Matthew Wayne Selznick

It’s been two months since I’ve posted anything to Scribtotum. Two or three of you might be wondering… wtf?

I guess the simplest thing I can say is that I’m still recognizing patterns in my creativity, even now, edging toward forty-one. I need to make stuff — I get a little wonky if I’m not being creative. Thing is, my creativity doesn’t strongly manifest in any one endeavor. Sure, I mostly write, and now and then write music. But I also find fulfillment in things that don’t have an obvious end result that’s consumable by others. Things like world-building, plotting, and tinkering with web sites.

My strongest creative focus in the last two months has been working on making a new mattselznick.com. This has been done in fits and starts, and is now mostly done. Take a gander at the forum post (hey, there are forums now!) for details on that. It’s been a little frustrating, but it did scratch that particular creative itch.

How do I know this? Over the last couple weeks, I’ve had an increasing urge to create in other ways.

I’ve missed posting to this blog — a couple of things have happened in the last two months that I’m eager to write about, and I’ll be commenting on them after the fact. I’ve missed playing brain-tag with my hypothetical readers. So I’m blogging again, and (probably) more often than before.

I’m also beginning to think about the characters in “Pilgrimage” again. I want to dive back into that book, and others. I still have my goal of 200,000 words written in 2008, and I still believe that’s achievable. Finishing “Pilgrimage” will be a decent chunk of that, and my mind is buzzing with the urge to dive into other, non-Sovereign Era projects, too.

Finally, I have an urge to podcast again. I went on a voluntary hiatus from podcasting in October of 2007 — the original intent was to not podcast until “Pilgrimage” was finished. One thing I’ve learned in the last six months or so is that arbitrary restrictions on how and why I make stuff is counter-productive. I’m not entirely sure, but I have a suspicion that doing so actually causes me to rebel against myself on a semi-conscious level. I’ve learned that the best thing I can do for my creative health is express myself when and how I want, without fretting over external pressures or self-imposed attempts to corral myself into doing one thing or another. So podcasting is coming back, with “one podcast to rule them all,” Sonitotum. I’m hoping to post an episode this weekend where I’ll talk about what that means.

I hope everyone will come along for the ride. Subscribe to Scribtotum, this blog. Subscribe to Sonitotum, the podcast. Register on this site, leave comments when I post, and participate in the forums. I’m looking forward to talking with all of you again.

From Jared by way of Steve:

“My standard for verisimilitude is simple and I came to it when I started to write prose narrative: fuck the average reader. I was always told to write for the average reader in my newspaper life. The average reader, as they meant it, was some suburban white subscriber with two-point-whatever kids and three-point-whatever cars and a dog and a cat and lawn furniture. He knows nothing and he needs everything explained to him right away, so that exposition becomes this incredible, story-killing burden. Fuck him. Fuck him to hell.”
- David Simon (producer of The Wire), from The Believer

That quote is now hanging above my desk. Rawkin’

Over at mattselznick.com, I’ve been writing about consolidation. With friends, I’ve been discussing obligation, and habit, and best practices, right action, and how all those things shift and change with circumstance, energy, and self-knowledge.

Over here, I’ve been wondering if I’m putting too many barriers up — barriers between users and content, and barriers between me and my creativity.

I’ve been asking myself the question: what’s best for my creativity? How do I work?

Well, honestly, at ‘pert near forty, I’m still figuring that out (forty is the new twenty five.) Writing in 2006 and the first half of 2007 has shown me that some things work, and some things don’t. This “open novel” experiment isn’t working.

I don’t have a problem with the concept of sharing the rough draft, the raw spewings of “Pilgrimage.” I certainly don’t have a problem with sharing my thoughts and observations as I write. It’s the platform. It’s the extra steps in the flow, and the extra steps that will be necessary down the line when I try to translate a manuscript from WordPress or MediaWiki into a word processor or text file. Line breaks. Paragraph indents. Stuff like that.

Plus, let’s face facts: Over 100 people have registered to see the “semi-public” portions of this site, but the interaction I was hoping for comes from a very small handful of stalwart folks — the same folks who are kind enough to comment consistently on all my sites. I love you folks (you know who you are) and I’m confident you’ll go where I go — confident, and grateful.

So. Here’s what’s happening:

• I’m gonna write Pilgrimage in Open Office, or a text file, or something normal like that, with an outliner or spreadsheet to help out. Like I wrote “Brave Men Run.” Like I wrote “Reggie vs. Kaiju Storm Chimera Wolf.” It works.
• Pilgrimagenovel.com will redirect to a Pilgrimage category at my personal site, mattselznick.com — this is part of the Great Consolidation. I’ll continue to post about the process of writing this book, and I continue to encourage you to comment. This will happen probably before the first of July 2007.
• Naturally, the need to register will disappear. If you want to keep up with my life and times, as always, you can subscribe to the newsletter — and I hope you have, or do.

I feel a little weird turning my back on the original deal — writing in public. Still, I gotta hope that what you all really want is for me to finish the book. That’s the goal here, right? So thanks for bearing with me while we tried this out, and thanks for understanding now that I’ve realized it was a misstep on the rocky road of Matt’s Productivity.

The Great Consolidation continues!

So, Balticon 41 is over, and I’m on my way home. On an airplane, actually, having just taken off from Cleveland. I’ll be in Las Vegas in three hours or so, then, a few hours after that, Ontario, and up the hill to home.

It should be midnight by the time I hit the sack. Maybe later. Since I’ve had since Thursday to acclimate myself to Eastern Time, this means I won’t sleep until three AM. I may try to sleep on the plane; it’s hot and full of people and we’re chasing the sun toward twilight, so I’ll probably nod off eventually.

Meanwhile, though, while the laptop has about ninety minutes of battery power… what about Balticon?

This will be the fifth of these post-convention recaps I do. Portable Media Expo One and Two, WorldCon, Podcamp West, and now Balticon 41. I went because people who are dear to me… and people who are newly dear to me… were going. And while there were remarkable moments at other cons… particularly PME Two and WorldCon, Balticon was more remarkable than not.

In the past, I’ve gone through and made a bullet list of people and events. There’s good reason to do that now. First, though… I want to talk about my soul.

Yes, I know, Matt doesn’t believe in the soul, as Matt doesn’t believe in religion, or god, or an afterlife. So what is the soul to Matt? Is it that thing that causes him to lapse into referring to himself in the third person? Apparently. That’s not all, though.

How about we describe it as the thing in me that feels connected to others; the comfort of friends both new and old – friends as distant as the other side of the country and as close as the speed of light down a wire or through the air. There’s a… fullness in me. A warmth. That’s what I’m taking back from Balticon.

Thursday night to Monday night, this convention was about connection. It was a… convenction? Why not.

See, I generally feel fairly disconnected, physically, from my tribe. I am, in fact. The geographically closest of those who are soul-close to me are six hours away, at least. Skype and Twitter are notes tossed across the classroom because you’re not allowed to get up from your desk… and these conventions are recess, or even those faux-rebellious occasions when the whole class just doesn’t show up for school. I needed to be with my tribe… and this weekend, the tribe became stronger, and larger, and even more important.

Here are some of the moments that fed my soul, made me more complete… moments that in some cases took spider’s thread and tempered it to wound steel. I’ll try to do this in order, but I know that will lapse. I’ll try not to leave anyone out, but I know I will.

• Embracing Mur Lafferty when she stepped out of the car at the airport curb. At last, my friend was real and tangible and there, and it was like I forgot what Christmas was until I went downstairs and saw the presents.
• Shaking hands with Jason Adams, and though we’ve rarely been in contact over the months, slipping immediately into familiarity and camaraderie.
• Meeting J.C. Hutchins a few minutes and a few few terminals later and, over the space of just a few hours, realizing that – physical similarity to an old, lost friend notwithstanding – every powerful, certain assumption I had about his heart and sincerity and open good nature was underestimated, and that this man is my brother.
• Evo and Sheila have long since passed into family in my heart… each time we’re reunited, I feel like minutes have passed, not months. I think that might be why we never manage to say goodbye at the end of almost every one of these things — after all, we’re only going to be a minute!
• Biscuit is a punk rocker, yeah. Nice to meet another old punk. Well, not as old as me…!
• Earl Newton and I need to build something. We’ve got lots of wood and nails, acres of open land… I have a feeling one of these days we’ll lean over a big blank blueprint with our pencils and t-squares. On that day, watch the hell out.
• Being in the same room with Jared Axelrod and J.R. Blackwell bathed me in the promise and power and patience of love. Jared made a gift of his creativity, which was unexpected, unheeded… and unprecedented. J.R. made me leap, not once but three times, and while I groused and play-whined about it, I would have done it from the roof if she had asked. These crazy kids taught me things, and they didn’t even try. “Annnnnndddd….!”
• I met Jack Mangan last year, and for some reason that was the extent of our contact until this weekend. I’m not making that mistake again. Thanks for getting me up on that stage, Jack, and for indulging me Sunday night. Some fallow ground has been turned in me, thanks to you.
• Out of nowhere, I found myself promising Paul Fischer a brand-new song from me to play when my interview on the Balticon Podcast posts later this year. I better find out how much later this year…!
• When I saw Mike Mennega tear up at the end of the Wingin’ It roast, I damn near did, too. I was not involved in the events of early Spring – no more so than most of twelve hundred people were – but I have a pretty good idea of his compassion, and sacrifice, and the depth of his capacity to love. I’m very glad we got to play music together, and talk story over lunch.
• Leann Mabry has jumped off the cliff and she’s growing her wings on the way down. Next time I see here, she’ll be soaring, and I’ll be running to catch up.
• If Phil Rossi is game, “First Of May” won’t be the only time we collaborate long-distance. Need any bass tracks laid down, Phil..? You call me, rock star.
• The same thing goes for Heather Welliver, whose amazing, powerful, defiant voice pushed my own to places it hasn’t braved for many a year.
• Matt Wallace doesn’t know that I want to be as good as he is. Well, now he does.
• Next time Jim Van Verth and I are at the same con together, when he quietly and mysteriously slips off away from everybody, I want to come with him. I get the feeling there are layers to this man… “like a parfait,” to coin a phrase. Plus, if I’m gonna be one of the sailors on the good ship Mur, I want to get to know the anchor.
• Meeting the Press family and Matt was wonderful beyond belief – “Brave Men Run” continues to inspire others, and their love of that book continues to inspire and energize me.
• Christiana Ellis has the moxie and good grace to join the Writers Talking panel… and during her introduction I blank utterly on the name of her podcast novel, which is “Nina Kimberly The Merciless.” I owe you one, Christiana.
• Evangelizing new media and the DIY ethic to James in the hall – also awesome. Another convert, and I can’t wait to see what he does! And James: don’t worry, when I get settled in, I will contact you with details. Or Skype me!
• Command Line, copyfight warrior! He rocked the exhausted, delayed, last panel of the day, and pulled me out of bleary-headed walking sleep into engagement with his clarity. Fight on, brother!
• Rick, Matt, John, Laura… we didn’t have much time during the con, but we had a wonderful time after, didn’t we? We broke bread, and shared, and gently tucked the whole long weekend into bed with heart and trust and honesty.
• Late, late Monday night over Skype, Steve Eley and I took out our pocket knives, pierced our palms, and shook hands. Steve: You need, you ask… I do.

So now I’m writing in the terminal in Las Vegas, and I have one short flight to go in about forty minutes. I’m almost home.

I miss my friends. I miss my tribe. Flying over the green East, headed for the tan and brown West, I realized I don’t need to live in California the rest of my life – I miss forests, and rivers. It’s time to be where my friends are. I need ‘em.

Now… how am I going to be able to afford DragonCon???? My soul demands it… my bank account scoffs.

I’m a musician, and I’m against overly-zealous copyright legislation, and I believe in the right of artists to be paid for their endeavors, and I don’t think file sharing hurts music, and I do think file sharing helps music, and I support the Electronic Frontier Foundation and Creative Commons, and I’m against broadcast flags and DRM, and I don’t support the RIAA…

…and I’m a registered member of ASCAP, the American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers.

For a while now, I’ve felt mildly conflicted.

Recently, ASCAP, along with BMI and the RIAA, filed suit to have the laws changed so that a digital download would be the same as a public performance, in legal terms. Also, the RIAA-supported guidelines on new, exorbitant rates for streaming music providers were recently adopted, which could put many internet radio stations out of business.

All of this has helped me feel less conflicted. The only rights-management organization to which I belong is ASCAP. It’s time to sever my relationship with them. I don’t support many of their decisions, and I don’t support the agencies and organizations they are allied with. As a member, though, I tacitly am showing my support. It’s time for that to stop.

Of course, there is no evident place on the ASCAP web site where one can leave their service. So I’ve written to them, today. We’ll see how long it takes to get a response.

Look, I believe that creativity deserves compensation. If you make something and others consume your creation through experience, you have a right to be paid for their experience.

But everywhere I look, the stewards of that right seem to be on the side of those who want to control expression and, by extension, the free flow of ideas and innovation. I don’t want any part of it.

I’m a musician. I’m slowly putting my entire recorded output on this very site. Everyone is encouraged to download, stream, play in their podcasts, etc., this music. It’s all licensed under a Creative Commons Share Music License — you can download, copy, file-share, trade, distribute, and publicly perform (e.g. webcast) it, so long as you don’t profit from it in any way, change it in any way, and you give me credit any time you use it. If you enjoy the music, please compensate me with whatever you think the music is worth, balanced by whatever you can afford:

If you want to use my music commercially, if you want to cover it in your own band and put it on your own CD, or license it for some purpose that otherwise falls outside of the Share Music License, just get in touch with me. We’ll work something out.

I’m done with ASCAP. I wonder how long it will take them to contact me, so that they can be done with me?

– Update 03-05-2007 –

I received an e-mail from ASCAP today. In order to resign my membership, I need my election date — the date I became a member. The e-mail instructed me to call Member Services to get that information.

The Member Services rep (nice guy, very helpful) let me know that acquiring the election date involved his filing a written request on my behalf. Apparently this has been the case for several years — something the woman who wrote the e-mail was apparently unaware of.

So once I have my election date, I’ll be able to fill out some forms and mail them in to resign my membership.

But wait! There’s more!

The guy on the phone seemed shocked to discover that ASCAP has been holding a check for me… and that they’ve had my money “for some time,” as the Member rep put it.

Just what “some time” means, I didn’t ask. I reckon I’ll find out when I get my check for $27.00.

But wait!

In order for them to send me this money that they collected on my behalf… money that apparently came from broadcast of one or more of my songs (a surprise to me, frankly)…. I have to send them a fax saying “please release my money!”

Needless to say, I’m even more eager than ever to terminate my relationship with this organization.

More to come!

– Update: 03-07-2007 –

Maybe ASCAP had such a good year because they hold on to the artists’ money! I want my $27.00, futhermuckers!