I am on a break from writing, having just finished The Travels of the Trier. I would even use the word sabbatical, since I wrote Travels on the heels of The Trier goes to London, after writing The Trier, revising Ironjaws, revising Back outta the World, and writing Tripio. Included in all those were edits, more revisions and more time at the keyboard than I could begin to count.
So, instead of writing for several hours on Sunday morning, I left the laptop with intent. I decided to go for a walk in the woods. To borrow a line that I read recently in The French Art of Not Giving a Sh*t, “Nature exists with no reasons or explanations.”
I asked for none and received none in return. It was just what I needed.
Captured with VisionCamera by mrousavyCaptured with VisionCamera by mrousavy
We had a great time Saturday at @tomorrowbookstore on Mass Avenue in Indianapolis launching my YA novella, Ironjaws. I want to thank everyone who made the trip to say hi and even to buy.
I’m writing this blog post mostly because I don’t have a book in my head at the moment. It has been a while. I remember after finished The Trier I told myself I would take a break before starting the next one. Not to be.
I made no deal with myself as I moved onto Trier book three, still holding onto the working title of The Trier Goes Many Places. I found out very early into the book revealing itself to me that that title was not going to work. Or maybe it does after all. Not sure. That will become clear at some point.
The title aside, I have found it really easy to keep the book out of my head. I reworked the end several times over a week or so. I was still working on it last week at this time, which is easy to remember because it was a Saturday morning, and I have more time to write than on a weekday morning. The end kept coming into my head until it didn’t, so I know it is done. It has stayed out of my head since, confirming that conclusion.
While writing part three of The Trier, I was surprised how little I referred back to part two. Less than a week later, I feel the same about book three. Did I really work on it day after day. Hours at a time. A line at a time. For about a year. Not sure when I started T-3 even, but I’m guessing last fall or late summer. Is it odd that all of it seems so distant now?
I do need to fluff and fold both Trier 2 and 3 at some point. Of course that will be done the first Trier having set the table.
After sitting on my porch just now considering it for a few minutes, as I watch it rain, I don’t think it is odd after all. And I think so because I view my writing practice like my yoga or meditation practice. You don’t take them into the next day. That is one of the benefits really. You don’t attach to or evaluate, but rather you allow the outcomes of your yoga or mediation to just be.
Same with my writing practice, I think. I left it all on the mat. And today is another day.
I am very happy to let you all know that Ironjaws is now available to pre-order via Pete’s Press. Pete’s has been great to work with and we are set to launch Ironjaws in Indianapolis at Tomorrow Books on May 3rd.
“Basketball’s innate ability to bring young people together in meaningful and sometimes unexpected ways is at the center of this heartwarming, beautifully rendered tale of friendship, hope and redemption.
—Craig Leener
Author of the Zeke Archer Basketball Trilogy and There’s No Basketball on Mars
“Five eighth grade boys, on an overnight trip, discover there is more to landing a fabled fish than simply casting their lines into the lake. It takes cunning, teamwork, and, sometimes, staring down death to win. In this captivating YA novella, author Jerry VanSchaik draws us into the action as the friends revert to their respective roles on a youth basketball team in a quest to land the ultimate trophy.”
–Don Thrasher, contributing arts and music writer for the Dayton Daily News
“An underdog story of friendship, adventure, and coming of age as five boys on the brink of high school discover resiliency, teamwork, and the importance of chasing dreams. Jerry Vanschaik’s Ironjaws shows that nothing is impossible on the basketball court, or out on the lake, if you have a little help from your friends.”—J.R. Jamison, award-winning author of Hillbilly Queer: A Memoir
An energizing and well-paced story, Ironjaws transports us back to the simpler days of adolescence. Jerry paints a vivid picture of the main crew’s tight-knit bond and impressive teamwork. As you turn the pages, the book will likely stir up some memories from your own childhood, when inside jokes and sharing experiences with your closest friends were the most important things in the world. -Joey Held, author of Kind, But Kind of Weird: Short Stories on Life’s Relationships
This was a pleasant surprise in my inbox yesterday. I am not alone! I have maintained for years that the best part of being an independent author is that you get to make all the decisions about your work. That is also the worst. It really means that you have to do it, not just say you are doing it on social media. And the most demoralizing part of it all is the self-promotion. Don’t get me wrong. I like the attention. I am not the introverted writer type who is not comfortable with self-promotion. I just don’t have the time or energy to be the loudest voice on the internet. I am more like the methodical tortoise in the race with the hare, who is running and texting at the same time.
So, when Pete’s sent this out, it felt like a milestone to me. I greatly appreciate it. Of course, the cover of Ironjaws is still being revised. And the date at Tomorrow Books is now May 3rd, but it still feels great that a few more folks know this now.
Last week, I was fortunate enough to escape the Midwest for a visit to Tucson, Arizona. My son was the host for four days of sun and eighty-degree temps. We took advantage of the climate and spent much of the time outdoors. My son had learned a good much about the local flora and fauna, so we spent a good deal of the outside time hiking the trails around Tuscon.
The hikes went mostly through the Sonora Desert, which more or less surrounds Tucson. But that makes it sound like the desert surrounded Tucson at some point. Not the case of course. Tucson was put into the desert, mostly by the miners and prospectors in the 1880’s.
Like a lot of folks, I thought the desert didn’t have much to offer. It is called the desert, after all. I was quite wrong. In fact, the desert if full of life. Life isn’t easy with water being so scare so all the living things in the desert are quite concerned with water. All plant life evolved to attain, maintain, and preserve the very small amount of water that is given to it.
The most famous plant in this ecosystem is of course the cactus. In the Sonora desert the most famous cactus is easily the Saguaro, followed by the prickly pear. If you’ve seen a postcard from Tucson, or Tombstone, or Instagram post, then you’ve seen one of these. Personally, I like the Ocotillo or the Manzanilla. The wonderfully named Brittlebush and Shin Daggers held my interest. As did the jumping Cholla and the giant Organ Pipe Cactus. I also liked the Ironwood and Mesquite trees. I did find the Barrel cactus, which always faces south to be interesting. I liked the Agave and Yucca as well. So, you see, there was a lot of life to see in the desert.
But, for me the beauty of it all can be found in the meaning one sees everywhere. Life is hard because there is very little water. Almost no water, in fact. And water means life. All the plants and animals know that. Everything our friend the cactus does is meant to collect, store, preserve, and defend water. Every thorn on every cactus in all the desert has meaning, intention. Each and every thorn- and there are countless millions in the desert, is there for a well-constructed reason and purpose: water.
I found these plants to be beautiful. Nothing pointless, wasteful, or inane about them. They exist with quiet intent. Every thorn on every cactus has meaning.Nature has no room time or space for inanity and that is evident everywhere things grow, but not always as clearly visible as in the desert.
Our devices provide us constant access to the inane. There is no thorn in the promise of ease. Siri has no thorn. Instacart has no thorn. Door dash has no thorn. Sports talk radio has no thorn. I could go on. But my point (ha, ha) is that I would rather live in that so called desert that to live in our green and rolling fields of inanity. What is easy for us isn’t always the best for us, as Marcus Aurelius said centuries ago in Meditations. If there is no thorn to the result, is it really worth it? The time is going to pass anyway.
Look for the thorns in things we spend time doing. Find them. That is where the meaning and beauty wait.
“You can’t ‘write a bestseller” because that implies more control of the immediate literary universe than anyone has.” – Norman Mailer, July 1984
“The public may be stupid, but they will immediately see the insincerity of a book that was written to be a bestseller.”- William Burroughs, later that day
I came across the above in Literary Outlaw, while brushing up on William Burroughs. I had just seen Queer, the movie based on the Burroughs’s book. I’ve read most of WSB’s works but it had been a while. I could give a quick thought or two on the movie, or even what I think of WSB’s books, but I don’t have a lot of use for reviews (please don’t tell Amazon or any of the dozens and dozens of people I’ve begged to review my books on Amazon).
Thanks.
Was not a bestseller.
The exchange below has stuck in my mind and now you’re stuck with it. The quotation marks (his, not mine) in the first one are there to stress that Mailer saying that if you sit down to write a book based on what is popular right now, it will be old news, dated, by the time you get it to market. I am inclined to think that is no longer true.
The second quote follows the first quote and deals with humans more than technology. Humans haven’t changed much but publishing technology clearly has. The second quote is still more relevant than the first.
I would update it, however. Real writing isn’t sourced from SEO, or clicks, or who’s selling best in your genre. You can format and source and manufacture and produce and market a book to be a bestseller these days, I suppose. Just don’t’ call it writing.
So, you ask, what is writing? It’s the cultivation of your own unique, internal, wonderful self and the story that grows from that. It aint’ never externally produced and is never for anyone but yourself. That will always be true.
New Year’s Day at six in the morning. No, this isn’t one of those posts written to celebrate and commemorate. One of those posts that looks ahead, looks back. One that includes a top ten list, the best of, the worst of this or that. This then, is actually a repost from this day one year ago. I was looking over old posts to possibly repost later this month and found this one. I have done almost exactly the same things this morning as I did last year, except I have yet to change the cat’s litter box. I am not sure what to make of this. My first thought is that I am grateful that my life has stayed stable enough over the Pandemic ridden year of 2020 to have lived such a normal, steady life. I am grateful. I am grateful for any and all who have read even one of the posts of 2020. With that, I promise to keep putting out one post a week. If I find myself doing the same boring, predictable thing at exactly the same hour next year, I hope I can still find it in myself to appreciate that. On with the repsost...
I took a sip of my coffee a second ago. I was hoping that the small amount of caffeine included in said sip would provide the bounce I needed to begin working on my road novel, Back outta the World. Well, it didn’t work.
As you may or may not know, the novel is done. It was completed over two decades ago. I have reworked it at least three or four times already. It sits on my laptop a few steps to my right on the table I cleared off over Christmas. I cleared the table off to change the energy around the laptop. I wanted to provide a clear space in order to provide access to Back outta the World. I hoped that it would be easier to start review and revise it one last time. Well, it hasn’t worked yet.
In fact, I hope you are enjoying this post so far because it is simply the product of my resisting working on Back outta the World. As fellow writers or bloggers it should be a familiar situation for you. I am resisting doing what I got up this morning to do. I set out this morning to make a big dent in revising and self-editing of BotW. Instead, I’ve done the dishes, started the laundry and changed the cat’s litter box.
Maybe this is one of those New Year’s Day posts after all. It’s possible that I rose from bed on the first morning of a brand-new year carrying all the contrived expectations and resolutions that the New Year brings, in spite of my best efforts to ignore them. No, I don’t pay attention to that stuff. (For proof of that refer to the post published just before this one.)
Hey! Hold on a second. I feel better now. Thanks for joining me for these few moments. By resisting working on BotW and drafting this post, I just cleared my mind. The above paragraph was a cleansing and redirecting of the mind. I am just that quickly ready to see what Rick, Jay and T are up to in Back outta the World. I’m going to click “publish” now…. Happy New Year everybody!
red apron recipe-practices to put your mind in writing shape
This year I celebrated New Year’s Day on my yoga mat in my garage. That is what I have been doing for the last several years now. If you are a little confused, I will be happy to explain.
It not about the calendar. I fully realize the appointed NYD is January 1st. That day is the designated day to begin a commitment to a resolution or two or three that will change us all for the better. However, as most of us have experienced, after a week or two, they gone. Why is that? If you will allow, I think I understand a little about why that happens.
In this unfathomable existence here on earth, in the constantly changing time period we take on our physical forms, there is no such thing as a “one size fits all” solution. We are all very different. Take a look around. Am I right? In fact, there is no other way it can be. It is the fact that we are all different entities (as safe a word as I can find to use, which is a discouraging enough practice, reflecting these times) that ultimately unites us. But, in the case of New Year’s Day, this is not be good for advertisers, alcohol sales, and the people who make the pointy party hats. Since we are all unique and wonderful as we set upon our life’s journey, our point of true reflection, recharging and rejuvenation must all be unique. Think of someone you don’t know very well giving you a gift of a new outfit that you will be obliged to wear. It doesn’t fit, the colors look bad on you but it’s from your boss or in-law so you feel like you have to wear it from time to time, mostlyfor their sake. An extreme example would be having to wear a life sized pink bunny suit like Raphie in a Christmas story. It just doesn’t’ work for you.
Let’s share the customary New Year’s Fun as we should. But to start on a path of real change that has a way better chance of taking hold, I think it works better and makes more sense to find your own starting point.
My point of renewal and recharging happens to be late July on the shore of the Ohio River. Cue Dick Clark. Don’t know him? Is Steve available? Ryan..? No matter, Here goes.
My realization journey to the Ohio began seven years ago as purely a get away from a recent family tragedy. I found the immense and indifferent flow of the Ohio River soothing to my core, to my mind, heart and soul. I had to get back. That much I knew.
I have returned with some or all of my adult children each and every year. Over the years the mid summer trip has, for me, evolved into as much a spiritual pilgrimage as a summer holiday. It’s a holiday week. I spend it having fun but also taking spiritual stock of myself during the past year and even years.
This year long intention has come to be manifested by the “drift log” rite or practice I now perform annually on the shores of the Ohio. The river never fails to give me a sturdy, nearly two foot long drift log to take back home with me. The river bank is full of them. Once back home it I put on my front porch in summer, on the buffet in the winter. Both places easily in view and accessible. They need to be because as the year proceeds I take physical reminders of the year and attach them to the drift log: receipts, lists, appointment reminder cards, flyers for Tripio events, personal notes. The good, bad, happy and sad get stapled or glued onto the drift log. By vacation time each year, the drift log is full, carrying the attachments of the year with it.
Then, on one of the days of the summer vacation when the river seems receptive I head to the shore with this years drift log. I’ll call this New Year’s Eve. It is always very early in the morning when the river is calm like glass, and I can feel the power and energy of the water. I know it is time for the toss. It is like the ball dropping on Times Square, less crowded, less noisy but with a hell of lot more significance, intention and energy. I begin my countdown. I take some breathes as I review the array of glued and stapled reminders of the year.
10– post it from last August with Tripio’s Amazon sales figure
9- a sticker I was given to wear declaring I had been scanned
8 -reminder card for a trip to the dentist-
7-a appointment reminder card for therapy
6– quick concept sketch for cover of Back outta the World
5– flyer for a Tripio event
4- post it to remind myself to renew WordPress account
3 a card I wrote over twenty years ago to the mother of my adult kids
2– receipt from a trip to Kroger- and at
1– I throw it as far as I can throw it! I release this year’s drift log. It take its time coming down upon the indifferent water. It splashes, settles for a second or two and begins it’s trip to New Orleans or somewhere I will never discover.
I am lightened, renewed, freed of attachments to events from the previous year and years. I can go back to the laptop and work for the sake of working, write for the sake of writing. My New Years Eve. Not the midnight ball drop on Time’s Square, but considerably less random a lot more effective starting point to begin intentions for the following year. I have space to take them on now. I have already started to prioritize them. I will begin to incorporate them into my life in a few days on my yoga mat as I mentioned above.
I will follow up on this red apron recipe post in the very near future. I really prefer not to do that. I did not intend for it to become two parts. Oh well, why attach?
Coffee Novelist 
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