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rambles and half-essays

Tag: novel

  • breaks are important

    KM Brunner

    When you work in higher education, sometimes you’re lucky enough to get a break when the students do, which is why I can’t leave academia. Counting weekends, I had 12 days off over Christmas and New Year’s. Initially I thought I’d try to be productive, but once the break began, it didn’t feel right to push myself. So instead of buckling down to write, I decided to do the opposite.

    Something felt wrong – fundamentally – in my writing practice. I couldn’t pinpoint it, so I figured I’d just wait until it came to me. Luckily, it did.

    The day before Christmas, my friend asked me to a blues jam. I love watching live music, and as a musician, I’m even happier when it’s improvised. A jam is like a sporting event to me.

    These musicians were fabulous and a few minutes in, I realized I was deeply, painfully (toxically) envious of them. When they asked me to play (the host lent me his guitar, which was sweet), I was aching for it. And while playing, the penny dropped.

    I hadn’t picked up my guitar in months.

    Years ago I realized that music (my first love) was integral to keeping myself sane, stable, creative. I suppose I forgot that.

    The moment I started writing music again (11 a.m. on Christmas morning), I felt something unlock in me. I knew that I’d be okay. I knew I’d recover creatively and felt very stupid for forgetting the thing that keeps me, me.

    It’s always weird to be ignorant of the obvious, especially when it’s to do with you. Embarrassing, really. ‘Cause I know this about myself. It’s something I try to watch out for! If I stop playing music, I’m supposed to do like, a mental audit.

    Unsurprisingly, I recovered my creativity over the week following my revelation. The callouses on my left hand returned. It felt like I’d returned, too.

    The first recommendations list of this year!

    Music: “This Town” by Trixie Mattel/Shakey Graves. It’s about a small town in northeast Wisconsin, a few miles from where I went to high school. The song (and Trixie’s voice) is simple but the second verse makes me cry. It nails the very specific vibe that part of the country has.

    Reading: The Factory by Hiroko Oyamada (trans. David Boyd). It’s a wild, surreal criticism of capitalism and office work masquerading as a novel. I really enjoyed it but it’s not for everyone. I have a feeling it’s even better in Japanese, but the translation is fine.

    Miscellaneous: I only use shortscale guitars because I have tiny hands. My forever guitars are this Fender Mustang (electric), and a GS-Mini Taylor (acoustic/electric).

  • leaning in, shame, power exchange

    KM Brunner

    I’m happy that I started this blog. I began it after re-reading one I maintained during college. The old site was less a blog and more a record of my failures. Good failures – the death of creative projects, explorations of different musical genres (and my subsequent abandonment), and a subconscious attempt to confront my chronic illness, among other things.

    I did confront it consciously, finally, about six years ago. I’m still working on it.

    I also wrote a lot about college, growing up, and moving to Boston. The writing was bad, but even worse than that, it didn’t sound like me. I guess it’s tough for writers to own to our voices before we’re ready, so I forgive myself for the posturing. But that truly is what it was: posturing.

    To be oneself is such a task.

    It requires consciously leaning into what you – and only you – want, know, need. Of course, borrowing traits and ideas is normal. Necessary, even, but once you come to know what you truly like, when you pinpoint what comes from only you…

    It is hard to abandon the shame of some things, you know? It took me years to write science fiction, but I like it. I finally got tattoos in my late twenties. I only just admitted to myself what I’d like my future to look like, and…I stood up to my father at dinner only last week.

    He was being particularly mean, and I cannot stand anyone forgoing kindness for a power trip. A little bit of exploiting ones authority can feel good in the moment, but that doesn’t indicate power, really. Any resulting compliance is a fear response.

    Want power? Play a long game. Usurp a throne (any kind will work) or better yet, become the throne’s right hand. Become the office confidant or the quietest – and most influential – member of the C-suite. Or maybe play chess and remind yourself that the king’s the weakest piece on the board.

    If all else fails and you need straightforward “power,” demand it from someone who’d like to give theirs to you. They’re out there (and gagging for it, honestly).

    Do not externalize your own shame and frustration. It’s embarrassing and frankly, crass.

    I’m done now. With the entry, not the blog. I haven’t decided on its purpose, so there’s no end in sight, yet.

    Some recommendations:

    Music:

    I like Paloma Faith. She’s great. This is her most popular song.

    I just really like John Oliver and this is a good, well-written piece.

    Been reading the best of Shakespeare’s plays. I had an idea for a character – kind of a sundowning scholar – and he’s a Shakespeare guy. Had to find some good speeches, didn’t I? I’ve been reading the Arden Performance Editions.

  • working hard while working hard

    KM Brunner

    It took me a long time to realize I worked harder than most other people. That’s the thing about neurodiversity: though you feel different than everyone else, you also believe that what you’re experiencing is common. Normal, even. When I was young I thought I was just sad or something, not inherently unsuited for the world around me. Turns out it was the latter, but I did okay regardless.

    I worked really hard.

    I work hard at my job but also at pretending to be normalish. These days I’m bad at it. My personality leaks out because I’m tired of being miserable, which is why people think I’m smart. Needing to mask is why I love to learn (I had to like it if I was going to pretend to be another person all the time) and it’s why I’m good at pretending to be likable.

    I don’t mask as violently as I did before leaving the agency world, but I still find it easy to manipulate my personality.

    Part of that is all the acting I did when I was young and some of it is the nature of the marketing industry. Drop a few (relevant) keywords into a conversation and you can make anyone feel important.

    It all sounds wildly manipulative but it’s not like I disliked these people. Often it was the opposite; I wanted them to like me for reasons beyond the professional.

    A friend once told me I was scary after I explained all this (to be fair, I didn’t articulate myself well). Though I understand their response, I disagree.

    They’re neurotypical. They don’t understand what I mean, really. It’s not malicious; it’s just how I operate. I think there are a lot of ways neurodivergent people can interact with society’s rules. One of them is that they catalog neurotypical behaviors, learn them, and strategically choose what they want to indulge. That’s what I do.

    Steeping myself in the psychology of marketing was helpful, but I think all the acting I did was the thing that made me good at it. ‘Cause I sound like this in my head. You can’t sound like this out loud unless you want to out yourself as a nerd. And in some places, speaking like this will make you unapproachable. Granted, that can be helpful, but you don’t want an ice queen reputation all the time.

    A colleague said to a group of interns once, while passing my office, “She’s really cool, but she’s not going to talk to you.”

    Part of me was proud because I felt all mysterious, but it did make me realize I had to go to happy hour at some point. Minnesota is weird.

    Nice doesn’t mean kind, there. It means palatable.

    This was a longer post than I expected it to be. I’m procrastinating dealing with the back end of some marketing systems which are just awful to look at.

    Recommendations:

    Music:

    Stick with me. This is a rock/metal song. It’s got screaming in it. It’s DEFINITELY not for everyone, but I love the build. GREAT tension. This band is very fun and their music is varied.

    • Though it’s kind of controversial at the moment, my friend and I are going to use NaNoWriMo’s website to track our November writing spree. It’s just a good place to keep each other accountable.
    • Been trying to pinpoint a good way to keep the stakes high and the pressure on for the middle bit of my novel, so I’m playing around with narrative structure. Here’s a quick and dirty explanation of a few.
    • I’ve started Martian Time Slip and I know I’m years behind the bandwagon but I’m having fun.
    • Obsessed with hawthorn trees because they have berries in the winter and HUGE spikes. Picture below:

  • long time no see

    KM Brunner

    I’m not sure why but I’m trying to work and write this post at the same time. I’ve been doing a lot of writing and also a lot of working. That’s not necessarily important for this post but I figured I’d say it so I’d feel compelled to write tonight. I have a schedule and I’m sticking to it as well as I can. Sometimes it’s difficult but I’m trying to push through that.

    I said in my last post that I find it hard to relate to people sometimes. I just cut off a romance I’d been in – she’s amazing, which sucks for me – because I couldn’t fully relate to her. She’s very cool but I’m a little intense. I know that about myself.

    Fortunately, she’s not as intense as me. Romantically, I need someone as specific as I am, but I’m happy for her, because she’s probably less stressed out. I’d rather her enjoy herself and never see me again than try to get through to me and watch me drown in self-pity (I’m working on it, ok).

    This post is more personal than I intended it to be.

    Anyway, work is difficult enough that I want to lay facedown on the floor and cry about it. I vacillate wildly from productive to miserable and am finding it difficult to steady myself. Honestly…I think I’m just so, so tired. I’ve been thinking of applying to different jobs but even that feels like too much.

    Then again, I may just be hungry. Or sad that I had to let that woman go. Or maybe I miss my friends.

    Could be because I’m all angsty about things. We’ll never know.

    Time for some recommendations.

    Music: “Never Surrender” – Combichrist

    This is a dark industrial song. Like if NIN had a baby with a male Poppy. I really enjoy it but it’s not for everyone.

    I’m currently reading:

    • Interview With the Vampire (I get why it’s so popular, but good Lord the book is wild).
    • The annotated version of The Phantom Tollbooth. I love this book. It’s my favorite book, actually. I think it’s the best children’s lit I’ve ever read.
    • Hum by…some woman whose name I can’t remember. I’m writing this at the office and my copy is at home. It was part of Book of the Month, which I canceled a long time ago. It’s a speedy read.

    I’m having a tough time thinking of things to share, so I’ll be going now.

  • change, distraction, and worry

    KM Brunner

    I have a problem. It’s not a big problem, but it is one that’s taking up a lot of space in my brain:

    I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be writing.

    I worry, probably several times a day, that there’s something missing from the novel I’m working on. I think, unhelpfully, that I should be pursuing one of my other projects. I think maybe, just maybe, I should be writing nonfiction. I used to write nonfiction. I was rather good at it.

    It wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as fiction, but it was something I felt comfortable with.

    Then I step back and think: that was the problem with nonfiction in the first place. I wasn’t challenging myself.

    And so I go back to the book and the short stories but then, there, I have the same problem:

    I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be writing.

    It’s a fun thing, to have lots of ideas. It’s an enviable position, but I need to focus – and if I’m going to use the ideas, I need to whittle. I am trying to concentrate on the novel, but I want to submit a story once a month, so I always have a short piece I’m working on alongside the book. Sometimes that piece is fun. Sometimes I think it might be better than the novel.

    How can I know that, though? I can’t! I absolutely can’t. I’m a few chapters into a first draft and those are notoriously bad! Regardless, I’m hitting a pretty significant rough patch. Things are working, mostly, but I’m concerned about a few characters, I worry I’ve made the story too big, that the plot is too niche to be relatable – and worst of all, sometimes I think it might be boring.

    Is this what impostor syndrome is? I’m not worried about being a writer – I feel paralyzed because I am one.

    It’s enough to make me want to scream but I can’t give up writing. I know I’ll work through it. I’ll show up, every day, at my stupid little keyboard. Writing is an awful, sometimes parasitic, thing. It compels. It’s worse than music, and that’s saying something.

    Anyway.

    Here are some things I’ve liked over last month:

    • Song: Good Luck, Babe! – Chappell Roan. She’s blowing up, and she deserves it. Vocal chops like nobody’s business and actual musical, catchy, pop. They use real instruments and the mixing isn’t all flat like most pop these days. It’s just…good music.
    • I don’t drink, but when I’m craving a beer, I reach for an Athletic. I’m into the Hazy IPA lately.
    • I got a noir piece published. It’s called Apartment 11A.
    • I found my writing workshop group on Meetup. I’d recommend it!
    • St. John’s Seminary, the seminary attached to Boston College, is full of nice people and very, very interesting classes. I’m going to take Moral Theology next semester. I never thought I’d be taking a course with Catholic undertones but here I am. I’m just interested.

  • learning to draw and imposter syndrome

    KM Brunner

    I’m an artist. I’ve identified myself as a writer and I am; there is no denying that and it’s my main art form. I am a musician too, and play gigs every now and then. I paint, but only abstracts, on old drop-cloth canvas from Home Depot. When I got into comics I told myself that I wouldn’t try my hand at it. I firmly made that decision. I thought that I could enjoy an art form and not partake, but here I am, buying ink and textbooks. I am doing fake art school like an asshole.

    I want to be able to bring my fiction outside my body and my words, but I’m not skilled enough to drag it there. The only thing for it is practice, I guess.

    I am objectively mediocre at drawing, and I don’t like being mediocre. It makes me feel sad and angry and, well, stupid. I didn’t think that picking up drawing would trigger all that but it has. I’m not even planning to release anything – not really. I suppose the problem is that I am judging myself.

    I’ve mostly conquered this problem with writing, but I thought that since I don’t care about my visual art nearly as much, I’d be able to skate on past this stage. But here I am, sitting around feeling inferior and bad. I’m rather good at putting my insecurities to the side and soldiering on, so I’m not worried about art block or writer’s block, but it does mean I can’t open a comic book without sighing.

    I’ve got no solution for this issue except to get better, and I know I will with time. While it happens, I know that my envy of others’ work needs to be channeled into admiration and an opportunity to learn.

    Anyway, it’s time to move on. I’ve got presents:

    1. Nan Goldin’s (photographer) “Advice to the Young,” which reflects a lot of my thoughts about artists’ needs and the world kids are inheriting from the older generation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RlC3ym4-YaQ
    2. The sweetest thing – Pia Crambling (Grandmaster) commentates Anna Crambling’s (her daughter) chess games at a huge tournament in Iceland. It’s so heartwarming. Pia is analyzes the game while Anna plays it, and is visibly stressed out when Anna makes moves she doesn’t agree with, but is rooting for her daughter the whole time: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i3_VCUvHDAw
    3. Three Stanley Avenue Guest House – I stayed here a couple years ago and loved it. I’m hoping to book another trip soon. https://stanleyavenue.com/
    4. Speedball nibs/dip pen holders: https://www.speedballart.com/our-product-lines/speedball-calligraphy-illustration/speedball-pen-nibs/speedball-pen-sets/ (this is what I’ve been using to practice inking, along with regular India ink that’s the Blick brand.)

  • art, clichés, feeling today tomorrow

    KM Brunner

    There have been days in my life – once, two full weeks – where I felt out of time. It’s similar to dissociation but more of a disconnection. Reality remains, but it’s not solid (while dissociating, reality remains – I know where it is, but I can’t engage). For those two weeks in 2017 I felt strongly that it was actually February of 2012 and I had an essay due. I felt that, somehow, I had to get it together to write about Lord Byron and his club foot.

    Februaries can be hard.

    And there are days when I feel small and young, and I remember my childhood hamster. Her name was Angel and she was very mean. I kind of liked that. Her hair matched mine because it was orange (pictured at left).

    I often feel very old, but that tracks with my real timeline. I am not chronologically the oldest person who’s ever lived, but my personality doesn’t quite make sense for the average 30-year-old.

    I am sick. That’s why. Nothing exciting. I’m old because I’m still here and I’m cranky because no one seems to care about what is important. Unfortunately, what is important is what they say is important: family, friends, love, art, nature, experience.

    Hallmark sayings and boring cliches do have substance, which I find a little frustrating.

    I think you have to be old – in experience, not years – to understand them. “Be yourself,” especially. No one can tell another person to be themselves and not sound patronizing, but the moment it clicks, when you realize that you must be yourself and there is no other option – the phrase is suddenly frightening.

    “Be yourself” can be an awful thing to say. It used to be for me, but now I find freedom in the phrase. It gives me permission to wear menswear and to draw monsters and to write science fiction. It allows me to stop competing with writers I admire and gives me the space to appreciate their work. Being myself is nice, and it would be even more fun if I liked my body.

    But like I said, I am sick. It is hard to enjoy a body that doesn’t want you there. Sick bodies want to die, and so they’re inhospitable to the life in them. I am that life and often, I wish I weren’t. And yet I must be myself, there is no other option, I have to remain and continue to flicker my bullshit electricity over a half-dead brain.

    I used to wish I weren’t sick, but you can’t do that when you pursue being authentic. If I weren’t sick I would not be this person. I think it’s unfair that she exists because suffering is an awful way to forge a personality, but I’d rather be her than be anyone else.

    Anyway, I’m done talking about this. I’m going to send you home with a gift bag full of media treats:

    Comic: Beyond Real, Vault Comics

    1. Figure Drawing: Design and Invention by Michael Hampton – the textbook I’m following to learn to draw figures more accurately. This is a pirated pdf.
    2. Three Stanley Avenue Guest House (Kingsfield, ME) – I stayed here for four days a couple years ago. They have crappy wifi and there is no one in the town. It was one of the best vacations I’ve ever taken. Cheap as hell, too.
    3. Ebony graphite pencils are the best. Soft and quick – perfect for drawing fast on newsprint.

    The most moving and most interesting piece of music I’ve listened to recently:

  • mixed media, writing, mastery

    KM Brunner

    I’ve been experimenting with visual art lately. It’s made it hard to get writing done but I think it’s helping me from a creative standpoint, so maybe it’s worth the time I spend in front of clippings and paint and my new fine-line pens. I love my pens.

    There are (free) online courses you can take that’ll teach you how to make comics. I’m taking one on Coursera and it’s been a good time. I don’t want to be a comic writer, but two of my characters are visual artists, and it’s been fun to get a better picture of what they’re up to.

    My sketchbook is insane, which is the point of it. There’s a guitar pick taped in there somewhere.

    I do wish I were better at drawing figures/characters so I could make better thumbnails for the book, but I am what I am. No use doing anything other than practicing. I’m getting better. Slowly. People get degrees in drawing – I’m not expecting to be good at it, maybe ever. Art school seems hard and though I am working in a sense, I am certainly not working toward mastery.

    I’ve got two degrees in writing. I am seeking mastery, there. Awards are not my goal; I am interested in creating sincere, earnest work. I want to create something that gets at big questions using specific images and storylines. That’s what I’m working toward, and I think that goal’s realistic enough.

    Here are some things:

    1. This kid is a fabulous songwriter. I think he’s the new iteration of “emo” music for the youths. He doesn’t sound emo, but his vibes are emo as hell.

    2. Comicazi – my local comic shop. I love Boston and I love this shop.

    3. Paper Girls from Image Comics.

    4. Rosebud Salve – weird inclusion but it’s my favorite lip balm. Look it up yourself.

    5. Another song. In Limbo by Rigby. I love the vocals.

  • thesis-less

    KM Brunner

    Most blog posts have a point but I cannot think of one for the life of me. I still want to write, but I have nothing to say. Intuitively it doesn’t make sense but I’m compelled to write. Always have been. Maybe that can be my point: the compulsion to create doesn’t let up, even when it maybe should.

    I’ve got a ton of loose papers, pictures, art, and filed them all away yesterday. I told myself I’m going to use them for collages and maybe I will. I hope I will. But truly there is no use for them. Why am I making art? Why do I pursue creation?

    No one is making me. There’s no deadline. I don’t have to finish this book. I can go to workshop after workshop and make no progress and maybe I’d be happy.

    What ruins that is the compulsion. I’m compelled to continue and to work toward an end, whatever that may be. It’s a little frightening, if I’m being completely honest. I’ve always been like this so I’m used to it; when I’m not stressing myself out because I haven’t created enough, I’m in a depressive episode. It’s actually the thing that I’ve learned to watch for so I can get myself some help.

    I know I have to stop looking for a “why”. There isn’t one, and it’s not some cosmic thing. Or maybe it is – but if it is, there’s no use trying to understand it. I am preoccupied with these thoughts probably because it’s the one constant in my life and the thing that most fulfills me. I love to create. I don’t know what to do with that.

    Stuff:

    • Book: After the Revolution – post-America, post-apocalyptic novel. Very action-forward and fun.
    • Save the Cat Writes A Novel – craft book. Free PDF at the Internet Archive. I’ve been plotting my novel with it.

    KB

  • starting a blog in 2024

    KM Brunner

    When I think of a blog I think of the ancient site Blogger and its orange branding. It’s still around, I think, though I haven’t checked because if it isn’t, I’d rather not know.

    The point of this blog is to be like those blogs, by which I mean: bad. I thought about creating a Substack like a real writer but I’ve got no bandwidth to add another time-sensitive responsibility to my list.

    Work, my neglected magazine, and my personal writing are enough. If I’m ever able to get out of the 40 hour grind, maybe I’ll pick up something else. I’ll dedicate some time to my painting, or properly produce the album I wrote in 2021. Who knows?

    As far as the writing I’ll keep here, I haven’t pinned much down but the point of writing is to do it, which means I have to start. So far, I’ve figured that some posts can be proper pieces, and some posts, like this one, will be a short ramble and a list of things I’m into at the time of posting.

    Here’s what I’m into:

    • Join the Club by Tilly Louise (indie rock, afab vox, catchy hook, and when I say catchy I mean catchy)
    • Hexagon Bridge, an Image comic, still being released monthly. It’s a cool story but the art is better. There’s a robot named Stanley who is mind-melded to his friend, Adley, though it’s clear (so far) they’re meant to be siblings. I’m really worried for them.
    • The Memory Police, Yoko Ogawa. Beautiful novel. About colonialism, generational trauma/memory, familial relationships, beauty, and so much more. The writing is so gentle.
    • Give It to Me Straight, a podcast/show hosted by drag queen and comedian Maddy Morphosis, who’s known primarily as the only straight cis man to ever perform on RuPaul’s Drag Race. I don’t know if that’s necessarily the case – everything’s fluid, even the straightness of cis white men – but she should be better known as an interviewer. God, she’s good. Like Nardwuar but less painful to watch, more emotional, and much prettier. The people she interviews are also much more interesting than his, and she connects with them on a level deeper than a cheap “gotcha!”. My favorite episode is below, with Mrs. Kasha Davis.