Ian Pierce

Tag: incredibly deep thoughts

  • finished with my woman cause she couldn’t help me with my mind

    I got some criticism from a reader recently that I’m having trouble getting out of my head. I don’t need to go into the details about who the reader was or what the criticism is. It’s just something that stuck in my head, making me question a lot of things about my writing. And even if I’ve talked with other beta readers who’ve told me, some in emphatic terms, that they disagreed with this reader’s particular analysis, it was still something that I’m hyperfixating on, probably to the detriment of my work.

    I know I shouldn’t do this. I don’t know why I put the opinions of someone who doesn’t like my work over the opinions of people who do. I wish that I could kick this paranoia, but it’s hard. If I get too in my head, however, I try to take the advice of this old Dan Shive comic:

    It’s a good idea in theory, but at the same time, hard to put into practice. Having a moderate anxiety disorder means that my paranoia can take over everything I do and lead me to question everything. Of course, I make up for the anxiety with bouts of self-loathing depression. Such is the life of a writer, I suppose.

    Yesterday, I got so pissed off at a novel in progress that I decided to completely change the antagonist and the main character’s backstory. This, of course, is not a small change, and it’s frustrating. If revising a novel is like renovating a house, then I expected to patch some holes in the drywall and repair some faulty plumbing, and instead I have to tear the house down to the foundation and replace the entire roof. This work in progress is one of my favorite things I’ve done, and I love writing scenes with the characters, but ultimately I estimate that I’ll have to completely rewrite about 40% of the book, not to mention revising most of the existing scenes to make it so that everything is consistent.

    I should trust in myself, I know. I’m a good writer, and I’ve had multiple publishing professionals tell me that. I can fix what’s wrong with the story. At the same time, though, I’m angry at myself – even though first drafts aren’t supposed to be perfect, even if the road to a finished product is never easy. Even if the twists and turns I’ve taken on this story have been like pulling teeth.

    Speaking of pulling teeth, I’m going to the dentist tomorrow to get most of the teeth on the upper left side of my mouth fixed. This involves multiple crowns, fillings, possibly root canals – and even that may not solve everything. So my generalized anxiety right now is understandable, I suppose. I’ve learned that autistic people tend to mask when we’re in discomfort or pain, because so often our discomfort is dismissed or minimized. This leads to minor medical problems eventually becoming severe, costing thousands of dollars. At least I have insurance now from my new job, so the bill will be in the three figures rather than the four or five.

    This has been a bit of a bummer of a blog post, I guess, so I’ll finish it with a drawing I did several years ago. It’s the main character of a very long, complicated writing project that I hope to complete one day. Her name is Sophie. I’m excited for you to know her story.

    ~ Ian (listening to Pogo Rodeo by Psychedelic Porn Crumpets)

  • in the wake of adversity

    credit: Jabin Botsford

    When I was just a little guy, a baby-faced twenty-year-old with a downy chin and a lingering adolescent acne problem, I couldn’t imagine ever getting a rejection for my writing. Why would I? As discussed in one of my previous posts, I thought I was hot shit.

    Now, after almost seven hundred rejection letters, I can really imagine getting rejected.

    I’m not unique in this, I know. It’s frustrating because I know I’m a good writer. Am I a great writer? Probably not. But I have an ear for dialogue, an eye for description, an ability to create complex and compelling characters, and more importantly than anything, an unutterably stubborn, pig-headed determination. But even I’m not great, I can take a lesson from those who are not only great, but who are transcendent: the kinds of talents that come along once in a century, if not more.

    Case in point: Lionel Messi.

    By any reasonable statistic, Messi is the greatest footballer of the twenty-first century. The only people who even come close to his level across history are Pele and Maradona. Maybe you can include Christine Sinclair, if you want to add women’s footballers. But even though he’s possessed of a left foot blessed by the golden gods, it wasn’t as if everything came easy for him. When he was a boy on the mean streets of Rosario, Argentina, he was head and shoulders above all the other kids in the Newell’s Old Boys academy in all ways except height. In fact, he was released from the academy because the club couldn’t afford the hormone treatments that would allow him to grow to anything approaching a normal height. Fortunately for Messi, FC Barcelona stepped in, said “We will pay for your growth hormones, tiny child,” and took him to Spain to play for their academy, La Masia, which is basically the equivalent of Soccer Harvard.

    Messi advanced through the ranks and broke into the first team, and he and Barcelona started dominating. League titles, Copas del Rey, Champions Leagues… there was nothing that the Barcelona of the 2000s and the 2010s didn’t win. And yet, while Catalunya loved him, the people in Argentina thought that he was barely even Argentine. He had grown up in Spain, they claimed. He wasn’t a “man of the people”, whatever that means. Whatever their justification, the people of Argentina were cool, if not overtly hostile, to him.

    Fast forward to Qatar in 2022. Messi no longer plays for Barcelona. He’s well into the last stages of his career. 2022 might be his last chance to win a World Cup. Fortunately, after winning the Copa America last year, the Argentine public has warmed to Messi. His fellow players will run through a wall for him. If Messi wants to win a World Cup with Argentina, this might be his last chance…

    …and they lose the first game to Saudi Arabia.

    It seems inevitable in hindsight, when really it was anything but. They got out of the group stage, fought tooth and nail through the knockout rounds, and got to the final against France. Even then, Argentina had to overcome over two hours of football (two regular halves and two extra-time periods), a Kylian Mbappé hat trick, and a pants-shittingly tense penalty shootout before claiming the world title after the greatest final in World Cup history.

    I remember that final. I was in a pizzeria in Madrid when I watched it. Most of the people working there were Argentine. You’d think the roof would’ve come off that place when the final penalty went in.

    I’m not the Messi of writing. I’m not even close. But if someone who has a legitimate shout to be the greatest of all time in his particular field still had to go through the wringer to achieve his destiny, maybe none of us should feel bad for going through adversity to achieve ours.

    Even if it kind of sucks.