Thursday, February 25, 2010 | by nathan

Endurability

Dani Shapiro, in the Los Angeles Times, gives some advice that I really, really needed to hear this week:

…my internal life as a writer has been a constant battle with the small, whispering voice (well, sometimes it shouts) that tells me I can’t do it. This time, the voice taunts me, you will fall flat on your face. Every single piece of writing I have ever completed — whether a novel, a memoir, an essay, short story or review — has begun as a wrestling match between hopelessness and something else, some other quality that all writers, if they are to keep going, must possess.

Call it stubbornness, stamina, a take-no-prisoners determination, but a writer at work reminds me of nothing so much as a terrier with a bone: gnawing, biting, chewing, until finally there is nothing left to do but fall away.

This week I gave a copy of my novel to two of the people I love and trust the most in this world. And for a full 48 hours after I did that, every time I thought about it, I almost had a panic attack. As I thought about passages in the book, story points, characters, I suddenly realized that the whole thing was crap. I contemplated breaking into their house and stealing the book back before they could read the horrible, horrible first chapter.

Fact is, what’s kept me going throughout this process was the merest bit of that determination Shapiro is talking about. The way I finished NaNoWriMo was to not think for one second whether what I was writing was any good, but just to write and to trust the things I know about crafting a novel and about the process of writing well. The way I got through it was to write what I knew was a shitty first draft, occasionally letting bad writing lie there, knowing I could come back later and fix it. Which I did, this month. And while I’m sure there are problems, still, things that I’ll need to fix and tweak and re-write, I’m holding on to the fact that when I set the thing down at the end of that long month of editing, I thought to myself, "You know, this isn’t the best novel ever written. It’s not the next Great American Novel. But it’s good. It’s good work. I’m proud of it." 

I’m going to give two more copies of the thing out – I’m trying to keep the reading circle small for this next bit of revision – and I’m sure I will have equally panicky moments when I let go of the binders. I’m practicing endurability here, sticking with it even while my faith in myself is waning. All artists have to do that, I think. I can’t imagine working on something as hard as I’ve worked on this and not having some moments of doubt. But it’s the first novel-length piece of fiction I’ve ever written that I’ve been even remotely comfortable showing to people who weren’t Professional Writing professors. Which is a step. Soon I’ll take another. Then another. Then someday soon I’ll have a piece of writing I want to show the whole world.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010 | by nathan

On Being Safe To Be Unsafe

My latest piece is up over at OpenSalon. I like to call it my "origin story." Also, it features Treehouse of Horror.

Let me be as clear as I know how to be:

I.Am Not. Okay.

And I LOVE being good at things.

I may have accidentally, a long time ago, confused the accolades I got from my parents and teachers with – and I’m just saying it’s possible that I did this – love. At six years old or so I might have unintentionally started to think that being good at things would mean that I wouldn’t have any problems whatsoever, and, conversely, that the way to avoid having problems was to avoid doing things I was bad at.

Well, you can see the problem.

All the pieces I’ve published at OpenSalon up to this point were written just about a year ago; my next piece will be of brand new, 2010 vintage. I just have to … you know … write it. Anyone got some ideas for me?

Monday, February 22, 2010 | by nathan

A Little Pee Shy? Miss Coco’s Here To Help.

As a man, there are few things to me more upsetting than peeing in public. Ladies might have to endure the momentary, temporary pain of childbirth, but men? Men have to use urinals OUR WHOLE LIVES. You never feel so much like some kind of barnyard animal as when you’re standing in a public bathroom, in front of a porcelain fixture, trying to go. And when you’re at a sporting event – the long troughs at Oklahoma Memorial Stadium are especially cruel – it can be like torture. Especially when some dude you don’t know wants to talk to you, like, "Hey, did you see Bradford throw that 47-yard pass?" and all you can say is, "Yep!" The whole time your mind is spinning, praying you can squeeze out some little stream of pee lest the other guys realize that a mixture of stage fright and social anxiety disorder have stopped the whole works cold. Your body is begging, BEGGING you to pee, but your mind is like, IN FRONT OF THESE JAGS? I DON’T THINK SO.

…until you’ve been to a gay bar. Specifically, until you’ve been to the Copa in Oklahoma City. Now – I haven’t been there in a couple years, but back in my day there were swinging saloon doors opening more or less into the line for the bar. So even after you go inside you can still see all the patrons lining up for their swill vodka with diet tonics. Occasionally the bar line backed up into the bathroom; that was when you just learned to hold it. Sometimes a sweet girlfriend would invite you into the ladies’, but that was rare. So, into the mens’ you go. And crammed into a seven-by-two foot space are four urinals without dividers. You find yourself standing shoulder-to-shoulder, and almost every time something like this happens:

You could sorta be okay if you managed to get the urinal on the very, very end; then you at least could pretend the wall on your left was a divider and that things would eventually be Okay. But more often than not you were at one of the two middle ones. The walls in there were painted purple, and over the middle urinals there was a frame with some ads in there, because what else is one thinking about while peeing other than, "Gosh, I wonder who has the best limousine service in this city? And does anyone know of a good, gay-friendly plumber? AND IT’S POSSIBLE I MIGHT BE GETTING A DUI LATER – COULD SOMEONE WRITE DOWN THIS PHONE NUMBER FOR ME?" 

What I remember about standing at the Copa urinal is that I was usually standing there next to some giant drag queen or leather daddy, and in my most authoritative, deep-throated, mentally-ill sounding growl, repeatedly saying, "EYES FORWARD. EYES FORWARD." 

So now, peeing in public doesn’t really phase me. Not if I can just close my eyes, picture a purple wall and a limousine ad and think to myself, "If you can pee in the Copa, you can pee ANYWHERE." And it works every time.

POSTSCRIPT: It’s stories like this that won me Runner-Up for Best Writing in the Okie Blog Awards!

Thursday, February 18, 2010 | by nathan

Growing

My latest piece is up at Open Salon. Here’s an excerpt:

I want to put a seed in the ground, throw a little water down, and then have steamed zucchini on a plate. I don’t want to wait, and I certainly don’t want to tend. I’m hungry now! And no matter how much compost I throw down, no matter how much I crouch on the ground waiting for the little green shoots to crack the dirt, I have absolutely no control over the timing.

This is why you’ll find me, in the coming days of early spring, with the seeds in the ground and all the life happening where I can’t see it, four or five times a day staring intently at my little two hundred square feet of tilled-up dirt. I squat, I stand, I get down on all fours and squint, then stand back up again, wave my hands over the whole business, and shout, “GROW!”

There you have it: a picture of my spiritual life in action.

And as to the identity of the "friend" I mention in the story – all I will say is that this is the most highly-fictionalized piece of creative nonfiction I’ve ever written. No essayist tells the entire truth; David Sedaris, Anne Lamott, all my literary nonfiction heroes pepper their personal narratives with changes of detail, meant to protect the innocent*, as it were. All I’m saying, kids, is don’t litter my comments section or my Facebook wall with guesses, mmmmkay?

* The person(s) in question are hardly "innocent," but they didn’t ask to be written about and certainly don’t deserve to have me shouting their names from the rooftops, even if such a thing weren’t legally questionable.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010 | by nathan

A Proposition

Whoops – I posted this on OpenSalon late last week and forgot to tell you about it! 

…it seems to me that this nation’s parents have a lot more than homosexuality to worry about when it comes to what their kids are learning in school. After all, most of us spent a whole lot of time trying to recruit ourselves – and having other people recruit us – out of homosexuality, and that never worked. What makes anyone think we could recruit pre-pubescent kids in, even if we wanted to?

WHICH WE DON’T. Just for the record.

Have a read. Let me know what you think.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010 | by nathan

Okie Blog Awards

One of the things that I love about Oklahoma is that, in the absence of a national spotlight shining all over us, we give rise to some really surprising and inspiring pockets of creativity, much of it of the DIY flavor. The Flaming Lips are perhaps the most well-known example of this, having achieved international stardom and artistic genius while based here, in what most of America considers to be a "cultural wasteland." But living here I am continually surprised by the stuff that people are doing, and even more surprised that people I know are the ones doing it.

My buddies K.C. and David are wonderful examples of this (and if you’re not busy this Friday and/or Saturday, K.C.’s record-release shows at the Blue Door promise to be amazing). Also of note are our burgeoning improv and stand-up comedy scenes, including Twinprov, the outstanding two-man improv group staged by my old friends Buck and Clint.

I think we’ve got a lot of people here in Oklahoma who could be getting ready to see their careers take off. After editing two chapters of my novel early this morning, I honestly believe I might be lucky enough to be among them. So why am I so honored to be nominated for an Oklahoma Blogger Award? I don’t know. But I am. It’s cool, especially considering how many great Oklahoma-based bloggers there are, and considering that blogging is such a weird thing to do. The blogger blogging his blog.

I have a love/hate relationship with blogging. On one hand, I am awed by how much amazing writing and creativity is out there. On the other, I can’t help but remember what Doug Marlette told me on more than one occasion, that blogging is "karaoke for writers," and that having one doesn’t make one a writer, any more than my awful, fourth-beer rendition of "Let’s Stay Together" makes me a musician.

Maybe the point isn’t to be a writer. Maybe the point is to care about something. My friend Greg is passionate about food; that’s why his food blog, The Corner Booth, is so great – because he gets to talk about something he cares about. David lives and breathes music – he knows more about it than anyone I’ve ever met. I like to see people getting enthusiastic about stuff; I find myself infected by it. If someone is talking to me about something that excites them, I find myself interested. I can’t help it. That’s why I think blogs are so great – all your better ones are people sounding off about what they care about. Be it food, music, their families, their own creative pursuits, or the way they imagine Jon Arbuckle’s life might be had he never visited the pound – it’s cool that people can put these things out there.

Me? I’m passionate about writing, and about humor, and bad movies, and Oklahoma, and Jesus. And I’m kinda stoked and honored to be nominated for Best Writing in the Okie Blog Awards. I really recommend going through the list of nominees and finding some new, excellent reads by Oklahoma-grown bloggers. Their excitement for their subject material, and for this weird-ass state we call home, is infectious.

Monday, February 8, 2010 | by nathan

The Loop

From my latest post over at OpenSalon:

If you want to see hypocrisy in action, just catch me behind the wheel of a car. I’m like a maniac. A maniac who drives like a little old lady and gets really, really self-righteous about it. I don’t speed, I don’t cut people off in traffic, and I don’t do that really terrible thing that some of you do where you know – you know – that your lane is about to end, but instead of merging over you speed around the rest of us and expect the person at the front of the line to let you go ahead of them. All I can say is that someone in your car better be having a baby. The head better already be out, too.

You can read the whole thing – about how my road rage is really just a symptom of a much deeper condition – over there.

Friday, January 29, 2010 | by nathan

Welcome (Back).

Remember how I said I was going to start a blog on Open Salon to publish pieces I’ve been writing but not publishing online? WELL OH MY GOD I ACTUALLY DID IT.

I chose Open Salon, mostly because I love Salon.com and pay them $45 a year to keep them in their elitist arugula and expresso coffees or whatever the hippies drink out in Sin Francisco. All I know is that I love Joan Walsh, and Garrison Keillor, and Anne Lamott, and Alex Koppleman, though I’m still not over my Election Fatigue from 2008 and have stopped reading their War Room altogether. At least until a year from now, when it’s time for the 2012 election to start up.

Also, I love Open Salon’s community nature. And if we’re being totally honest, I love that several people have scored book deals writing for them. Are any of our motives ever completely pure? Come on – let’s cut the crap.

But the main reason is that I loved writing these kinds of pieces for GCN, and I want to continue writing for them. But there’s no reason why these can’t be in two places at once; AMIRITE?

Also (and I have yet to e-mail them about this, so we’ll see how it’s going to go over), I really want to start a blog over at Voices of Oklahoma, because I think they’re one of the coolest Okie internet outlets going right now.

And – JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT THE SHAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION WAS OVER – if you have a blog and live in Oklahoma, you can totally vote for me in the Okie Blogger Awards! I’m gunning for Best Kept Secret and Best Writing, though as of December 24 I totally qualify for Best Veteran Blogger! And if you’re looking for recommendations for other blogs to nominate, can I recommend the Mixtape Jones Report (Best Culture Blog), K.C. Clifford (Best New Blog), Rocks in My Dryer (Best Humorous Blog) and Angela and Luke (Best Inspirational Blog), just to name a few?

In the meantime, I’d love it if you’d head over to Open Salon to read and comment on my new stuff; here’s a taste to whet your appetite.

As a young man my faith was marked by deep impatience. Every prayer session was marked by a sense that any moment God would – or should – reach down and make me Victorious over all that vexed me. I figured I’d struggle with this or that sin or challenge for awhile, then I’d experience a miracle healing, and my life would finally begin. Of course, this never happened and at some point I realized that my desire for miracle healing was less about faith than it was about no longer wanting to be dependent. I wanted God to come down and fix me so that I didn’t have to feel broken anymore, so that I didn’t have to be constantly reminded of my need for Him.

Friday, January 15, 2010 | by nathan

What I’m Working On

Writing a novel is hard, but the beauty of it is that when you’re working on your rough draft, you don’t have to worry about whether or not it sucks. In fact, you can’t worry about that, or you’ll find yourself paralyzed by self-doubt and criticism. Editing as you write is a surefire way to get yourself shackled by the monster known as perfectionism, that oppressive force that will keep you forever wondering why you never lived up to your potential. You keep hearing the voice of your high school principal, or your meanest relative, or your worst friend, telling you this will never work out, that you’d better just go get a job at Aldi and forget about it. Well – probably your mind doesn’t sound like this. But mine does.

All that is to say, I’m editing a novel right now, and it’s really hard because I don’t get to be free anymore. I don’t get to plow blissfully forward, getting my work done each day and keeping the monster of perfectionism at bay. I have to critically evaluate my own stuff, patch plot holes and seek out my worst writerly and grammatical mistakes. It feels less like being an artist and more like being an engineer.

Also, I’m working on new stuff for this website, specifically an entry – or, more likely, a series of entries – about some of my religious and political beliefs. I’m certain these entries will in no way offend anyone at all and that my comments will be filled with glowing praise. I’m also sure the yet-to-be-announced Apple Tablet will be able to make me coffee and will wake me each morning by gently massaging my naughty bits.

FInally, I’m considering starting another blog, on OpenSalon. I have a bunch of pieces that are, frankly, too good to put on this website but have been more or less pocket vetoed by other places I write for on occasion. I don’t want to start another website with its own domain name, mostly because OpenSalon blogs seem to more or less promote themselves, or at least, to make themselves a little easier to promote. I haven’t forgotten you dozen or so awesome souls who read this site. But I did promise myself that 2010 was going to be the year I wrote more, and lo and behold if that resolution hasn’t come back to bite me in the ass a little bit.

Monday, January 4, 2010 | by nathan

A One-Inch Picture Frame

I keep a one-inch picture frame hanging in front of my face at my desk at home. I love that old advice of Anne Lamott’s, that you only have to write every day as much as you can see through a one-inch picture frame. In other words, start with a tiny detail. Start with one thing about a person, or a place, or a situation, and just let your imagination run from there. This picture frame is especially special to me, as it was a gift from a Venetian nun I met in the Fall of 2000 named Suora Luisa. Suora Luisa worked at a kids’ club where one of my roommates was volunteering, which was how I met her. She helped me perfect my Italian by talking to me about Galatians. Then, when it was time for me to leave Italy, she gave me this picture frame, which has a little one-inch photograph of the Ponte di Rialto.

Since I returned from Italy, nine years ago last month, this little frame has hung in front of my face in the place where I write. It hangs underneath a set of rosary beads and my small replica of St. Francis’ Cross, which I also picked up on my Italian travels, and on the edge of it dangles a small strand of red beads. I found these at a curio shop just after I moved home – originally there were seven or eight of them, and now there’s just the one. Don’t worry; I haven’t found Kaballah. I just like the way they look in the soft light of my office. Sometimes I just stare into this photo of the Rialto. The secret to writing is that you sit down and then spend a whole lot of time just sort of staring into the middle distance, asking yourself, "What happens now?" This looks a whole lot like slacking off, but to tell you the truth it’s the hardest thing about writing. This frame is my middle distance.