Matthew Wayne Selznick

My, that’s a provocative title, no? Well, it’s nothing like that… it’s simply that I’m finally getting back to finishing my novel, “Brave Men Run.”

See, July has been just awful when it came to writing. There was just too much pressure from the Cursed Day Job, too many outside things taking not just my time but, more importantly, my energy. Today, a few days before the end of the month and more than thirty days since I’ve written a word of the book, I’m just starting to feel halfway normal.

Yesterday I dipped into the book and read the last few scenes. And I felt like I could get back to it. I felt the trepidation slipping away, and started to hear my characters speak again.

Trepidation? Yep. See, I’m in the last third… maybe the last quarter… of a piece of work that’s been building in me for better than fifteen years. Now, I don’t say that to create an inflated sense of the book’s literary merit — this is a light piece of science fiction, a coming of age story with a helping of innocence lost, not “The Remembrance of Things Past.”

But yeah, I feel a certain fear as I approach the work these days. Fear that I don’t know what I’m doing. Fear that the ending that’s in my head just won’t play on the page. Fear that it’s gonna suck.

I’ve never finished a novel before. However, I’ve never made it this far before, either. I know I have issues with finishing creative works, especially written ones. Not sure what that’s about, but I think it may be a general fear of failure. If the work is never finished, I don’t have to worry if it’s ever any good, right?

Well, I’m gonna finish this. I have to.

And today, I’m gonna get back to writing the damn thing.

Went and saw “War of the Worlds” today. Find myself liking Tom Cruise in just about everything he’s in… despite myself. So what if he thinks there are evil aliens hiding in volcanoes, or whatever.

Made the mistake of seeing the movie at the local movie theatre, instead of driving half an hour “down the hill” to the bigger place. My wife and I avoid seeing movies in town because…

Well, because of times like today. Everyone — everyone! around us insisted on talking like we were in their living room. And of course, when a polite “shh, please,” is issued by myself, I get a look like I’ve done just about the rudest thing imaginable.

The guy in front of us, super loud, said, “Hey, Morgan Freeman!” during the intro and outro voice overs. I wanted to kick the back of his head. Instead, I leaned over toward him and said at his ear, “Hey, what do you know, Morgan Freeman did the narration!”

No one picked up their trash.

No one stayed through the credits.

By the time the lights came up and people were getting out of their seats, I felt compelled to say, loudly, “Does everyone in this fucking town think they’re the only people in the room when they go to fucking movies???”

Then… then!!! Walking out to the car, some spiky-haired teenaged future general contractor almost plowed directly into my wife. He just kept talking on his cell phone. I don’t know if I could have taken him, honestly, but I was so pissed off at the shithole I live in at that point that I was willing to try.

That was not to be, however, since… ultimate insult to injury… a fucking godseller made a bee-line for us, pamphlet in hand, and started to ask me, “Hello sir, are you having a good day?”

“I’m having a good enough day that I don’t want to talk to you,” I said. I held up my hand. I’m not a person prone to violence, but if he’d come any closer I would have used that hand to push him onto the pavement.

Fucking town. I don’t mind living here. It’s the people I hate. A couple nights ago, at dinner after seeing the “Fantastic Four” (stinko!), I overheard a young man patiently explaining to his girlfriend how Israel came to be. Quote: “After WWII, when the Hebes were practically exterminated by Hitler, America looked around and said, ‘what are we going to do with all these Hebes that don’t have a place to live?’ So we stuck ‘em in Israel.”

He later made a comment to the effect that he didn’t understand how Germany could be made to go along with Hitler. Hmmm… how about making the casual dehumanization of a culture socially acceptable, eh, redneck?

Yes, I see the double irony. Get off my back.

Fucking town. So many NASCAR lovin’, flag-wavin’, pro-life, christian, white, talk-radio-listening, perpetual sunburned, cologne-wearing, monocultured assholes!

Sigh. Did I mention that I still notice the funny looks my Asian wife and I get when we go to resturaunts, now and then?

Oh well. I sold out to get here, essentially. My house has doubled in value in three years. All it cost was my mortal soul.

Fuck.

It’s the Go-Betweens “Bye Bye Pride.” Originally from their “Tallulah” record, it’s appeared in various forms (mostly live) on other recordings of theirs — most recently a semi-acoustic live version on their new disk, “Oceans Apart.”

I know it won’t have the same effect on you, but for me, every time I hear it, my chest tightens, I feel happy, I feel sad, I feel exhilerated, I feel nostalgic and a touch melancholy, and I feel optomistic and hopeful. Sometimes, purging tears spring to my eyes… not weeping so much as a gentle release of pressure.

Every time.

I love that song. I owe so much to that band, for that song, and for others that sometimes come close. But “Bye Bye Pride” does it every time.

Just wanted to share. What’s your favorite song ever? Why?

Oh yeah… once again, thank you, Anne.

When I think about backing off from endeavors that take lots of time, are “good works,” and yet get little or no feedback or acknowledgement… am I being intelligent about where I put my resources, or am I being selfish and restless?

Or is it my own fault, and I just don’t know how to promote what I create?