Kurtis Roth: Guy Who Writes

Still here, still kicking.  These past months have been challenging, and I think I'm going to leave it at that.  Counting pains is pointless.  Counting blessings is generally a lot more productive, so that's what I'll do.  Today is another day and tomorrow is coming soon, and all of it is fraught with possibilities for Good.  Jenn is healthy and doing well at work.  Jack is turning into a bubbly little kid.  In the past few weeks he has started crawling, cut two teeth, and become very jabbery with the "ma ma"s and "da da"s.  It's a thrilling time.

The writing report is: nothing to report since my last entries.  On occasion I've knocked an idea or two around, but that's about it.  There's a story or two in me that will likely come together with some ease once I sit down to commit them to paper.  Not sure what to do with the novel at this point.  It's not far off track, but it's off enough, and I don't yet know how to go about righting it.  But I will know, and soon I hope.  Productivity goals are dashed, obviously, but I'll figure that out too.

I hope this note finds you all well, and on track for a joyous holiday season.

Yours,
--K

Well -- it has been a crazy couple of weeks.  But sometime in the next couple of days I intend to get back on track.  Probably won't be able to hit the Oct. 31 deadline for my first draft, but the jury is still out on that one.  We'll see.  More soon.

--K

9/24: 1026 words, Chapter 6 complete @ 2100 words (no story production)
9/25: 1039 words, Chapter 7 opening
9:26:
9/27:
9/28:
9/29:
9/30:

Week 5 Total:

9/17: 753 words, Chapter 5 opening (590 words, story 4A opening)
9/18: 733 words (484 words story 4A)
9/19: 1020 words (363 words story 4A)
9/20: 765 words, Chapter 5 complete / Chapter 6 opening (500 words story 4A)
9/21: 723 words (415 words story 4A, complete @ 1900 words)
9/22:  no production
9/23: no production

Week 4 Total: 4000 words novel (9500 total), story 4A complete, story 4B aborted.

Life interfered this weekend.  Ultimately, I chose to abort this week's second story.  4 completed stories in 4 weeks is only half of my intended production, and yet... I'm going to be okay with that.  It a fairly intense productivity level and it leaves me with 4 pieces I didn't have before.  Also: in the wake of this aborted effort I received an invitation to try something for an upcoming anthology and it really set my gears to turning.  This next short story effort may turn out pretty nifty.

Tuning the Standards

700 words novel production Monday-Friday mornings (weekend production optional), story A production Monday-Friday afternoons (complete by Friday), story B production Saturday/Sunday (compete by Sunday).

9/10: 717 words, Chapter 2 complete @ 1300 words (150 words, story 3A)
9/11: 797 words (167 words story 3A)
9/12: 701 words, Chapter 3 complete @ 1300 words (250 words story 3A)
9/13: 1,438 words, Chapter 4 complete @ 1700 words (515 words story 3A)
9/14: novel day off (1,953 words short story 3A complete @ 2,600 words)
9/15: 500 words short story 3B
9/16: 600 words short story 3B complete @ 1100 words

Week 3 Total: 3700 words novel, Stories 3A and 3B complete.

Having a lot of trouble getting a lock on [Story #1, Week 2].  Daily progress has been okay in term of sheer numbers -- but numbers are meaningless when the story makes no sense.  It's a strong opening and then... bleah.

The problem, I think, is my interest level.  My investment in it.  Each day when I finish production on the novel, I'm eager to write more.  I'm in love with the characters, the world, and everything going on in it.  It's all coming very naturally, too, as if I've been cooking this thing in my subconscious for a few years. 

I feel no such affection for this short story.  Gotta find it.

--K

09/03: no production
09/04: no production
09/05: 618 words (+520 words continuing short story)
09/06: 617 words, Chapter One complete @ 4000 words (+420 words continuing short story)
09/07: 627 words, Chapter Two opening
09/08: no production
09/09: 2400 words new short story.

Week 2 Total: 1800 words novel, 900 words short story #1, 2400 words short story #2 complete.

Seeing a need to reset the standards a bit.  To ensure production of a complete story each weekend, I'm going to give myself a break from novel production on those days.  Weekend novel production is optional.  However, in the interest of hitting the novel deadline, I'm upping my daily production quota M-F to 700 words.

--K

8/27: 543 words
8/28: 586 words (and 599 untitled short story opening)
8/29: 583 words (+ 500 continuing story)
8/30: 565 words (+ 559 story*)
8/31: 537 words (+555 story**, +161 story***)
9/01: no production
9/02: no production

Week 1 Total: 2,814 novel (2,374 story) for 5,188 total.

WARNING: Spotty Sports Analogy Ahead

Yesterday was Day 1 of my new writing habit.  If you do the math, that makes today Day 2.  Two days and a thousand words into this thing is probably a bit early to be upping the ante.  However, life -- God? the Universe?  Randy Johnson? -- likes to throw you a curve ball every now and again.  Our current curve ball is financial in nature.  There is a slight gap between our earnings and our outlay.  We could use a little extra money each month.  Not a lot.  Just a little.  But it's a crucial just-a-little. 

The tricky part is: without a major career revamp for Jenn or me or both, there's not a lot of room for added jobs -- or extra hours on current jobs -- without incurring the cost of daycare.  We have so far managed to avoid that cost, which is enumerated not just in dollars but in quality time with our son.  My day job is such that, even at 70+ hours a week, I can take care of Jack most of the time.  And whenever I can't, Jenn can. 

We're not futzing with that unless there's no alternative.

And there appears to be an alternative.  It's kind of crazy.  Or a lot crazy.  And it comes with no guarantees.  But as Adam West's Batman always liked to say: it just... might... WORK!

I could write more.

Specifically, I could write short stories.  I could get very, very serious about writing short stories again.

Okay -- you writers out there just did a classic spit-take.  Well done.  And point taken.  Generally speaking, writing and submitting short fiction is no way to make money.  If you write fifty and sell a half dozen a year, you're doing pretty well.  If you sell a dozen a year, you're upper echelon.

The thing is, there was a time when I did all right with short fiction.  Toward the end of my run at it, I was selling 90% of what I wrote.  So as far fetched as it might sound, it's not impossible.  I know I can do it.  Rather, I know I have done it.  The question is: can I still? 

Well... we're going to find out.

Starting today, we're cranking up the pressure cooker.  Monday through Friday of each week I'll write one story.  Saturday and Sunday I'll write another.  It doesn't matter if I have an idea waiting or not.  If I've nothing in mind when it's fingers-to-keyboard time, I'll pull a Bradbury, a McIntyre.  I'll make up a title at random and GO.  So happens that has been the formula for most of my own best stories -- best received and best compensated; I can't really speak to their literary merit -- so I'm confident this method can produce good, salable work.

What's more, I find that I'm really excited about the idea.  It's quite a shot in the arm.  Jenn's thrilled, too. 

And who knows?  Sometimes that curve ball is just what you needed.  Sometimes you hit it out of the park.

--K

If you have ever uttered the words "I'm just gonna rest my eyes for a second" -- if you've awakened hours later in panic and confusion -- you have a pretty good sense of where I'm at right now.  These past few months have been so... full... that I actually managed to forget about writing altogether.  Not "no time for writing today; I'll set aside a block this weekend."  I'm mean no consciousness of it at all.  No awareness, no longing, no ideas tugging at my waking thoughts, no dreams cooking stuff up in my sleep.  No nothing.

This has happened before.  A few years ago I hit a pretty rough patch in life.  I lost sight of writing then, too.  And as things brightened up, as I saw how far I had wandered, I blamed the bleakness of that time.  I told myself it's easy to lose your way when things are tough.

Well, turns out it's just as easy to lose your way when things are good.  Basically, it's easy to lose your way.

The younger Me would have been very self-critical about this.  He would have been angry.  He would have chastised himself for being unclear about his aims.  He might have even called himself a fraud.  "If you really wanted to write," he'd say, "you would write.  It's that simple."  And somewhere in there he would certainly have a point.

The older Me, however, knows that life really does get complicated.  At best, you lose a few months here and there.  At worst, you wake up after fifty years with the ghosts of various Christmases stopping by for tea.  It really does happen to all of us, in small ways and large.  That's why A Christmas Carol and stories like it are so compelling.  Everyone knows what it's like to get lost.  Everyone wants to believe in the power of redemption.

Yeah.  Screw self loathing.  I like the idea of redemption, too. 

The time off -- not just the past few months, but the past, oh, decade or so -- hasn't been devoid of creative energy or intention.  It has been a time of living, seeing, experiencing.  I find that after all this time I am possessed of something more than just an arbitrary need-to-type-stuff.  There's a lot I actually want to say.  Stories I want to tell.  Feelings I want to share.  I want to lift a reader up.  And in all honesty I want to break him, too.   I want make him shake his head and stare at the wall for a while.  I want to make him cringe and savor. 

I want to play my part -- the part so many writers have played for me -- in taking him somewhere else for a while.  I want to help him exist in that space, in moments throughout his day, for weeks on end.  I want him to want to wish he could go back there. 

I want him to realize he can.

So: today I'm starting a new novel.  And I'm signing a little contract with myself, with the intention of keeping on track.  It's comprised of four basic commitments.

1. Write every day, no less than 500 words.
2. Share each day's production with Jenn.
3. Post daily productivity notes on my writing blog.
4. Finish a first draft by October 31st, 2007.

Pretty basic.  Productivity and accountability.  The rest of it will happen in the writing.

Here goes!

--K

Since it has been (gasp) 4 months and that makes the boy (gasp-er) 5 months old, maybe it's time to catch up on the pics a little bit.  Here's a few to show you where he's at these days.



Grabbing at his bottle for the first time.



Here's Jack doing an impression of my brother, complete with hair style, cell phone, and fu manchu stubble.



Getting his first lesson from Grandma Joyce.



Enjoying some irony from his favorite pundit.

So -- growing up fast!  More soon(er than last time)!

--K

Okay... SO... still here, still alive, Jack and Jenn both still doing fabulous.  The boy is 4 months older than the last entry (good lord), and now weighs in at a whopping 14.5 lbs, 24 inches long.  We get to try him on cereal now, says the doc.  We intend, however, to stick with strawberries and bananas slices.  Kids don't stay crispy in milk.  Anyone who says otherwise is selling you something.  Probably selling you a kid.  Or cereal.  Or a tasty mix of both, with eight vitamins and minerals.

Writing: I've been chipping away at a couple of short stories for a while now, but I think I'm going to finally take some of the best advice I've heard over the years, that being:  if you want to write novels, write novels.

To paraphrase Adam West's Batman, it sounds crazy but it just... might... work!

More soon!  And internet-clogging glut of kid pics to follow closely.

--K

Man, can this kid poop.

Also pee.

Also, very skilled at making weird grunty noises at intervals during the night, for no apparent cause and to no effect other than waking up / freaking out mom and dad.

Most amazing of all -- I'm thinking we could shut him in bank vault (with a nanny, of course) at the bottom of a missle silo in Kearney, Nebraska and we'd STILL hear ever little squeak, breath, and gurgle.  We'd probably discover a talent for teleporting across the distance, too, as it seems we already do that for similar occasions here at home, the both of us appearing at cribside with no idea how we got there.



Jack and Dad catching a quick nap.  And I'm pretty sure only one of us is pooping.

So... last night we put Jack face-down in his play yard for a little bit of supervised tummy time.  He rocked his head up off the floor repeatedly.  After a few minutes of that it was time for some push-ups, getting up onto his elbows, chest up off the floor.  Then -- onto the knees (sort of) and it was kicky-leg time.  We were proud, happy, and a little creeped out. 

Watching a one-week-old -- who was in such a hurry to make his appearance in this realm that he's really negative three-weeks-old -- crank him self up into a pseudo-crawl was a bit unnerving. 

I think I'll go check his scalp for weird numerical birthmarks.

But he seems like such a nice kid.  Quiet.  Keeps to himself.  Never says an unkind word about anybody...

You know what?  He's not Damien.  He's just an advanced little being.  For proof, I offer this shot of him doing Baby Tai Chi.  We didn't pose him.  This is all Jack.

At a very young age, Jack has already racked  up a few medical adventures.

He was born 4 weeks premature and his blood type differs from mom's.  This leaves him not only prone to jaundice, but more susceptible to lethal levels of the bilirubin that causes it.  When he was four days old we took him in for his first doctor's visit.  Bloodwork showed (as did his yellow skin) that his levels were indeed high.  Not alarmingly high, but enough to require testing again the next day.  As time was of the essence, we took him directly to a lab.  But a few hours later we learned that his levels had actually dropped.  Great news.  I'm pleased to report that the yellowing has continued to diminish.  He's pretty much a pink baby now.

Strangely, this news turned Jack's short-term outlook a little more bleak, as it meant he was cleared for circumcision.  Un-woot.

We showed up an hour early so they could apply the anesthetizing cream to what we new parents like to call "his pee-pee".  That went well enough.  They said they'd call us back into the exam room when the doctor was ready.  The doctor, we were told, was quite skilled with this particular procedure.  That was reassuring.  Slightly less reassuring, upon returning to the exam room, was the vast array of gleaming metal instruments which had been set up.  Less reassuring still was the Baby Frankenstein tray, molded to the shape of an infant and fitted out with heavy restraint belts for the arms and legs.  The doctor very kindly suggested we head back to the waiting room, where we were sure to be more comfortable.  But on my way out he further suggested that I leave the door cracked just a little.

So we could hear our boy's shrieks as, on mom and dad's orders, he was mutilated by the crazy man with the big shiny knives.

The procedure went perfectly.  Jack seemed quite fine afterward.  Two days later, as  Jack turns one week old, he is the very picture of a happy little fella.  Mom and dad on the other hand... a wee bit traumatized.

Oh yes... a fun little side-bar nobody warns you about:

After circumcision, they suggest you apply vaseline to the front interior of the boy's diapers, to keep things from, uh, sticking.  It does a bang-up job, too.  However, it also prevents the diaper from, uh, absorbing.  So Jenn and I will long remember these post-circ healing weeks as Peepeepalooza 2007.  Urine, urine everywhere, and not a drop in the Pampers.

Everybody is tuckered out after the first (long) night at home.



Oh yeah... and I've been reminded that my sister Tara came up with the first of Jack's nicknames-that'll-stick: Jax.

So... at breakfast, does that make him Cinammon Toasty Apple Jax?  If he's helping me scour toilets, is he A-Jax? 

Personally, I'm eager for him to lend a hand building stuff in the garage, so I can call him Jackhammer.

Jackman Eric Roth was born at 8:30am PST.  As he was only 35 weeks and 5 days along -- two days shy of Jenn coming off her meds -- we were at least a little surprised that he showed up when he did and was a very healthy 6 lbs. 2 oz. and 18 inches in length.  The NICU folks were on hand for the delivery, but they took one look and said, "No worries."  It was off to the regular nursery for a few hours, then he came to stay with us in Jenn's room.  Jenn is doing fantastically well, too.  She was amazing, not just last night and this morning, but all the way through this thing.

There's no good way to express my elation, so I'm going with the old stand-by: WOOHOO!!!

So.  Easter baby.  His Aunt Mel has already dubbed him "Jackrabbit."  With a name like Jack he'll have a lot of great nicknames, I'm sure.  So let  the games begin.

 

For those of you who read that last entry and thought, "Wow, that's going to be a bit of a juggle" -- you weren't kidding.  But it's the best kind of juggle.  Jenn is home, we've got all the proper meds and the baby is staying put as planned.  The refrigerator and pantry are stocked.  My office is up and running.  And on the posh side: Jenn's computer is hooked up to the TV in the living room, so she can sit back in the La-Z-Boy and surf, play games, etc.  Way better than 3 channels of hospital TV.

So life is good, and settling down just a little.  Calm before the storm though.  Jenn comes off the meds Monday after next, and then it's likely she'll go right back into labor.  Sometime around April 8th -- just one month earlier than scheduled, rather than two -- things are going to get pretty interesting around here.

--K

The good word is: Jenn will get to come home early next week.

We'll be at 34 weeks by then.  She will be on medicated bed rest for another two weeks.  Then, at 36 weeks, she comes off meds and we'll let nature resume its course, whatever that may be.  It will be very good to have her home.

Speaking of which -- it will be a new home, as we found a new place the day she went into labor and managed to arrange a move-in for this coming weekend.  Close call!  It's a two-bed / 2-bath condo on the southwest side of Vegas with plenty of room for mom, dad, and baby, in a very nice neighborhood.  And unlike many Vegas condo communities, this one has a lot of open spaces... big lawns, a playground for kids... even a putting green, for crying out loud.  And it's right up against the red rock mountains.

All that remains is the move itself, wheeeeeeeeee.

More soon!  And thanks, all, for your kind words.

--K

Sorry to be so terse about this, but time is in short supply at the moment.  Here's the news:

On Saturday March 10th, Jenn went into pre-term labor.  She was 31 weeks and 5 days along at the time.  We got her to the hospital in time for them to arrest the contractions.  The baby is staying put for now, and both he and Jenn are in great shape, but this means Jenn may be in the hospital for the rest of her term, however long that may be.  There is some hope that she'll be able to come home sometime next week, but that's a wait-and-see.

More soon,
--K