On Eating Strawberries

[note: I wrote this years ago as an experiment. I've posted this once before, but it was long before any of you were visiting. Oh, and notice my progress editing Oasis. You may need to hit reload to update the little graph. Oh, yeah, and happy Halloween everybody.]

On Eating Strawberries
by Bryce Beattie

In order to have a truly enjoyable experience, clearly the selection of the strawberry is of paramount importance. Now, there are few un-rotted strawberries that could still be considered bad. However, there is a special certain class of strawberry that can define the goal experience. The ideal strawberry must be plucked fresh from the plant by the eater. It is firm. It is the perfect shade of red. It is plump and juicy to the point that it appears to be ready to burst its skin.

Upon choosing an ideal strawberry, it is torn or cut from the plant, leaving all less than exemplar fruit behind, for imperfect strawberries may become perfect over time. The strawberry is raised casually to the lips. It is brought to rest gently between the teeth. In the instant before the first bite is preformed, the tip of the tongue is placed on the tip of the strawberry, preparing itself for the inevitable rush ahead. The slightly rough texture is swiftly fondled and the flavorless skin is savored for a brief moment of increasingly sweet anticipation.

This anticipation lasts only half an instant, but is still quite unbearable. And so it happens.

The initial bite issues a fine burst, a tiny wave of flavor, striking first the sensitive, waiting point of the tongue. The gentle sweetness awakens the dormant taste buds. If this glimpse of a taste was all this little fruit had to offer, it would be enough. Fortunately, and to our great pleasure, it does not stop there.

As this bitten piece is moved to the side of the mouth a trail of nectar is left on the tongue, exciting every instant more taste buds. The full sweetness is finally at hand. As mastication commences, all firmness and form of the strawberry are sacrificed to envelop the tongue in a blanket of juicy ecstasy. The delicious taste is at last accessible to the entire mouth.

Each successive bite hails a new wave of enjoyment, building upon the power of the last, pleasure and excitement expanding, until the mouth is encased in rapture.

Then altogether too quickly, the strawberry is gone, and the leafy green top is cast aside. After all, it is only a strawberry. That perfect taste lingers momentarily, however, with no sticky film, no unwanted residue, soon fading to the tenderest whisper of taste.

Although the strawberry is now gone, the lips can almost still feel its weight and texture. The tongue can almost still taste it. The ultra-sensory experience hangs on the very verge of reality, pleading to be encountered, to be indulged in, again, and again. Every time another strawberry is seen or even thought about, this memory comes close to actuality, and the event is craved afresh. Having once been known, how can the fruit be resisted?

Back In The Saddle

All right. I’ve been missing for a while, but I’m back now. I’ve been busy, though, and not just slacking.

First I had a short trip down to my Brother-In-Law’s place. Then I had another weekend trip. Then I had a short trip for work. Then my three year old turned four. Then my wife had her Gall Bladder out. Then I got some sort of stomach flu.

I have however, been aching to get writing again. I’ve had ideas for a number of books. Plus I had a fantastic idea for the sequel to the sequel of Oasis, assuming Corbin survives this next one.

Little by little, I’ve been editing away at Oasis. I need to get the thing done. Editing is an interesting process for me. I don’t remember writing half of what’s there. I guess that’s a good thing, because I’ve been able to take a step back and view my work with a more critical eye. I think I’ve said this before, but it’s amazing to me to see how much I changed as a writer throughout the course of the book. As in, became a better writer. I wonder where I’ll end up by the time I finish the second one.

How to talk to a parent that has lost a child.

Today (October 15th) is pregnancy and infant loss remembrance day. Yes, I know it’s a long and kind of dumb sounding name, but I believe it’s an important concept.

Keeping that in mind, I thought today would be a good day to share same ideas that everyone should know about talking to folks that are grieving.

What qualifies me?

Professionally, absolutely nothing. I’m not a councilor. I’m not a psychiatrist. I’m a programmer.

What I also am is a father who has lost a child. Eleven months ago, my wife and I had a stillborn son at 8 & 1/2 months. He was 8 lbs 3 ounces.  I know what I have felt, what my wife has felt, and since our loss, we’ve had an awful lot of contact with other bereaved parents. So that is where I draw my ideas.

What to say

There are two things that need to be said. If you know someone that loses their baby and you can’t say anything else, at least say these:

1. “I am so sorry for your loss.”
   Just let the parents know you are aware of their pain.
2. “I love you.”
   Everybody needs to hear it anyway, but especially when they’re going through pain. If you aren’t comfortable telling someone “I love you,” feel free to soften it a little and and say something like “We love you” if you’re in a relationship or “I love you guys” if you are talking to both parents. If you’re not with your significant other just make it, “My wife and I just wanted you to know we love you.”

   If you can’t say any of that, then you need to grow up.

That’s it. Those are the two most important things to say.

How to say it

In person is best. Over the phone is horrible, unless you really can’t be there. And then, the next time you see the parent, you better say it again.

If you are comfortable doing so, say it with a hug, too. It seems like our society is too cool for physical displays of friendship and support these days (although oddly enough, public lewd acts of ‘love’ seem to be accepted and even applauded. Go figure.) But trust me, a hug can help.

Another way to say it is in a letter. One of the most touching things anybody did for me was a letter.

I have a neighbor up and around the block. He’s an older gentleman and I have never known him well. A few days or a week after we lost Spencer he came by our place. Now, he’s old, so even though it’s only a block and a half away, he drove his giant old-guy sedan over and handed me a letter. In his letter, he expressed his love and sorrow for us, and he told the story of how he had lost his first son, too. There were many similarities between his story and my life. I cannot begin to express how grateful I was and am that he took the time to reach out.

You can also say it with service (along with the actual verbal saying it.) When we lost Spencer, people kept bringing dinners by, and I didn’t cook for a month, which was beyond helpful. We had neighbors, friends, and fellow churchgoers clean our house, rake the leaves from our yard, babysit our daughter for an hour or two, and do a bunch of other little stuff that really added up.

What not to say

1. Advice.
   If you have not also lost a child, your advice will be deemed as worthless. It doesn’t matter if it’s fantastic advice. Unless a parent actually asks you for it, don’t do it. Even then, it’s better to start it out with “I don’t know, but I’ve heard that _____ helps.” or “I wonder if it wouldn’t help to…” In general, its better to just avoid giving advice altogether.
2. Anything that starts with “At least you still have…” or “At least you didn’t…”
   Anything you say to try to help the bereaved parents “put things in perspective” will only piss them off. Trust me on this one. They will probably hate you forever if that’s the kind of stuff you tell them. I know you think you’ve got a good point. Maybe you do. Maybe it’s even an excellent point. It doesn’t matter. It will not help the parents at all, ever.

Listen

The bereaved parent may want to talk about her(or his) loss, and she may not. Respect her wishes. Don’t pry and prod if she seems hesitant. If she does want to talk about it, just shut up and listen. Even if she says stuff that’s illogical (which they probably will.) You don’t need to correct her about any details (unless they ask) or criticize her actions in any way. Just bite your tongue and pay attention.

It’s been shocking to me how many people are incapable of just listening. My wife’s been interrupted dozens of times with advice, old wives tales, and other useless stuff. I don’t get interrupted, as I just talk over other people anyway (bad habit.)

I’ve heard this complaint over and over again from bereaved parents. Don’t be an angry story at the next group support meeting. Just listen.

Talk again

It will be a long time before the parent(s) will heal, and they may never heal completely. If at all possible, be sure to check up with the parents from time to time.

The loss of a child damages and destroys a lot of friendships. That’s just the way it is. The bereaved parents quite often have difficulty making new friends. It is really hard to reach out when you’re suffering. The end result is that six months later, one or both parents feel utterly forgotten by the world. People were nice, really nice that first month. After that, nothing. The occasional hello in the store, phone call, or visit “just to say hi” can make a world of difference.

Don’t worry. Parents who have lost a child will not always need to talk about it. But they do need social interaction, no matter what. So even if the first couple of visits are uncomfortable and there is lots of crying, don’t give up.

Just a note: unless the parent you’re visiting is clearly having a terrible day, just talk to them like you would talk to anybody. You don’t need to bring up the loss every time you see them. You don’t need to cock your head to the side and say in that whispery concerned voice (and with that uber-concerned look on your face,) “How are you?” You just need to make contact.

Just talk

Now, that’s a lot to think about, and you may feel like there’s nothing you can say without getting in trouble. The important thing is that you try. The more people that reach out to a grieving parent, the more likely it is that someone is going to say the perfect thing that they need to hear. You may end up offending them. That’s OK. You have to try.

The world has too much suffering. Let’s do what we can to help each other.

Plus, now you’ve read the article, and you know what to say, anyway. No excuses.

To all those who have experienced the loss of a child

I am so sorry for your loss. I love you, and I share in your pain. If you ever want someone to talk to, please drop me an email (runamuck40 at gmail.com) and I’ll be happy to give you a call. Or if you’re a mother and you’d rather talk to a mother, my wife would be happy to talk.

More info:
October15th.com
Share

Does Self-Publishing Make “Real” Publishing Impossible?

I’ve been thinking of self-publishing my novel Oasis once I get the edits done. One of the questions I have to ask myself is “If I self publish Oasis, am I ruining my chances of getting published by a ‘real’ publisher?” I suspect that a lot of writers have wondered similar things about their fiction babies.

I suppose the first question that needs to be asked is:

What are the dangers in self publishing?

1. Public Embarrassment – Let’s face it. The mean kids might laugh at you (that is, if any of them read your work,) and write nasty comments and reviews about your literary baby. All over the internet. This used to be a problem for me. I was terrified of bad reviews. Eventually, I got over it and started posting Oasis online. This is a danger no matter how you showcase your works, though.
2. “Death of writing carrier” – From what I understand, this is no longer a real issue. Apparently at one time real publishers would never ever touch an author once they’ve self published.
3. Loss of “First Printing Rights” ability to sell to a “real” publisher – OK, so if you self publish first I guess you do lose those. But let’s face it, you’re not going to get that big of an advance for your first book, anyway.
4. Hidden Costs – Besides charging hefty up-front fees, a lot of self publishing houses nickle and dime the heck out of you. If you learn some simple new technical skills, you can avoid most of these, though. I’ll cover those sometime in the future.
5. Obscurity – For me, this is the most ‘real’ danger. It is hard for a self-published author to get noticed by anybody.

So, is it even possible to go from ‘self’ to ‘real’ publishing?

The simple answer is yes. I can find several examples of books that were first self published first (or only). The wikipedia lists a bunch, including The Joy Of Cooking, Chicken Soup for the Soul, In Search of Excellence, and Eragon. Other self published authors include Mark Twain, Edgar Allen Poe, and Rudyard Kipling.

In a more current real life example, Tony Monchinski, who I interviewed a while ago, started by self publishing his book Eden. It soon got picked up by Permuted Press.

Can a novel take off from a small publisher? Sure. Speaking again of Permuted Press, they recently had a book called John Dies At The End get relicensed by a filmmaker (and I’m guessing larger publishing house.)

Why would a publisher pick up an already-self-published novel?

The only reason a publisher publishes a book is this: They think it can make them a buck.

If you can prove your novel has selling potential, I think they might just be interested. Just remember, the only proof you can ever have that a book has selling potential is actual sales. Like sales in the thousands. That’s a lot of books.

Christopher Paolini did it with Eragon. He wrote the book, his parents “self-published” it, and then they set things up for his to speak at high schools (he was still right around high school age), they sold a bunch of copies, and then BAM! The next thing you know they’ve made one of those epic movies.

But his overnight success was still a whole lot of work.

How likely is it that I’ll be picked up by a traditional publisher once I’ve self-published?

My guess here is: not likely. Of course, it wasn’t likely before you self published, either. If you sell a bunch by yourself, though, it becomes much more likely.

Does this even matter?

Why do you want to publish anyway?

Is your work a memoir of a grandparent that you want to give to your family for Christmas? Yes, you should self publish.

Do you just want to hold a physical copy of your heartbreaking work of staggering genius in your hand? Of course – self publish.

For me, I want to write. I want to make my writings available in printed form to anyone that wants a copy. I don’t want to spend a lot of time going to conferences to schmooze agents, keeping track of rejections and submissions, or any of that. I just want to keep writing my little blog and my little fictions. If through my efforts I build up somewhat of a following (which would admittedly be cool) then someday yes, I’ll decide my probabilities are good a publisher will want me, and I’ll expend the effort to really pimp myself to them.

To answer my own question from the title: No it doesn’t make it impossible to get a real publisher, but for me, it doesn’t even matter (yet.)

So what am I forgetting?

What else have I not considered?

What are your thoughts about self-publishing?

Additional Info

dangers of self publishing.
Another Hidden Danger of Self Publishing
Wikipedia Article on Self Publishing
Print On Demand, One Year Later
Self Publishing Is A Bad Idea

Oasis Progress

I am actually making progress with the editing of Oasis. I’m now over half way through, and I want to get that thing done. Progress has just been slow, that’s all.

I’ve been having difficulty carving out time to do the edits, as I picked up a couple of web-development side jobs. I’m done with one of those, and I’m cruising along with the second one. I still love writing more, but programming puts extra cash in my pocket now…

Anyway, one way or another Oasis will be available to purchase by Christmas.

Also, I’m toying with the idea of making a run at NaNoWriMo in November.

Why write at all?

I recently came across an article called 5 Reasons why you don’t need to write a book. The article seems to be written for folks who want to write non-fiction, but I think it still raises some interesting questions.

Most who write non-fiction are trying to make money, gain authority, or kick-start a speaking carrier. The article sends a wake up call: A book does not guarantee any of those things.

If you write fiction “for the money,” you will always be dissapointed unless, of course, you’re Michael Crichton.

It’s a worthwhile exercize to sit down and reall consider why you write. If you don’t have a good reason, you might as well give up now. You’ll never finish that novel, anyway.

Personally, I don’t write just so I can make money. I write because I have to. I’ve got stories in me that are messing up my insides, clawing to get out. Writing them down makes me happy. As an added bonus, writing is like therapy for me. Whenever I feel down, I get to just kick Corbin (or whatever character I’m writing about) around for a while.

That’s not to say I don’t want to ever make money by writing – it would be great to write full time an not worry about money. I’m just not counting on it.

So anyway, why do you guys write?

P.S. Thanks to all of you who have given encouragement and feedback to me as I’ve posted my little fictions here. I’m talking to you darc family, Bart, Cory, Emmerson, Rob, Glenn, Tahjir, and everybody else I’ve forgotten. You guys are like yet another added bonus.