Have you tapped into something special?

One never knows. A creative project is an emotional roller coaster filled with self-doubt, self-assurance, and second-, triple-, and quadruple-guessing.

Sounds like a Monday.

There are bleak days and dark ones. These are the times when you wonder if your book would better serve as a doorstop than entertainment. I know many writers feel similarly during the course of a project. It could be an external factor, like your day job, piling upon your feelings of self-worth. It could be a matter of life and love. It could be a change in weather. Or it could be that you’ve read that blasted manuscript so many times, the words might as well be in another language.

Unfortunately, those feelings can create powerlessness, creating doubts that are very difficult to overcome. It’s the reason that so many of us have abandoned drafts that we keep promising we’ll return to someday.

We’re often waiting for perfect conditions that never arrive.

When we’re honest with ourselves, truly honest, we recognize that those days are more exception than rule. There are also good days, which are more rule than exception. Even better, we have those moments when it doesn’t feel like work. When things are clicking. When you feel you might – just might – have tapped into something special. And it gives you the power to keep going.

So. I’m writing this for other writers to let them know that sometimes, the universe rewards you and reinforces that you need to keep going. Here are three examples of when this happened to me.

1. I’ve had four Trusted Readers say something like this: I started reading with the intent of being critical so I could give you good feedback. But I got carried away by the story. YES! To me, this is one of the highest compliments I could receive. Instead of the story feeling like a chore or being read as a favor, I’ve managed to produce an enjoyable tale. It tells me some of the unresolved minutiae is perhaps not the distraction I believed it to be.

2. I had a colleague mention that my book title kept running through his head (the conversation was the catalyst for this post). He wasn’t actively following my progress, but he’d seen my Facebook updates. Something about “The Starfall Omen” had intrigued him, which I explained was exactly why I liked the title. It’s not too bizarre to be confusing, but it creates a bit of mystery. When you’ve hooked someone who’s outside the circle of people you’re trying to attract, it suggests you’ve done the job correctly.

3. This example is my favorite. My wife is Trusted Reader #1. She’s a literature teacher and a voracious reader who devours more than 120 books a year. She knows what works and what doesn’t. With much trepidation, I’d given her a copy of the mid-draft. One evening, she came downstairs hugging the manuscript and asking for more. In no uncertain terms, I was commanded to go upstairs to start on the next book. And this, perhaps more than anything, is when I knew I was succeeding – not that I would find success as a writer, but that I had tapped into something special.

These are the kinds of things that keep you warm on those cold days of writer’s despair. They remind you that your writing has more power than you believe. They give you that extra push to keep going, even when you wonder whether you’re wasting your time.

Writing is never a waste of time, but sometimes we need to be reminded of that.


PS: You’ll need to share your writing to get there.

Enjoy what you just read? Leave a comment or like the post and we’ll ensure that you see more like this!

© Michael Wallevand, July 2021

If a book falls in the forest

If a person writes a book and no one reads it, is it still a book? Depending on your reason for writing, your answer will vary.

I write for a variety of reasons – relaxation, brain exercise, practice my craft, gottagetthatdamnideaoutofmyhead – but I primarily write because I want to entertain people. It’s a need written in DNA, and a novel is the current medium in which I choose to satisfy it (I’ve also dabbled in flash fiction, a novella, pitched a comic series, and currently have two tabletop game ideas I’m exploring).

Looking at it from that perspective, I won’t find success until my writing is in someone’s hands, whether physically, digitally, or in the not-too-distant future, displayed via holographic projection. Said another way, what I’ve written is not really a book until someone reads it. It’s simply a interesting story, perhaps an exercise, occupying a similar paradoxical state as Schrödinger’s cat.

I imagine people protesting on my behalf: Don’t sell yourself short! There’s value in the experience! Simply finishing is a major accomplishment! All these things and more are true. They have value, and I appreciate the sentiment.

But they’re not the things that bring me to the keyboard. However…

It’s funny, as I write this I’m reminded of something from my childhood, a phrase I learned watching classic MGM movies:

Which brings me to another perspective. It doesn’t matter if anyone sees what you have written/sculpted/painted. You might be a working for an audience of one. You might be working for an audience of none. The very magic – the miracle, if you will – of creation is worthy in and of itself. “Art, for art’s sake,” as the roaring lion reminds us.

Perhaps that is truly why we write or pursue other creative endeavors. The muse will not be denied. The art cannot be contained. That, too, is written in DNA, perhaps scratched and scrawled deeper than a need to entertain.

In the end, it doesn’t matter which reason is more meaningful to you, if either are. However, I think it’s important to consider and decide, because much happiness, stress, and sadness comes from artistic pursuits. Understanding what brings you to your creative workspace will help ensure you keep returning.

I’ve decided both are important to me. I began this post intending to take a position. Share an opinion. But when it comes to art, opinions like criticisms hold less value than the work itself. No one is going to include the phrase “opinion, for opinion’s sake” in their logo.

Good luck to you in your writing, and to its paradoxical existence in the world.


© Michael Wallevand, July 2021

My Writing Freaked Out a Rock Star

Writing inspiration comes from everywhere. Looking out a window or considering how a person might react to a situation or watching your kids play. In this example, it came from the song “Iris” by Goo Goo Dolls.

“You bleed just to know you’re alive.”

When I wondered what might cause a man to literally, not metaphorically, do such a thing, the story erupted from me. It was the writing experience I’d always imagined, though rarely had. And it came from questions that followed one after the other, piling up until I couldn’t type quickly enough.

More than fifteen years later, I still recall the first scene. A man in a cheap apartment staring at himself in a grimy mirror and hating what he saw. He picked up the razor blade, as he had many times before, and cut his wrist. A single droplet of blood fell into a claw-footed bathtub. As he watched, his cut healed and he screamed in helpless rage. He slashed again and again, healing again and again…until he didn’t. He breathed a sigh of relief. Soon, it would finally be over.

While there’s a violence and hopelessness to the scene, I believed the book would be a beautiful take on the unrequited love story: A man who heals others and himself, and the nurse searching for the person performing miracles in the streets. He falls in love, but will never tell her, never end his self-imposed exile, because his body is too scarred, his psyche too damaged. He’s unworthy of redemption. To further quote the song, “I don’t want the world to see me ’cause I don’t think that they’d understand.”

A few months later, I had the draft of a 30,000-word novella.

Fast-forward to sometime in 2006. Goo Goo Dolls were promoting their latest album, Let Love In. I worked in the Best Buy Music department, and we were often a stop for such junkets. Artists would talk about the album, maybe spin some tracks or perform, and then we’d often get a chance for handshakes and pix. It was the coolest job perk I ever had.

It’s key to understand that “meet and greet” is a brief encounter. Obviously, no one’s making friends, but it is a chance to say a few kinds words or ask a question before quickly moving on. Sometimes, it’s idle chitchat; other times, you get to thank someone for a meaningful impact they had on your life.

I had an opportunity to thank a band for inspiring me to write a book.

At this point in my career, I’d met dozens of famous artists including David Bowie, Duran Duran, Ice Cube, and Jewel. I didn’t get starstruck as a general rule, but this was going to be different because I had a different kind of connection. I practiced what I would say, over and again in my head. I’ve always had challenges speaking aloud, so this kind of rehearsal is typical anyway.

The band did their promotional bit, though I don’t recall any of it. I was still mentally reciting my spiel. Suddenly, it seems, it was time to meet them.

Robby Takac was first in line. We shook hands, and then I shared my story. I was eloquent, passionate, entertaining, and succinct. I beautifully recounted how they had inspired me and made a meaningful difference to my writing.

He seemed thrilled. “You should tell Johnny. He wrote the lyrics,” he said enthusiastically. “It would mean a lot to him.”

Holy shit.

Suddenly, this encounter was different. At least that’s what my fevered brain suggested: a band putting together a song was not the same as a lyricist sitting down and pouring his soul into the words. This was now going to be one writer talking to another (i.e. having a “writer talk”) and thanking them for the inspiration in their words. How often does a person get a chance to do that?

It’s cool. I’m cool. It’s going to be cool. I’ve already got my speech planned and practiced. I’ve literally just recited it to someone else in the band. It’s cool. It’s going to be cool.

It wasn’t cool.

I shook hands with John Rzeznik, and immediately blurted out some disorganized version of my tale that focused waaaaay too much on a man in a bathroom cutting his wrist with a razor blade. I might have continued to shake his hand like you see in movies where the fan doesn’t let go. I don’t remember.

Of all the things John expected to hear in a meet-n-greet line, this interaction certainly wasn’t on the list. With typical rock star grace, he listened to my story, though I picture him having the face of someone being presented with a severed limb. A few minutes later, we had our photo taken.

Goo Goo Dolls meet and greet at Best Buy
John’s in the camo pants; I’m the bald guy in the polo

I’m not saying that John’s posture or my distance from him are the result of this interaction, though that tiny insecure voice in my head still suggests it.

Then it was over. I probably shared a laugh with some colleagues as I described the disaster in hyperbolic detail. John went on with the promotional tour, probably never encountering another writing weirdo again.

I share this cautionary tale because it’s funny, but also as a reminder to writers to practice their pitches (even if it didn’t work so well here). As much as we’re probably more comfortable typing up a quick 10,000 words of “summary”, sooner or later you’re going to have to talk about the project aloud. The spiel is a critical step in finding an agent or someone willing to pay you. It’s probably going to be uncomfortable because you’re trying to sell your work, not yourself, but both are being judged (fortunately, your friends and family are helping every time they ask “What’s it about?”). Your performance, so to speak, could be the difference between a request to see more and a polite rejection of the severed limb you’ve presented.

Good luck with your writing and your pitch!


Postscript: As for the book, Healed, I shelved the project for reasons unrelated to this encounter. However, writing this post has inspired me to take another look at the ending. It might be changing.

Enjoy what you just read? Leave a comment or like the post and we’ll ensure that you see more like this from Michael!

© Michael Wallevand, July 2021

Support Your Friends’ Art: Moshi Moshi

Pardon a word of preface before I get to the album I’m going to review. Few in the world are lucky enough to be recognized for the art they create, whether in paints or stone, music or poetry, or movies or books. I believe we can always use more art in the world and that each of us can do our part simply by sharing the things we like. Even if you do not do this, even if you disagree, you still benefit from the artists in the world who are working every day to do something they love. So why not make a meaningful contribution and share something you like? Even better, pay money for something you love.

Moshi Moshi by Ryan and Pony

This post is a review of the album Moshi Moshi, the debut album by Ryan and Pony, friends of ours. And while our relationship predisposes me to support them, I really do enjoy this album. It’s been in my rotation since I bought it.

They fuse dream pop, post punk, brit rock, EDM, and good ol’ fashion rock and roll for a sound all their own,” their website says. I agree. And here’s my impression: It sounds like a synthesis of all the rock and pop music I loved through the 80s and 90s, and it creates something new. The music feels like a natural evolution of that time period, both familiar and fresh. Perhaps I phrase it this way because that’s what I try to evoke in my own writing.

I enjoyed all the songs on the album, but here are the four that have stuck with me from the first spin.

Track 3: Fast As I Can – This is their first single and it tells you everything you need to know about them. Solid production, catchy-as-hell hooks, and great harmonies. It’s even got a little bit of what I affectionately call “80s sax”, which will always have a special place in my musical heart. The video is cool, too!

What really resonates with me, however, are the lyrics that tell of a protagonist who will do whatever it takes to help someone; additionally, “all the love you bring, every little thing you do: it matters.” This song is practically the anthem of my hero, Tildy, so I’ve added it to my “hero playlist”. I’ll write about that in a future post.

Track 7: First Night – Opens with a sweet bass line from Pony (we need more of this in music), and then – what is that, Ryan – surf guitar? Don’t mistake me, this isn’t a Dick Dale song, but it’s got that cool guitar sound throughout. And in the back half of the song, the guitar also evokes Tom Petty, which is an interesting thematic transition. This song drives forward relentlessly. It’s dense, in that there’s so much in here, I’m surprised it’s only 2:28 long.

Track 9: Low – Is this one pure pop, is it going to be a rock song? It’s a little of both; it’s something different than both. The thing that strikes me in this one is Ryan’s vocals: you can tell it’s him, but it’s yet another style from his repertoire. This song is a great example of how a band can deliver several different musical styles in a single album without deviating from the core of who they are.

Track 12: I Would Die 4 U – I wasn’t looking at my phone when this came on, so I didn’t know I was about to hear a cover of one of Prince’s best songs. As it opened, I found myself listening to something that was familiar, yet I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It turned out to be a a new arrangement that offered a fresh take on the intro of a song we all know. And in a way that some covers do so well, they’ve taken this song and made it their own. It’s got the pieces of the original we love, but with new things that keep it from feeling like just another rehash. Great example of the band’s musical chops.

I think we’re all predisposed to enjoy the things our family and friends create, but man, it is amazing when they exceed our expectations. One of the best compliments I’ve received went something like this: “I forgot that I knew the writer and just got pulled into the work.” That’s exactly how I felt with this album. Ryan and Pony know their stuff, and Moshi Moshi is a polished, professional, and – more importantly – enjoyable album.

I hope my appreciation of the passion in someone’s work will inspire you. Whether you listen to these tracks, buy the album, or simply read this post and share it, you’re helping contribute to the art of the world. If you’re an artist yourself, you can probably expect someone to do the same for you.

Good luck with your art, whatever your medium may be!


Enjoy what you just read? Leave a comment or like the post and we’ll ensure that you see more like this!

© Michael Wallevand, January 2021

Oh, You Just Sat Down and Wrote?

It’s 7:30 on a Sunday night. Beside me sits a glass of whisky and ice. I’ve poisoned it, some might say, with Coca-Cola. And that’s fine for this ending to a long day because I’m desirous of the effects, if not so much the taste.

Much of these first three paragraphs was written, and re-written in the car this evening, while listening to Neil Gaiman’s The View From The Cheap Seats (It’s one of three books I’m currently enjoying. The softcover Brimstone by Preston & Child sits beside the whisky glass and Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone awaits my ears when I get to bed, whenever that might be.).

The Gaiman writing is good, as he usually is, but I think there’s more than that pleasure contained in this particular work. It also contains some unspoken encouragement for writers, and I wonder if other people realize that when they read it.

I’ve hardly been writing since the pandemic was declared in March. The Gaiman book, and another huge relief that occurred this week, have served to remove some of the weight that’s been crushing me. Today, some pent up energy was released.

I’ve already mentioned that I began writing this post ahead of time, and that’s much like the new story I sat down to type this morning. Similarly, it formed in my head before I knew I was going to do any writing. As I showered today, two distinct lines popped into my head, as though I had discovered a thing that existed or was remembering something whispered to me in my sleep.

The first was a title: The Time Travel Tinkerer.

The second was the opening: Putter was a tinkerer, a time traveler, and a bastard. At least, that’s how people would have viewed him, if they’d known what he’d done. Or would do, depending on their places in time.

Neither was going to win me a literary award, though perhaps I’d get points for alliteration. I write about things that intrigue me, inspire me, or burn in my mind like an ember that refuses to die. And that’s what I had today.

In the next hour, I wrote two thousand words, practically without stopping. It was pure writing, though I wouldn’t call it stream-of-consciousness because there was order to it, as though I were dictating a story someone had once told me.

There were few of my usual shortcuts in the work (line breaks that represented details to fill later; bullets that marked the beats; or ideas demarcated with parentheses). Those are the devices I employ when I fear I’ll forget a detail when I can’t type quickly enough.

It reminded me of the times I’d taken a piece of my novel that I knew well and just re-typed it from memory: unnecessary details are eroded and the writing is just, well, tighter, for lack of a better word.

I stopped just before the ending because I think I need to dwell on it a bit. The story is high-concept, both filled with science-y stuff, yet devoid of the specific detail that some might desire in science fiction. The story’s goal isn’t to convince you that time travel could be real; I just need you to follow Putter into his conveyance and enjoy the ride.

As I feverishly described this writing hour to my wife, she humored me. I suspect her encouragement was more about my return to writing than the story itself (a high-concept sci-fi piece isn’t her style), and that was all I needed today. As is often the case with these snippets of story idea, I don’t know whether I will finish it. I’d like to, but I have other priorities in my writing and in my life. I predict this will be little more than a short story, perhaps something I’d submit to a sci-fi magazine or website. But we’ll see.

Until then, Putter will hang in the void, staring down at the continuum of time, wondering whether he should try to fix the mess he created or satisfy his scientific curiosity for what happens next.

I hope you are able to find something equally inspiring in the coming weeks. This year of 2020 is going to end with a number of high notes, I think. Good luck!


Enjoy what you just read? Leave a comment or like the post and we’ll ensure that you see more like this!

© Michael Wallevand, November 2020