Happy March 20th! It’s my (Re)Birthday. I intend to celebrate it every year.

And since you’re reading this – thank you.