So, I'm at dinner and...

...my friend Josh tells me that I shouldn't worry about what happened with Nintendo. Mathematically speaking, he figures I was maybe one of seven invited to come in to interview for a position that had 700 applicants. He said that, in a situation like this, it was more of a gut instinct about who was the better candidate instead of anything dealing with applications or editing tests.

Frankly, I wasn't letting my rejection bother me. Josh had been one of my personal references I put down in the application, and I figured it would be proper to let him know that he wouldn't have to worry about getting a phone call.

It was good to hear him say that, and I don't think he was sugar-coating things. He interviews people all the time. I just didn't have the right "feel" for a HR person this time around. It's still pretty neat that I make it in the front door, although I think that every applicant should be given a parting gift of a free game. I mean, I think Nintendo could part with a few games once in a while.

Apply blind spots where necessary

Okay, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, unless he's my enemy because I have new friends.

Story here.

When is a vacation not a vacation?

Answer: When you are going through the hell have having to train someone to fill your job.

To be honest, Keith (not his real name) is doing the best he can. He's trying to get someone to cover for him and, since he works for a different and more territorial boss, he has to go back and do his job while trying to learn mine. The trouble is, my job is a game of nuances and subtle clues, things that I can't easily explain in a bulleted to-do list or even bring to document in some manual. Keith has to actually work my job for a few days, trip over a few landmines, and stumble around dazed so I can be there to tell him, "No, you don't do that. When that happens, you do this."

So, since Keith is boomeranging back and forth between his job and mine, and while my boss is haggling with the other boss to free up Keith so I can train him full time, I'm trying to make sure the work he did and the work I'm doing when he's gone match up stylewise.

Let me tell you, when I get done training him, I will need a vacation.

But at least he's getting trained ahead of time. Most people at my office get tossed into the deep end of the pool on the first day with their arms and legs bound. I couldn't enjoy my time off knowing Keith would be floundering. Reason one: I'm a very nice person, who couldn't bear to think of someone losing his mind the way I did when I first took the job with barely any idea what to do. Reason two: I want to come back from my vacation and not spend the first day cleaning up any messes.

'Cause grim is how I feel



What comes next

I've been in a fugue for a couple days about Nintendo. If you read back through the recent entries, you'll see that I've come to the conclusion that Nintendo, as great as it would have been to work for them, wouldn't be the answer to some of the thicker, thornier problems in my life.

Here's the deal: I'm having a very hard time actually putting prose on the page. And before you answer, Mr. Smarty-Pants, no, this blog doesn't count. What I mean is, I haven't been writing-writing lately. Well, actually, I have a bit. I've begun a new story, churning out ideas, snips of dialogue. The beginning stages of writing the story are always the best. It's all fresh and hot and frantic. You slam in words and it's all done with a smile. You can be clumsily and contradicting, and it doesn't matter because it's the splendid lightning bolts coming down from the sky and charging through your fingers. There's no guilt, no revision.

The shitty part starts about three days later. The party's over and the date you brought home for a little carnal fun is all ugly and fractured, and you're looking for the first chance you get to throw it out.

And after you do, you wonder if it could have worked out if you tried a little harder. But you know better. You're in this for the passionate weekends, not that day-in, day-out slog where you have to worry about commitment and trying harder.

I have a problem with things not being perfect, a dangerous pre-occupation for anyone interested in the arts. Nothing an artist does the first time out will be perfect. For writers, there's the thankless task of revision, where bad ideas get weeded out, whole chapters are rewritten and the discovery of a new sentence could jettison or add 500 pages.

My problem is I WANT IT RIGHT THE FIRST TIME and I'm too embarrassed to go back for a revision. Hell, I can't get the energy to finish a first draft. I don't want to write the damn thing because I know it'll get rejected. All manuscripts are. My deliciously fragile self-esteem isn't set up for the writing business, or the idea of mistakes.

I guess I'm also scared about not actually having the skills to pull this off. I suppose other writers (and artists, for that matter) come to this spot on the map at one point. I always feel as if my writing abilities will never come to match my imagination. I feel as if I'm in a race and all the other writers are way in front of me, hashing out wondrous characters and locales and descriptions while I'm in a fit of half-starts and undeveloped embryos dragging behind me.

Yes, I know this is terribly pretentious, but you're in blog country now. What do you expect?

Oh, well. The answer will come to me. It usually does.

French Word of the Day

chateaux en Espagne (shah toh zah neh spahn yuh): “castles in Spain”; castles in the air; daydreams; fantasies.