Updates from the Writing Life

A few days ago, I finished a novel I had been writing since July 1st, titled "Sexile at the Greenwich Hotel." At 80,000 words, it is  shorter than most of the novels I have written. I am not sure if this is a sign of progress or not, though I never intended for this one to be a real tome. It tells the story of college students living in New York City falling in and out of love while they explore their sexuality in an age of the internet, birth control, gay rights, and feminism.  Some parts are based on real-life events and others are pure imagination. A few are in the middle, taken from the lives of others, or what they have posted anonymously online. It is the eleventh novel that I have completed and finishes up my four-part series of campus novels. 

Often when I complete such projects, part of me wonders what the purpose is behind all this writing. Why sit down and create a novel? Surely there must be something better to do or watch, something that is far more fun! Another part of me answers: Publication! Advances! Release Parties! Readings! Book tours! Impressionable women in bookstores and campuses! Then there is another part which responds to both of them and defends the work. There is pleasure enough in bringing the desperate bits and pieces of life together.  But there is still a place for publication because it continues this process of connection and expands upon it. It is the reason that art thrills us at all. For through art, we realize that the universe is one big attachment.

I'm sure commentators elsewhere have drawn comparisons between drinking and writing, and not only because so many writers are drinkers. However there is one way that the two are related that often goes unacknowledged. One often drinks in order to forget the pains of life and also to celebrate them. We drink after a bad breakup and after a happy wedding. Bars are filled with people unhappy they are unemployed or overjoyed the weekend liberation from work has come. It is the same way with writing. One can write for catharsis, to let go of the trauma of the past, or to delve into whatever happy occasion is taking place at present. 

Writing is its own form of intoxication, but different than drinking or the usual kinds of inebriation. In those instances, the mind is liberated briefly from the impositions of the senses and the ordinary arrangements of the world. In writing, the opposite effect is achieved. One looks at a world that is disorganized and gives a new shape to it. Memories, sensations, fantasies, perceptions, rumors, dreams, myths, and possibilities that otherwise hang in the air like decorations are fashioned into a something different that makes use of them to produce a new reality. Tragedies from the past are given design, direction, and purpose. Comedies in the present are tied together to reveal something deeper about the world, like the warped glass of a funhouse mirror. This process produces the afterglow that the writer seeks after first and foremost. 

What about fame and fortune then? Yes, those are motivations too, for me and for most writers out there. But after our own pleasure (however sadistic it may be) the secondary mover for words on the page is the thought of just getting something read. I say thought, first of all, because the writer's work cannot be read until it is written. Secondly, there is no certainty it will find an audience. However, the writer writes on, not just out of habit, but from a hope that they are expressing something inside that might dwell in others. The hope is to reach out and find a very basic recognition that also influences the reader as well. Ideally, through the writer, the reader is able to both uncover new internal territories of the psyche and to find a connection for those parts they have found and are looking to piece together with others. In literature, the broken continents inside the writer and the reader come together to form some new landmass.

In the absence of progress on my aforementioned goals, I write. Even if I was making progress on all other fronts (job, house, social life, publication, love, etc.) I would still be writing, though probably not as much. These days my one resource is time, so I use it until my time does indeed equal money. I admit, writing is an escape from my life, which is nothing new. But this is not the only reason I have turned to writing and continue to do so. It is still fundamentally a place where I can rearrange my experiences to fashion cohesive narratives or illuminating lines. This would hold true even if everything was moving along splendidly for me. Most writers in history have felt the same way. This is why we not only put words down, but are more likely to finish our literary projects as well. We need some sense of completion and fruition in their lives. 

Anti-Manchild Project #3: Get Myself a Job

Well, I'm back from my family trip to Italy, and nothing makes you want to work more like going to Italy. So now it is time to get into full job hunting mode. Probably the real cornerstone, and stumbling block of trying to gain my independence. The irony is that this necessary component to my personal freedom requires approval from someone else (if not an entire organization), in fact, it is totally dependent on it. With other goals there is much more leeway. If I wanted to publish a book of poems on my own, I could have. The details would have been hard to manage, but it has been and can be done. If I want to move out of my parent's home and just live on somebody's couch, I could do that too. If the owner of the couch wanted me out, I could try and find another one. I believe there are now more couches than employers in the United States. If I want to learn a language, it is still all about me. If I want to teach myself how to cook, start salsa dancing, or take road trips, I have a similar degree of flexibility.  The only one of my goals that requires outside approval as much as a job is starting a romantic relationship, though I believe there are still more single women in the United States than employers.

Of course, I don't believe a person is defined completely by their work and that when one is unemployed they have nothing whatsoever to contribute towards society. But economic reality remains and work helps fill up the hours. People who say life is short have never spent a long time single and unemployed. I have been trying to fill my free time with as much productive use as possible since coming home at the end of March. I have been writing, submitting, and studying Italian too. I interviewed for one job, connected with friends, returned to dancing, and did some reading. In addition there have been a few odd jobs, such as working as a test proctor at my old high school, Yorktown. It was an interesting experience, walking back and forth to spy on the students like a German commandant while reading Sophie's Choice during breaks. I'm still waiting for my check...

Anyway, back to the job search. It's hard to say what I am looking for, times have made me flexible. The current economic situation began almost as soon as a graduated from New York University (magna cum laude). Originally I had hoped to work in publishing, since that was where my interests and skills were. I wasn't trained to do much by NYU and what work experience I had involved summer camp counseling. Extracurricularly though, I had an internship at Folio Literary Management and was poetry editor for this publication. Unfortunately, the publishing industry imploded, in no small part because of the incompetence of its leaders, but that is another story. With my main prospect for a job derailed, I went looking for work elsewhere: temp agencies, doctor's offices, website writing, but was unable to find anything. Finally I got a series of small breaks. I worked as a data entry manager for a get-out-the-vote campaign and then had a brief paid internship for election security analysis. They were interesting, compensated experiences but nothing long-term enough to allow me to stay in New York City.

If the recession (and I don't care what the economists say, it's still a recession for most of us) has taught me anything, it is not to take employment for granted and to be willing to change career paths and industries with ease. I went from publishing, to data entry, to political analysis, and then settled on a job that kept me busy from late 2008 to October of 2010, writing questions and answers for Answers Encyclopedia.  It was good enough money for me while it lasted and I got to read a lot of interesting material. The job involved going through encyclopedia articles and finding bits of information people might want to know. I then wrote possible questions that these bits could be answers to. This way people searching for the facts could get them without searching a whole article. It was complicated to explain to other people (I hope I have done a decent enough job of it here) without looking like I was involved in some scam, but the company sent me checks that cleared, so in the end that was all that mattered.

The interesting thing about that job was that I worked from home and never saw my co-workers or my boss. I have no idea what any of the people I dealt with looked like. It was another lesson I learned from our new economy, working without an office, motivating myself, and putting faith in the Internet to connect people and get things done. For the older generation, the idea of work meant getting up, leaving the house, and going to an office, store, or factory. I know my parents more or less had this idea and convincing them I was, in fact, employed took some time. But now things have changed and workers today have to abolish all preconceived notions of what work is. The only thing that remains central to employment is that is involves getting paid, or it should. However the worrying rise of unpaid internships threatens even this basic notion. This is one change that can and should be fought.

But my job ended and because I was an independent contractor adrift in the new economy, I had no benefits from being laid off. I admit, and maybe it's just the American Protestant inside each and every one of us, that I initially felt more depressed at being laid off than when I heard my grandmother had died. I suspect in this country, that's not too rare. Without a job you tend to feel untethered and wonder what your real worth is. At this point I was in Montclair, New Jersey, living with the Book Doctors. In exchange for a room and a renewed sense of independence, I helped them with a variety of needs. These ranged from developing their social networking, publishing blog posts, entering contact information, and editing manuscripts. So I became an assistant in the trenches of the ever-changing publishing industry. It was a good gig, except it was unsustainable in the long run, since I was only being paid in housing and consultation.

So it was back to DC for me, because unlike Thomas Wolfe said, you always can go home again. Now with my family vacation and my brother's graduation out of the way, I have a long, clear, and empty schedule ahead of me that needs filling up with a job. Preferably something with set hours, near a subway line, and that doesn't involve sales. I can do a lot of things, but sales isn't one of them.

Anti-Manchild Project #1: Publishing a Chapbook

Okay, so I am going to start relatively small. My first goal will not immediately bring me renown or independence when fulfilled, but it is important to me nonetheless. It is means more to me as a part of my personal development and has less to do with reaching one of the usual benchmarks of adulthood. However, it is a vital step in raising my profile as a poet and will help me develop a name for myself in that regard.

Although I have been published throughout the web, world, and in print, I do not have any books to my name. I have appeared in a few anthologies here and there, ensuring that my name is somewhere in the Library of Congress. For a while my goal was just to be published in journals and magazines, and I did this. First I wanted to appear anywhere that took submissions. Once that was done, I moved onto appearing in a paper publication. Then I desired to have a story printed, and this I accomplished as well. One of my last goals was to send a poem in somewhere using snail mail and have it published. Thanks to the Marco Polo Quarterly, this has happened as well.

Now I am ready to move onto the next stage, which in today's poetry world is to put out a chapbook. What exactly is a chapbook? It is a smaller publication, usually 8 to 30 pages in length, and is published in a limited run. Nowadays they can appear both in electronic and print formats and more often than not are produced with care so that the chapbook itself is meant to be a work of art. Yes, I know there are plenty of competitions and presses that will publish me for a fee, but I am not interested in either of those options now. First, I am not interested in winning any prizes, I am fine with a chapbook and nothing else. If my submission is declined, then no hard feelings, no money lost, and I move on. I also do not want to pay a press because, well, I would like to have a partner in my endeavor who will care about the product as much as me and will promote it.

Also, I am unemployed.

To this end I have begun sending out submissions for consideration. Here is a list of chapbooks that are ready to send out, some under consideration elsewhere right now. These are only themed collections. It is possible for me to assembled a chapbook of poems I've published as well. Let me know if you are interested in any of them:

1968: A long poem between two lovers that takes place over the course of the year 1968. It is made of news reports and song lyrics cut up and woven together.

Three Dollar Opera: An epic adventure about a man trying to buy a treat with three dollars in loose change on a summer night.

The Common Symptoms of an Enduring Chill Explained: A series of poems about health issues.

QuikClot: Similar but uses the conceit of wounds (though is there anything less conceited than a wound?)

Special Guest Voice: Reuben St. Awesome: The rise of pop star sensation Reuben St. Awesome, a mix of Lady Gaga and Bob Dylan, told in his own words.

Battle Hymns of the Republic of New York: A youthful enterprise about my early days in Manhattan

Saved by Science: A series developed in response to a series of photos I saw about the items stored in the recesses of the Smithsonian.

Welcome to My New Project

My whole life I wanted to be an adult. Being a kid meant having others tell you want to do all the time. It meant having to go to church and Sunday School. It meant certain films and TV shows were off limits. It meant being unable to just leave class and take a leak. I didn’t want any of that and looked forward to the day I could be independent.

When I went to preschool I used to wear a clip-on tie and always enjoyed opportunities to go to work with my parents. I was fascinated with the totems of their employment: desks, copies, fax machines, screen savers, fancy pens, and paperweights. Playing house, I was always the father. In school I continued dressing nicely and getting involved in any clubs that would keep me out of the house. On weekends I often roamed DC by myself. I learned about world events, economics, philosophy, and cinema so that I could have important conversations with my parents’ friends. I had two girlfriends and I admit I thought about marrying them when I was with each of them.  When I left high school, I looked forward to leaving home and becoming an adult.

Then college came, followed by graduation, much gnashing of teeth, and furniture moving. After several bouts of illness, political disillusionment, a pile of rejection letters, failed relationships, lost friends, and unemployment, now I am back where I started.

Hello, my name is Ben Nardolilli in case you’re new here (I am too). I am twenty-five years old and live in Arlington, Virginia, my hometown. Some of you might remember me from my main blog, mirrorsponge.blospot.com. Don’t worry, it’s still up and running. You can click on the link on the side and become a follower. This is just a new project for me. Now, you might be wondering what this blog is about, so I’ll tell you.

Basically, I am trying to avoid sinking down into the depths of that dreaded demographic, the Manchild. Plenty has been written about him, usually taking a position between moral panic and trendy lifestyle choice. I am not siding with either here because there are worse things to be in this world than a Manchild. There are men who have jobs and are paid to do evil things. There are others who have wives and families but abuse them. There are fellows who live on their own and neglect their parents completely. However, there are better, more productive lives to live and I see everyone around me living them.

So my goal in this blog is to document my hopeful progress towards such a productive life. What are the hallmarks I will take for my destination? I believe they can be derived from the definition of a Manchild and living its opposite. If we take a look at that great resource by and for the masses, Urban Dictionary, we find several definitions that I can work with. Here is one that reflects the general consensus of the term I am referring to:

“A man child is a male who is over the age of 25, who still lives as though he is a juvenile. Many man-children are not gainfully employed, and survive off of the financial support of their enabling parents. Heavy video-game addiction to fantasy games such as World of Warcraft are key to the man-child.”

Already, I meet some of the criteria here, not a good sign. I am 25, not gainfully employed, and living with my parents, though I would decline to say they are “enabling” me, they would probably deny it as well. Then again, whoever joyfully declares that he or she is an enabler? However there is one sign of hope, I am not addicted to video games or any other copyrighted flights of fantasy. Such things are the opiates of Manchildren everywhere. I make up my own stories as a writer, and no, I don’t do fanfic. Other unmentioned traits of the Manchild include a lack of personal hygiene, wearing sports jerseys, eating directly out of containers, subsisting off of fast food and candy, and an inability to form lasting relationships with members of the opposite sex.

I won’t comment on which ones of these traits I also embody. Let’s just say my daily wardrobe relies heavily on t-shirts from college and summer camp. There are other definitions that take a different spin on the term Manchild as well:   

“(Australian context) A boy who goes through puberty at a very young age, and is usually the tallest and oldest looking amongst his peers between the ages of 11-13. After that, he stops growing, and his peers go through puberty and become the same size/taller than him in the later teenage years. Despite this, however, a manchild will retain his characteristically mature features well into later life.”

Surprisingly, I was an Australian Manchild growing up. There is also this definition,

“A man that is so large and/or powerful that he makes other men around him look like children. Usually an athlete that dominates others on the field/court because of his size and strength.”

There is no risk of me turning into THAT kind of Manchild any time soon. My main concern is fulfilling the first definition and become one of the millions of men who have become the source for ire, mockery, exasperation, and embarrassment because of their inability to transition into adulthood. If I do not take steps to turn things around now, I worry that I could very well end up like Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons or Ignatius J. Reilly.

Already, people are saying such things as being thirty is the new twenty-five and being twenty-five is the new twenty, which doesn’t make much sense since twenty year-olds can’t drink. Anyway, the point is that we as a society have begun to become used to this state of affairs and see the Manchildren spread out across our land as a normal feature, not just here for the time being, but the natural product of our economy and society, like a herd of ill-kempt buffalo.  I refuse to believe that.

Hence, the reason for the blog. It is a means to chart my progress from boychick to mensch. My hope is that it will not take too long to accomplish my goals, though I will keep this project going as long as necessary. One might say that this sort of process has no natural end, except death and that one is always becoming an adult. Maybe that’s true. However one can certainly stop making any progress whatsoever, which is where I feel I am.  I do have a few concrete goals I want to achieve, some more important than others, and it is towards them that I am working.

They are a mix between public and private, popular and personal.  My journey away from turning into a Manchild will be made up of goals that will reflect not only what others want me to be, but what I want to be as well. Yes, some are typical. I would like to have a job, live on my own, and no longer be single, but there are tasks I am setting out for my sake as well, such as getting published, studying Italian, and living healthier, goals that are “independent” of my becoming more independent.

Although I want to avoid becoming a running gag in my parent’s basement, I do not want to simply turn into an aging cog either. My growing up and away from being a Manchild should be taken as a step towards creating a new and improved version of myself, not just producing a copy of my father or grandfather. Not only would it be inauthentic, it would be impossible. Times have changed. The key is to become fulfilled on my own terms, understanding that independence means taking responsibility not just for others but myself as well.