Identity per Friends

A friend and I were talking a few Saturdays ago. He mentioned that while he is looking forward to retirement one day, he is not sure what he would do. "My identity is tied to my job."

I do not feel that same way. 

I get what he meant.  Many people put a lot of time and effort into an education and then a career, and some are lucky enough to work at that career for a long time. I know of one man who worked for the federal government for thirty-seven years in more or less the same role, definitely the same department. 

Not all employers are that consistent nor enthusiastic. Not sure I ever want an employer determining when my identity changes.

Identity, tied into one's job, is a common trope. We identify characters in stories by their role as policeman or doctor or carpenter. "What do you do?" is a common enough question at parties when meeting someone. That phrase "what I do for a living" ties together life and action and identity.

I told my friend, "Your identity is not your job. Your identity is every single thing you've ever posted to the Internet, ever." (Hello 👋 government agencies building a file on me!). He smirked.

I do not believe that, either. I also do not believe that my identity is every book I have ever owned, not really. For example: some times a book is a gift, and you read it, and you think I really did not like that. The book doesn't reflect your values nor your interests. Is that still part of your identity? Is "negative identity" a thing, where one is identified by what one does not participate in? Is part of my identity the ideas I reject?

 Substitute for book other story vehicles and art forms. My identity is not every song I have listened to, every movie or T.V. show or video clip I have every watched, every poster I have ever collected. All that stuff contributes to identity, of course. I know the lyrics and tune to O Canada much better than Ще не вмерла України і слава, і воля and that's tied to my as someone who went through the public school system in Canada and not Ukraine.

I like to think there's a part of me in everything I have ever written. My identity (who I am) is even not tied to my writing (the art I make). My art can get savaged by critics and rejected by agents. If no one reads what I write, I still exist. (I can tell because I still get hungry, still need to pay for rent, still want to write!) The art can go anywhere, even burn up into nothingness after a hard disk crash during a house fire. I am still writing. I'm still me.

As part of AAA, the Authentication piece I've implemented for some employers is built around three things when determining that Michelle really is who she says she is:

1. Knowledge Something one knows, like a password or PIN
2. Possession Something you have that can be thrown away after a limited time, like a card with a RFID chip as a hardware token
3. Inherent feature Something you have that is a lot harder to throw away, like your fingerprints or your retina pattern or your DNA sequence.

I believe a writer could be pretty uniquely identified using these three items. Only a writer would possess that stack of notebooks with those scribbles and scratch outs. Only a writer would have the knowledge behind why a lich wizard restored to health by her fashionable clothing seemed like a good idea for a story. Even if some other writer might forge that knowledge and possess those notebooks, only the first writer would have the inherent tenacity to sit at a desk for two hours every evening for the month of November to produce those notebooks, gaining inherent back pain and RSI for her efforts.

I've been thinking about identity because I have an idea of a story where a wizard decides the path to immortality is to write a set of books, really smart books, smart enough that they start writing their own books, then start rewriting themselves. The wizard passes on but part of her identity remains in her books, but these Arcane Intelligences (or AI) agents take on a "life" of their own. Not finished yet, that story.

I told my friend that my identity is constructed out of every good visit / beer / coffee / walk / dinner I have shared with a friend or a group of friends. Later, I realized that all those friends could contribute to a web of trust indicating I am who I say I am. Just as a guarantor on a passport helps to prove identity to get that hardware token made of paper and government red tape, my drinking pals confirm I am authentically who I say I am. As well as an authentic friend.  

At the time on that Saturday, I was thinking only of how I enjoy all those memories of all those good visits. We toasted each other with our pints and the afternoon was identifiably fine. 

Pick Up

I am a human being. I am not an AI agent. This means I have moods. 

I was walking home from the bus stop today in a mood of disillusionment. Yet again I was ruminating on all sorts of things outside of my control. Will the stuff I write ever be picked up? An agent, an editor, a publisher, beta readers, the mythical critique partner (or partners) who could constructively point out areas to improve and at the same time we encourage each other onward and forward: all of that seems hidden. A paying audience that reads my work with enthusiasm lays further away, dispersed and concealed. 

I mulled that over then imagined a lich, but not an evil one whose powers of resurrection and restoration arise after building a phylactery. I pictured an incredibly devoted and detailed-oriented wizard, well-dressed always, whose clothes put him back together after he died. He was restored to health by his wardrobe. Wardrobe here does not mean the piece of furniture. I mean his extended ensemble of all his fashions ever purchased or gifted or possessed. The Clothes Make The Man.

My disillusionment vanished in a snap.

Back to writing! This next story will be a hit, I am sure of it.

Compelling Writing

I swear this has never happened to me before.

I woke up, walked and fed the dog, started writing. This is the third draft for a first novel. After about an hour I realized I had not yet made any coffee! 

I stepped away, made a mug of my favourite coffee: JJ Bean Railtown. Most mornings are the other way around: I need to make something first, a caffeine key to unlock story mind vault, and re-read what I've done the day before to get everything rolling up to speed before I am caught up in the flow of my story. 

When it happens like it did today, when I am writing and engaged and up from the first moment, I know I have something good here. Cannot wait to share it.

Normally I make my coffee and give it five minutes or so to cool to the perfect temperature. 

The thing that has never happened before is: I made a mug, went back to the kitchen table, wrote for fifty minutes, and then remembered about the coffee on the counter! 

Thankfully my set up of ambient room temperature, thick mug, and great coffee means that even at the temperature the coffee was when I remembered it, it was still good. 

Almost as good as my writing. 

A Precious and Rewarding Morning Spent Writing

I am lucky enough to have a dog at home, and for the past nine years the dog has been very clear that she wants to go out early in the morning.

The birthday of my only child is this week, so I have taken the week off work. My child is asleep as I type this, still. I woke before six, walked the dog, then made a mug of Railtown coffee and took one biscotti from the tin, a cocoa biscotti with chocolate coating. My partner went back to sleep and I went downstairs, but not to the room I work in for my employer. I sat at the kitchen table, cleared of all flatware, with Pieces Of Novel spread everywhere. One happy fed dog retreated to her nap.

I am very thankful to have spent the last two and a half hours working out the first chapter of my next novel. The world is quiet, the neighbours' dogs are not barking, the lot down the street has all chainsaws and wood chipper and the backhoe silent, a brief respite in the ongoing [de | con] struction. Time to think, time to write, without interruption, when the day is fresh and full of potential. When anything might happen.

I hope you have a chance to get what I had this morning.

I know I am looking forward to morning after morning like today's morning.

The Storyteller's War by J.C. Corry

Go out and get your copy of The Storyteller's War by J.C. Corry published by Black Rose Writing! Whether you are a student of medieval studies, a lover of literature, or (like me) all of the above, this collector's item will improve your bookshelf.

In The Storyteller's War: Geoffrey Chaucer Reluctant Spy, Corry pulls enough detail from the age to ground his tale of espionage and personalities without halting the momentum of what is a compelling story.

At the time of the major battle in Chapter Thirty-One (3 April 1367) Chaucer is about twenty-four years old. More than twenty-four years ago, when I was younger than twenty-four, I studied Chaucer's words (yet only a small bit of his life). I wish I had had this book then.

The family of Chaucer has connections to both the wine trade and King Edward's court. This, plus Chaucer's ability to meet notables of the age then pull stories out of these captivating characters, makes for a solid spy tale. Young Geoffrey Chaucer's faults and foibles add dimensions. These strengthen the work.

On The Consolation of Philosophy has a close place in my personal history. As I hold my own copy and consider what this book meant to me, I am cheered to see the place Boethius' work holds in this story of Chaucer as well.

I really enjoyed the interactions between Chaucer and Pippa, how their desires and worries collide, mix, and form witty wordplay. The relationship between Chaucer and Pippa seems vivid and alive. I found their scenes compelling, riveting, and engaging.

I loved the exotic castles and palaces of Zaragoza, Olite, and other places in the Iberian peninsula.

The capture of Ayala is very moving. I don't want to give anything away, but the lines about "Chaucer and Ayala...  side by side, two storytellers bonded by fortune, fate and courage" pulled much of the novel together for me.

Corry adds a depth to the life of Chaucer I have never read about before.

I learned a great deal about Chaucer's life, about historical fiction as a genre, and about writing a novel from enjoying The Storyteller's War. I anticipate the next novel in the series: The Storyteller’s Reputation.

I seek the publisher of Title Undetermined

My local public library lists new books.

Each new book usually has both a title and a cover.

Sometimes a new book has only a title and a grey rectangle substitutes for the cover.

The new book at the bottom left intrigued me:

Now, that is an interesting way to market a new release! I thought. 

Intrigued, I clicked on the rectangle. 

The mystique increased:

Who is the author behind “Title Undetermined”?

Did that person have a title in mind and argued with the publisher over it, then both sides gave up but decided to print it anyway? Or did the author never determine the title, ever? How long did the author slave away at a work without even a working title? (Is this work created by AI and the title was not part of the parameters?)

Setting aside authorial intent and the marketing team's effective yet murky method of hyping this book by obfuscating the title,  I really want to learn more about any publisher who decided to go ahead with promoting a book called “Title Undetermined”.

Perhaps this is a publisher I could work with!

I pulled up the Full details and scoured the Original record for this work:

Obviously the author and the publisher value their privacy. In today's digital age, when so much information is out there, I can respect this. 

Still, I remain very intrigued, and decided to place a hold on this work.

Here, I became devastated:

It appears that both maximum secrecy and minimum utility have been achieved.

I am not able to secure this work using the app.

I intend to seek it out In Person at my local public library branch. 

If I successfully determine Title Undetermined I will update this post.

What made you smile?

I had a really good time at the 32nd Annual Surrey International Writers' Conference October 25th to 27th 2024.

Friday I pitched to an agent who asked for the first one hundred pages of my fantasy novel and a synopsis. That's very exciting!

Later on Friday I had a very good conversation with Darren Groth. I really liked one particular scene in his novel Are You Seeing Me?. I'm very thankful he signed my copy.

I had a great time visiting with friends and making new friends in the seminars, over meals in the banquet halls, and even waiting in lines to register for Pitch Sessions or Blue Pencil Cafe sessions. While there's a stereotype that a lot of writers are shy introverts, I found I had no problem asking, "What do you like to write?" then listening to the answer and taking the conversation from there. Some of the new friends I made include Penelope Rose who has already published Deviant Desires and Magnus Skallagrimsson who runs Noir At The Bar in Victoria and Vancouver.

The agent Laura Bradford helped answer a question for me about finding beta readers. I'm thankful for that chance meeting over lunch Saturday in the banquet hall.

Prior to the conference, the thought of taking a novel of 91K words and boiling it down to a 750 word synopsis would be impossible and frustrating. I now see it as another piece of writing, thanks in no small part to Mira Landry's seminar Saturday.

One of my favourite parts of the conference, and one I hope inspires me and you for a long time, came about because I took a chance. Sunday morning at 08:05 I started standing in line to get a second Pitch Session and a second Blue Pencil session. By 08:45 I had both. For the second Pitch Session I pitched a trilogy; I kept it to myself that the trilogy has only gone through two drafts and is not ready to be sent out. I learned a number of things. The first is to not pitch an entire trilogy; pitch the first book as stand-alone. Since the title is a play on words with a homophone, I asked the agent to read my query letter. She did, which meant I could watch her face as she moved her pen across and under the sentences.

At one point while she was reading, she smiled.

I listened to her feedback. I then asked her, "At one point when you were reading, you smiled. What made you smile?" She indicated one specific turn of phrase, and I said, "Oh, I was worried about that, because it uses profanity and I wasn't sure about including that in a query letter."

"No, it's not a problem here. For one, you are using it to good effect. For another, your query letter is not full of needless profanity. And for a third point, all sorts of query letters get written but you've made yours stand out."

When I am down and when I am lonely, I'm going to come back to this memory, when my writing made another person, an agent, smile. Not a family member, not a sympathetic friend, not an aspiring writer newer to this than myself. An experienced successful literary agent from a named agency in the USA.

If it happened once, I can make it happen again.

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