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The Creativity and The Business

/ PaigeRandall / 4 Comments

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I should be writing now, at least editing. I have a block of free time, a coffee, good wifi, perfect surroundings. Truth be told I’ve been drinking a bit and writing a blog seems more fun. Okay that isn’t entirely honest. I’ll dig a bit deeper. I am struggling to focus this week.

Forever Falling, my second novel is getting down to the nitty gritty end of the first draft. I finally got the photos off my new camera and I’m able to fill in setting description from a my summer travel. I took about 500 photos of houses in Asheville and I chose one to be the home of my female lead’s father. There are also scenic shots throughout the city and mountains of Asheville and Park City. So I went back to page one, word one, to fill in details and touch up dialog. The story has a nice shape for a first draft.

Meanwhile I am trying to focus on this mad business of publishing so I can set Circling somewhere, permanently. The choices are endless and they are all right. And they are all wrong. How much time do I want to devote pedaling my words to the world of traditional publishing? To agents? If I didn’t have a publishing background, the answer would be ZERO. It is a lot of work and one thing I know about myself is that I SUCK AT WAITING. I fucking suck at it. Sure, get back to me in 16 weeks. My reflux will eat a hole right through my esophagus and I’ll be a raging alcoholic in 16 weeks. I can only get so many refills on my Xanax.

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Or independent publishing? There are a LOT of ways to do this. The research required makes me what to lay my head down on this table at Starbucks and take a nap. It does not make me want to buckle down and finish Forever Falling.  And what on earth is worse for creativity than business. I’m a Marketing (un)professional.  I totally get the business is creativity philosophy, but it is a little bullshitty. It is what we creative types tell ourselves so we don’t put our heads in the oven Monday – Friday during business hours.

So writers. Feel free to weigh in on your experience with this process? I am wowed by you all. This is a labor of love and those who stick with it have my undying respect. How are you choosing to share your work? How are you birthing this labor of love?

(Please forgive incoherence and typos. It’s Friday night and I found a really good Malbec.)

Dead Poets

/ PaigeRandall / Leave a comment

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I have a few quiet moments in a Starbucks waiting for the next thing to begin. As I am sure most people are today, I am remembering Robin Williams with a heavy heart. Scrolling through Facebook and Twitter, innumerable images with innumerable now heartbreaking, meaningful quotes.

I remember silly rainbow suspenders. I remember a white wig and fake lashes, fatigues, tweed jackets, lab coats, blue hoodies, distinguished yet scruffy beards, oversized forearms, blue genies.

I remember hearing his stand up and realizing he was more than nanoo nanoo.

I remember him playing it crazy, playing it serious, playing it gay, playing it straight, playing it in a million different voices.

How is it that Robin Williams and Christopher Reeve, friends and former roommates, both came to such tragic ends?

How is it that addiction and mental illness are so often a part of such genius.

My heart is heavy. That is all.

The Mouth Is The Window to The Soul

/ PaigeRandall / Leave a comment

 

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Hello friends,

I have been a bit of an absentee blogger the last few weeks. My last post was over two weeks ago as I was headed south to my beach week on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I had just been sorted into Slytherin by the Pottermore website. My identity has recovered from that reality giving smack across the face. I have come to realize that most of my evils lie in my inability to, in fact, lie.

Fundamentally most people are full of shit, I think. I really need to hone these skills. Do you ever sit in a meeting and think – I just do not give a flying fuck about this discussion? So do I. The energy taken to keep these feelings from showing on my face is grueling. Utterly exhausting. Everyone else has a normal face on. Why can’t I bullshit up a better face?

There is a gentleman at work. I care for him dearly in the most platonic sense possible, but our world views are on the opposite sides of the universe. In this case I can usually be very tight lipped (at work and all). Unfortunately he cannot. With utmost confidence I can say that I am right about everything and he is terribly wrong. But I simply lack the ability to shut my mouth about it. I let him push me to my limit and it doesn’t take very long. Then I call bullshit on him. Loudly. Why can’t I just smile and nod like other people.

This morning I was sitting with a friend while a child nearby threw a full blow tantrum. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual atomic level explosion that is typical to a child of a certain age. There are two ways that can go. Daddy can earn my respect by removing said child from my dining vicinity while it blows over or Daddy can OFFER A FUCKING LOLLIPOP! My lovely friend simply says, “Poor thing.” “Asshole,” I say simply. Who is right?

Twitter has been a great release for me. There is no need for restraint on Twitter. It is pure, unadulterated, mouthy freedom. Follow if you don’t @ThePaigeRandall.

While I’m at it, I have to say something to all of those millions of young girls on Twitter who believe the following to be true:  1 – Adulthood sucks.  2 – True love is the goal of all living.  3 – I am nothing more than a vessel for sex.  These are fallacies, not truths.

I just walked into a bar where I worked many years ago. The uniform consisted of a low cut top and a skirt with a very high slit.  I basically looked like a prostitute. I spent endless evenings with men thinking they were buying the right to get handsy and worrying about finding my one true love. I would not go back to those miserable days for any amount of money on the planet!  Girls, know this:  Youth is over rated.  True love is the icing, not the cake and there will be a lot of icing on a lot of cakes. Be more than your sexuality. Be interesting. Be intelligent. Be funny. Selling yourself short is the worst mistake you can make.

Grow up, understand your potential, become confident, make no damn apologies, be as mouthy as you want. And move the fuck on.