J. Michael Straczynski (JMS) (TV/screen writer, Babylon 5 (TV), Jeremiah (TV), Changeling (screen)) spoke at my alma mater, MIT, last night, and Heidi and I paid $10 each to see him. Trust me, it was a LOT more entertaining than a movie (well, except Star Trek, but we've seen that twice--Go See It!). Despite claiming to be a horrible speaker, he was funny as hell.
I figured I would get there early, breeze in, and get a good seat. But my years of working outside Route 128 in Boston still blind me, sometimes, to the culture of the geeks--my humble roots. I arrived 35 minutes early, but geeks were lined up for about 1/4 of the length of the Infinite Corridor. "Infinite" here translates to 1/4 mile. (Geeks understand that when they say theirs is "infinitely" long, no one can possibly top that). So 1/16 of a mile long line, 35 minutes prior, to get a good seat to see a mid-level TV screenwriter, who has just now emerged as a major motion picture screenwriter. (I raise my hand) Guilty as charged. Though if I had figured out ahead of time there'd be a line, I wouldn't have arrived early. I hate lines.
They weren't there, though, to see him from his work writing the oscar-winning film, "Changeling" (Ron Howard, Clint Eastwood, Angelina Jolie). Instead, they were there because of his ground-breaking work on the science-fiction TV series, Babylon 5. Babylon 5 is most famous for being the first TV series with a pre-planned multi-year (5) story arc that made each episode completely consistent with all of the others. It turns out TV audiences have enough attention span to see a story through 110 hour-long (well, 43 minutes without commercials) episodes.
One of the main appeals of the TV series Lost is because of the pre-planned 6-season (oringally 5) story arc. The fact that this format worked was proven out by Babylon 5. Quite simply, we would not have Lost (as we know it) if there had been no Babylon 5. (Although Lost has certainly improved on the format, and DVD's and Netflix make this format even more accessible, but I'll save that for another topic).
You know, the signs posted on the way towards the lecture hall, with slogan and insignias from Babylon 5, were my first clues that I was back on Terra Geekdom.
JMS spoke in the lecture hall numbered 10-250. It was an abomination how much that lecture hall had changed from my college days. For one thing, it had a real name. You mean I can't call it "10-250" anymore? And everything had been updated and modernized. I was mortified and envious at the same time. However, one thing remained as before: the mechanized 9-panel blackboard system. That's right, it's still a blackboard. Not a projector screen, not a new system of whiteboards, but still the old blackboards. It's nice to see that *some* things never change. I bet it was like that in the 1920's (although without the mechanization).
But here's the amazing part--when JMS launched into his speech, I found him talking to me and speaking from his heart to mine. He told me something I already knew, but it was validation for switching careers. He said that the biggest obstacle to acheivement is the fear of failure. Everybody has the limits of their abilities, but people rarely test those limits because they are afraid to fail. And so most people stay in their "little box" where they know they will succeed and everything is predictable. It's a "comfort zone," and I am guilty as charged of remaining in my "comfort zone."
Recently, I knew I wanted to break out of my "comfort zone," to find the limits of my achievement, but I was confused about the direction. Do I go into management? I didn't have the temperament, but I could learn that. Do I go more technical in my profession? I could do that, too, but I didn't have the drive anymore. But when I started writing again, two years ago, I realized that I had to break out of my box in a big way.
And so here is JMS, ON THE VERY SAME DAY AS MY CAREER CHANGE WAS ANNOUNCED, telling me that I should do exactly what I had just done on that day.
I don't believe in coincidences, and I never will. This was clearly a message directed at me to PAY ATTENTION and listen to what he is saying.
And the message was--keep doing it. Keep testing your limits. Never be afraid to fail. You will never know what you can achieve if you never fail. If you're not failing, at least occasionally, then you're doing it all wrong.
Message received. I understand I have license to fail. I feel powerful already.
-Dan Fox
danfox@danielcfox.com
http://danielcfox.blogspot.com/
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1625342545
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
A Leap of Faith – A Software Engineer Switches Career to Fiction Writing
In the Rider-Waite Tarot, The Fool card is the first in the deck and is numbered 0. Clearly, the Tarot was designed by a software engineer. The Fool lives up on the mountaintops, bathed in sunlight. Dressed like a dandy, he appears to not have a care in the world. And yet, there he is, with a small round hobo's bag attached to the end of a pole. With the pole carried in his right hand and resting over his right shoulder, he is walking headlong towards a cliff. The Fool, you see, is not content with living in comfort up in the mountains. Instead, he must descend into the world below. Why would he do such a thing, when he lives like a God up on the mountain? The card does not tell us why, because that is not important. What is important is that, despite his life of luxury and comfort, he is compelled to descend to the depths below, disregarding the fact that he must fall precipitously without any means of support. What he expects to find down below is also not important and unknown to us, but, whatever it is, it is certainly important to HIM. The jump off the cliff is so contrary, from our outside point-of-view, to what seems to be any reasonable and safe course of action, that it can only be called a Leap of Faith.
I have been writing fiction, off and on—mostly off—since I was 16, which was 25 years ago. (Now we see how quickly you can add!). At first, I thought I was good, but, in reality, I was horrible. Joe Haldeman, the award-winning science fiction writer, taught a class in science fiction writing at MIT. And when I took it, he made it very clear that I was irredeemably bad. Looking back, he did me a favor. I suppose someone else would have told me eventually--most likely Heidi, my future wife. But even if I was good, the expected mean income of an engineer is much higher than a fiction writer. Being an engineer was much more prudent.
At the time, I was contemplating a career either in fiction writing, chemical engineering or software engineering. When I realized I was not going to be a good author, I became a hybrid chemical and software engineer, and then finally a pure software engineer. Now that was a field which I was good at and made me happy.
For the last 11 years, I'm been writing a story that's been rattling in my wife's brain, and then started to rattle into mine. The story has undergone significant revisions since then, and then two years ago I decided to get serious and start writing it regularly. Stephen King says to write 1000 or 2000 words a day, every day. So I did. And something very wonderful happened.
It was good. It was very good. I was good. And I was passionate about it. This was a story that had to be told, and I had to tell it.
Heidi, my wife of 19 years, has been needling me to spend more time on it, but the demands of my career were simply too much. I tried to balance the two, but there was no balance in the mind of the A student that I am. And also there was the problem that I had the most fun and lucrative job than I have ever had. I very much enjoy being a software engineer working for my employer. But Heidi encouraged me to do what was already on my mind--devote full time to the writing. So I am switching careers, and Heidi is willing to support me while I get my new career off the ground (probably a few years). How wonderful is that?
I'm giving up so much to pursue my passion, and there is a lot to be fearful of. What if Heidi loses her job? What if we run out of money? What if we have to sell our house? But these things are all things that the body wants, and, quite frankly, my body is spoiled. For 41 years (did you add correctly?), I have been pampering of my body but doing little for my spirit, who is begging me to make this change. My spirit asks for so little. How could I turn my back on him?
And so I'm walking over the cliff. I see it coming, and I fear I will crash and die on the rocks below. But I know that's not going to happen. It's all very simple, really. At the end of the day, there is only one thing I can do, that, like The Fool, I MUST do. I must make a Leap of Faith.
-Dan Fox
danfox@danielcfox.com
http://danielcfox.blogspot.com/
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1625342545
I have been writing fiction, off and on—mostly off—since I was 16, which was 25 years ago. (Now we see how quickly you can add!). At first, I thought I was good, but, in reality, I was horrible. Joe Haldeman, the award-winning science fiction writer, taught a class in science fiction writing at MIT. And when I took it, he made it very clear that I was irredeemably bad. Looking back, he did me a favor. I suppose someone else would have told me eventually--most likely Heidi, my future wife. But even if I was good, the expected mean income of an engineer is much higher than a fiction writer. Being an engineer was much more prudent.
At the time, I was contemplating a career either in fiction writing, chemical engineering or software engineering. When I realized I was not going to be a good author, I became a hybrid chemical and software engineer, and then finally a pure software engineer. Now that was a field which I was good at and made me happy.
For the last 11 years, I'm been writing a story that's been rattling in my wife's brain, and then started to rattle into mine. The story has undergone significant revisions since then, and then two years ago I decided to get serious and start writing it regularly. Stephen King says to write 1000 or 2000 words a day, every day. So I did. And something very wonderful happened.
It was good. It was very good. I was good. And I was passionate about it. This was a story that had to be told, and I had to tell it.
Heidi, my wife of 19 years, has been needling me to spend more time on it, but the demands of my career were simply too much. I tried to balance the two, but there was no balance in the mind of the A student that I am. And also there was the problem that I had the most fun and lucrative job than I have ever had. I very much enjoy being a software engineer working for my employer. But Heidi encouraged me to do what was already on my mind--devote full time to the writing. So I am switching careers, and Heidi is willing to support me while I get my new career off the ground (probably a few years). How wonderful is that?
I'm giving up so much to pursue my passion, and there is a lot to be fearful of. What if Heidi loses her job? What if we run out of money? What if we have to sell our house? But these things are all things that the body wants, and, quite frankly, my body is spoiled. For 41 years (did you add correctly?), I have been pampering of my body but doing little for my spirit, who is begging me to make this change. My spirit asks for so little. How could I turn my back on him?
And so I'm walking over the cliff. I see it coming, and I fear I will crash and die on the rocks below. But I know that's not going to happen. It's all very simple, really. At the end of the day, there is only one thing I can do, that, like The Fool, I MUST do. I must make a Leap of Faith.
-Dan Fox
danfox@danielcfox.com
http://danielcfox.blogspot.com/
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1625342545
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