This writing business got serious.

This is mostly an update for those of my friends - specially those who live overseas, who still have faith in my writing and may want to know how things are going for me. One of my 2013 resolutions remains finishing my novel, so here we go step by step.

First of all, I'm out of the writer's closet. I mean, I am a writer, and there's no turning back. The first question people will throw to you to is "have you published someting?" No, no, I haven't. That doesn't make me any less of a writer. That only makes me an unpublished author -- which is not terrible for my age. I'll come back to the publishing issue later.

So yeah, by making it public on my first facebook cover of the year, people have become interested. The most unexpected people want to know what I am writing and when I am planning on publishing. Whenever I say the strongest project at the moment is a fantasy novel, half of the people lose interest, but that's ok as the fantasy market has never been for everyone. It is surprising though when people want to hear more about the anthology of queer stories I've been writing -- just today I baptized it "Pride Disguised as Shame: Queer Stories of the Western World". Some people even advised to make it available through Amazon for Kindle in order to reach more effectively an audience interested in these topics. Why not, why not? I'll get the whole world trashing my Mathieu character in "Ne Suis Pas" and maybe the real one will hear about it.
Let's say I finish a work. That's roughly a little more than being half way to get the paperback copy. In Costa Rica, if you want to publish, you need to submit your work to a philologist so that they can check the language, fix coherence and similar. They charge about $1-$2 dollars PER PAGE. That's like a lot of money for a 500 page novel. Then you need to choose a publishing house. I took a workshop on this subject with Evelyn Ugalde, mostly a children's stories author who knows the local publishing business from deep inside, and she practically discouraged all the participants from publishing by subsided state publishing house. When she told us they cover the expenses but keep the 90% of each book sold for a five to six year contract, the whole thing sounded awfully unatractive. My interest in going for a big publishing house fell even lower when she said people had waited for 2 to 3 years just to hear from the editors on whether they are interested in publishing the book or not.
The option left for me is going for a private publising house, where you have to submit your work for approval and on top of that you have to self finance the design and the printing. In average, publishing  500 copies of my 500 page novel would cost me no less than $3000 with 70% to a 100% percent of royalties for each book sold (some bookstores keep up to 40% of the cost of the book) and an estimated overall revenue of $3500-- not that money matters that much to me, but something has to pay the investment and future projects.

As it turns out, writing and having good material is not enough, not in this country. While I find out about other opportunities in Mexico or Argentina for my novel in Spanish, I guess I'll just keep on writing and saving as this whole book project is yet another trip I'm taking. Evelyn said something encouraging though. She said "would you put a price to having your baby, your novel, in your hands and have other people reading it on the bus?" I get goosebumps just to think of the idea, and of course, the pleasure of sharing my world with other people comes very cheaply if I can get it for around $4000.

That's it for today, but I'll definitely elaborate more on the writing process in future posts. Thanks for supporting this dream.

Picture: Map of El Valle Negro or Black Valley. Setting of the first 8 chapters of my fantasy novel.

Clichés I love vs Clichés I hate

Clichés are unavoidable in our lives.  You seem to build your teenage years around them --the fact that people find them so goddamn relatable make them extremely appealing and hard not to use. Then you grow up and start the quest of defining yourself for real -- that assuming you woke up from the Matrix. During this period, clichés become frobidden, satanized. However, life plays tricks on you, give your story spin offs, and just when you thought you were original, you come to accept that some clichés, if not most of them, are real.

I came to terms with a few. I endorse them 100%. Here are my favorite clichés:

Life is a rollercoaster: Ups and downs. Everybody knows that. I have come to discover life seems like a rollercoaster even if you are not ridding it. Ok, some stages of your life are pretty intense: that's you in the ride. In some others, you have to see how other people suffer, enjoy, laugh, love (I particularly hate just witnessing other people being stupidly happy) while there is nothing, but absolutely nothing going on for you!!! Hey, life will be a rollercoaster for you soon. You just happened to be in the line to ride the cart again. While other people are on the highest part of the ride and with crazy levels of excitement, you are just watching. But it does not mean you haven't been there. It does not mean you won't be there soon.

You have to follow your heart: And I don't turn into Pocahontas every time I believe this. I don't know. Whenever I'm cold and calculating, life turns rather easy and after a while, uninteresting. If I follow a certain path driven by fear of losing ground, I gain little. If I base my decisions on money, I end up losing a piece of soul. I follow my heart and what I deep inside feel is true and then all becomes bliss. Since I follow my heart, my life flows smoothly.

Sometimes you are truly alone because nobody stands where you are: Friends will rain on you with positive vibes if you ever say you are alone. Truth is not even your closest friends can always go with you to the emotional place you are heading. Some things in life you have to do because your heart is telling you so (cliché inside a cliché: Cliché inception?) You may have a lot of loving people around, but if no one understands the loneliness you're going trough in your job, in your every day desicion making, in your room when you turn the lights off, in your head when you cannot convey your thoughts without having people staring at you like you're crazy... then you are truly alone, aren't you?

And here's a few I hate:

Nobody's perfect: Most of people shield behind this to avoid compromise. I mean, it is a given, just as the fact that you breathe. So if you fail, you either keep trying, apologize if you have to, change your methods, do something about it until you can do it. Nobody's perfect: everyone breathes. Same darn thing! If something is inherent to the human condition, you don't need to state it over and over. Flying was not a human ability, but someone bright enough created a machine for that. Limitations only exist in your head.

If it is meant to be, it will be: From my point of view, absolutely nothing is meant to be. Life's what you make of it. I've met 35 and 45 year old virgins who are still waiting for whenever it will be for them. I have met people who don't put any effort in a relationship because if it does not work, it wasn't meant to be. Sure,  like things are supposed to work magically (some do, but that's another hippie chapter and does not apply to relationships.) I'm fed up of people waiting for destiny to figure out all for them when they comfortably sit down and just criticize others that actually do something with their lives.

Embrace your clichés and keep discovering life to see if you end up making new ones. Every day that passes, I'm more fond of phrases like "Perseverance is the key to success" and "dream big" because they are somehow becoming real. I wouldn't mind if that happens. We'll see, we'll see. 

Fantasy Saves the Day.

So, after two weeks of holiday, I’m reluctant to go back to work. And it troubles me because I really like my job as much as one can like a job. It took me sometime, but now I figured what is it that I hate so much about going back to a schedule: routine kills the fantasy of life. There’s so little to discover and so little to feel amazed by in a stack of papers to file, in a succession of calls to make, e-mails to write, problems to solve, in a shift that promises to take 8 hours of your day and ends up taking nine, ten…

While on holidays, I felt so certain I could even give tips on how to break the routine, but today the routine wore me off. Isaac 0, Reality 1. Not for that, I’ve given up on trying to incorporate fantasy in my tasks through the day. Generally, just to remain sane, I don’t cross the street but play Frogger real life size instead. I make up a random mission that justifies the need to go the office:

“The office is haunted and no one will be able to work if I don’t go and cast a protective spell.”

“I’m going to be an undercover boss today, and I’ll see if they notice. Whoever does, gets chocolate ”

“I work for an office that keeps the flowing of good energy between realms and dimensions. It is my mission to maintain the balance between worlds and make sure no bad flow of energy reaches the world’s portals” (uh?)

The antidote to monotony I use in my working space is origami figures other people have made (they store the memory of the person’s face making it in front of my desk and I can access that happy moment by looking at the finalized piece.) My note holder is a panda that allows me to play with it a little if the day is becoming too hard to bear.

And then when the night falls, I’m all kind of characters from a DJ in a club to the crafter of the world that only lives inside my head. I think that if I keep going like this, it will be very unlikely that I snap under stress and maybe the weekend, when fantasy reigns, might not be so far away after all.

One moment of fantasy you didn’t lose when you grew up.

The Rise of the Guardians, the last kid movie by Dreamworks, awoke my inner kid so badly that I wasn’t even trying to hide I had a regression. I ran to the cinema again and by myself to watch the movie for a second time. I ran to Mcdonalds  and ask the woman at the desk, so proudly she would have been able to give me the “you’re a gown up adult” look, ”I want a happy meal”. I got Sandman, hands down my favorite because he makes dreams and how cool is that!!! Anyway, I found incredibly profound that each guardian had a core. All of the cores together formed the essence of what being a child is all about: discovery and awe, fun, dreams and hope.  I don’t want to lose any of that, and now that I’m aware of how we lose all that with the years, chances are I remain acting a bit as a child for the rest of my life just to keep the magic going.

That’s because you are crazy, Isaac. Uhum,right, I forgot the rest of the humanity does not use their imagination.

Right, call me crazy for living in an alternative reality, but truth is you haven’t lost those fantastic moments and you have even incorporated them to your routine. Most people sing or at least have sung in the shower. The numbers of bath sponges that have served as imaginary microphones exceeds my counting capacity. I have heard people singing so passionately in the shower I dare to assert they are living a concert in their heads. They are even in the concert or giving the concert, surrounded by jumping people and laser lights if not a super complex stage and a roaring crowd at their feet. It might be an adult dream, but it is fantasizing nonetheless. For a few minutes, you’re in a musical, or you’re covering an artist, collaborating with them in a single, hearing the crowd singing your own song as you extend the mic over them while you listen, recline your back, nod,and smile because the fuckers know the song by heart!!!!

So, I’ve asked a few people if they sing in the shower, even knowing that some of them have zero talent, and most have acknowledged doing it. If I had a penny for every person I’ve heard singing in the shower…“It just comes out and you can’t avoid it!” Ha! Clear evidence of fantasy.

Those who remain silent in the shower might be hiding something worse: in their fantasies, they become water creatures, or ninjas who need to avoid needles, or explorers jumping in a waterfall. “Just a shower” Uh? No way.

Fantasy keeps the inner child alive because it in itself is composed by awe, hopes, dreams, and fun. You try to find any of those in your enviroment, you fantasize. I guess getting rid of good old fantasy ain`t that easy after all.

And just because I feel like it, here is a picture of Sandman having fun.

Current Status: Re-imagining life.

Life got to a point in which everything got very absurd, so I sold my belongings, donated the revenue to the poor and followed Jesus...almost.

It's been quite a while since I've been feeling stuck. It's gotta be that I'm too ambitious. I mean, there's a whole bunch of new oportunities/challenges presenting themselves, but somehowI don't feel like I'm moving. One of these days, I woke up almost accepting that I was going to be this old man who had lived a lot, got almost nothing material, and sat down in his porch, watching the absurdity of the world and waiting for his death. Maybe that's what awaits me, and so be it. However, I, like a hopeless dreamer, cannot help thinking there's gotta be more to life and setting new goals. Who knows, maybe 26 is not too old to ditch the world and have a fresh start. Truth is I've been toying with the idea of living a year in France in my 29's. Why not? I've been taking my master's courses alright, but I wish to take a sabbatical next year, do not study, and just take a trip to Europe. I want to be thirty and disappear in Asia, one year in Japan just having sake in red lantern eatieries on the street and saying "watashi wa iopparai ya arimasen" even though I'm completely drunk and passed out beyond translation. Blame Eat, Pray, Love, but I wish to spend six months in Bali just listening to inner me and living a chillax life in Thailand. I want to think I can still re imagine myself, even in the eve of decay and flunking my courses.

And just as a side note, I wrote most of this drunk (how little this has changed.) I'm sober now and I think this makes the world of sense.

Puppet complex

Apart from my cocky attitude and my deeply rooted opposition towards religion, one thing is meant to stick with me for the entirety of my days: existencialism. I truly ignore if this happens only to me or if it is rather a disease of humanity, but at least once a year I stop all of the sudden and wonder: Wait! just what the hell are you doing and why???? The why is the most important part. Life seems ok until you feel the strings in your limbs, all pulling, one at the time and then all at once. You swiftly recognize how tangled you are and try desperatedly to free yourself. When did you allow everyone to tell you what do to, where to go? How come you stood this all this time?

This year has been tough in the sense that I rarely feel free to do what pleases me. I love my job, but as enjoyable as tasks might be, it is still eight hours a day of following guidelines.One string is pulling my left hand. I couldn't be more excited about the subjects I'm taking at University, but it translates into 6 hours of class a week and the universe knows how many extra hours of reading and writing afterwards. There's another string pulling my right wrist. It's nice to be surrounded by friends, but it becomes exhausting explaining to every single person who wants to hang out that you need a couple of nights just for yourself. My left knee feels fasten on the side. Insert all the family celebrations in the picture and how important is for you to attend not to come across as a bad son\brother\uncle\whatever other category I fit into. My right ankle is totally trapped. That's a lot to take for someone who wants, just for two days, that the world stops moving so fast and that what determines what to do in the next minute is always an imposition rather than a wish. 

Seriously, am I the only one who screams inside for a minute of instrospection, an hour of solitude, a day of introspection, a week of calmness? When one is blinded by what needs to be done, the true self can very easily suffer asphixia and die slowly. Above all, I'm afraid of yielding again without questioning. I don't want to tame the inner horse that, even after laboring in the fields, waits for the night to run freely and stomp on the saddle until is dust.

Stupid Rachel and Ross

I had long avoided the last episode of Friends for one very simple reason. I didn't want it to end.
Yesterday, I guess I was kind of bored, and a marathon of this T.V. show was on Warner Channel Latin America, so I thought "what the heck" and watch it until the end. How much I regret this.

There are plenty of things I hated about the last episode. Some, like the fact I rarely watch again any tv show after seeing the ending, concern only me. Some others, like how much I hate Ross and Rachel beign together, might be more relatable to you.

Once in university, a professor said that Friends represented all that we wanted in life. She said "how many of you are going for a coffee later with your friends to talk about your private lives and adventures?" That was an appalling slap on my face because that was exactly what my plan was. For a long time, I was so proud of my life being as light as a season of Friends and always having that comforting closure by the end of each season. Time went on and just like in the T.V. show, the bonds between our group of friends grew stronger. One thing was missing from my life -- because yeah, I'm a Rachel kind of guy-- love. Ross is far from being prince charming, but hey! aren't his feelings for Rachel truthful and can't they work their differences out? I didn't get too excited about true love because RACHEL IS GOING TO PARIS! I repeated to myself. That's how it ends. I move on with my life and love is going to be just part of it, not the center.

Rachel and Ross. Their comes and goes in real life would have made them grow apart. Seriously, out there no one gets you out of a plane. But don't you hate how things always get back on track for the two of them and in a rather Disney Studios ending they keep selling us the idea that true love exists? My last break up took my heart out of my chest and pumelled it against the ground, and took something I once deeply loved to a hateful place of no return. I was through beleiving in happy endings, and once again became aware of how selfish people are... until I saw this and now I can't help but to hope I'll see my life becoming a fairy tale.

Don't you hate that? Stupid Rachel and Ross. It's all their fault.