Things seemed so easy. Just zip through the ending that I'd already  
mapped out, nail a few scenes, drop some exclamation points, throw in  
some gratuitous nudity and I'd be finished. Or finished with this  
draft until my advisor skewered it (in a constructive way!) at least.  
But it turns out that life isn't always the easy road that they make  
it out to be on the first season of Lost.  So instead of just  
plodding forward happily, I started to re-read my book from the  
beginning. And then I started to freak out. It seems, not enough was  
happening to my characters. Sh*t needed to go down in a much more  
intense and forceful manner. People needed to be put in awkward  
positions. Choices needed to be made. Adverbs toned down. Exclamation  
points undropped.

In lieu of completely losing my mind, I decided to semi-rationally  
read through the book again with a pen and a pad and take note of the  
places that needed some more conflict, where things needed to be  
ramped up, toned down, or excused from existing. This took an entire  
day, but it had the end result of making me much more confident about  
the state of my book (almost readable!) while staving off any desire  
to self-medicate.

And now I feel the need to do those things before I turn in this  
draft. Which might take a few more days. Yes, this could make my  
advisor curse the day that I forced her to sign an exclusive advisor  
for life contract, but at least she didn't actually prick her finger  
and stamp the contract with blood, like I'd asked. And if this draft  
is better, then my next draft will be better, which means I will have  
to spend less time on the back end making the excuses that i'm trying  
to make right now, which will no doubt improve relations with the PR  
firm hired to promote my work. And that, friends, is how you publish  
a book!!!

Class dismissed.

Kidding.

On to more general topics: (several of) the people have spoken and  
it's generally agreed that I am lazy and need to step up my blog  
game. With that said, I will now be posting at least twice a week,  
usually Mondays and Thursdays. At least one of these posts per week  
will be of choice quality. The other will be, like, pretty good.

Enjoy the remnants of the week and the weekend. My friend Frank is  
coming into town, utilizing his spring break from law school in balmy  
Virginia to spend some time in the winter wonderland of Boston.  
Obviously, he didn't think this through.

And PS- I'm planning on milking the songs of 1998 for all they're worth.

Pretty Fly,
(For A White Guy)

The Offspring

Did you know that San Francisco has hills? I mean, I've watched a significant portion of the fifth season of Full House so I thought I knew what I was getting myself into, but apparently I had not. The hills of SF, not unlike the hit MTV television series of the same name, are sudden, difficult to traverse and filled with beautiful people that want to hook up. But we're not here to discuss the topography of major NorCal cities (Are we?). We're here to talk about my writing progress. And progress it was, friends. To the tune of a major shake up in the middle of the book. After having sorted out something yesterday that made my book readable, I had only to connect the other literary dots in order to put the middle to sleep and get my end on.

I also was able to utilize something (name drop!!) Tom Perrotta said to me when I interviewed him last year as we both ate Cuban sandwiches: "Just skip the boring parts." This is sound advice for me because I have a hard time not keeping everything in these very linear blocks that go from one scene to what would be the next logical place. So say my main character was in the mall shopping at Forever 21 for a coral sequined halter top (for his lady friend!). The next logical scene (in my mind) would be him driving back from the mall with said halter top and possibly a new vanilla Frosty from Wendy's. But that's pointless. No one needs to see him driving. It doesn't push the plot forward, it doesn't develop his character, and even though he probably would've had clever things to say about his vanilla Frosty, you can't build a book relying solely on cleverness, well timed bon mots and boring parts. This is something I've only recently learned.

The Father-Son Relationship Quote of the Day: "I'm not driving you to the airport."

I'm currently sitting at a Starbucks on Stanford's campus waiting for my friend to get out of his business school class so he can buy me some Stanford Men's Distressed Print Sweatpants (Size Large) and I need to get some writing done so I'm going to disengage myself from the Internets. But I feel really good about where we are in our relationship. Good talk.

Doo Wop,
(That Thing)

Lauryn Hill

Yesterday, during dinner with my father, I had a breakthrough. "Holy  
(swear word)," I said, during one of our long stretches of silence.  
"That's how I should do it!"
"Are you drunk," my father asked me (I wasn't!), but I chose to  
abstain from comment as I'd already excused myself and headed back to  
my room where I spent the next three hours sorting out several scenes  
I'd been thinking about all week. I finally figured out how I wanted  
to end a crucial middle chapter scene (important semi-secret revealed  
in dialogue!), and that ending coincides nicely with this vignette I  
have to write (the book is told in two parts). I know all of this is  
vague and sounds semi-made up, but I swear--by the moon and the stars  
and the sky-- the connections developed post-dinner yesterday have  
rendered my book almost readable.

So that was a positive. Because the rest of the day was utterly  
horrible. It rained here, which my dad thinks I had something to do  
with ("Do you think it's a coincidence that it's rained twice since  
you've been here and once before that in the past month?" "Yes."  
"Well...I don't."), and my writing was largely devoid of nouns and  
clauses. I did drink seven waters, though.

The Father-Son Relationship Quote of the Day:
During an introduction:
"This is my son."
(Pause)
"He's a writer."
(Long Pause)
"Of sorts."

Anyway, I will be taking a side trip up to San Francisco for the next  
few days--a city I've never actually been to, but tell everyone that  
I love--to see some friends. Now I can't say for certain, but I'm  
pretty sure that at least one of the Internets works up there, so we  
can continue our conversation while I'm (insert touristy San  
Francisco activity here).

And fear not: the hits from 1998 keep coming. Because when everything  
feels like the movies, yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive. Right?

Iris,

Goo Goo Dolls.

Words are complicated. Back in the old days, I used to know if I'd  
accomplished something by my word count. I'd say: I'm going to write  
2000 words today and then I'm going to eat a club sandwich and have  
several Arnold Palmers. And I'd know that I was being productive,  
because the 2000 words were there, sitting tangibly on my (very  
expensive) computer screen. This made it easier to enjoy my club  
sandwich.

But the re-write isn't all charging club sandwiches and Arnold  
Palmers to your father and asking if you can borrow his car for  
several hours to "run errands" by the outlets in Carlsbad.  The word  
counts go up and down in an unpredictable fashion. Yesterday I  
deleted 46 pages of crap and rewrote 18. I have now connected the  
entire middle of my book to the end so that it no longer seems like I  
spent the middle chapters writing a (hilarious?) short story about  
the mall that had nothing to do with the rest of my work. But like  
the temperatures in my home state, my word count is low. I  need to  
get over this, friends, and it starts by ignoring the word count. And  
maybe writing more?

My Father-Son Relationship Quote of the Day: "So when you finished  
that jar of pickles did it even cross your mind 'hey maybe I should  
go the store and replace them'?"

Today I am attempting to clean up those middle chapters I just re-
wrote and plow through the back end of the book, editing with a  
passion and fury unseen in SoCal. I will keep you so up in the loop  
that you'll feel like you are writing this book and I'm just sitting  
in the hot tub text messaging emoticons.

I'm also going to need to get some pickles.

Let's do this again tomorrow.

Oh, also: Song sign offs this week are exclusively coming from the  
year 1998. Mostly because that was a great year for network  
television. ( Two Guys, A Girl, and a Pizza Place, we hardly knew ye)

Truly, Madly,
Deeply

Savage Garden

If you're writing a novel, and you've gotten past the third chapter  
without thinking about a sequel, you, friend, are behind. College  
level math shows that writers who have ideas beyond the book they're  
writing are more likely to a) get agents b) get published to multiple  
book deals and c) stay fit well into pregnancy. But if this is not  
you, do not lose hope, like most people did after the first season of  
The O.C. All is not lost. You may have a sequel in there somewhere.  
You just need to take this quiz to find out.

1. Finally (but, like, in a good way) your first book ends. Pick the  
letter which best parallels your own main character's plight at the  
end of said book.

A. After nearly falling for the wrong girl during the 70s dance bc  
she could do the Hustle, Casey gets back together with the love of  
his life, Drew. But as Casey and Drew ride off in their 2007 Chrysler  
Sebring convertible to spend a weekend in South Beach at the Raleigh  
Hotel because the pool is nice, the girl that did the Hustle stands  
by the side of the road shouting, "This isn't over! In fact, this is  
just beginning!"  Then she follows them in her own Chrysler Sebring,  
which is a hard top.
B. Although they failed to find the lost treasure of Zion, the book  
ends with Casey and Drew both moving to the Nolita section of New  
York City, where they get internships at Runway fashion magazine  
under the notorious (but personally fragile!) Miranda Priestly.
C. The book ends with Casey treating his lady friend Drew to some  
waffles at the Waffle House. Drew looks down at the place setting  
underneath her Toddle House Ham and Cheese Omelet, which lists all of  
the other Waffle House locations nation-wide and says, "Hot Tuesday,  
Casey! They just opened a new Waffle House in Groveport!"
"Groveport, Ohio?" Casey asks.
"It has to be!" Drew looks across the table, his eyes shining. "Are  
you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Casey says, "No."
D. Casey dies of a love stroke. And right before he dies, he ties up  
a bunch of loose ends. The book ends with the doctor saying (directly  
to the reader), "There's nothing more to be done. Or said. Or, like,  
typed."

2. Your attitude towards re-utilizing your characters from your first  
book could best be characterized by which Justin Timberlake/NSync song?

A. I'll Never Stop
B. What Goes Around Comes Around
C. Bye Bye Bye
D. The Game is Over

Key:
Mostly A's: Congratulations. You are all sequeled up and have left  
many opportunities for reprisals in other books. Quite literally, you  
might have the potential to write infinity books about your  
characters. I smell the next Babysitter's Club series.

Mostly B's: Yes! Like in real life, you've left some awkward loose  
ends that invite the possibility for sequel without completely  
overdoing it. You feel comfortable with your characters but know that  
a change in locale/age/perspective might be just the ticket to  
keeping them fresh and ever developing. And if you didn't know that  
before, well, now you do.

Mostly C's: You're not necessarily in a prime position to rock a  
sequel, but, hey, it's not like your main character died. Right?  
Right? Oh. Well...hmmmm.

Mostly D's: To say that you're not really feeling a sequel would be  
tantamount to me saying that I only watch Justin Timberlake's live  
Madison Square Garden Concert on HBO OnDemand every time I come home  
intoxicated and I've stopped feeling weird about it. In other words,  
an understatement.

Let me know how sequeled up you are in the Comment portion of the  
show. And, as Danny requested, my very best Foreigner pick...

Cold as,
ice

Foreigner

Post Script for Pre-Promotional Sidenote: On Sunday, I spent 8 hours on a train.  
Well, two trains. The reasoning behind my sudden and drastic increase  
in train-related travel was to go to NYC for a 7 hour period to film  
a series of short web videos that will debut in the Spring on this  
very internet locale (among other locales). Despite me being  
involved, you should not automatically assume the worst. Said  
webisodes feature actual professional actresses/comedians/TOW book  
authors and a real director and a real sound guy, all of whom used  
real film lingo like "soundcheck" and "action" during the filming. I  
do not want to give any more away other than to say that everyone was  
extremely impressive, I was very nervous, and getting (repeatedly)  
slapped in the face isn't actually as bad as I thought. Keep your  
internets antenna up for more info as we come close to the drop date. 

Last summer, I took a lit course on postmodern fiction. It was a  
sampling of different postmodern authors from Pynchon and Burroughs  
to Foster-Wallace and Mark Leyner and, aside from being a very good  
course, it had some sort of impact on my writing. As several peer-
pressure induced incidents in my life can attest (wearing my sister's  
deodorant on a hilarious "double dare", drinking Kahlua mixed with  
OJ, bleaching my hair in my basement bathroom the day before soccer  
tryouts sophomore year of high school, etc), I can be easily  
influenced, and my writing bears that same mark. For shame.

Post-course, I spent several weeks trying to incorporate "postmodern"  
influences into my writing. But then I realized--in some sort of meta-
philosophical postmodern moment while I (might have) been watching  
the Matrix-- that by even trying to utilize "postmodern" influences,  
I was going against the whole point of postmodernism, which is to  
challenge using a standard template. So I scrapped trying to think  
about it like that, and just decided to do whatever pleased my  
writerly palate.

Now usually I'm very secretive about what I have going on in my book,  
for fear that people will copy my ideas and then do a much, much  
better job using them and get their work out before me, so that--in  
the end--when I complain about someone jacking my ideas, I just kind  
of look like (more of a) whiny (you fill in the swear word here). And that, as my editor might  
say, is not poison. But today I will reveal my idea. It is neither  
original, nor is it very good, and my thesis adviser calls it  
"unnecessarily risky to the point of stupidity" but I remain unfazed because,
like Mary J. Blige, "I don't need no hateration."

Anyway, this is the idea: There is one particular scene in my book  
that is includes a college bar fight. Yawn, right? College bar fights  
happen all of the time at colleges and bars, especially colleges with  
fraternities and/or varsity football. But, wait! For this particular  
scene and this particular scene only, I have set up the entire thing  
like you're reading a play script complete with stage directions and  
all of that jazz. Eat that, Foster Wallace. Postmodern genuisocity  
indeed!

I know, I know, it's a great idea, and I will no doubt probably make  
Outside Magazine's 2008-2009 Winter Hot List. But there remains a  
chink in my seemingly invincible use of armor. Problem is, I don't  
really know how to write a play script. Like, not at all. So I need  
to look at some examples of actual play scripts so I can mimic the  
form and make sure it's exactly as I want it. And problem #2: I can't  
seem to find any of this business via Ask Jeeves. Which is where you,  
friends, come in.

If someone can find an example online of a useful play script that  
has all of the necessary bells and whistles (stage directions,  
dialogue, etc) that I can access via me clicking something using my  
mouse, I will do you a solid by linking to the 80s or early 90s  
artists music video of your choosing. You simply select the artist  
and allow me to use my YouTubing skill set to find an appropriate  
tasteful vid. Unfortunately for the music community, I will only put  
up a link to the first person who submits successfully. The rest I  
will hold very close to my heart and burn onto a mix CD that I will  
give to the Big Cat for Valentine's Day.

Heat of,
the moment

Asia

PS- I feel this anecdote sums up nicely the state of the New England  
sporting community post Patriots Super Bowl loss. Heard outside of my  
apt minutes after the loss: a college age dude in a white Brady  
jersey talking to another dude wearing a blue Bruschi Pats jersey:  
"It's not just that I feel let down, I just...I just...I don't even  
know."
Friend: "Sucks, man."
Brady Jersey: "Oh, f***. You know what I just remembered?"
Friend: "What?"
Brady Jers: "Valentines Day."
Friend: "Yeah."
Brady Jers: "February is gonna suck."