Share yo Experience Foo’

Today I had the great honor of speaking about my experience self-publishing in novelist and teacher Susan Daitch’s creative writing workshop at Hunter College. Before getting to the school, I certainly had some reservations. I mean, what could I possibly speak about for twenty minutes, let alone an hour? I’d never spoke at length about self-publishing, especially not in such a formal setting.

Turns out I had nothing at all to worry about. The class was very receptive, and Susan made the entire process effortless. Before I knew it, I had been speaking and fielding questions for an hour, and felt like I could go another few rounds. The class was very receptive and asked great questions.

At class’s end, as everyone milled out the door to go on their merry way, I was repeatedly thanked by the students for sharing my time and knowledge with them. I was pleasantly taken aback by their appreciation, as I thought I was the one who should feel grateful at having been given the opportunity to talk to them.

That’s when I was hit with a real “a-ha” moment. I got how sharing knowledge is a phenomenon that mutually benefits both the sharer and the one being shared with. While the students come away with new-found knowledge (hopefully), the sharer comes away with validation for their thoughts. That’s huge. How often do we go through life with bits of information going in one ear and out the other? When we are able to share the things we know with people, some of that information is forced to stay where it is.

Sharing helps build systems of knowledge, and it’s those systems of knowledge which define who we are.

Anyways, I’m listening to Ludovico Einaudi and it’s making my brain feel really good. Where has this guy been all my life??

How do you write about what you know?

It’s a common enough saying. “Write what you know.” In fact, I think I’ve heard it ad nauseum, in that I never necessarily agreed with it. I mean, I like to tell fantastical weird stories. I can’t say I’ve ever met a man like the Digger of the Wastes, who appears in Bridge Burner Hyperion as a man with narcissus flowers for hair and the job of killing the old stories beneath the ground before they wake up. Nor would I want to meet a man like that, quite frankly.

However, I think there is a kernel of truth to writing about what you know. For instance, I love music. It’s in my blood. I’ve played in more bands than I can remember, and only feel the most sane when I have a guitar I can pick up at a moment’s notice. My love of music has found its way into my writing through characters who are either musicians themselves or have to use music as a means of understanding the worlds they inhabit.

Thurmond, from Bridge Burner Hyperion, uses a bass-saber as both a weapon and an instrument. This was an idea I came up with after I had started learning how to play bass when I was sixteen years old, part bass, part axe. I don’t think I would have ever been able to think this up if I hadn’t been learning the intricacies of the bass guitar. The idea came from something I knew, but wasn’t just a literal interpretation of my knowledge. I reshaped it, dissolved my knowledge in my creative juices and made it something wholly original. And as artists, isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?

What music inspires you?

Ah, music. Have you ever met a person who has not been moved by a particular song or arrangement? Even my current roommate, who says he is the most musically challenged person in all of New York, is moved by Chopin and Tchaikowsky.

I always find my writing process is hugely inspired by music. Being a musician, it is hard for me to listen to many things for fear of me being distracted by trying to take apart how the song is put together. “Oh, the bass player is doing something interesting here,” or “sounds like he’s using a combination of wah and delay pedal here.”

In no particular order then, these are the artists I’ve been listening to for the past couple of months while working on “Pyronic Technique.”

Sigur Ros. The Rolling Stones. Krishna Das (and all sorts of other Kirtan music). Thievery Corporation. Phish. Deadmau5. Kronos Quartet (especially the album they did for the Fountain soundtrack).

Not really much of a trend there. Some of the stuff you could categorize together, but really it’s just a random assortment of different styles, different genres. The only way you could really group these artists together that would make sense, at least in my head, is that they all drive me forward. They push my creative process forward, bringing it along for a ride. They turn something on inside of me which makes me aspire to create, which makes me want to write.

As I said before, not all bands or musicians do this to me. I listen to The Clash or Hendrix and I’m usually too distracted to focus too much on my writing. I want to be immersed in their respective lyrics or guitar virtuosity. Are there artists who drive you forward? Maybe it’s not music which does it for you, but paintings, or spoken word, or the smell of a loved one’s cooking.

Whatever it is, identify it, and make it work for you.