all we wanna do is share

Posted on February 5, 2013 by Pearson Sharp

isn’t that the point? As writers, singers, actors, musicians—all we wanna do is share what we feel, what’s going on in our heads, what we feel that can’t be expressed in any other way.

I was just watching Smash, and this girl got up and started singing in the middle of this crowded room at a party. Everyone gathered around and was listening and nodding their heads. Obviously this is just a show, and they’re actors, but that’s not the point.

They’re doing that because that’s what real people would do. At least, that’s what I’d do. When I see someone expressing that ineffable thing inside, a street artist making a painting, a musician in a crowded subway, just someone putting themselves out there and exposing that raw, tingling nerve that vibrates to that unknown chord of humanity that we all share.

It’s something magical, and it’s something we all have, and that’s what so wonderful. I love that. I love sharing that. I love feeling it. What an incredible gift we have, to be able to share that feeling, or even just a tiny piece of it, with others. To make others hear that singing that only we hear, to see the colours that only we see, to live in the world that only we know about.

Oddjob

Posted on January 25, 2013 by Pearson Sharp

So I went up to Newport Beach yesterday to help a buddy set up his store. He’s got a pretty cool shop that he’s preparing to become an exotic car dealership. I know he already has forty-something cars, Ferraris and Mercedes and probably some Lamborghinis or something, I don’t even know. In any case, I spent the afternoon arranging little toy cars in display cases around the front desk. Apparently those cars are worth a ton of money. These are little Hot Wheels sized cars that were upwards of a thousand freaking dollars. Just for a little tiny piece of plastic! I guess they’re part of the pastiche of collectordom and depending on who drove the real car and when, their value is determined.

Well I found a car I really liked, the Aston Martin DB5 from the James Bond movie Goldfinger, and I got to take it home. I’m not sure how much it’s worth, but you can completely take it apart and it has an ejector seat and machine guns behind the tail lights and a bulletproof shield that springs up at the push of a button behind the rear window. I’m not sure if that was a standard feature on all Aston Martins at the time, but it should have been. Maybe someday I’ll own a DB5 for reals, but even if I don’t, I couldn’t park it on my desk and imagine beefy Chinamen throwing bowler hats at me all day.

Work’s a Beach

Posted on January 18, 2013 by Pearson Sharp

“The way to be happy is to find something that requires the kind of perfection that’s impossible to achieve and spend the rest of your life trying to achieve it.” ~ Winston Churchill

I like beginning these with quotes. I love quotes. They are brilliant ideas from brilliant people captured in easily digestible little nuggets.

And who better to quote than Winston Churchill? I really like message here, and it’s particularly meaningful to artists who must create something, because that creation often falls short of our vision.

When I’m writing, there’s always the nagging feeling that I’ve got the gist of what I’m trying to say, but the full magnitude is always just out of reach. I suppose if I nailed it every time, there’d be nothing to continue to strive towards, and that would make the whole enterprise rather dull. It’s the chase, as always, that keeps us coming back for more.

But don’t let that stop you from trying. Perfectionism can be a double edged sword, and if you let the fear of failure prevent you from succeeding, you’ll never know the joy of seeing your vision realised. It’s healthy to strive for that perfect ideal, but never let that get in the way of your accomplishments. It’s something I must frequently remind myself of, I’m seldom content with what I’ve created at the time. But if I step away from the keyboard and take some time to reflect, what I’ve created usually surprises me.

Give yourself a chance to breathe, and you’ll probably discover that your work takes a life of its own. It may not be what you had envisioned, but that random growth and chance gives your work an unexpected life and vitality. Learn to celebrate this, not fight it, and you can still strive for that perfection that drives your passion without hindering your own work.

The happiness we find in creating will never dim, and it’s important to remember that this is why we create, not to be perfect, but because bringing something out of our minds and into the world is a joyous process. Never let critics, or worse, your own idealism, stop you from unleashing yourself upon your work.

The Meat and Potatoes of Stars

Posted on January 15, 2013 by Pearson Sharp

I came across another enlightening post by the wonderful artist Robert Genn. He’s a Canadian painter with an incredible talent for observation that I find very inspiring. You can check out his website here, along with his posts that he updates with questions and thoughts he gets from readers.

In his article I read today, he talks about what it takes to fire the spark of creativity. Some people are born with a natural creative bent, with a talent towards the fantastic, but for others it’s more challenging. Genn proposes that this talent needn’t be something you’re born with, that it can be learned. I definitely agree.

the meat and potatoes of stars

He suggests in his post that the fire we feel when we create is something that can be drawn out, provoked in a word. The secret to this lies simply in observation. You can’t fuel your imagination on an empty mind, so to speak. The mind needs input to create, it craves it. “Knowledge breeds knowledge, as gold gold,” as Edgar Allan Poe once said. So feed your mind!

This goes beyond simply reading books and exposing yourself to art. This involves seeing the world around you, experiencing it with open eyes, like you did when you were a child, as Genn says. Absorb everything, pay attention to what is happening around you. Don’t take things for granted.

One of my lifelong adages is simply, “Look up”. When I was a freshman at university, I lived on the fourth floor of my dormitory. I took out the window screens and would open the windows wide, and I would sit there, sometimes for hours, just watching everything below. I noticed something though. People would walk around, reading books or looking at their phones or simply walk past with their hands in their pockets, heads down, oblivious to the world. But no one ever saw me sitting there in the window. No one looked up.

I thought that was sad, and very telling of our condition as humans and creatures of familiarity and habit. So I always remind myself to simply “look up”. See what’s around, take stock of your environment, ask questions. Don’t take anything for granted, as much as it’s possible. Robert Genn says to approach the world agnostically, see everything fresh and try to believe that there’s something more than what you see.

Just be aware. There’s another one of my favourite zen koans that tells a story about a monk who visits a famous zen teacher. When he arrives at his house it’s raining outside, so he removes his shoes and umbrella and leaves them at the door. When he sits down inside with the zen teacher, the teacher asks him on which side of the door he left his umbrella and shoes. The monk realises he cannot answer, and his teacher tells him he must practise his “every minute zen”—his every minute awareness of what he is doing.

It’s a wonderful lesson. Practise your every minute zen, as a writer or painter or musician—just as a conscious, living, breathing human. That’s where inspiration begins—when you look closely, even stars are driven by the tiniest of movements. Yet those movements build to astronomical scales, and so does our work. Be always aware of what is happening around you, and you will find that you are constantly inspired by all the strange things that happen every day, every minute in our world.

Another Likely Story

Posted on April 28, 2012 by Pearson Sharp

I don’t always choose musical titles, but when I do, I think they’re appropriate. I had the day off work yesterday so I went down to the beach to see if the water was ready for snorkelling again. It turns out it wasn’t ready. Not even close. But I went anyways. Growing up in Ohio, I had the perception of California that it was an ocean paradise, warm waters and surfers hanging ten left and right. As it happens, it is. But you must bring a wetsuit, or you will freeze.

down by the cove

I usually like to go snorkelling at the Cove in La Jolla, a small underwater preserve that has some amazing places to explore, as well as a seal colony to offer the occasional surprise swimming companion. Setting my mask and fins on the beach, I decided that instead of just jumping in right away and becoming a soprano, that I’d slowly wade in and take my time getting used to the water. After twenty minutes of gingerly creeping up through the frigid waves and trying to make my spasms look natural, three girls ran past me and dove right in, giggling and splashing. Some quick mental calculations followed this spectacle, and I decided that I was ready to go all in, or I would be forced to hand in my Man Card.

seals at the cove

I consider myself someone capable of “roughing it” without complaint. But that water was cold. I mean cold. Painfully cold, it felt like a vice grip made of ice cubes had clamped down on my head. You get used to the temperature pretty quick, but it never stops being cold, and you can never forget about it. It’s always there. But yesterday the water was incredibly clear, and as I swam through fields of swirling green seaweed and into rocky canyons on the sandy bottom, it was worth it.

Brilliant orange garabaldi and colourful little fish I can’t name darted past in silver flecks as I swam by. You can definitely see a lot floating on the surface, and there’s something serenely peaceful just floating there and rolling with the waves. But for me the best part of snorkelling is taking a huge gulp of air and diving down to the bottom, plugging your nose and blowing out to pop your ears, and swimming through the ocean carved rock channels to explore hidden places.

After about six minutes I’d had about as much of the freezing water as I could handle, and was trying to talk myself into staying longer, when I peeked around a coral ledge about fifteen feet down and came face to face with a little octopus! He was hiding in a patch of red seaweed and I’m not sure which of us was more surprised. I’ve probably gone snorkelling in the Cove two or three dozen times since I moved here, and spent many afternoons looking for new diving grounds. But I’d never seen an octopus! It was amazing to see him just sitting there in the kelp. When he spotted me he shrunk back and turned a deeper red, curling his little tentacles up around him, watching me warily. I went back up for air and dove down to see him five or six more times, but I don’t think he was as amused by this encounter and so he crawled into a dark crevice in the rocks. Octopus, the celebrities of the reef.

I was thrilled! I couldn’t believe I’d found a real octopus! I decided I’d do the snorkelling equivalent of a victory lap and swam out a bit farther. As I was diving down to the bottom, lo and behold, what did I see? Another octopus! I was dumbstruck. This was a little purple fellow, clinging to a bit of exposed rock on the bottom. When I came closer he leapt up and spurted away, tentacles trailing gracefully behind him, into a thick clump of seaweed. I was ecstatic, I didn’t think I’d ever get that lucky again, but to see two octopus in as many minutes?

I powered back to the shore wishing I had someone to share my discoveries with, but it’s difficult to share that you’ve just seen two marine cephalopod mollusks with strangers.

So I’m sharing it with you! Next time, and from now on, I’m bringing an underwater camera. It’s a beautiful place to visit, and definitely worth recording. However, until the water warms up or I get my hands on a wetsuit, I don’t think I’ll be testing my manliness anytime before June. But what a rush. There’s nothing quite like the flush of excitement that comes with finding something beautiful and wondrous in nature. When we have the power to build skyscrapers that soar into the cloudy heavens, land on another planet, and share information instantaneously with someone on the other side of the world, chancing upon one of nature’s random little wonders can be breathtaking.

Have Farm, Will Wander

Posted on April 4, 2012 by Pearson Sharp

I have a very diverse background as far as places I’ve lived. I think I mentioned this once before, so I won’t go back into it. Suffice it to say, I was raised in a small farming community in southern California near the Mexican border. If you didn’t farm, you sold farming equipment. It was kind of a nice place to grow up, but didn’t really lend itself to a broader world perspective.

Coming back to live there after I’d been around the world a few times seemed like quite a step backwards. I got out as soon as I could and moved to San Diego where I’m living now, and haven’t really looked back since. I’ve only been here a few months, but already the change has been dramatic—being next to the ocean does wonders for the soul.

Horsey had to work for her treat

Yet my family still lives down in the desert, so about once a month I head down to visit them. I usually only stay for the afternoon and then head back, having my fill of small town life for the month. Don’t get me wrong though, it’s nice to live in a place where your neighbours are separated from you by several fields, and you still know all of them by name. I drove down with Mary yesterday and went for my routine walk down the ditch bank beside the canal out back behind my grandparent’s house.

The sun was low in the sky over the mountains and the sheep in the next field were kicking up dirt. In the haze it looked like mist, and you could see their little black shadows jumping up and down as they ran. Our neighbour keeps farm animals in a big corral behind his house, and when I was younger they used to have a little brown filly I named Lucy, and in the mornings before the sun came up I would go for walks to see her and pick the grass that grew outside her pen, just beyond her reach.That was probably five or six years ago. Well, the man has kept his horses and though I don’t go for walks down his way very often, I was very happy to see that he had added a few new young horses to his herd.

The wheat field next to the horse corral.

They were all mares and one young filly, pictured above. Yet now they were accompanied by an army of curious goats, who crowded around the fence to see who we were. I couldn’t resist the urge and gathered up thick handfuls of long green grass. The filly approached me, curious, and was rewarded with a mouthful of luxuriant grass, which she gobbled down happily.

After that I made her work for it, and would keep it just out of her reach so that I could scratch her neck and ears. The goats were eager to get in on some of that action and tried to snatch strands of grass from her mouth, catching the clumps that fell. Goats are tenacious animals, if you’ve never been around them. Even though the horse kept her head well above them, the goats managed to get a pretty decent share of the bounty. After that I patted her down and washed my hands in the nearby canal. The field crickets chirped as the sun finally set, and we walked home with a warm westerly breeze in the air. I don’t miss living there, and given the chance I would stay here without hesitation. The summers there are unbearably hot, and there is absolutely nothing to do. Nothing.

San Diego is a much happier, healthier place for me to live. But I won’t deny for a moment that I do love the country, and that I often miss the tranquillity there. It’s easy for a writer to appreciate the kind of rustic beauty found in endless acres of farmland that rolls out like carpet towards the distant purple mountains. I may not be a rough farmhand like my father and grandfather were, but I definitely feel a sense of balance in being close to the earth and seeing green things planted and growing out from neat black rows of tilled soil.

I used to go for long runs in the country, with no one to disturb me but the wind in the old cedar trees. You can’t do that here. There are intersections and traffic and people, buildings and cars and roads and everyone is going somewhere and has something to do, and aren’t really fussed if you’d rather they weren’t there. Maybe there are places to live at times in your life. It’s often said that change is what makes life interesting. So perhaps at this time in my life, I need to live in a city, and do what city folk do. Then, when the time is right, who knows? Perhaps there will be a house in the country where I can walk beside a burbling canal in the evening and play with horses.

Living La Vida Jolla

Posted on March 10, 2012 by Pearson Sharp

I’ve lived in a lot of places in my life: China, England, even Canada for a little while. All across the US, as well, from Ohio to Arizona, Colorado, California. Right now I’m living in La Jolla, California, about five minutes away from the beach. I’ve been here since August, and I have to say, my world view and disposition have significantly improved every day I’ve been here. The average January day is 60 degrees, and right now, early March, we’re sitting pretty with 75 the past few days. I wake up with palm trees and blue skies every day, and drive past the ocean on my way to work every single morning.

Last night I headed down to the beach to catch the sunset with Mary. We went to Black’s Beach, which is famous for being a nudist beach. Of course, the nudists are never the people you’d like them to be, but I’m happy seeing people out there enjoying themselves anyways. You’ll never catch me in my birthday suit out there, but hey, I’m down for whatever makes you happy baby. Just, you know. Dangle your fish bait over there.

If you’re not familiar with the area, Black’s is situated at the base of an enormous sandstone cliff. There are some pretty impressive views from the top, along with some pretty impressive real estate. We were feeling adventurous so we climbed down the long flight of natural and man-made steps to reach the bottom. The sun was just beginning to set, and we got some gorgeous photos before it peeked below the horizon on its way to Australia. It glimmered red for a long time after it actually set, I’m sure it was an optical illusion based on the curvature of the earth and reflection on the ocean and what-not.

In any case, it was well appreciated. After a hearty climb back up, we put the top down in her car, and drove down the coast for a ways, just enjoying the evening. It’s times like these that it really strikes me: all things human are of little importance. Plato said that, and I have to agree. I don’t know what it is about the beach and the ocean that turns everyone philosophic, but it works every time.

Out of all the places I’ve lived, I have to say it’s honestly pretty hard to have a depressing day here. Everything is just as it should be, day after day, and I can’t help but smile when I wake up in the morning. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel pretty grateful to be living here.

The Little Pleasures

Posted on March 8, 2012 by Pearson Sharp

I’m sure it’s been remarked upon before, but after setting down the proverbial pen for the evening, I realised that finishing a chapter of your book has to be one of the best feelings in the whole world. Probably only second to finishing the book itself, though getting published is probably up there too. But we’re straying from the point. Which is that I finished this chapter, and I feel pretty good.

Now, this wasn’t an ordinary chapter. This was a chapter I’d been working on for probably two months, and involved quite a lot of headache. It was a pivotal chapter and it needed careful attention. After consulting several authors and a magazine editor, and doing a lot of painstaking temple-rubbing through the early hours of the night, I finally finished it. And not just that–I finished it exactly the way I wanted to. It came together perfectly, and tied together all the previous chapters in one succinct sentence. That’s a good feeling right there. Hitting the enter key, leaning back in your chair, and feeling the rush of satisfaction from knowing that everything turned out the way you’d hoped it would.

Hopefully in the weeks to come I’ll have similar updates and can keep posting positive progress on my novel. Until then, I’m heading back into it, hoping the next chapter turns out as well.

Your Platform

Posted on March 2, 2012 by Pearson Sharp

So I guess I’m someone who’s a bit old fashioned when it comes to writing a book. I don’t have a television, and I don’t really keep up to date with current events, which is something I’m working on. It has always seemed to me that to get a book published, you simply write the thing, and then start contacting agents and from there something magical will happen and bam! You’re published.

Well, that’s not quite true. Since I’ve become serious about getting my own book finished and (hopefully) published this year, I’ve been doing a lot of research and investigation into current trends in the publishing industry. This sort of thing may be old news to most people, but some of the things I’ve learnt have come as quite a surprise to me. For example, establishing what’s known as a “platform” before you ever even start sending your book to potential agents.

A platform is essentially a marketing strategy to increase your audience and have a ready fan base who is eager to buy your book the day it hits the shelves. For a first time author, this isn’t easy to accomplish. It includes things like hiring a professional publicist, relating your book to things currently going on in the national news, creating a specific website dedicated to your book, finding places or people who will recommend your book and get you some attention in the media, all the way down to blogs. Which is what got me started on writing here.

My book is based in a science fiction world of my own creation, and takes place in a time and setting that I have tried to make as rich, imaginative, and unique as possible. Because of the niche market that science fiction exists in, I’m hoping that taking advantage of some of the many tools suggested by websites and other authors will help get me off the ground. It’s a little daunting to consider that all the hours and effort I will and already have poured into getting this book published may, in the end, amount to nothing more than a stack of rejection letters and suggestions for better luck the next time round.

This article: http://www.alanrinzler.com/blog/2008/06/07/build-your-author-platform-10-tips-from-a-pro/ offers some really helpful information on how to get yourself started creating a platform. Some of it, such as hiring a publicist or giving speeches in local venues I’m not quite ready for. My book is still in the writing stage, and honestly quite far from being completed. I just ticked over on the 40,000 word mark, which seems like a lot. And it is! But most science fiction novels are anywhere from 90,000 to 150,000 words. And at the rate I’m going, mine’s probably going to be closer to the latter.

However, that’s all part of the fun, and now that I’ve started the process to get this book written and published this year, I’m a little relieved to find all the support that exists out there for burgeoning authors like myself. Expect to see more updates like this, as I’ll probably be doing a lot of website hunting and trying to see what exactly I can do to start building a community around what I honestly think will be an excellent book.