Last weekend, a friend and I left our jobs behind on a Friday, said goodbye to our families, and ventured to [almost] east Texas — to a cabin at Cooper Lake State Park.

Our plan was simple: we would write, hike, chat, and write some more. While the hike never happened (we found ourselves content just sitting on some uncomfortable wooden chairs, at a small wooden table, and writing away), it was still a perfect weekend!

What We Hoped to Accomplish

When coming up with a writing retreat, it’s easy to think big. The mighty Mark Finn does an annual retreat much longer (and farther from home) than the one my friend Deacon and I did last weekend. Mark’s retreats are spent in the company of more than one writer, most of whom support themselves writing fiction. It’s something to aspire to, but in our case, it wasn’t important to go anywhere particularly special, far from home, or to stay very long. With both of us being at places in novels where things can go so many ways, it was all about being in a cabin with the person who gets the others’ writing better than anyone.

The cabin.

Traveling (And Writing) Light

Neither of us wanted to drag along a laptop or other gear, but we also didn’t want to write new stuff in notebooks and then have to transfer everything to our systems. Sure, there are pens that know what you’ve written, or we could have just tapped away at our iPhones with our clunky thumbs. In the end, we did write on our iPhones…using Anker Bluetooth keyboards!

Behold, the setup!

A couple people have asked me about this setup. Deacon and I love the keyboards. Twenty bucks, so if something happens to it, it’s not a big financial blow — and they are solid and great to type on. (Disclaimer: I do all writing on laptops, so the feel and size of the Anker Bluetooth Wireless Keyboard feels like a laptop keyboard…just at a better angle.) Granted, the smaller screen of the iPhone doesn’t really allow moving large blocks of text around, so I can’t see editing with this setup, but I’m not sure there’s a better method for traveling light and writing a fresh draft of something for me.

The Writing Setup in the Wild.

Plotting

In addition to hours of writing, I plotted quite a bit. On good old fashioned note cards. I came to realize that I really do know the story I’m writing better than I thought I did. I have another four-day weekend coming up, and I look forward to spending quite a bit of it writing.

I will always love note cards for plotting.

Friendship

It’s funny…I’ve known Deacon for over a decade. I consider him one of the best friends I’ve ever had. We email daily. But with the exception of one dinner together (to discuss a handful of chapters in the novel he’s working on), every time we’ve hung out, it’s been in the company of other friends. It was nice to hop in a car, drive out east for a couple hours, and spend a weekend chatting about anything and everything when we weren’t writing.

It was a nice little road trip.

Finally there.

Deacon remembered a mug. I didn't. I drank coffee from a Tupperware bowl I brought for oatmeal. (I forgot the oatmeal.)

Chillin' near the fire.

Epic Nap Time!

The beds in the cabin were surprisingly comfortable. So comfortable that Saturday after lunch, we both said, “I’m gonna go lie down.” The nap I had was one of the best naps I’ve ever taken. (Worthy enough for its own section in this entry!)

It was an even bigger treat for Deacon. The father of a four-year-old, a three-hour nap without interruption is a very rare thing.

Those are comfy beds!

Odds and Ends

When not writing, napping, or snacking, there was time spent sitting beside a fire, time wandering around down by the lake, time battling spiders, and time talking about how creepy the little light out front was at night.

Kept finding these guys in the cabin.

Deacon was wise to fear that light out front...

Sunday morning, when I got up at 5:30 in the morning to free some processed beer, it sounded like there was an opossum in the bathtub. There wasn’t, though.

There were sounds in the attic.

ANYTHING could have been up there!

There were sounds in the woods (that turned out to be an armadillo that was all like, “Hey, what are you guys doing? Is that beer you’re drinking? I like beer!” It freaked out when I turned a light on to see what it was. (Deacon guessed armadillo, while I thought it was a raccoon until the light went on.)

Great Minds Think Alike

A favorite moment from last weekend: dozing off Saturday night, after chatting about the creepy panel leading to the attic, Deacon mentioned how he’d end the novel I’m working on. He wasn’t going to tell me, but I had to know. It’s not like either of us to tell others how we’d write something that’s not ours, but it’s why Deacon is the only person I’d allow to even entertain how I should do something. After further insistence on my part, Deacon told me what he’d do at the end of the novel I’m writing.

I’m happy to say that it is exactly what I’ve already written!

I’m already looking forward to another retreat next year…

Once upon a time, I posted this entry about making your own mini writing retreat. I admitted that it was an entry about something I’ve never done. That will change this weekend.

Cabin in the Woods

There are only a handful of people with whom I chat about writing. My friend Deacon is the person when it comes to writing chat. (And that’s saying a lot because I chat about writing with Shawn Kupfer a lot these days! Sometimes we even talk about writing on the podcast.)

So this weekend I’m taking my own advice and going with a friend (Deacon) to a cabin in the woods in a state park in east Texas to focus on nothing but writing. (Here’s hoping it’s not like the cabin in The Cabin in the Woods. Deacon and I have already vowed if we stumble upon an old book in a strange language that we will not read from it.)

Why Do This?

Okay, so part of the reason for the weekend is Deacon and I have both been working a lot of overtime at our jobs, and it will be a nice break. I’m sure we’ll sit around a fire and talk about stuff that isn’t all about writing, but mostly — the weekend is about writing. We’re both at points in the novels we’re working on where things can go many different ways. My hope is that I come back to north Texas actually…uhm…knowing how the novel I’m working on actually ends!

Another reason for the retreat: when one is bogged down with day job/life stuff, I think it’s important to put your foot down and claim something…even if it’s just a long weekend. (I plan to take a long weekend at the end of the month, too, so I can hang out with my wife for a block o’ days without any distraction.)

A Good Writing Bud

Every writer needs a good writing bud. (I’m fortunate enough to have a few.) Having that person (or handful of people) you can chat about writing with is a wonderful thing. I’m lucky to be friends with Deacon.

I met Deacon through a small writing group years ago. For over a decade, we’ve talked a lot about writing. We chat about writing almost daily, but rarely hang out in person together. And that’s kind of weird. Outside of seeing Deacon at our writing group for years — and at parties and other places with mutual friends — we’ve only hung out a handful of times.

So part of the weekend retreat is just hanging out with a friend — but Deacon is a friend who knows my writing better than I often know my writing. He gets what I attempt to do unlike anybody else I know. He’s one of the only people I’ll allow to say, “What I’d do, here…” because it’s not his own opinion projected onto my writing…it’s him knowing what I’m trying to do and understanding what I want to do more than I may understand what I’m trying to do.

That’s priceless!

Retreating

So…Friday we head out to a state park in east Texas, hoping to claim Cabin #13. (Yep, they have a Cabin 13!) It’s the most secluded of the cabins in the park, and if it doesn’t end like this (WARNING: Extreme gore, language, and spoilers if you haven’t seen The Cabin in the Woods)…we might make it an annual thing.

(I’m serious about that link being gory…)

I won’t even try to sum up all I liked in this piece written by James Rhodes for The Guardian — all I’ll say is he makes a good argument that there is time to do the things we want to do in life if we’re prepared to do things regularly.

From the article:

“We are left with six hours. 360 minutes to do whatever we want. Is what we want simply to numb out and give Simon Cowell even more money? To scroll through Twitter and Facebook looking for romance, bromance, cats, weather reports, obituaries and gossip?”

So…what do you do with your 360 minutes?

I often hear people say things like, “They don’t make music like they used to…”

“Television was better when I was younger…”

“Old movies had a class about them modern movies can never have…”

I understand the pull of nostalgia, but…I think a big part of people’s feelings for “The Best Things” back then was a sense that, indeed, you were taking part in the best thing of the time. There weren’t as many books being written; there were only a handful of types of music; we had fewer TV channels than I have fingers.

Odds are, what you watched and listened to is what most people watched and listened to. Having been around during a time when there weren’t as many choices, even I’ve found myself defending things I believed were wonderful.

I was wrong…

Today is Everything!!!

Now, before I begin this section, I am not saying things are better now. Many of my favorite movies are old movies made before I was born, and so much of my favorite music was composed in the 1700s. I will, however, take on any challenger who says TV was better back when…

Today…

There are so many different kinds of music that you can’t even classify it all. There are more studios, large and small, making movies. YouTube puts the creation of content in the hands of anyone with a camera and some drive. If you write a book, you can — at the very least — put it out digitally for next to nothing. Granted, because of all these things, there’s a lot of crap to wade through. Sometimes that pile seems like a mountain almost not worth scaling to get to the best thing at the top.

You Will Probably Never See the Best Thing Ever

A friend and I recently chatted about music…how there is just so much out there, and how blown away we are by sounds we never imagined when radios told us to listen to Lynyrd Skynyrd. (This is not a poke at the band…I would wager I could sing more of their tunes than most people reading this, even though I can’t remember the last time I listened to them.) We talked about how it’s very possible we may never hear what would truly be our all-time favorite band.

At least every couple years, I stumble upon something that leaves me sitting in awe after reading. There is good TV out there, even though I don’t watch too much TV. My favorite movie has leaped to something different several times in my life — and it’s very possible that there’s been something made in some part of the world that I would deem better than any of my top handful of picks.

With so much being created, it’s not just possible we may never see the best thing ever — it’s almost likely we never will.

But I’m pretty sure this counts as one of those finds for Best Thing Ever!

(Who wouldn’t want to drink in an establishment like this?)

(And since that last link contains an axolotl, it would be almost criminal for me to not link to this.)

Like most writers, I have a lot of influences. If someone put a gun to my head and said, “TOP FIVE INFLUENCES OR I PULL THE TRIGGER!” I’d probably list the following:

1. Ray Bradbury’s, Dandelion Wine
2. Time Bandits (The Movie — and point of this entry)
3. John Cheever’s Short Stories
4. “The Body” from Different Seasons, by Stephen King
5. John Irving’s, The World According to Garp

I’ve read better books (and maybe seen better movies). I want to throw my fave book, Robert Olmstead’s A Trail of Heart’s Blood Wherever We Go and The Hobbit on the list, but those five things above are what I’d list if a gun were put to my head.

Time Bandits

I saw Time Bandits with a friend when I was twelve. We took the bus one town over to see it (back when parents let their kids do things, like ride the bus all over northern Illinois). My friend liked it.

I loved it.

Something clicked…it was the first time I thought, “Someone figured out a way to dump their mind onto pages and then get what was on those pages on to a movie screen.” My friend left, and I watched the next showing, trying to figure out how it was all done.

I went back the next day to try figuring it out some more…

The Map

I’ve wanted a replica map from Time Bandits for years.

I wanted it to hang above my writing desk as a reminder of the way I looked at the creative world when I was twelve.

In episode two of Men in Gorilla Suits, we talked about creating a space of your own. I’ve moved beyond decorating my office with action figures and other colorful clutter. My walls are lined with photos of relatives and old papers those relatives used to come to America in the late 1800s.

I want a traditional looking office, but…I want to still be surrounded by the geeky things I love. So it only makes sense that I finally got the map from Time Bandits.

Once this thing is framed and above my desk, it will be a constant reminder that even my aspirations toward things more literary must always be grounded in something fantastic.

I used to be that guy: the guy who fumed about blog mills paying $1 for 500 – 1,000 word articles and people posting “Writer Wanted! Payment: Possible Exposure” ads on Craigslist. The mere thought of someone not paying writers at all, or “what they’re worth,” got to me…to the point I found myself almost spending more time worked up about the thought of what was happening than actually writing at times.

Don’t get me wrong: I think it’s great when writers are paid what they’re worth. At the same time, I eventually came to realize that it was silly to get bent out of shape because two people — even if one side was deemed predatory — chose to enter into an agreement. The argument could be made that it “cheapened” pay for all writers, and there’s evidence to even back that up, but it’s still not my business if two people choose to do business together…even if it’s a deal I’d pass by for so many reasons. (The least of which is why get worked up about a writing gig you wouldn’t take, even if it paid better?)

Writing for Free

I’m making no money writing this entry. Blog entries are something I write on Saturday or Sunday mornings after attending to other writing (fiction), if I have the time. I occasionally find time during the week to knock out a blog entry or two (sometimes three or four), but blogging is something I now tend to do on Saturday or Sunday.

I write blog entries, journal entries, and updates for Men in Gorilla Suits with no monetary compensation. One could say, “Well, it’s still content marketing for Hell Comes with Wood Paneled Doors and other things you’re doing,” but entries, here, really don’t result in sales there. I write entries here — for free — because I like to force myself to see where I stand on issues about writing that are important to me. Over time, I can see where I’ve changed.

As I mentioned above, I used to be the guy who lost it at the thought of someone paying some writer in another country pennies on the dollar to write articles. Then one day I thought, “If that guy in India can pay a bill or two with what they’re making in a cheap deal, who am I to say it shouldn’t happen? Why would I want that crap gig to begin with, even if it paid well?”

Looking at it like that, I felt a lot more free to write what I wanted to write.

Writing Free[ly]

Something happened when I gave up chasing paying writing gigs: my fiction got a lot better.

Don’t get me wrong, I still think about writing travel articles and other things for [sometimes decent] pay, but when I realized things were changing and there was nothing I could do about those changes, I became a much happier writer. (I can’t stop piracy or people writing for next to nothing, so why let it stress me out?)

If I was going to be writing “for exposure,” then, dammit, I’d invest only in myself by writing only what I wanted.

No more would I comb through publications thinking about angles for article pitches when what I really wanted to be doing was writing another novel. Whether it sold or not wouldn’t matter — what would matter is writing the thing I wanted to write more than any other thing in the world at that time. I looked at artist friends working on licensed properties to pay their bills and how much they wanted to really be doing their own thing. Why would I want to become the writer version of that: so busy working overtime on other people’s writing than my own?

As hokey as it might sound, this new way of looking at writing reminded me of the opening lyrics to 311′s “All Mixed Up” (video at the end of the post):

You’ve got to trust your instinct
And let go of regret
You’ve got to bet on yourself now, Star
‘Cause that’s your best bet

Betting on Yourself

It would be great if writing paid what it once did and that writers weren’t expected to do so much promotion and this and that and all those things people talk about when they talk about “the good old days.”

Thing is, the “good old days” are long gone — publications, newspapers, and other places that once took writing are dying. It’s like sharks in a small tank realizing the food supply is about to run out and panicking, fighting for what remains out of desperation.

Looking at it like that, why wouldn’t I just enjoy the work for the sake of the work and see what happens with the things I finish? I will always try to do the most I can with the writing I want to do, but I don’t see a day I ever write out of desperation again.

These days, I’ve vowed to only write with confidence and bet on myself.

Paul Lamb's Cabin in the Woods. (Photo: Paul Lamb)

Paul Lamb loves attention! In a world of desperate reality show “celebrities” and pop star divas, Paul Lamb rises above them all, shouting his own praises from rooftops for all to hear.

He’s everywhere these days!

Okay, if you know Paul Lamb, you know he cringes at the thought of self promotion even more than I do. He’s a writer who lets his words do the talking; he’s one of the last people who would shout for attention. That’s just one of the many cool things I know about the guy from what interactions I’ve had with him online over the past several years.

Paul’s Stuff

Paul’s been busy, lately. There’s a cool interview with him, here. You can read a recent story of his, here. And you can always follow what he’s up to at his blog. (You can also read more of his writing, there.)

Paul writes some great stuff. I have no reason to say that, other than it’s something I believe to be true. If it’s something with a fantastic element, like his story “Race to the Summit,” or something based on reality — it’s all good. If I said otherwise, it’s not like Paul would come down from Kansas City to kick my ass. In the chats we’ve had in blog comments, revealing a bit about a person from what I know about him online, I’m not surprised Paul writes as well as he does. He looks up to some great writers and has a place to get away from it all and think.

Promoting Others

On a recent episode of the Men in Gorilla Suits podcast, I mentioned that I’m terrible at promoting myself, but totally fine with promoting writers I admire.

I admire Paul’s writing, so this post is just to point some people his way…because he so loves the attention!

My great grandfather on my mom’s side came over from the Calabria region of Italy. (The toe of the boot about to kick Sicily — where my great grandmother came from.)

My great grandfather was one of those solid guys who let his actions speak for him. He owned a butcher shop/corner grocery store in Chicago. He worked hard, and didn’t ask for a thing in life. This was a trait he passed down to my mother.

She tells a story about how my great grandfather wouldn’t let her go trick or treating, because he thought it was begging. He didn’t understand why people would dress up and go door-to-door expecting a handout. I look back on the time after my parents divorced and wonder how my mom made it, and I’m sure some of it was that same pride in never asking for help — even when it was needed.

She just toughed it out and made due…

Tough It Out

There is something to toughing it out…to a point. It’s easy for some to ask for help at the very first snag in doing something. I think there’s something to be gained in pushing oneself and seeing what you’re capable of doing — some people do give up too easy. I suppose, in my own way, the same pride my grandfather had that was passed down to my mother ended up in me. I feel weird asking for things, but not so much out of pride — more like I’m imposing.

The funny thing: if a friend asks me for something, I’ll give them what they need without a second thought if I’m able to help. And I know my friends would do the same for me…yet even when I’ve had friends offer to help with passing along my writing to publishers or things like that, I’ve passed on the offer. And…I’d never think about asking for help — mostly out of fear that one might think my intentions in becoming friends wasn’t genuine.

Why Do We Feel Weird?

It’s strange: most of us would do anything to help the people we care about — we even know the people we’d help would reciprocate, but there are some of us who feel weird asking for help. Whether it’s pride or fear of coming off as fake or something else…for many people, it feels wrong to ask for help. It’s not a matter of pride in my case — I think that kind of pride isn’t really pride, but more a kind of stubbornness. At the same time, my apprehension about asking for help is just as silly as that stout wall of pride.

Over on the Men in Gorilla Suits podcast, we recently chatted about the ability to create and distribute creative work in ways we never dreamed of decades ago. We chatted about a lot of people doing their own thing — and the day after the podcast, did a blog entry containing the links. During the podcast, I talked about how I feel weird promoting what I’m doing, but how I’ll do all I can to promote the people I like.

I have no qualms telling people to pick up Alex George’s A Good American, or check out John Picacio’s art. Martin Thomas (Leon) isn’t the only cool thing about Spill.com, and more than a couple friends and acquaintances have something to do with Apes of Wrath. I’m glad John Lucas is penciling a bigass book and slinging his own inks! CMStewart is looking for someone wanting to work on a short online video project, and Paul Lamb keeps placing writing in publications.

If any of these people asked for help, I’d help them any way I could. In John Picacio’s case, he did ask some people for help when he started doing his own thing. And everybody who knows him was more than glad to do what they could to spread the word about what he was up to.

The Power of Asking

I’m not one to need inspiration in order to work — I write because I like writing and know that if I waited to be inspired to write, I’d rarely write. That doesn’t mean that inspiration isn’t out there and appreciated when it comes along. In the past week or so, I’ve seen a couple things about the power of asking for things. Not in an arrogant way…just asking from the heart and the results that can come with having the courage to swallow your stubborn pride or goofy fears and ask for help.

Not saying I’ll get better about asking for help, but it’s something to consider…

Examples of Asking

If you’re a fan of Amanda Palmer, not a fan of Amanda Palmer, or have no idea who the hell Amanda Palmer is, this is worth checking out!

Some have claimed the video below is a set up, but…the kid mentions playing with Billy Joel’s old sax player from way back, and if you’re trying to stage something, it doesn’t seem like a thing you’d do. If anything, it seems like the guy’s way of establishing credibility for what he’s about to ask of Billy Joel.

And this is just a neat version of a song I like that at least partially helped me take a couple big steps toward overcoming shyness. I can’t say I’ll ever be the life of a party, or even chat with people I don’t know at a party at great length (although it’s happened), but I’ve definitely found that the best way to overcoming shyness (for me) is facing it head on. Maybe asking for help is like that, too.

If you listened to the Hell Comes with Wood Paneled Doors podcast, you’ve heard Belgium’s best surf band, Pirato Ketchup. Pirato Ketchup’s “Escape from Tridion” is used as the theme.

The boys from Liege are back with a new EP called That’s Right! (Give it a listen — consider buying.)

Why I Like Creative Commons

Pirato Ketchup releases their work under a Creative Commons attribution/no commercial use license, meaning: they will let you use their music for things you’re doing, as long as you’re not making money from it and as long as you say, “Hey, this is Pirato Ketchup!” It’s a cool deal, and I’m very happy that I stumbled upon their music when looking for music to use for the Hell Comes with Wood Paneled Doors podcast.

I’m happy I stumbled upon them because I really like their music and their whole look, but more than that — I’m glad I stumbled upon them because they’re a bunch of damn nice guys! I definitely consider Julien (Monkey JU) and William (Wild Will) Internet buds — and if I lived in Belgium, I’d know them in person ’cause their live shows look like a blast!

That’s the power of open music right there; I think it’s cool that a guy in Texas (me) can wake up one day not knowing Belgium even had surf bands, and by day’s end, discover not only some great music, but great music made by some really cool people in another country.

That’s Right!

Obviously, this is a post in support of Pirato Ketchup, but it comes from the heart. It’s this sharing that I love about Creative Commons and the Internet. They let me use their music for the things I do on the side for my own enjoyment (I look forward to making more juggling videos featuring their new stuff!), and I let people know they exist — even though I don’t have to. I’ve always liked surf music, and their music makes me happy.

Their music makes me want to juggle and hop in a car and just drive. There are many bands I love, but I don’t feel the need to say, “Hey, listen to this!” But because I found Pirato Ketchup when I was taking a chance with a podcast that is now getting more listens two years later than it was when I started, I want to let people know they have a new EP out, and I hope the people still listening to the podcast can’t wipe their infectious tunes from their heads. Ever! As hokey as it might sound — more than ever — I think the world needs fun like this sticking around in their skulls.

So that’s that! I know what I’ll be listening to all day and the rest of the week…hope you do, too!

Proof of Fun!

The power of Creative Commons:

Texas Snow Juggling (Yes, I’m wearing a kilt!)

Ft. Worth Dancing Guy (Featuring “Dr. Krokov”)

Pirato Ketchup Live:

Miserlou

Wipeout!

This includes Surf Sourire, just ’cause I love that damn tune so much!

I finally picked up Chris Ware’s Building Stories.

I first became aware of Ware when he was doing stuff for the Daily Texan at the University of Texas in Austin.  Not that I went there, but some of the stuff he did was published in some Texas indie comics in the early 90s. His little potato guy strips were too cool.

After that, my wife and I picked up all the Acme Novelty Library stuff he did, up until that last few. (I think the last one I read was #17, so I was at least familiar with the beginnings of Building Stories he was tinkering with in #16 or #17.) One of the things Ware became known for with Acme Novelty Library books were the various sizes in which they were published. (Oversized books; tiny books.) I must confess to liking when Ware hit his stride with smaller books, but since we’d already been dealing with his over-sized comics, I figured why not buy his big box of stories about a building and the people who live inside?

When you read enough of anything — over time — you occasionally stumble upon creators from the start and get to see them grow over time. I consider myself lucky for stumbling upon a cartoonist who often leaves me feeling just as floored as my favorite novelists.

Start Anywhere

Building Stories is a big box containing 14 books, pamphlets, fold-outs, and other printed matter telling the story of a building in Chicago and the people who live there. When asked what book one should start with, Chris Ware said it doesn’t matter — he set out to create a work that can be started by grabbing anything in the box and reading.

I’m sure that’s true, but I must admit: I’m glad I went to the book that reminded me of a Little Golden Book in a way.

That First Page!

Maybe I was just really in the mood for it, or maybe it really is that good, but the first page of that particular book from the box is so well done — on so many levels — that if you presented somebody with Ware’s quirky little potato guy comic strips and that page, they would want to read all he did in between just to see how he got from there to here.

It’s a beautiful page in how understated and just…Chris Ware it is.

Acme Novelty Library #5 was the first thing Ware did that made me go from, “Cool! Chris Ware stuff,” to “Wow…he’s really done something special, here, and if this is the way he’s going with things…we’re all very lucky.”

In that one page alone, it’s clear: we’re all very lucky.