​I have spent some time this morning working on the National Novel Writing Month challenge that starts tomorrow.  I have to confess that I don't feel ready.  I have to confess that I am not fully there yet to start word one, line one, page one.  I have to confess that I am feeling less than from a confidence perspective.  

My dilemma is simple.  Regardless of how I feel, it starts tomorrow.  Regardless of my confidence, it starts tomorrow.  Regardless of my preparedness level, progress toward starting tomorrow, research completion, and on, and on, and on.  It starts tomorrow.  I have to confess it is daunting to me.  The temptation to surrender the field and walk away is strong.

The thing I need to recognize in the process is equally simple.  I can't let outside factors like contests, challenges, and the like impact me.  I can't let that rule my psyche.  It can become what the writer of the book of Ecclesiastes calls more than once, 'A Chasing after the Wind'.  By that I mean, if I let it, it can rule me and when that happens it changes me along the way.  It can make me respond out of fear and radically alter my writing process.

Letting outside factors rule me, and the processes from which I work is never productive.  It leads to results that I am never happy with.  It leads to me running after the thing more than doing the work.  As an aspiring writer, I need to focus as much of my energy on doing the work, and doing it well as possible.  

That leads me the following admission...  I am not ready to compete in NANOWRIMO right now. And somehow that has to be ok.  The blow I took to my confidence still stings, and that has to be ok.  I have to set those two specific things, and many others I am not able to fully articulate to the side, and not let them impact me right here, right now, Today.

The task before me today is simple.  It is about picking up the pieces.  It is about coming back to the work before me.  I have pick up my pen, dust off my pad, and return to my gifting.  I have to knock off the rust, and inhabit fully the role assigned to me by the outrageous whims of the fates.

It is time to put on my big boy pants, set aside my ego and just be.  There is work to be done after all.  There is a thing I am tasked with doing right now.  I need to be about the work assigned to me.  I need to pour forth the substance of my imagination onto the page.  I need to pour it out, all of it, organize it, and edit it.  Then after I edit it, I need to drive it to completion.

So I need to accept the challenge before me.  I need to rise to the challenge.  Then I need to just do the work, word by word, line by line.  It can be tough, it can be a slog, but it is the work I am here to do.  And it is only in just being present in the moment.  It is only in fully inhabiting the now, and doing what I am here to do, what I am meant to do, that I can find success.

Success is something that I need to define as living up to the hope placed within me.  I cannot define acceptance of my work as being success.  It puts the cart before the horse somewhat.  If my process fully implements my talents, skills, and abilities, then that in and of itself is success. In this current moment, that is all I am shooting for.  Anything more is bonus, but it is not a factor in my view of the success equation.

So now, I have to get back to my process.  I need to get back to the work before.  Thank you for playing along with me right now, and reading my process update.

It goes without saying for those of you that know me well, that this last few months have represented a rough patch in my life.  In almost every aspect of my life, there has been some measure of turmoil.  I kept hoping this was just a bumpy patch along the way to smoother air. The most truthful analysis of this period is that this not the case.

It appears that what I am experiencing is either the new normal, or the birth paigns of a new phase of my life.  In either case, I have been forced to take stock of where I am currently and evaluate it with a critical eye.  I am not fond of certain aspects of this current context.  I am less fond of certain new additions to it.  Even less fond of the lack of control I have over a lot of it.

Which brings me to my first admission.  I am not a person that handles powerless well.  It has been a fundamental truth that has defined me for my entire existence.  I hate being unable to change things.  I hate being able to fix things.  I despise the things that force me into a place of powerlessness.

This leaves me in a simple place.  I can either continue to tolerate that which makes me powerless or I can part company with those things and move along to something else.  I am keenly interested to use jeffersonian language, 'in the course of human events there come moments in which...'.  I am hesitant to do so, as I am person given to hyperbole and in some cases over-reaction.

I am forced to spend time in quiet contemplation and consider the situation before me.  Not in that angry with it, screw this sort of fashion, which is little more than complaining and whining. Rather I have been reviewing it in detail and from a holistic perspective.  I have taken time to pray and meditate on the situation.

The inescapable conclusion I have arrived at it is simple, I am where I am supposed to be at least for the immediate future.  God planted me here for a reason, and that reason has not been invalidated currently, so until a clear exit visa is granted by my heavenly father, I am forced to make the best of it.

Along the making the best of it line, I have come to the conclusion that in order to deal with the turgid nature of things, I need more rest.  By rest I do not mean sleep.  I mean I need more rest. I need more time at peace taking joy in the blessings that are abundant in my current planting. Doing so seems like a cop out to some looking at from the outside, but it is certainly not.  If I am meant to be here, and the inescapable conclusion is that I am, then I have to savour what it means to be here.  I need to understand more clearly what it means to be here.

The reasons I am where I am at this point I am aware of but a fraction.  The Father knows them all, and as He is my provider, my guardian, and my protector, he is accountable for them all.  My responsibility is do the work put before me to do, and to fully inhabit the roles given to me.  The means I need to be the best father, husband, son, brother, uncle, employee, leader, and writer that I can.

In order to fulfill that, I need to be filled and equipped for those tasks.  If the Bible is true, it says that each and every day I am granted all of that if I am plugged into the source appropriately and properly.  So this feeling of being a dry and worn out sponge means I am not plugged in properly which means there are things I am not doing correctly in some aspects of my life.

So the search to fully inhabit the rest side of the work / rest rhythm needs work is the appropriate conclusion to arrive at.  I need to find ways to not worry about the work before me when I am not in the work side of the equation.  I need to recognize that I am only one man, and that if I have done the best I can in the work side, and made the most effective use of that time, then when I am at rest then I shouldn't be thinking about the work.  Easier said than done, but it is something I need to be doing.

Sure I need to take better care of myself.  I need to find ways to push the health side of things into the equation.  It means fewer unhealthy things, or at least smaller indulgences in the things that are not entirely in my best interest.  It means more activity when I am in rest mode.  It means walks when I want to sit and sulk.  It means being with my family when they are with me, and not isolated trying to put in more work.

Rest appears to be my word for the day.  I hope I have not overused it in this humble post, but it is something I need to take seriously, and felt the need to share those that read my missives... Thanks to all of those that read my stuff.  You are the reason I do this.

There are those that postulate the essential nature of reality is like a string of reality instances laid on each other like slices of bread.  It is one of the most fundamental concepts in string theory.  Its most fundamental flaw is that it is not the most economical use of scarce resources.  The law of scarcity in logical models says that the most economical use of resources is probably the most truthful one.  This idea in string theory is not the most economical use of space.

The truth, in my opinion, is more akin to be infinite realities occupying the same physical location but in different bandwidths of reality.  Simply put location A in space time most likely is occupied by an infinite number of reality instances simply stacked in different space time bandwidths.  So instead of slices of bread laid on each other, it is likely to be a single slice of bread imprinted an infinite number of times with distinct reality instances all with their own time space bandwidth assignment.  The difference between reality instance A and B is more likely more a matter of attenuation than of physicality.

This does not presuppose that space time location A has a physical location correlation to all of them.  In fact, the best guess is that the only thing they share in common is the space time bandwidth marker.  New York City is unlikely to reside in more than a single instance location.  So in one reality that space would be New York, and in another it could be something else altogether with a different name and different organizational principle.

In fact, it is entirely possible that humans may only exist in this instance of reality.  In others, bees may have become the dominant species in some.  Reptiles may have risen in others.  In others dinosaurs may never have fallen into extinction.  My fundamental point is this, the idea that there are an infinite number of specific people residing at the exact same time and place in other realities is highly specious.  Chaos, entropy, and random chance make this concept a virtual impossibility.

It is highly unlikely that what I am suggesting is entirely new.  The best guess is that this is a central tenant of science fiction and that my thoughts are a product of that.  Regardless of the ultimate source of the idea, my thoughts do raise, at least for me, some interesting questions. 
How are the bandwidth markers assigned?  What decides how an item is placed within a space time location?  Are the space time bandwidth barriers firm, or can they be penetrated?  Can items from one instance of reality travel to another somehow?  Can this travel occur frequently, or is there a price to pay for this travel?  Can something from one instance reside in another without obliteration?  Can it return to its point of origin without obliteration?
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These questions and many more occupy my imagination at the moment.  I plan to explore it in the future.

There are just some moments that people will not listen to the advice of anyone.  There are just lessons that have to be learned the hard way, I suppose.  It is a sad fact of life.  The school of hard knocks can be and often is the most brutal way to learn.  I do not wish it on anyone.

I come to this in the firm understanding of my experience.  There was a period in my life of definite and sincere regret.  For several years, I had to walk out the consequences of some poor choices.  It was a time of lack and poverty for me.  I was always broke.  I had a huge list of needs that I could only fulfill some of on my own.  There were times, that I had no clue where my next meal was coming from.

During this period, I had to do things I had never considered just to eat.  I had to work very hard to afford things like the cash for a used tire for my beat up early 70's camaro.  The few times I could afford to put a full tank of gas in the beast came from cash that was a gift of some sort or another.  It was a hand to mouth existence.  I hated every minute of it.

I learned humility during this period.  I learned that there is never a job beneath anyone, least of all me.  Pride, I learned, is a luxury you can only afford if you can pay your own bills.  This time broke me in fundamental ways, that I cannot fully explain.

I learned that life, the world, and society owed me nothing.  I learned that you earn pretty much what you are worth.  If you have minimal skills, you get paid accordingly.  I learned that a life, an existence is guaranteed to no one.  I learned that the only way out of my poverty was to pick up some skills somehow.  I needed to be worth more to the bottom line, if I was ever going to be able to have a normal life.

In my case, I left that life of poverty and lack and joined the Navy.  It was a tough choice for me. I was a stubborn person.  I was also willful at the same time.  Joining the military was a risk for me.  It could have gone very wrong for me.  Thankfully, it went very well.

Something happened to me during that period that was good though.  I learned a lot about life and about myself at the same time.  I learned that good things only happen after the work gets done. I learned that only in disciplining myself could I ever hope for anything that approached a normal life.  I learned that life happens, and you have to be able to deal with it on its terms.

I learned a lot during that period.  Most of what I learned came the painful route.  I learned that I too can clean a toilet with a toothbrush and somehow find a way to take pride in doing it, or find out what its like to do it all over again, after the command master chief uses it in a foul and disgusting fashion of course.

I sincerely do not suggest anyone follow my path.  I suggest in the strongest of possible terms that if you have a choice between swallowing your pride and saying the words, 'I am sorry', and walking away, that you find a way to swallow.  I suggest that you find a way to keep your mouth shut and value your existence.  I suggest that you not go down my road.

Life is rough.  It owes you nothing.  It has the power to take everything from you.  The hard path is not suggested for or to anyone.  

Rejection personal, profession, or other blows goats.  I talked about this at length in a previous blog entry.  I did think it worth of mention at the outset of this piece.  It goes without saying that any rejection even under the best of circumstances is a tough thing.

Any moment in which out desires are rebuffed, is the emotional equivalent of a blow to the groin.  The truth is that there is noting that the rejection recipient can do about it.  No amount of reasoning with outrageous fortune changes the end result.  It cannot be bargained away.  There is no reset button in life.

At some point, we have to recognize that there is only one thing to do in rejection's wake.  We have to get up and start over again.  No amount of grieving will change it.  No amount of whining will undo it.  The moment came, it went the way it went period end of sentence.  

Acceptance in this moments is crucial.  In part, its the only positive thing that the rejected person can do. In part, without coming to the place of acceptance we live in the past.  Living in the past leads to bitterness and resentment.  Those two poisons alone kill more people that heart disease and drugs combined.  Being stuck in a moment of rejection, is to relive that moment over and over again without end.

Acceptance allows us to move on what's next.  It does not mean that everything that happened was cool or ok.  Rather it means that we find the meaning of the events.  We take stock of our role in them.  We review our behavior or performance related to the event.  And then we move on.

This is not an easy thing to do.  I have struggled and still to this day struggle with having a good outlook related to rejection.  It has robbed me of years of my life, because I couldn't not find the path to acceptance.  It has taken more from me than an enemy of mine ever could.

So in the last couple of days since my rejection from the online magazine, I have been trying to find the path to acceptance.  I have found myself angry and struggling with it.  I have found myself wanting to rehash the decision in my head.  None of this is a positive response.  None of this is constructive.  All of it will hamper my growth and development both as an aspiring writer and as a human being.

I was able to articulate in my last piece what I needed to do.  What I found is that the task of actually walking the path was much harder than I anticipated.  It seemed to be littered with broken glass euphemistically speaking.  I seemed to be walking on a road of fresh tar, kind of stuck in place.

So I sit here committed to both the plan and to the path before me.  I need to get over the decision in short order.  I need to recover myself.  And I need to start over again.  I need to put on the big boy pants and find the way forward.  I am committed to doing this.

I documented the takeaways from the event well.  There was a lot that went right.  I have reviewed what went wrong.  It is time to pick up the pieces and recognize that the time for starting over has come, and the time for wallowing in self-pity and self-doubt has now expired.

I have been given a gift in this regard.  It seemed at first like a toxic barrel of sludge at first.  As I am fond of saying, first impressions can be and often are deceiving.  The rejection letter, now appropriately framed and mounted on my wall can be transformed.  It can become a motivator. It can be all the motivation I need to push me forward.

When I feel down and tempted to walk away, I need to look at that letter, and ask myself, 'Were they right to reject me?'  The answer will always, always, always be NO!  Then the task ahead becomes a challenge.  It becomes a process of proving them wrong.  It becomes I have to do this, because I am better than that rejection letter.

I need to find the will in myself to keep doing the work.  I need to keep honing my craft.  I need to continue pushing forward with my writing.  I need to keep reading and writing and learning. There will come a day for another submission to the outside world.  When that day comes, I want to be ready.  I want the produce of my labor to be good enough to get beyond the form rejection letter.  I WILL!

Thus endeth the rant...

Somewhere in middle age, the number of things that happen as entirely new experiences in a life well lived and travelled tends to decrease radically.  Even admitting that, I had an entirely new experience this week.  The stars aligned in a particular fashion that I felt were auspicious.  So I decided to try something new.

Over the weekend, I rediscovered an old short story I had been working on years ago.  I pulled it out, polished it up, and delivered a fresh round of edits to it.  I had my beta readers look it over as well.  I was convinced it was ready for public consideration.

I did the due diligence on what the best market would be for it.  In the course of doing that, I found out that one of my favorite online outlets was doing their annual fantasy fiction open call.  I have never been lucky enough to be thinking about this at the time that this event occurs, so I eagerly devoured their submission guidelines and got everything ready and submitted it.

Now let me stop here and say the following:  I have never submitted any work of mine anywhere in the pro market before.  I have always had some vague notion that maybe someday I would, but never actually did anything about that.  In part, I never felt ready before, and in part I was afraid of being rejected.  Not sure exactly when part of that equation changed, but it did.

I submitted it on Monday evening.  I found this particular outlet's submission system to be top notch and easy to navigate.  In short order, my short story was submitted and I was in waiting mode.  It took a few days, but last night I was informed via email that my story did not connect with what they were looking for.

I have to admit the following regarding the process.  I knew the odds were not in my favor on this.  The market research tool I use indicated the reported reject rate was around 97% of all submissions.  I did not harbor great hopes that things would go any differently than they did.  I know that the professional fiction market is insanely competitive.  I was aware that it was unlikely I would be accepted, and yet somehow I had hoped that it would happen anyway.

I found the process as it relates to this particular online outlet to be as open and fair as possible. I found the time from submission to response to be really good.  Essentially four days is much better than I had hoped for.  I had thought it would take weeks not days to hear anything.  The rejection email was kind and polite.  Not sure what I was expecting, but what I got from them was not the horror show I was expecting.

Now I sit here pondering the essential nature of the experience.  I wrote the best short story I could write on that particular subject given those ideas.  It was a piece I felt was good.  I felt it was in my top five pieces I have written over the course of my life.  Of course none of that mattered.  In a slush pile with hundreds if not potentially thousands of entries, it is easy for that to get lost.

The simple truth is that there is a limit of space, resources, and the like.  Outlets can only buy so many stories at any given time.  It puts them in the position of rejecting otherwise good stories. That is just the truth.  The truth doesn't care that I didn't like the outcome.  They had to follow their rules and protocols and make the best decision they could for their online magazine.

I don't have to like this, but I do have to accept it.  If I wish to pursue becoming a published author, and let me assure you that I do, then I have to get comfortable with the idea that even my best work will get rejected more often than it gets accepted.  It is the nature of the beast.  Rejection is just par for the course.

I have to find the will to take this kick to the groin, which is on some level how it made me feel, and use it as a form of motivation to push me forward.  It needs to become a form of, I will show you, I will come back from this and write better than I ever have before, type of desire.  If I can't do that, then I should walk away now.

So I am going to take tonight and allow myself to go through the process of dealing with this.  I plan to celebrate some tonight.  That may sound odd, but it is in my view what the situation calls for.  I did some things this week worthy of celebration.  I turned my hobby into a passionate will to produce something new worthy of consideration by the world at large.  I managed to take a story of mine, and drive it to a solid completion.  I managed to do the legwork of research and find an outlet for it, and then follow through and submit it to them.

For once in the course of focusing on my writing, I pushed through all my obstacles and issues, and put myself and my stuff out there for professional consideration.  That alone is worthy of celebration.  The fact that I completed the task, and then took the next step is also worthy of celebration.  My hobby was transformed from something I dabbled at into a burning professional desire to succeed.  In view of that, on some level, the results are secondary.

Yes it did not go my way this time.  There will be a next time!  I am not giving up.  I will continue to write!  I will continue to put my stuff out there.  I will work my ass off so that in the future my work sees different results when it goes out for submission.  Today was a loss, but tomorrow is uncertain.  It does not always have to be that way.  I plan to make sure that in the future my work stands the best chance of being received positively and warmly.  The rest is beyond my control.

So tonight as I heft a glass of an adult beverage and a cigar, let me tell you clearly that I declare this to be a victory.  A victory for me, for my process, and for my writing, the end result of this process being without relevance to the future.

I plan to frame the rejection email and use it as all the required motivation to drive me in the future! Each and every day I plan to look at it and remind myself that I have to be better than I was then.  I plan to occasionally flip it off and push on deeper into my writing.  

To those of you that follow my process, and those that read my stuff, I want to say a heart felt thanks to all of you.  Without your steadfast encouragement, I would not have gotten to this particular point in time.