Clowns and More

I'm up ridiculously early today, only because I have to finish a CD review today, hopefully before I head over to the day job. There aren't enough hours in the day.

My write-up of "Clowns!" which is showing at Corey Helford Gallery is online now. The highlight was my accidental meeting with Angus Oblong, a highlight because I'm up super late just about every weeknight and therefore never miss an episode of The Oblongs on Adult Swim.

Today's going to be mostly about trying to finish things that may never be finished. Trying to get a hold of people for interviews. Trying to get more people to send over hi-res photos. Why is it that people with nightclubs never seem to have hi-res photos of their parties (LA folks are exempt from this, you are media savvy)? It's a necessity, everyone who anticipates press for anything needs at least one hi-res (300 dpi) photo ready for the press. End story.

Dollies!

After doing the Elfdoll/Ball-Jointed Doll story for the LA Weekly, I decided that I wanted to do more projects involving BJDs. I decided that I want a BJD myself.

Given both the shitty economy and my current status as an only-slightly-less-struggling writer than I was last year, I can't afford a BJD. Right now, I have to be content to just appreciate these works of art from afar. So, I went to gaze longingly at an eclectic mix of dolls last Saturday, when a local group of collectors met at Pacific Media Expo. (I brought one of my friends who read the article and decided that she wants one as well.)

You can see all of the photos I took on Flickr. Here are some of my favorites.

Long Days

Once you leave the Valley on on the westbound 101, the real sprawl of Southern California is revealed. I always thought that Westlake Village, Newbury Park, Thousand Oaks, etc. were more or less next to each other in the same way that Northridge, Granada Hills, North Hills and Reseda are. Instead, there are miles and miles of freeway in between the towns, the side of the road looking sort of pastoral, at least pastoral in a dry, fire-zone sort of way that marks our fair half of the State.

I headed out to Camarillo to do an interview. The drive there, with barely any traffic, took just over an hour. It seems to be roughly the same distance as driving to Pomona, but it is a much nicer trek. It was a good interview and I'm glad that I made the drive because seeing things in person always gives the story a much better perspective.

I got home later than I had expected, having hit the typical gridlock that runs every which way through the Valley in the evening. Missed a meeting I wanted to attend, but I kind of figured that would happen.

I think this story is going to turn out pretty well.

The Day Sort of Looks Like This

The few times that I have spoken to people about writing, someone has asked about writer's block. My answer is typically the same, I start working on something else.

I don't know if today's episode is so much a block, as the bulk of the story is done. It's more like those big bumps in the road that my idiot neighbors had the city install, you know the kind that you swear will rip off the bottom half of your car one of these days. Point being though, I can't think straight right now, so I have to move on to something else.

I have two different assignments that will take me through the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. When I return home, I will write up one of the assignments to turn in tomorrow. Then, hopefully, I will be able to finish this piece.

But I Only Have 1000 Words

One thousand words is a solid length for a music piece, it's long enough to go past hype and touch upon details, but not so long that the story will meander. Most of the time, I can compose a 1000 word profile without experiencing stress-related stomach-churns and back spasms. This story, though, is a little different.

I won't give away the subject of the article, but I will say that it is one of my favorite bands and it is a story that I have been wanting to do in this capacity for a while because a) it was a band I actually interviewed ten years ago, but I wanted to do it again because I'm better at the job now and b) it's a band that I truly believe people should hear. This band literally brought me to teenage hysteria the first time I saw them live (granted, I might have still been a teenager at the time, or had just turned 20). That night, I think I spent most of the time inadvertently screaming into my friend Tony's ear. It's a band that is so prolific that despite having spent a very pretty penny amassing a collection, I have only acquired, at the very most, 10% of the entire discography. It's a band on which I can write 10,000 words in a state of half-drunk, half-sleep, when I am the least coherent. But, I only have 1000 words and I'm trying to express the significance of a band that is still virtually unknown outside of certain subcultures despite almost thirty years of existence, over 100 releases (estimated) and countless tours. On top of that, there are so many details in the band's history that are crucial to explaining what it is now and now that I have two or three hundred words to go, I fear that I might accidentally leave out something important. Maybe I should just free write for an hour and take it from there.

This is the curse of knowing too much.

Mon Dieu, I Should Have Taken French

When you grow up in Los Angeles, as I did, taking Spanish is strongly recommended, and by "strongly recommended" I mean practically forced upon you. It's practical, they say. Everybody speaks it our here, they say.

I took Spanish. I can read it. If I'm paying attention, I can understand it. If I didn't fear sounding like Peggy Hill, I might even be able to speak it. But the truth is that, in my writing, I've never needed to know Spanish.

On the other hand, as someone who typically covers music, music gear and subculture sort of stuff, it would be helpful if I knew German, Japanese or French. It's unlikely that I would ever have to conduct an interview in a language other than English, but it would help with research.

Right now, I'm researching a story where I have come up with tons of information-- en francais. I never took French. All I know of the language is what I remember Miss Piggy screaming on The Muppet Show. Not good.

I'm aware of the website translating programs out there, but in my experience, none has ever translated a page to read like anything resembling English.  Roo, if you're reading this, I'm probably going to hit you up to help me make sense of some stuff.

Today's Lesson

My former thesis advisor (who I should add is an amazing professor) invited me to speak to her class today about freelance writing, music writing, etc.  While I have spoken to classes a few times before, I always find it a strange, exciting experience.  I don't consider myself to be all-knowing, but in two years of actively pursuing freelance employment, I've gained a lot of practical knowledge that I thought might benefit college journalism students, many of whom, if they choose to pursue a career in the field, will end up working freelance.  I'll post some of the ideas from the lecture/dialogue here over the course of a few posts, just in case you're interested.

I told the class that I have a day job.  I don't even tell most of my friends that I have a non-journo job, mostly because there's a sense of embarrassment about the whole thing, like I'm not a real writer because 100% of my income is not based on my writing.

I told the class because I thought they should absolutely no illusions about the freelance life.  It's not easy.  Yes, I have a day job.  If the economy weren't so scary and if I didn't have a mountain of student debt (which they, too, will most likely have to pay back soon), then I wouldn't need the day job as most of my income comes from freelancing.  But that's not the reality of living in Los Angeles in 2008. I fortunately, have a part-time job with flexible hours and bosses who know and understand what I do.  That makes it a lot easier than my last pre-journalism job, which was completely inflexible and chock full of responsibility.

The problem with day jobs isn't necessarily the lack of time (although that is a dilemma, one I solved by not sleeping), it's the number it does on your self-esteem.  Writers, artists, musicians, actors, these are fields where no one takes you seriously unless you're rich and famous.  Hell, even people in my own family don't take my writing seriously.  I'll admit, I was hurt by people's reactions at first, then I thought about it.  Teachers take on second jobs all the time, particularly during the summer months, but they're still teachers.  Does anybody talk about how so-and-so is working as a bartender because he/she can't cut it as a teacher?

My point being, we're writers first.  That's our job.  Anything we do on the side is just that, a side gig to help supplement our incomes.  There's no shame in that.

The Soundtrack

Once upon a time, I always wrote to the radio.  I had my boom box plugged in and turned on throughout elementary school and on through college.  I typed term papers to the beat of Expose and then Depeche Mode, onto Prodigy, Nine Inch Nails, Chemical Brothers, Aphex Twin, Basement Jaxx.

I wrote to the radio because I didn't have to deal with flipping over tapes and albums or messing around with buttons every time a CD skipped.  I never knew what I was going to get, but I was certain that I would like most of it.

Then I started to hate radio (exceptions: Big Sonic Heaven on Indie, some KXLU shows that I haven't been able to hear since the Christian station took over and most of the weekend DJ mix shows in LA).  This, of course, made writing more difficult.  I tried writing along with the sound of the stations on my digital cable.  That worked for a bit, until I realized that the rotation was just as limiting as terrestrial radio.  I tried writing to the sounds emanating from my iTunes, but I didn't want to deal with creating playlists and I wanted to have that element of surprise.

Now I'm onto Pandora and it seems to be working out alright  I based my station on Hercules & Love Affair, the only band to emerge in 2008 that I flat-out, completely love.  That said, I get a good mix of Erlend Oye and the Human League, which makes me happy.  I have no complaints yet.

Update: Uh, it seems like Pandora repeats quite a bit as well.  That said, I'm making more stations.

The Hardest Part Is Getting Started

The moments, which could mean hours, days or weeks, before the story unfolds are agonizing. Time creeps away as I delete one pathetic sentence after the next.  But then, usually one week to two days before the story is due, it hits me and I have to write it down at that moment or else I will lose it and it's back to the starting point.

Today, the story that I have to turn in next Tuesday appeared, one paragraph after the next, in my mind.  I started to type, got all of one and a half sentences onto a page when the phone rang. Of course, no one else would bother to pick up the phone, so I stupidly did.  It was a call that would have normally been of no consequence, except that when I hung up, I completely forgot what I was writing.

Mi Mis

Got through the day on less than three hours of sleep.  Haven't done that since college.  

By 1 p.m., I was feeling alright, having benefitted from the effects of two diet sodas.  The caffeine, though, has since worn off and now I feel like I'm walking through a dream.  A very boring dream.

Time for a nap.

5:30 a.m. Eternal

As it would so happen, 3 a.m. rolled around and I couldn't get the call to the U.K. to connect.  Tried and tried and eventually got through about an hour later.  Interesting considering this is the only phone card with which I have had no previous problems connecting.  Maybe I should try Skype.  (Anybody ever use that?)

But then the interview happened and went for some time.  In fact, I just got off the phone all of ten minutes ago.  (It was a fascinating interview, but you'll have to wait to read it.) And despite the fact that I thought I might fall asleep whilst dialing the phone call, I now cannot get to sleep.  I shall try, though.  

3 A.M. Eternal*

The thing that really sucks about living in L.A. is that we are, in terms of literal time, behind pretty much everyone save for Hawaii and maybe a few other places I never call.  This might not make much of a difference were it not for the fact that when you cover music, particularly electronic music, you end up having to do phone interviews with people in Europe fairly often.  Now, most of the time, you can make arrangements to try and get the interview at a halfway decent hour in the morning, usually that means 8 a.m., but sometimes you can push it to 9 or 10.  Other times though, usually when you're down to deadline and you want to get the interview done before Friday so that you can write the piece over the weekend, you will end up doing the interview much earlier, let's say, 3 a.m.

Right now, I'm waiting for 3 a.m.

The thing about those middle-of-the-night interviews is that you can't sleep, because if you do (or at least, if I do), you might not wake up in time to check the recorder, the calling card, et cetera.  

In an attempt to kill time, I went out on the town.  Met up with my friend Daniel at the Troubadour so that we could catch Darker My Love.  It was crowded and I must say that I wasn't feeling too hot, but a fun time was had.  We hung around the bar well after the show ended, walked down to the grocery store, cracked jokes about the club with tons of paparazzi and no celebrities.

But you can only stay out for so long.

Now, I'm home watching Burn Notice.  I doubt this will put me to sleep.  I know One Life to Live is on at 2, but if the show is still airing that asinine time travel story line, I might be toast.

Tomorrow, I mean later today, is really going to suck.

* KLF might keep me awake