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The Birthday Resolutions Achieve Excellence

10 Thursday Jan 2019

Posted by in The Future, Writing

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This year, I'm focusing on reaching my highest potential as a human being. No biggie.

Back in college, I read a lot of books by dead, old, Greek guys and I was surprised by how much their search for knowledge and meaning struck a chord with me. Aristotle in particular wrote that the highest achievement a human can reach is arête. This word is often translated as “excellence” or “moral virtue,” but my Classical Political Thought professor argued that a better translation was “reaching one’s potential.” To the ancient Greeks, living a life of significance wasn’t about being perfect, but about being the best person that you were capable of being.

As I turn another year older, I’ve found myself thinking about how I am working toward my arête, my greatest potential. With that in mind, I’m channeling Aristotle today as I write my annual list of birthday resolutions. Here we go:

Live in the Balance

This past year has been insane. My wife and I bought a house, remodeled said house while living with my in-laws, traveled to eight states, drove 2,000 miles, and dealt with personal setbacks. 2018 was a year of extremes. My hope for 2019 is to find peace. There will still be projects to do and tumultuous storms to weather — there always are — but I would like to see smoother sailing this year, with fewer unexpected twists along the way. My hope is to take time to enjoy the little things and to make space for much needed rest after a year of constant activity.

Run a 5K (for real)

Last year, I finished a 5K and it felt pretty good. But I ended up walking a fair portion of the course and after the race, I stopped running. Now, months later, I’ve let the endurance I built up slip away. I’m increasingly aware that my physical fitness is well worth the investment of time and sweat. This year, I’d like to recommit to that goal with the intention of running again and this time, running the whole thing from start to finish.

Carve Out Time to Write

Two years ago, I set myself a goal to complete a novel manuscript by the time I turn 30. It’s been a difficult challenge. I spent a year not really knowing what I wanted to write, and last year, personal and professional upheavals made it impossible to create a regular writing routine. I have roughly 75,000 words to write and less than 365 days in which to get those words onto the page. This year, I need to get serious about my writing and carve out dedicated time to get the work done.

Well, there you have it, my three step process for achieving my highest potential in the coming year. What are your resolutions and how do you keep yourself on track? Sound off in the comments!

— 30 —

Jonny Eberle is a writer in Tacoma, WA. His recent short story, How to Steal Copper Wire, was recently reprinted in Grit City Magazine, Volume Two. You can find him on Twitter or hanging around with literary types in seedy libraries.

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The First Ten Thousand Words

15 Thursday Feb 2018

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Lean-to on the beach. Astoria, OR. Photo copyright Jonny Eberle.

This year, I committed to writing a novel. This week, I crossed the ten thousand word mark. After months of working on my premise, dreaming about the plot, and writing dialogue in my head, it’s starting to feel real. So, I thought I would share how I’m feeling at various stages of the process.

The first ten thousand words of a novel are a wild thing. You don’t know if it’s friendly or dangerous, predator or prey, but you can feel it breathing and you know that’s alive and beautiful. No one else has ever seen it before — you are the first to lay eyes on it. It is yours and yet still untamed, belonging to no one but itself. You find yourself drawn to it. You need to understand it.

The first ten thousand words are the unwrapping of a package that’s secured with glue and tape and twine and layers of sturdy paper. Each layer reveals another layer you didn’t know existed and only slowly do you start to get glimpses beneath the brown paper at the glistening thing within. You want nothing more than to unwrap the whole thing now, but you know that it will be more rewarding to take your time and inspect each facet as it comes into view.

The first ten thousand words are the planting of a flag on a desolate shore. Passersby scoff at you, but they can only see the sand. They cannot see the possibilities. They cannot see the city that you will build here. They cannot imagine how something so great can start out so humbly. You build a home on the desolate shore. Someday, it will seem small, but not today. Today, it is a palace.

— 30 —

Jonny Eberle is a writer in Tacoma, WA. His latest short story, The Disappeared, appears in Creative Colloquy Vol. 4, which you can find at King’s Books in Tacoma. Follow him on Twitter and subscribe to his monthly newsletter for exclusive content and recommended reads.

Wired for Story

18 Saturday Nov 2017

Posted by in Rants, Writing

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Brain

I don’t know about you, but I’m always writing stories in my head. A snippet of interesting conversation, an observation on the street, a song on the radio — my brain will wheel off on a creative tangent. I hear dialogue in restaurants. I imagine plot twists on my drive to and from the office. I don’t know what causes it, but I have always been wired for story.

I’ve heard that sculptors can see the finished piece in a hunk of raw marble and that composers can hear melodies that don’t yet exist. I think a writer’s brain must work the same way, because whether I have time to address the thought or not (more often not), these stories ricochet around in the echo chamber of my mind all day, every day. I can’t help it and even if I could turn it off, I wouldn’t want to.

It’s like having second sight. For everything that crosses my path, I can invent a backstory, a character or an entire fictional world from out of nowhere. I carry around a  notebook in a vain attempt to capture it, but 99% of the stories that flicker, unbidden, into existence escape me a moment later. Those that I do manage to hold onto for any length of time are often difficult to transcribe without losing some of their organic sheen. When I’m lucky, a story that I thought I’d lost will return and stay long enough to become tangible words on a page. Those are the ones worth waiting for.

I don’t tell you this to make myself seem like I have a special ability. I don’t. I might pay more attention to it, but I think we’re all wired this way. It’s what sets humanity apart — our imagination. We all have the power to see or hear things that never were and make them real. But you do have to slow down to give it time to work. What are the moments that cause you to ask, “What if?” What would happen if you allowed yourself room to answer that question? That’s all that writers do differently. Anyone can do it.

— 30 —

Jonny Eberle is a writer, photographer, and filmmaker in Tacoma, WA who has more stories whirling around his head than he knows what to do with. Follow him on Twitter and subscribe to his monthly newsletter for exclusive content and recommended reads.

A Writer and a Fraud

27 Thursday Oct 2016

Posted by in Procrastination, Rants, Writing

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This month, I put myself on the line. I dusted off the play that I wrote two years ago and started sending it to theatres and new play festivals around the country. Some of these programs are known for discovering brilliant playwrights that go on to fame, fortune, and accolades. And each time I hit send on a submission, I felt a little pang. Way back in the dark recesses of my soul, a little voice said, “They’re going to know you’re a fraud, you know.”

I’m told that this is a common fear. It even has a fancy name coined by a pair of psychologists in the late-70s: Imposter Syndrome. It is especially common among high achievers — celebrities, athletes, CEOs, and writers at the top of their games. Even the great poet Maya Angelou once admitted, “I have written eleven books, but each time I think, ‘Uh oh, they’re going to find out now. I’ve run a game on everybody, and they’re going to find me out.'”

Still, knowing that I’m in good company doesn’t make the feeling go away. In my cover letters that accompany my play, I explain my background and achievements as a short story writer and playwright, but what if my publications are just dumb luck?

I grew up in the generation drowning in praise. A played several years of soccer as a kid and came home at the end of each season with progressively larger trophies. For years, those trophies played into a mistaken belief that I was actually good at soccer. It didn’t dawn on me until high school that they were participation trophies. So, you can’t blame me for being skeptical of my prowess as a writer. If I was a charlatan, would I realize it?

And yet, that isn’t what worries me the most. If I can attribute my successes on the Imposter Syndrome, what’s stopping me from blaming it for my failures? What if someday I get a rejection and chalk it up to not being a real writer instead of learning from it and going back to rewrites?

So, I’m training myself to believe that I am the real deal in victory and defeat. If a story gets published, it’s because I worked hard and made it the best I could. If I get rejected, it isn’t for lack of talent. And when I send a play out into the big, cold world of modern American drama, I’m still working on having the confidence to claim that I am the genuine article.

— 30 —

Jonny Eberle lives and writes in the City of Destiny. You can find him on Twitter or join the mailing list.

My Fifth Blogiversary

22 Thursday Sep 2016

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Five years ago today, I started a writing blog. I didn’t really have a plan for what I was going to do once it was up and running, but it seemed like a natural extension of my dream of being a writer. I knew I needed a discipline; something that would force me to write on a regular basis. So, I signed up and paid for my domain name. The rest is history.

Looking over the last five years of blog posts, I can see my evolution as a writer. When I started, I posted twice a week. Two hundred seventy-eight posts later, my updates are more and more infrequent. I’m not as disciplined as I was when I embarked on this endeavor as a college junior. But that’s mainly because I’m so busy.

Since I started blogging in 2011, I’ve published three short stories, written a full-length stage play, moved across the country, and gotten married. Through it all, one of the few constants has been my writing. This blog has chronicled not just my writing life, but my everyday struggles and my existential crises along the way.

While I don’t have the time or the stamina to post biweekly, I still write on a regular basis. This week, I submitted a story to a popular fiction contest. Next week, I’ll start submitting my play to theatre festivals. I am also lucky to live in a city with a thriving literary scene, much of which is made possible by Creative Colloquy. My short story “Inheritance” will be appearing in Creative Colloquy Vol. 3.

As I look forward on another year of pursuing this wild dream, I am excited about the possibilities that lay before me. Most of all, I am humbled that you have chosen to experience it all with me. Thank you for reading. Here’s to five great years and many, many more to come.

— 30 —

Jonny Eberle is a writer in Tacoma, WA. You can follow him on Twitter or find him wandering downtown Tacoma on Wednesday, October 5 from 6-9pm for the second annual Creative Colloquy Crawl. Feel free to drop in and say hello!

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The Writer Goes to NYC

10 Wednesday Aug 2016

Posted by in Travel, Writing

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“Prometheus, teacher in every art, brought the fire that hath proved for mortals a means to mighty ends.” – Aeschylus

It’s famous cliche — a writer goes to New York City and find inspiration. But it’s a cliche for a reason. Back at the end of June, I went to the Big Apple for the very first time. It’s a place that I’ve read so much about in fiction and seen in movies and television that I felt like I’d been there before. The entire time, I had bouts of déjà vu about places I’d never seen with my own eyes. I’d turn a corner and I’d see Dashiell Hammett’s New York. Around another corner, there was Truman Capote’s New York. Once, across the river, I glimpsed Junot Diaz’s New Jersey. They all really exist, in fragments scattered across the city.

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Our arrival began like a novel. We emerged from a subway station on the Lower East Side on a sweltering hot night in the pouring rain. Completely disoriented, we scrambled with our suitcases down an unfamiliar street. At the intersection we looked up to see the Empire Stat Building looming over us. Its spire pierced the stormy clouds, unleashing the rain. At our AirBNB, it took us over half an hour to discover that you needed to turn the key twice in the lock to open the door. We ate Indian food and watched Hindi music videos before collapsing from exhaustion.

New York is a city with many faces. We awoke to a completely different New York. This one had sunshine and bagels and tourists clogging the sidewalks on either side of Fifth Avenue, all trying to get a selfie while people wash over them. We walked to the Chrysler Building’s gleaming art deco tower, observed the commuters speedwalking through Grand Central, hummed the 30 Rock theme song in Rockefeller Plaza, and strolled through Central Park. We saw 18th Century cathedrals sharing a block with modern steel-and-glass skyscrapers and ate an artichoke dip pizza. We walked the High Line and took in a Broadway show. We ate heavenly cannoli and had cocktails at a little place in Kips Bay. We attempted to immerse ourselves in everything New York City.

I can see why so many of my fellow writers have flocked to this artistic and cultural mecca for so long. If left to my own devices, I might’ve spent the entire trip holed up in the Strand reading first editions or people-watching in a cafe in Midtown. There is so much over everything crammed onto this island. It is electric with the buzz of history and reinvention. A Gutenberg Bible is on display at the New York Public Library. At the 9/11 Memorial, there is a haunting sense of loss, but also of rebirth as the memorial’s rows of trees and new buildings reach skyward.

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There is something about this place — something that writers and artists have known for generations — that I managed to glimpse. Stories ooze from every corner deli. I could ride the 6 Train from end to end with a pen and a notebook, observe people coming and going, and have material for dozens of short stories.

New York City is infectious. It is alive with energy; a beating heart of art and culture that makes you want to be a part of it. It’s the same quality that has drawn people here from all over the world. And after a couple of days in NYC, I was a bit overwhelmed by the sheer size of it all. It was good to come home to the quieter streets of Tacoma. But when I sat down to write again, all I could think about was New York. It has a way of capturing your imagination.

Author Walter Kirn once said, “My advice for aspiring writers is go to New York. And if you can’t go to New York, go to the place that represents New York to you, where the standards for writing are high, there are other people who share your dreams, and where you can talk, talk, talk about your interests.” I may not be a writer in New York, but I am a writer in Tacoma, a city with a blossoming literary scene. It has its stories to tell, as well, and it is full of writers who share my dreams. We can’t all be in New York, but I think we can all write as passionately and seriously as if we were.

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— 30 —

Jonny Eberle is a writer and photographer in Tacoma, WA with a serious travel bug. His newest short story, Inheritance, was published by Creative Colloquy. Follow him on Twitter or join the mailing list.

On Discipline (or Lack Thereof)

01 Monday Aug 2016

Posted by in Procrastination, Writing

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Every weeknight for the past three months, at precisely 9:00pm, a notification pops up on my phone. “Write,” it says. And almost every night, I ignore it. Back in the spring, I noticed that I was hardly writing and decided I needed a gentle prod to get back into the habit. So, I set a daily alarm to remind myself to write before going to bed. It didn’t work exactly as planned. I found excuses every time the alarm would buzz. Between quiet nights watching Netflix on the couch with my wife, social gatherings and travel, I managed to ignore the tiny digital voice that called me to write at 9:00pm sharp Monday through Friday. In fact, I became so adept at avoidance that I stopped noticing my screen illuminating each night.

Until last week, when over dinner the conversation turned to creative endeavors. It came up that I was a writer with a couple of published short stories under my belt. Someone asked, “What is your discipline for writing?” And I had to admit that I had none.

Jack London was one of the most prolific writers of the turn of the (last) century. Between 1900 and 1916, we wrote and published over 50 novels and works of nonfiction, in addition to hundreds of short stories and dozens of articles. He was successful because he had an ironclad discipline. No matter where he was or what he was doing — running his farm, building a sailboat or serving as a war correspondent — he always pushed himself to write at least 1,000 words a day. That’s nearly 6 million words over 16 years. You can see the same strategy being put to use by the most successful modern writers. Stephen King holds himself to 2,000 words a day — and doesn’t count adverbs.

Like an athlete training for a marathon or an actor preparing for a show, writers need to practice to be any good. You have to put in your time at the keyboard. Discipline is required.

Not long after that conversation, I felt a buzz in my pocket. It was my faithful reminder to drop what I’m doing and write. I knew I needed to shape up if I was expecting to continue calling myself a writer. I don’t think I’m quite ready to impose a daily word count. I’m starting with this blog; my first in over a month.

If I follow my new discipline, a blog will turn into a page of fiction, which will grow into a short story, which may give rise to a novel — a novel I can see through to completion only if I am dedicated to this proposition that a writer writes every day, no matter what.

I am an undisciplined artist, which is great if I only want to write as a side hobby. If I want to be a writer and build a career, I need more. I need to establish a discipline. Starting now.

— 30 —

Jonny Eberle is a writer and serial procrastinator who likes to share his thoughts here and on Twitter. His newest short story, Inheritance, was published by Creative Colloquy in June. If you see him after 9:00pm on a weeknight, yell at him and tell him to go home and write.

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The Value of a Truly Terrible Book

30 Monday Mar 2015

Posted by in Review, Writing

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I have a lot of books crammed into my little office at home and I’d estimate that I’ve only read about two-thirds of them. The rest are books that I just haven’t gotten around to yet. I’ve spent years collecting these books and dragging them halfway across the country on the off chance that on some rainy day, I’ll pull one off the shelf. This is the story of one of those books.

Ten years ago, I saw the film Sahara. It was an action-adventure about Dirk Pitt, a marine engineer and adventurer who saves the day and discovers a missing Civil War ironclad in the sands of Africa. It was thrilling stuff and despite being universally panned by critics, I liked it. So, I went down to Bookman’s and picked up a copy of one of novels the move was based on, Valhalla Rising.

And it sat on my shelf for the next ten years. Unread.

Then, about a month ago, I picked it up. I remembered liking the film and I liked that there was a viking ship on the cover, so I started to read. And it was awful. What the movie version of Dirk Pitt glossed over, the book revealed in agonizing detail. Pitt in the novel can do no wrong. Everyone around him worships him. Women fling themselves at him and he refuses their advances with long, sexist soliloquies about how he likes to have women cook and clean for him.

The plot is worse: full of impossible twists and turns, leaping from one world-ending crisis to the next (along with some unfortunate villainous plans that are eerily reminiscent of 9/11 — the book was published in August 2001 and features both planes crashing in Manhattan and a separate plot to destroy the World Trade Center). It is completely ridiculous from beginning to end. It’s also not about vikings.

I really didn’t like Valhalla Rising. I didn’t like the characters, the plot or the dialogue. Even the descriptions were poorly written, spending paragraphs explaining the horsepower of a WWII transport plane’s engine or the exact chiseling of Pitt’s face.

Still, I think there is something to be learned from this book. As a writer, I am often tempted to read the greats. When I read the masters of literature, I am struck by the complexity of their masterpieces. It can be hard to deconstruct an excellent work, because all the pieces are so carefully laid into place that I can’t see how they fit together.

On the other hand, when I read a really bad book, I can see the gaps. I see where the author tried something that didn’t quite work; where a line of dialogue fell flat; where a plot line was left dangling. Sometimes, I learn more from failure than from success.

Every writer should read a truly terrible book from time to time. It’s a good gut check of your own sense. You can critique as you go and you will be amazed by how many lessons you learn.

So, go ahead, grab that trashy paperback. You’ll probably learn a few things about the craft. Even if you don’t, let it motivate you. If that person can write a crappy manuscript and get it published, you can, too.

— 30 —

Jonny Eberle is a writer and avid reader of books both good and bad. You can follow him on Twitter. Apologies to Clive Cussler (even though he did appear as a fictionalized version of himself in his own book, which is weird).

Supporting My Writing Habit

11 Thursday Dec 2014

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This week, I read a very interesting roundtable article by Liz Entman Harper on The Morning News. In it, seven published writers talk about how they continue writing while still having a full-time, 9-to-5 job. This is a question that has plagued me since I started working: How can I follow my dreams of being an author and still keep the stability of a traditional job with an office and a regular paycheck? For years, I thought my ideal career would be as a full-time novelist, but now I’m not so sure.

“Overall, I love my job, but I also love the writing I do on the side. It can keep me going when things aren’t going well or I’m feeling stuck. My job also directly influences and impacts the content for my personal writing projects and gives me credibility with my audience. I also think my personal writing helps me be a better leader and a better creative at work. In other words, I need both.”

Reading this article reminded me that we don’t all become overnight sensations. Waiting around to become the next J.K. Rowling is impractical. It is far more likely that my writing career will have to coexist with my day-to-day, pay-the-bills career. And that’s okay.

For nearly two months last year, I worked as a freelance writer. I was working from home and it nearly drove me crazy. It turns out that I’m not cut out to be a hermit. I need human interaction. It gives me material for my work and gives me a break from the boredom of sitting at home alone trying to think of something to type.

The upsides of regular work — steady paycheck, ability to hold one’s head up high as a productive member of society — also come with downsides. After a long day at my 9-to-5, I’m often too tired to write when I get home. A lot of my creative energy gets siphoned off at work, leaving little left over for personal projects.

But those limitations can be opportunities. Limited time forces me to skip over writer’s block (there isn’t time to not write when I should be writing) and get straight to work. It forces me to focus my efforts into concentrated ingots of golden prose. It’s what the writers in the article termed “pushing an elephant into a Volkswagen.” This huge and important thing only gets a little bit of space, which gives you the incentive to be creative about how you balance both worlds — the personal and the professional.

In the long-run, I’ll probably always have a day job in addition to my writing. It may not be as glamorous as famous bestselling novelists, but it gives me balance. And even if I breakout and become a bestselling writer someday, I don’t think I’d ever be inclined to give that balance up.

— 30 —

Jonny Eberle is a writer with a day job that helps support his writing habit. You can follow him on Twitter.

The Journalist I Could’ve Been

12 Wednesday Feb 2014

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I haven’t set foot in a newsroom in years. These days, I research my foreign policy articles at Starbucks while sipping on chai. I studied Journalism and Political Science in college and served for a time as the Opinion Editor of the campus newspaper — not exactly on the front lines of breaking news.

I don’t know if I chose that major because I had any serious intention of becoming a professional journalist. I loved to tell stories, loved to write and was drawn to the field’s ideals. Information is vital to a democracy and a good newspaper did its part to educate the public. Journalism always seemed worthwhile.

But unfortunately, I decided to become a reporter at the height of the recession. Newspapers all over the country were shutting their doors. The daily broadsheet was being supplanted by left-wing and right-wing cable news that offered more commentary than fact. I was told very early on in my education that I shouldn’t expect to get a job at a paper.

So, I got a marketing job to pay the bills and never looked back. Well, almost never looked back. Sometimes, I would find myself rewriting the headlines on CNN or imagining how I would have approach a New York Times article from a different angle.

I quietly embarked on a career in marketing and public relations. I was working for a nonprofit, so it wasn’t like I had sold out my ideals. And when one of my old professors sent me an email about a part-time reporting job with the local paper covering the education beat and offered to put in a good word with the editor, I politely turned it down.

Two years later, I’m still haunted by that decision. In fairness, the position probably wouldn’t have led to anything. Newspapers are still hemorrhaging employees. Even veteran journos are getting cut left and right. But there are times when I wish I had taken the chance.

I got a freelance job a few months ago — just a side gig — writing articles on U.S. foreign policy topics. It isn’t hard-hitting journalism. I’m no Bob Woodward, but during the research process for a piece covering an assassination in central Beirut, I managed to unearth a tiny bit of news that had eluded the press. Mohammed Chatah had tweeted a jab at his political foes within minutes of his death, while major news sources were pinning his final message hours earlier. It was a small detail, but one that changed the story.

I’m not about to win any Pulitzers for my reporting, but to me it was a little victory. For a few shining moments, I felt like a real journalist; the reporter I had set out to become years ago. I may never work in a bustling newsroom, conducting interviews and breaking stories. Even so, if I can use what I learned in J-school to inform the public, even if it is on Twitter, I can catch a glimpse of what my life might’ve been like if I had pursued a newspaper career. And I think I can live with that.

 — 30 —

Jonny Eberle is a writer in Tacoma, WA and a graduate of the prestigious journalism department at Northern Arizona University. You can read his foreign policy writing on Grey Cell and follow him on Twitter.