Bhagwan @ Large

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In 6 hours, my feet will no longer hug the earth as I wend my way east to destiny.

Or Columbus, Ohio. The two are often confused, though I must confess that this trip will be somewhat interesting for me. I’ve been attending industry conventions in that city for well over a decade, but this will be the first one I attend purely as a visiting Author.

More to the point, this will also be the first convention I attend in Columbus where I’m not winning, sponsoring, or accepting any awards. This is a new thing for me, and a situation I hope will not continue.

I take with me a newly revised novel, once again ready to shop around and be nearly as impressive as my manly locks and bushy beard. Perhaps the book has more legs than that, though I’ve managed to cut out a good 9% of it on this pass, including an opening section consisting of the first words ever written on this project, more years ago than I care to count.

Why do I mention this? Because some of you were kind enough to read it and give much needed, and in some cases, very usefully brutal feedback. I’m also a far better writer than I was two years ago, (or ten, for that matter), and some things about the book no longer made me happy. There was too much stuff going on “then,” and not enough “Now.” Both have their place, even within this particular genre. But one simple exercise (just done oh-so-scientifically on my machine) showed me how well I was able to turn off my editor while writing, and how much the book suffered for it.

And I am a very good editor.

I did a search for the words “had” and “been” in the text. Those of you struggling to find a voice for your piece may recognize these words. I, for one, had been very happy with the previous draft, and somewhat disappointed the editor who had been interested in it never responded, though it had only been a year gone when I realized the horrible mistake of

Passive Voice and Past Perfect Participles.

Seriously, Don’t do it. You especially should not discover that in revising the text, instances of Had and Been drop from 1448 and 271 to 507 and 164 respectively.

In a 108K manuscript, that’s death. I’m somewhat upset it didn’t drop further, but there are specific instances where the words are necessary to maintain the feel I want.

Bummer.

This streamlined, 100K masterpiece for the ages should do the trick. I hope so anyway, since I’ve already written its sequels.

Poorly, no doubt. But that’s the fun of being a writer, yah?

5 hours to go

In 5 hours’ time, I leave the state of Hawai’i and return to “normal” life. I take with me memories, new shirts, and less money than I brought.

I have perhaps been here 2 days too long. Perhaps it is that I miss the comfort of my own bed, though I have slept better here in Waikiki than in many months at home. Perhaps I want to simply sit on my couch and enjoy those things I have put into my home to entertain me. But those things are merely objects, it is my use of them that gives purpose and meaning. this can happen anywhere, and the computer I use to type this works equally well in both locations.

I think perhaps it is the veneer that affects me the most. 1 mile from the beach here is a decaying city like any other in the United States. Hawaii’s #1 export is Hawaiians, and replacements rarely bring with them new means of support other than “we’ll open an XX store on the beach and never work again.”

Unlike our home, there are very few empty shops here. Not on the beach, anyway. A mile away there are plenty, for much the same reason they are vacant in Seattle. There is not enough money to go around, and when locals cannot afford local products, those items cease production.

Our 50th State is a model for Manifest Destiny. On the pretense that the island chain was needed to wage war against a country on the other side of the planet, our great nation reached out its hand and finished what a greedy group of its citizens started 5 years previous by overthrowing a peaceful, responsive, and democratic monarchy in favor of a “Committee of Safety.” A century later that same nation apologized publicly for this gross abuse of power.

Today, we see doomed citizen’s measures across the islands hoping to halt exploitation, reserve farmlands and preserves, and keep Hawai’i Hawaiian. Water, power, people–all dwindle steadily and are replaced by imported versions of same, which in turn further reduce the state’s self-sufficiency.

Paradise was nice to visit. Especially the quarter-mile strip running around the island next to the water. Surfing, sailing, sitting and snorkeling are fine activities, but they do not pay the rent. They are a reward for hard work, one that focuses the soul towards a state where every day can be lived care-free. One cannot live on gravy all the time–there must be meat to the meal.

It’s time to go home. Back to the caves, back to the real. Back to clocks, and schedules, deadlines and deliveries. To a place where the rain is cold and lasting, where life has more meaning, but less sunshine.

Paradise is not lost. It is left behind. In this place a world away from our lives is a cautionary tale–Pay attention to the things around you. Make sure you can always enjoy them. Make sure they can be shared with others.

Paradise is not a location, it is a concept. A fleeting glimpse of how life could have been, and a reminder of the Price of Progress.
Like most important things, it is best experienced with eyes open, and remembered well, but wisely.

Aloha, and Mahalo.