I find myself more and more often referring to writing as a meditative practice. It much easier on me. It asks so much less of me, asks me to maintain much less. And it stops people from asking me follow up questions to which I would most likely give even more confusing replies. So it is win-win.
I recently finished Fabrice Midal’s book, The French Art of Not Giving Sh**. He is among other things, the founder of the Western School of Meditation. Reading a wisdom book every morning after journaling while having my doppio is cornerstone of my writing practice. I’ve read too many wisdom books to list them all here, but I like to poke around a few pages at time to find ways to help my writing practice.
My writing practice is turned inward for answers not outward. I don’t even like the words answers there. Let me try the word energy. Mental energy, flowing clear and free of attachment and expectation. There is where the novels begin, not at the keyboard of the laptop.
I go as for to say that I don’t’ write, I farm or direct mental energy. And so after reading the first page of The French Art, I had found a fellow traveler. Fabrice describes his meditative practices in a way that echoes my writing practice. So below are a few more thoughts from a mediation book on not meditating that I feel apply to my writing while not writing. It may help you understand what I’m saying when I write lines like that one. If not, at least, they may help me. Here goes:
Five thoughts not about writing for a post about writing
My aim (while meditating) is not to become wise, or calm, or patient. I have no aim, no objective, not even the idea of starting or finishing the day in particular state of mind.
I’ll buy something, so as to feel better, but once I’ve bought this product, I’ll no longer feel satisfied. I will immediately need something else. Whatever is offered next.As if it were outside of us.
Personally, I have no confidence in what I call “me.” I have confidence in the profoundness of meditation, because I have seen the fruits
Giving up on understanding everything is the only way to remain faithful to true human existence.
I still have lofty aspirations, but they steer clear of the cruelty of perfection.
Working on something of any worth requires intention and attention. Producing activity is easy. I am not sure about all you all, but I have hard time sitting still. Somewhere inside me a little voice with a big mouth is telling me that I have to be doing something. The little voice with the big mouth is usually right of course. There are always dishes to be done, bills to be paid, the device that is never far away needs a look, or the cat’s litter box needs changed. This little voice talks to me mostly at home. At work the little voice with the big mouth is usually shouted down by other voices, other mouths and other interests.
Producing activity is easy. I think that a lot of this comes about because that time of contemplation, stillness and introspection is costing somebody somewhere some money.
I also think that it has difficult to see any direct immediate benefit to sitting alone with yourself. Where is the benefit? I can’t see it right here, right now so why do it? Yet, that is why we should take the time to sit and not do, not produce, not attempt. The cost is the time, which is most valuable commodity ever. Always has been and always will be. No matter what we do, it is going to pass anyway. Sitting and contemplating isn’t a waste of time. It’s an appreciation, really.
I was finally able to revise and upgrade the cover of my first novel, Tripio. It had been bugging me for years, like something your doctor would mention at your yearly check-up. Not life threatening, or even painful, but maybe you should do something about it. And so, the process never made it to the top of the pile of things I needed to do.
The term book industry folks would use to describe Tripio is a passion project. Fine. Tripio is a very personal novel. I like to say that I would have never published it if I knew what I was doing. Yes, the spelling of my name is correct, the title is legible, the graphics are clearer, the interior type larger and better, and there is formatted front and back matter. All of that helps. It may help even sell a book or two.
But I had to do the revamp mostly because it is my story told as openly and honestly as I could at the time. Sure, I like to compare Tripio to Knut Hamsum’s amazing novel, Hunger, one of my favorite books of all time. And Tripio does resemble the story of Hunger, a century later and moved to Chicago. Tripio captures a defining time in my life, and I wrote it at an equally defining time in my life. A double dose of me. Which is not a great way to sell a book, I’m sure. Nonetheless, Tripio is not the story of Starbucks, or Knut Hamsun, Howard Schultz or anyone else. It is me in those pages and that is why I had to make it better.
Once the upgrade was complete and accepted by Amazon, not as easy as it sounds, I felt relieved. It was done and I could see that it looked way, way better. Books are never done. Books, written and read, are energy between covers, revised and otherwise. One bit of energy still flowing from Tripio is what my life would be like if I stayed at Starbucks with my 264 shares of IPO stock options with its Current value of 1.23 million dollars.
Knut Hamsun
A few days after the revision I found myself pondering that question again on a long drive for my job. My five senses are always occupied with this bi-weekly nearly two-hour drive, so my mind is free to think. I must point out that my intention on most mornings before this and any other long drive is to “put the novel in my head”. I have some coffee at my laptop and write at least enough to let my mind work on the novel while I drive. Well, I’ve been on a writing sabbatical for close to a month, so I had no novel to put in my head. Or so I thought. As I said, no novel is ever finished. It can’t be. Energy has no end. The Tripio question was back although not in the same way. Why didn’t’ I stay at Starbucks and retire early and rich? Why?
I realized once again that I’ve mostly answered that Starbucks question mostly by writing Tripio. With that space in my mind now opened, I’ve put in some self-forgiveness for not being able to change the past and some understanding that your past is never the future when you create it in the present. If that makes sense. I have released that and lot more by writing Tripio. That is the value of the book to me. Not what is represented on a sales chart on Amazon or elsewhere. No one can see that when they look at the sales figures and they won’t see that in the reboot either.
Howard, back in my day
That question settled, I still had windshield time to work on a second bit of energy regenerated by the Tripio reboot. In Hunger and Tripio, both protagonists want to make a living writing. Decades after living Tripio and nearly a decade after writing it, I am not making a living solely by writing. Not even close. The Alliance of Independent Authors estimates that there are about 3,000 folks in the US who make their living by writing alone. That is not many. I am sure none of them meant to, but that day they all pissed me off.
I like my job well enough. It is not what I dreamt of doing when I was growing up of course. I wanted to play second base for the Cincinnati Reds. But, I have nights and weekends off and the job doesn’t ask a lot of me. It doesn’t give me a lot back in return monetarily but my mind is free to write as I go through my day and my drives. But I can’t make my living my writing alone. There’s three thousand of you. What’s one more?
A few minutes into my first stop after my long drive I found the answer to the headline for this post when an employee of the long-term rehab facility I was servicing asked me about my job. She asked me what I did. I told her. Did I like it? I said I did. She asked me if my job was better than wipin’ ass. I replied that yes, it is.
Needless to say, I used that Tripio related energy to enjoy the drive back a lot more than the drive to that first stop. The gal in the pink scrubs hadn’t meant to, but she made my day. My job is better than wipin’ ass for a living. My tax return may not show it, and I may not be Stephen King, but my life is overflowing with blessings. I have a great life, filled with riches that will never, ever find their way onto sales charts or into bank accounts.
Shouldn’t you cover your ass and say you mean no offense to health care workers in long term care facilities? No. That would just make their job harder.
Some of us know Rene Descarte from the Latin cogito ergo sum.
All of us know Rene Descartes from the English I think therefore I am. That has been around so long that, as far as I can see, it no longer applies to our everyday life. In keeping with my revisions of other words of wisdom, I’ve updated Descartes to apply to the current, unrelenting, device-spawned commodification of our own, original thoughts:
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.
Coffee Novelist 
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