View from Masada 5/21/08, 11.56 PM

New Words: 802

Total Words: 54062

Page Count: 260

Mean Things: About $50,000 USD worth of coke tossed into the Ibar River.

Reason for Stopping: Coors, Miller Lite, and an episode of House.

Notes: Just before a conversation with Jerz, I got a shotgun blast of an epiphany that enables me to move from Q to V in the plot. Granted, I haven't written up to Q yet, but the plot chunk that fell into my head was wonderfully insidious. To be perfectly honest, it was nothing short of orgasmic beauty, and it has my characters doing some truly ruthless shit. Like truly, truly ruthless. Like...more ruthless than before. This is a whole new level of evil and it's got the black hats AND white hats!!!!!!!!

I have the next scene mapped out and ready to write. Trouble is, I try not to touch this story when the least bit inebriated, so I'll be closing the blinds for tonight. But, hey, that's a beautiful page count and Chapter 10 is off to an incredible start, even though it's yet another minor character with a POV scene. I'm tying it all together, though. So at least I'm trying to stem the massive flow of characters. ::grin::

God, how I love this job!

P.S. The Grand Theft Auto IV "Everyone's a Rat" trailer is so full of goodness I think I need to change my pants.

No, really. I was.

By some bizarre twist of fate (the universe working itself out again, bijou), I was up at 7.45 AM for a filming. The Yale Office of Development had a film crew in that was filming a series on students and life in the residential colleges at Yale, and this was the follow up to a video interview I'd done with them a few weeks back.

The shots, filmed in the plush living room of the place I'm staying at right now, were mostly of me being studious and actually getting some words on the page of this latest chapter while reading a very interesting New Yorker article on Chinua Achebe and the legacy of Africa novels written by African novelists (makes sense, doesn't it?). It was a fun and interesting few hours, and I think I gave the crew what they needed. The film will be put together in September as part of a Yale fund-raising campaign, and they agreed to send me a copy that I could show Mom. If I ever break into film, this will be the moment I point to and say, ah, yes, those seeds were planted here. ::grin::

A lot of fun, and I look forward to seeing the finished product. Plus, I got free coffee and muffins. Peace to breakfast!

In other news, it seems Lebanon has finally calmed down. For the moment, at least.

Now to get some more words on the page before I head off to work.

View from Masada 5/21/08, 1.45 AM

New Words: 1972

Total Words: 53258

Page Count: 256

Mean Things: Shootout in Rugova Square.

Reason for Stopping: End of chapter.

Notes: Might've broken my own heart with this one. Lawrence is beginning to realize the toll his work is taking on the people around him. Also, the intersections are beginning. My potential problem of too many characters should start to rectify itself as they begin to interact more directly. Also promises for some real pyrotechnics. Also, it's nice to be able to build a whole chapter around a single theme. It makes it feel like I'm covering some real ground here. On one level, the plot is advancing, and I'm trying to keep the pieces of the puzzle close enough together so that when they do come together, it doesn't seem totally out of left field. But on another level, the thematic discussion I get to have here (with myself, of course) is deepening. The more pieces there are, the more territory I get to explore. This chapter's theme, not to get too spoilery: the inescapable nature of the gangster mentality. Oh, this is so much fun.

God, I love this job.

::sonrisa::

( Merchant of Death: Money, Guns, Planes, and the Man Who Makes War Possible - A Review )

Continuing preparation for my summer research, next on this list is Misha Glenny's book McMafia. The thread that started with Naim's book Illicit, and continued with this Bout chronicle, shall proceed next with that one. I'm looking forward to it.

Best damn pancakes I've ever had.

View from Masada 5/16/08, 1.13 AM

New Words: 2430

Total Words: 51283

Page Count: 247

Mean Things: Ilia, Dusan, and Jusuf are all just gangsters, I suppose.

Reason for Stopping: Sleep in preparation of a weekend in the Garden State.

Notes: I've been watching episodes from Season 2 of House, and I'm very, very impressed. I mean; I watch it for the same reason I imagine 85% of viewers watch it, which is for the misanthropic brilliance that is Dr. Gregory House. He is wonderfully written. Sure, the sardonic is done well, but what I find even more compelling is when he suffers from the very things he diagnoses those around him with, or when he is proven wrong. When a little girl's courage is not a result of a biological anomaly or when the physical pain in his leg comes from the heartache he's brought upon himself. Sometimes he is so incredibly vicious, but the other side of that coin is the humanity, the suffering. Why is he angry and bitter and, at times dare I say, hateful? The answer to that lies between the lines, and it's in moments like that that I see the true heartrending beauty of a character wonderfully done. Maybe that's what informs my thing for broken characters. Their complexity, the way life happens to them, the way they happen period. The definition of compelling. I can only hope I've been able to justice to the brokenness in my own characters. At the same time, however, watching House has proven to me, delightfully, how much more I have to learn before I finally get the hang of this whole writing thing.

In other news, this chapter did another thematic thing again. I don't know if I can adequately describe how happy it makes me.

Today was a beautiful day. A very beautiful day.

The weather was a pleasant change from last night's downpour, and I woke up to a phone call from a very dear friend I've only reconnected with after a year spent incommunicado. It was wonderful to have the conversation we did, and I had the feeling that we were picking up just where we had left off. Lovely when that happens.

It's that time of year when you can step outside on a Saturday night, the air warm around you, and not hear parties on every corner. The energy has trickled out of the walls, the streets no longer thrum beneath the feet of troupe after troupe of young, mischievous, restless students. Everyone has already left. If not, they've retreated to those books that need to be read and those papers that need to be written. The quiet is refreshing though.

Many of my friends have come to the end of these memorable four years, and of late, not a day has gone by where I haven't wondered if this is the last time I'll see their face, hear them speak, experience their company. There's the urge to turn into something grandiose and remarkable, to turn that last sighting into the brightest star in the galaxy behind my eyes, to engrave it into the bedrock of my memory with the sharpest sword possible, but there is something to be said about the quiet, unremarkable, completely normal moment. Not a bang, not a whimper, but something else.

Near the end of my stay in Morocco, one of the cousins who'd come to stay with us for a while was getting ready to leave, and I knew in that very tiny moment that this was the last time I would ever see her. I remember feeling horrible that I couldn't find anything to say to adequately convey how much meeting her had meant to me. I couldn't find anything to imbue the moment with the gravitas I felt it merited. It merely happened.

I remember it as if it were yesterday.

Or the last lamb kefta I shared with that Turkish proprietor right by my place in Paris. The hours we wiled away, picking from the trees of memory in French, English, and Arabic. The picture of his beautiful daughter he showed me. Medina-Ayin. The family he was waiting for in Izmir. What happened? We ate, we shared a few cigarettes, and we talked.

Nothing else needed to happen.

So, as I watch the school year mature into the twilight of its cycle, perhaps, that is what I need to realize. Nothing else needs to happen. Sometimes the joke, the frown, the rebuke, the laugh, the conversation, the coffee, the goodbye, sometimes it's more than enough.

There's this problem I've been battling with all throughout Masada that I was only recently able to articulate to myself and it concerns the dialogue. Throughout the novel, I've tried to maintain a sense of colloquialism, of ease and flowing parlance. It sounds very much how I'd imagine people from those situations sounding like. It has that "ripped from the streets" feel, except that the problem is that they sound a lot like American streets.

Now I run into an immediate problem in that I'm writing a story that takes place in an Albanian-speaking population in a language other than Albanian. Thus, there are all sorts of things that get lost in translation, as well as the fact that I speak zero Albanian. True, I could seek out an Albanian-English dictionary or buy one of those Rosetta Stone CD's, but it would still come across as false.

So I guess the decision I came to when starting to write was that it wouldn't be dialogue for dialogue's sake. It would be dialogue for the scene's sake. The dialogue, like the setting, like character descriptions, etc, would serve as atmosphere. Thus, I'm not trying to capture the words themselves as they are spoken but rather the mood they evoke, their intention, their motive and effect.

Sure, I could easily look up "Go fuck yourself" in Albanian or "I love you," but the same effect is had if I write it in English and have the opposing character react as if it were said in the native language. Thus, I circumvent all (well, some, really) the logistical pitfalls of writing a novel that's based on another culture and that happens in another language.

It's just that the balance has turned out to be more tenuous than I expected. I have to contextualize the slang and in many cases make it up myself because I'm writing about a culture within a culture. And while having the dialogue as just part of the scene contextualizes itself to a large extent, how much of that is because it is what we (as English-readers) are more accustomed to hearing? Is it true to the story? Does it serve the story? Or does it come across as false as doing the dictionary thing?

View from Masada 5/7/08, 12.58 AM

New Words: 1406

Total Words: 48830

Page Count: 235

Mean Things: Beatdowns. Major beatdowns.

Reason for Stopping: Bedtime.

Notes: AND I'M BACK!!!!!!!! Needless to say, with all the non-writing stuff going on in my life, this is a hell of a way to end the semester. Here's to contentment in spades.

I slept 16 hours last night. I think my body's trying to tell me something.

I'm tired.

So very tired.

I don't know what it is exactly. I'm done with the semester. Done with the year. I don't even have meetings left to attend or anything like that, but the energy to relax just isn't there. Part of it is guilt. It's easy to be busy when you're supposed to, and when I'd take a break and indulge while drowning beneath six papers and about 500 pages of reading a week, it was, dare I say, easy. Easier than this. I think this is the part of burnout that's so frightening. It's all about the "after". It's not even that I don't know what to do with myself. There are a number of things that deserve my attention, most notably resuming work on Masada which has been stalled since mid-February. But my head is swimming in funk right now, and I can't for the life of me get it out.

I'm happy. Don't get me wrong, this isn't the typical malaise I've fallen prey to in the past. This is just brokenness, I guess is the best way to put it. You don't realize the strain of going fast and hard for so long until after you're done. I was lucky in that I got done what needed to get done before I collapsed, but my brain hasn't got its legs back yet.

I bought my tickets the other day, so the trip is now official. Contact has been established with Split, and once I get there, I'll be able to iron out the minutiae of the itinerary. Also get to pick out what police stations and whatnot I want to get to first and how exactly I can get the groundwork for this done.

I'm still trying to figure out how to feel about getting "Sand in his Shoes" published. Elation, while readily available, wasn't at the forefront. Granted, I love the story and it represents me at a very interesting place as a writer, but it does seem kinda left-field that that story of all the stuff I've written would turn out to be my first professional sale.

There's been a lot of good news in the past few weeks. A lot. I have much to be thankful for. I just think perhaps that I have to remember to, when finally given the chance, take care of myself the way I've been meaning to. Good news just doesn't feel the same if I don't have enough energy to enjoy it. ::grin::

I discovered today that it was possible to have my cake and eat it too.

Rather than fly directly from JFK to Split International, which would cost around $2700 RT, I could fly instead into Rome for just over $1000 RT. From there, a local train can take me to Ancona (a four hour ride, I believe), where I will be able to hop on a ferry that will spirit me across the Adriatic on a nighttime voyage straight into Split harbor.

I'm going to see Rome. And Ancona.

I still can't believe it.

If nothing else, the past few days have certainly taught me the true meaning of "reversal of fortune." This month in its entirety was almost overwhelming, and I know the phrase "emotional rollercoaster" is overused, but here it seems strangely apt.

It seems I've finally joined my colleagues who were a bit farther along on the publication journey than myself by having, at long last, made my first short story sale.

Sand in His Shoes, my espionage short story starring Levi Galili will be appearing in an upcoming issue of Crimespree Magazine. Details forthcoming.

It certainly wasn't the story I'd have pegged to be my first sale, and it's even more of a surprise as it isn't even my best effort, but I am nonetheless thrilled and will be celebrating accordingly. In other writing-related news, the shortlist for the Debut Dagger competition came out a few days back and, alas, View from Masada did not make the cut. I'm not terribly discouraged because I'm still very excited about this book and getting back to it. I've learned many lessons from A Season in Tears and Masada, as a result, is a much better book.

In further writing-related news, I got a taste of what it feels like to stand in front of a blackboard yesterday, as I was called in to teach some 4th and 5th graders about storytelling. I'd been recommended by one of the ministers at the church, a very good friend of mine, and hadn't quite known how to go about it. Once we got started, however, things flowed pretty smoothly. But for a few disruptions, I'd say it was a resounding success. I hadn't realized how much I'd taken for granted with my writing until I actually had to break down the essential elements of a story and show these kids how each piece of the watch makes the watch work.

And last weekend, another good friend from church took me to see a Mets game, and I got to take part in that grand American tradition. Nachos, Sweet Caroline, and all. I vowed, sitting in Shea Stadium and seeing it nearly filled to capacity, that when my son is born, this will be one of our rituals. It really was a good time, augmented by the fact that it was time spent in good company.

Now, the news y'all have been waiting for.

Earlier this week, I'd lamented the fact that I'd lost several fellowships to do my Balkan project, but I'm looking at an email now that confirms the second of major award I've been granted to go through with this project, bringing the grand total to a whopping...

$5500!!!!!!!

Given that my original budget was for $6000, I am very impressed with this. That'll teach me to throw in the towel before the bell rings.

So that is definitely going through and it looks like I may be able to already start getting materials for the Ratimir books. Most of the edits came back on Season, so once I finish Masada (hopefully by the end of May before I leave), I can revise that then get ready to send it out on its next batch of queries.

Further good news, I am confirmed to be working one on one with the esteemed crowleycrow on the Dust to Dust novellae. w00t!!!

This is almost too much. Anyway, I have to be off to work, then to visit U at school for a senior class-alumni dinner.

Till later.

Today's grand total: $0.

Summer plans are, as of now, out the window. You know, if I'd had my priorities straight from the beginning, I'd be done with Masada by now and change. January-April = Entirely wasted.

Color me disillusioned. And pissed as hell.

We are now at 0 for 5. This is absolutely the best day ever.

Even if I get full funding from the remaining three, it won't be enough to last the budget. Thank you, Yale Inc., for being so stingy.

On the fellowship count, I am as of now 0 for 4. Way to swing for the fences, Toch. Waiting on 4 more rejections before I can begin the full-blown sulking.


Man, I could really go for some good news right about now. Anyone? Anyone?

Paper Number 2nd-to-last has been written...

The essence is there, and in damn good form, might I add. Just needs a few quick runthroughs to knock out the kinks, then I can get started on the final paper of the semester from purgatory.

I just beat God of War. I'd been playing for probably 13 of the last 48 hours. The verdict? Fuckin money. ::dies::