Just when I thought I had seen and done it all in Japan, I went to a restaurant with some of my friends and was treated to my first “ikizukuri”. What is this? It’s when you eat a fish or a squid raw while it’s still moving. To be quite honest, I was scared. I had never eaten anything that was moving while I was chowing down on it. The highlight of the evening of course wasn’t my wiggly-squid friend who seemed content to vanish little by little. It was the good company of my friends and former students who treated me to a kind ear and stories of their recent travels.

Ikizukuri. To be eaten alive. Is that what it means to turn 30? To live but to know that you are slowly diminishing. Or perhaps we should read it more literally: “iki” to live; “sukuri” to make.

We live and we make at the same time—or the process of living and being made.

We carry ourselves forward, and though we may return to the places we once were, they are no longer the same. We can not step into the same river twice. We can only try to live and make the new. Thus far, my latest adventure in Nagasaki has  had a lot of the familiar–a second chance at hikes I did when I was 25 and 26, trips to places I remembered as being special to me in Nagasaki, but it has also had a lot that is new. New friends, new sites. I had the fabulous opportunity to go to Busan and while I was there I got to see the new cinema-plex, go to an aquarium, meet the Kim family, and see the many sites and sounds of the city–the highlight being the Christmas Tree Festival.

What it all comes down to is this: I am a better person because I have had the benefit of knowing each and everyone of you who are reading this blog post right now. Somewhere along the line, you picked me up while I was down. You showed me something unique and special in the world. You graced me with your words and your smile. You’re not here with me right now–and yet you are with me right now.

When we meet again, I’ll serve up a small part of myself to you while I am still alive, and you will do the same. We will both live and be made at the same time. Our feast will be bits and pieces of our living self.

The book was all of these things: well illustrated, easy to read, and full of hilarity. But I wonder at the message of the book, if there is one. Three nasty farmers: Bunce, Boggis, and Bean. Three farmers who we are led to believe are nasty, vile, and (this is only hinted at) make there fortune off of poor share croppers and low-wage labor. They are villains simple and true. One is fat and balding, the other a pot-bellied dwarf, and the other thin as a pencil and addicted to apple cider. But as I grow older, I wonder what to make of these villains. I’m in poor shape myself these days. As I get further on in my years, I am both thin as a rail and pot-bellied at the same time. I have the villainous look of both a Bean and a Boggis. I often shake my first a clever youths, who I am scared will steal what little wealth I have.

In the last picture, with the three poor farmers sitting out in the rain waiting for the fox to come out of his hole, I feel less like the triumphant Fantastic Mr. Fox and more like one of those poor farmers. It makes me think that Mr. Dahl has had all of the triumph of the Fox without any empathy for the misery of the farmers. I suppose there is little for me to feel sorry for. After all, they horde their food in great storehouses without distributing it to the neediest. Fox, a family man earnest and true, on the other hand is an animal Robin Hood. Still, I feel there has to be some conclusion out there that allows the animals and the farmers to get along.

Perhaps the meaning of the book has out-Foxed me. Or, perhaps I have grown too old to enjoy a simple kids book. I will return to Roald Dahl another time, sometime when I am not busy watching my own storehouse of food and shaking my fist at today’s youth.

As I was writing Mogi, I thought I knew my character well. I wrote and wrote, and I could see the main character Rath perfectly in my head. In fact, there was someone I had worked with during my university days at a coffee shop that was the perfect image of Rath. In my mind, I saw someone humble, but full of life. He was hulking, with wide shoulders, but also mellow with a light touch. The problem was that whenever I got into rough patches, I did what most writers do—I substituted my own voice for that of Rath (August 16, 2011).

I tried to think consciously of how Rath’s voice was different than my own, but it also occurred to me that as we write, we take on some of the aspects of our characters.

August 18, 2011. I thought I would start to read David Michael Kaplan’s “Doe Season” as a way of thinking through my own story “Mogi”. In a sense the two stories are surprisingly similar. They are both about killing, masculinity (though Hunters in the Snow is much more complex than my story) and they both deal with pleasing a father. The main character, Andy or Andrea is a daughter on hunt with her father and his friends. She is only eight years old and she is trying to figure out ways to please her father.

On August 17: I didn’t give this story any more than about an hour and 30 minutes of my time. Today will much different. Today I will use the logic of story breaks to help focus in on parts that need more work. What I want to do more than anything is find the lasting images in “Doe Season” that will stick with a reader. As I look through the story though I realize how much can be done with just simple images.

It’s August 18, and I’m still bogged down in “Mogi.” I’ve now finished Kaplan’s “Does Season”—the copy of it that I gutted from the America’s best short story collection. At the end of the story Andy becomes Andrea—she discovers that she wants nothing to do with the masculine world and its brutal rituals. The story is pregnant with deeper meanings, but for me there is only one universal truth to this story—stories are always more interesting if the character changes at the end. In terms of the details of the story—it proves the age-old adage that if the details are sparse and relevant then they are well-used. Much of the description is very simple.

It’s now August 20. Yesterday was a dud of a day because the power went out at my mom’s house. Nevertheless, it looks like I’m getting close to a draft of the story that I can send out to literary journals. All in all, the story took a long time to get out of my system—four years. But over those four years, I never really focused on the story the way I could have.

August 22. And now the boring stuff: mostly proof-reading, but I am also looking for things in the story that would suggest that it needs a new draft with new scenes to bring it to life. More than anything, I’m telling myself to trust in my writing process. A writer is only as good as the process he or she has. One page at a time. How many pages today? Two pages of proof-reading? That is enough for today. No good short story was ever built without patience.

August 25. I’m starting to realize that I will only be about 85 percent done with this story by the time I send it out. Short stories are like systems. Creating a basic system is easy enough, but improvement beyond that comes in small increments. In any event, it will be well-edited.

August 31: Submitted to 4 literary journals. I am done for the time being. Time to focus on something else. Maybe I will become an accountant instead of a short story writer.

I would love to leave this book someplace where a truly amazing reader would find this book. Where is that? Could it be a library or a bus stop? The library has a donation bin, so this will have to do.

What do I see in this book on my second reading–everything that I want from a book. A book with grace, lyrical wording, a sensitivity to the difficulties of being human–it also has a sense of humor. This is important when dealing with such a touchy subject like slavery.

Then why am I donating it? If a believe in the transformational power of literature than why am I so eager to throw it overboard as Captain Cunningham does his sick slaves. Perhaps I am just as cruel and just as focused on the materiality of checks in my ledger and profit.

The sea in this book is a symbol for everywhere and nowhere for beginnings and ends–for the unbearable inbetweeness between land. As I read this book, I feel a deep connection with myself as I was when I was 22–and miraculously I materialize again at 29. More than anything, what I want from this book is to leave it someplace only to find it again. In this way, I can rematerialize with my hopes and dreams as they were when I was 22.

If you are reading this post, then most likely you’ve been directed here either by myself or by google adwords.

I am a novelist and short story writer trying to make a name for myself. Essentially, I’m trying to get a copy of my short story collection–The Lexical Funk–into the hands of as many prospective fans as possible.

I would be more than happy to offer you a free copy of the book if you are 1) willing to sign up as a fan or a friend on either Goodreads.com or Librarything.com and/or 2) tell people in your network about my book.

I would prefer only readers who are genuinely interested in the book. If you feel that this book is for you, please email me at: lexicalfunk@gmail.com to inquire about either a free paperback copy or a free ebook.

Cheers.

Here is some more information about the book:

Extended Description

An android that imitates humans; a French novelist who longs for a lover whose loins can match his revolutionary rhetoric; an alien diplomat whose sexy thighs threaten the universe with destruction; and ruminations on the success of Vanilla Ice’s hit independent record Hooked.

These are all the things you’ll find packaged together for your word enjoyment needs. This eclectic short story collection/ word bonanza promises to take you to another level of word funkadeliciousness.

“The Lexical Funk” is a humorous read, sure to entertain many a reader.”– Midwest Book Review

“This book is like sitting back sipping a fine with wine while listening to a great saxophonist blow out some really great improvisational jazz tunes.” —Wakela Runen’s World

Parental Rating:

This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.

Check out more about the book at:

http://www.amazon.com/Lexical-Funk-Daniel-Clausen/dp/0557022304/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1313510678&sr=8-1

“Wasting time is not a waste

In fact, wasting time is a key part of our lives.

Wasting time poorly is a sin, because not only are you forgoing the productivity, generosity and art that comes from work, but you’re also giving up the downtime, experimentation and joy that comes from wasting time.

If you’re going to waste time (and I hope you will) the least you can do is do it well.”

Lately, I have been obsessed with time and how it is spent. Godin also wrote a book called “The Dip” where he argued that it was wise to give up activities which drew attention away from activities you could be great at.

For someone like me, who is an experimenter, tinckerer and all around Fxxxabout, it’s hard sometime to see how my dreams, goals, and fancies all workout to form some big picture. I guess that is just part of being human.

The monograph is short, flashy, and easy to read. Like many popular books about anything that has to do with business it seems guru-ish, as much to inspire you to go out and do something as it is set on changing your way of thinking about something.

That being said, the book’s key insight—that shoppers spend quite a bit of time researching their product online before they buy is hardly revolutionary. To independent authors trying to hock their books, we already know that online reviews and word of mouth are indispensable.

So what does this book add to authors trying to find a way to market their book? It seems to emphasize the age old truth: find your target audience and make sure they talk about your book publicly. Chapter 6 is where the monograph really gets going. Here you can begin to plan your strategy for using the internet and social media to introduce your product to people in positive ways.

There are a few gems to be gleaned from the later chapters for the indy author. Certainly, I haven’t thought about using videos on Youtube or my mobile as a sales device, at least as much as I should be. I am also woefully behind in understanding the various tools that Google has available to analyze statistics and trends on the web (at 29 I am already an aging luddite). These are all useful prompts for rethinking your advertising campaign.

Someone mentioned that Holden hates himself for being just like the “phonies” he sees around him. I think that is part of the point, he doesn’t see any escape other than total self destruction–just as Mark Renton saw his escape in heroine.

Youth will always have the problem: we don’t want to grow into our parents for some reason. We feel like growing up means abandoning our ideals. In Renton’s case it means abandoning something pure for the allure of consumer goods “a F***ing car, washing machine” etc. Holden feels the same way. We abandon all the moral education we get in elementary school so that we can have our names put on a building. We tend to worship success more than our ideals.

As I grow older and my hair thins, though, it seems that in order for us to sometimes survive we have to turn into a bit of smarmy ass like Holden. We become sarcastic–its our “psychic defense”. Our sarcasm only seems to hit the register with other people who seem to understand the bind we are in–to succeed (or even survive) in the real world, we must give up a better part of ourself.

Enjoy.