What else can I do with my life?

Just what we all need: another excellent procrastination tool

In a word, Wordle. Creates a picture from text.

Here's what the prologue to my novel looks like:

At this rate my novel will be a work of nonfiction, requiring fact checking

I wrote a novel. After much revision and rewriting, it was well received by friends, family, writing group participants (who are published authors themselves), and even a couple of professional editors. It was lauded as smart and entertaining.

Then my stop-start attempts at finding an agent and a publisher began. Granted, I've not put the massive effort into it that some writers have - I haven't sent out 100 query letters (OK, I haven't even sent 10), but I've spent ridiculous amounts of time and effort massaging said query letter (often fixing it according to one book doctor's advice after writing it according to the exact opposite advice from another literary sage) and investigating just the right agents to send the letter to. And I went to a publishing conference where precisely zero acquisition editors wanted to read it.

Along the way, I came to understand that even if the coveted publishing deal materializes, most newly-signed writers are left to fend for themselves. They bear the burden of publicizing and marketing their books (including setting up their own readings and book signing events). And the royalties (from which the agent is entitled to 15%) are but a tiny sliver of the book price

Nonetheless, I admit it, I'm a prestige whore, and I would have continued to pine for a traditional publisher were there not a confluence of news stories last week that made me rethink my approach. Science is making strides, two new diet pills are on track to get FDA approval soon, and there were articles about law firm and hedge fund behaviors I describe in my novel. In short, I had a near panic attack as I realized that by the time I find an agent, the agent finds a publisher, and the publisher reaches my novel in its queue, the novel will be very old news, indeed.

Solution? Self publishing. It has lost its stigma, the product is professional-grade, and I have control of both the schedule and the pricing. I also keep 60% or higher of the proceeds of every book sold.

I haven't settled on the self-publishing company I'm going with, but out of the plethora of choices, I've narrowed it down to three: Smaswords, iUniverse, and Outskirts Press (a comparison of iUniverse and Outskirts Press is here). Smashwords has a more DIY approach and is therefore a cheaper option than the other two. But there is something to be said for hand-holding and customer service when casting your very first novel onto the self-publishing currents.

Like with any bright and shiny new adventure, I'm very excited. Let's see how long this lasts. 

Tweeting adventures

In my real life (as opposed to this thinly veiled blogging one), I have joined the century now in progress and am now on Twitter. This is my third attempt at the tweeting thing, and it's going haltingly. Mostly because I find myself unable to overcome the hurdle of having nothing important to say. Others, apparently, do not have that hurdle, and are producing either massive amounts of retweets, or certain original content consisting of nothing substantive (or witty, or thought-provoking).

Today, my lack of important things to say became even more glaring as, for some unfathomable reason, a "name" in military and foreign policy circles has started following me.

Right before I chirped about the best fashion exhibits in Paris.

Honest. A guy who bends the ears of top policy-makers in Washington, and whose writings I've been reading and admiring, is following my tweets. Worse yet, he's only following 50 people or so (most of whom are worthy and important foreign correspondents), so I'm not even getting lost in a stream of thousands.

To say that I'm mortified is an understatement. Also intimidated and feeling like I now have to up my game and tweet something intelligent. But as all y'all know, it is virtually impossible to come up with something intelligent under pressure.

So I've settled on the next best course of action. Just pretend he doesn't exist, and keep tweeting about the random things that interest me. Surely he'll recognize his mistake and unfollow soon enough.

I'm back - or at least 86.1% of me are

Those of you who have been reading this blog realize that I'm less than enamoured of BigLaw. Recently, I became conscious of another benefit to leaving this toxic environment - weight loss.

Since quitting my big, prestigious firm 18 months ago, I've shed 25 pounds. I can attribute this to a change in the quality and quantity of stress, and the ability to manage my time--especially my sleep cycle.

I still experiencing stress (I am self-employed, after all), but its quality and source are different now. At the firm, low-level stress was the natural state, with huge spikes coming unexpectedly due to one partner's whim or another partner's bad management skills. There was no way to hedge against or even anticipate these spikes. This type of stress cycle wrecks havoc on one's hormonal balance. There's a massive adrenaline rush followed by a crash that often results in cravings for sugar. There is also a sharp rise in cortisol, a hormone that aids in fat storage.

As a firm associate, I'd crave a sugary cola and creamy desserts on a daily basis (and give in to the craving almost daily, too). Then I'd keep sitting on my rump, working, because God forbid, I'd take half an hour to be out of the office when the junior partner may need me to be his overpaid secretary. Now, when I feel the world crashing around me, I take a walk. I haven't had a soda in months, and no longer even want one. Desserts...well, I still have them on occasion. I am quite, quite human.

Then there is the perpetual sleep deprivation in BigLaw. It has been conclusively demonstrated that shortage of sleep can cause weight gain, or at least impede weight loss. After quitting my job, I spent three weeks sleeping 10-11 hours a night (the last time I slept this much was after the months of studying for the bar exam). Now my sleep cycle has stabilized to the 7 hours that I really need.

Add it all together, and you've got 25 pounds lost without too much effort.

And there you have it. Yet another reason to leave the gilded cage.

National Novel Writing Month...here we go again

Tomorrow is the kickoff of National Novel Writing Month. Last year's experience was wonderful, but this year is looking to be a hard slog. Last year I had a lot of fresh, raw anger at BigLaw that I was able to parlay into over 50,000 words of (semi)-fiction.

The experience must have been cathartic, and my circumstances must be much happier, because I don't feel this worked up about anything else right now. And that worries me, artistically speaking.

But even if I don't reach 50,000 words this year (the definition of "winning" NaNoWriMo), my enthusiasm for this adventure has induced two of my friends to attempt the insanity.  So I feel that my work for this year is done.

If you ever thought about writing fiction, there's no better time to attempt it than starting tomorrow morning.  And if you do decide to join the fun, make me a writing buddy.  My NaNo name is MAG2006.

Even if you don't decide to attempt it this year, but want a good laugh, check out what happens when the goal is writing quantity over quality.  NaNo participants post their bloopers (nanoisms) here.