Category: the writing life

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The Neurodivergent Book Editor Wins


I’ve known this for a couple of months, but I can finally announce that Endemic has won first place in genre fiction from the North Street Book Awards. They say my story about a neurodivergent book editor overcoming childhood trauma in the viral apocalypse is a “fresh twist“ in apocalyptic fiction.

http://mybook.to/TheEndemicExperience

In addition to a cash prize and various goodies, I received a nifty T-shirt and a certificate.)


This is Endemic’s fourth win. It previously received a Literary Titan Award and first place at both the Hollywood Book Festival and the New York Book Festival.

One of the (possibly dubious?) benefits is a critique of the book via the judges. Note the huge difference in tone between the ominous word “critique” and the glorious word “review.”

For the most part, the critique is delighted and delightful. I had to giggle at one piece of commentary wherein a judge suggested she would have enjoyed Endemic even more if it were a completely different book. Also, in my estimation, the suggestion of a different cover would have hurt the novel. But these are niggles. Reading between the lines, it’s easy to appreciate how different readers will see a narrative through their particular lens . Obviously, they loved Endemic overall.

Congratulations to all the winners! You’ll find them all listed here.

You can buy Endemic in hardcover, paperback, and ebook here.

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Writing Retreat

This week, I’m outside my comfort zone, away from the blanket fort, and working on an epic fantasy. Strictly speaking, this is a new genre to me. However, there are so many commonalities with the apocalyptic and dystopian genres that it’s definitely adjacent. The writing is coming easily. I have always enjoyed creating worlds, especially those with philosophical or theological complexity. Amid the action and chaos, there is the reaction to action and chaos. That’s where the tears and laughter can really flow.

As I sit in this cozy cottage (our first vacation in many years), I’m grateful my wife insisted we get away. For a while, someone else can worry about the broken clothes dryer and that funny noise the air conditioner makes. This week is just for us, and of course, filling up the blank page with suspenseful stories full of swords and mayhem.

Each day, I write little daily updates about the work and my reading and writing life in my fan group. If you’d like to join my inner circle of people who dig what I do, join my Facebook group here:

Fans of Robert Chazz Chute

(Jokes and memes abound.)

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Facebook Takeover tonight!

Makes it sound like I’m storming Zuckerberg’s mansion with a bunch of ninja commandos, doesn’t it? It’s 5% less awesome than that. For one night only, I’m taking over a FB group dedicated to science fiction and fantasy. I’ll be at Destiny’s Lighters from 5:30 pm to 10 PM EST tonight, Saturday, July 16.

Here’s the group:

https://www.facebook.com/groups/lytonians/

Want to come see what I think is wrong with a bunch of apocalyptic fiction? Or what’s right? I’ll even tell you who cares. To get in, all you need is an invite and I give those out freely.

My Facebook page is https://www.facebook.com/robert.c.chute/. Let me know you want in and I’ll make it happen.

Have a great day. See you tonight.

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31 Ways We All Fall Down

When we are feeling rudderless, the mental health gurus encourage us to find your why. Why are you a writer? If you’ve been at this a while, you may ask yourself, “Why am I still a writer?”

For many of us, getting into the brain tickle business doesn’t feel like a choice. It’s more like the profession chose you. It’s a calling, right? As a kid, you loved to read. Writing books seemed like the next natural progression.

Here’s what I want you to know:

There are many paths up the mountain, and there are a lot of twists and turns ahead:

  1. The lightning bolt of success will strike, but maybe it won’t hit you.
  2. Others will succeed. You will read their books, and you shall be mystified by their success.
  3. Some who appear successful really aren’t.
  4. Some who don’t appear successful really are.
  5. You may learn something from the success of others. You may not.
  6. There are many moving parts you can’t see and variables you can’t control.
  7. Other people’s success or failure has nothing to do with you. Don’t be jealous.
  8. You may achieve early success, but it won’t last.
  9. You may achieve success later. That probably won’t last, either. (People are obsessed with the new, even if it’s not as good as the old.)
  10. You may be writing to achieve a legacy, but in the end, despite your best and better efforts, you’ll probably be known for just one thing. Scary thought. huh?
  11. You’ll get bad reviews for something in your book you thought was innocuous.
  12. The stuff you thought might piss off some readers will sail by without fireworks.
  13. You may write a brilliant book. The market does not necessarily reward brilliance.
  14. Writing and marketing are two separate activities. A good marketer can outpace a great writer.
  15. Odds are against it, but you could hit it big with your first book or first series. It might have been a fluke, so don’t go around thinking you’re a genius too soon.
  16. Being gifted is great, but it can set you up for disappointment later. Just do the work and ease up on the unrealistic expectations. Unrealistic expectations is what the lottery is for.
  17. Hard work and consistency often outpace talent.
  18. Elementary skills, solid craft, and dramatic chops are important, but not everything.
  19. Marketing skills are important, but not everything.
  20. Gurus will act like they have all the answers. (A) Taking their courses without acting on their advice is a waste of money you could have used for a writing retreat at an Air B&B, and (B) they don’t have all the answers, but acting as if they do is Salesmanship 101.
  21. Influence, advertising, presence, and followers can be bought. If you don’t have the cash, you aren’t sprinting from the same starting line as those who have the moolah.
  22. You can do everything right, and still fail.
  23. You can do everything wrong. That’s probably your first book, the one that should have stayed in a drawer.
  24. I’ll tell you what many won’t: luck and timing are factors and they are beyond your control.
  25. Advertising, celebrity endorsements, and/or a nod from a social media influencer can make a bad book sell. (I know of an author whose books are not at all grammatical. His first language is not English. He needs translator and an editor. Because of endorsements, he’s getting sales on terrible books.)
  26. Life’s not fair. You knew that already, but as cruel as life can be, the market can be meaner.
  27. You and your readership may disagree on which are your best books.
  28. You will have a baby that you’re sure is the cutest, and yet it will squat there on your sales page, mostly unreviewed and unloved.
  29. That new shiny idea you chased might turn into a book series. Hurray! Hitch your wagon to a star! At some point, you’ll sit at your keyboard feeling like you’ve hitched your wagon to a stump. You’ve got newer, shinier ideas, but you feel like you can’t move on.
  30. Unless you’re a psychopathic narcissist, you will have doubts, and worries about your writing career. That doesn’t go away, it just ebbs and flows.
  31. Writing more books gives you more shots on goal, but failure is normal. Failure is so common, huge publishers put out big lists of books so the few successes pay for the rest that get remaindered.

These are not all happy, happy, joy, joy things to say, are they? So here’s the good news:

Contrary to what you may have thought, you do have a choice. Yes, you could quit. It may be a calling, but you don’t have to answer that call.

Alternatively, you could let it go to voicemail while you reevaluate your assumptions, rejuvenate your mind, and rethink your strategy. Or you could just plunge forward, full steam ahead, damn the torpedoes. You will probably do exactly that. I’m not here to discourage you. I just want you to know you are not alone sitting there in doubt and frustration as you stare at the horrible, impatient blinking cursor wondering if you’ve made an irreversible mistake.

You haven’t made one mistake. You’ve made plenty and you’ll make more. But someday, maybe, all those mistakes will contribute to your creation of something glorious for all to see.

~ I am Robert Chazz Chute and I’ve written a lot of books. Here’s the one I’m most proud of, but what do I know? You decide.

Endemic is live on Amazon!
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I wish we didn’t do that here

As if mass casualties weren’t enough, 2020 just delivered another kick in the teeth. Chadwick Boseman, dead at 43 of colon cancer. His too-short career comprises much more than Black Panther, but for me, as a creator, a fan of the MCU and a comic book fan, his iconic role as T’Challah was so much more than the sum of its parts.

Hollywood underestimated the film’s saleability and impact, but Black Panther spoke to people. Wakanda is a utopian dream where everyone has dignity. Unlike the world we live in, powerful, intelligent women are not seen as a threat. Instead, they are respected. As many black people around the world have said, representation in a hugely successful franchise allowed them to feel seen for the first time.

Despite Wakanda’s monarchy, there is equality. This is best embodied in what could have been a throw-away scene in which Bruce Banner bows to the king. Chadwick Boseman delivers the line perfectly. “We don’t do that here.”

Imagine a world where someone holding power and authority asks anyone else not to bow. What a contrast to our current reality.

Wakanda forever.

Chadwick Boseman, Rest in Power.

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The Writing Life: Vicissitudes

The writing life has its ups and downs. As I was closing up shop yesterday, my editor, Gari Strawn of strawnediting.com, noted, “It’s been a week of a day.”

Amen, sister! Yesterday felt like Thwart Day. Whatever could go wrong, did.

First, I discovered that Google Docs can’t be trusted. Editorial changes we’d made to a book I’m doctoring did not necessarily take (as detailed today on my writing blog, Chazzwrites.com.)

But the hijinx didn’t end there. Besides getting a new word processing platform together for the editorial team’s collaboration, my internet connectivity became sketchy. (See that, right there? That’s what you call foreshadowing, partner.)

Working furiously to meet a deadline, other projects I thought I was going to get to faster had to be pushed further back. Not happy about that, but to pay the bills, the writing life often has to be about short-term and long-term.

My son’s PC crapped out on him so I consulted (AKA did the heavy looking on as he poked through the machine’s innards). I nodded sagely as he diagnosed the need for a new power supply.

Which got me thinking, when was the last time I did a full manual backup of my computers?

Backup

I once belonged to a writing group where some odd questions were often posed. Most memorable: “Who here writes with a quill pen?” Settle down, d’Artagnan. Write or type, but don’t be so precious and extra.

My son’s computer issues spurred me to be more proactive about the health of my desktop and laptop. Both are climbing into the age where they are antiques. It was past time to protect them better. I’d used Sophos before. This time, I installed AVG tuneup on both machines and eliminated many gigabytes of duplicate and useless files. Then I did a full backup, updates and virus scan. The process took some time, but it was inexpensive. It felt good to clean up my babies. My living does depend on their health, after all.

Finding balance

The writing life isn’t just about tickling brains, sly jokes, and meteoric wordplay. Because my brain navigates a meatwagon through the world, I’m also trying to find balance for my health. Despite some all-nighters recently (because of looming deadlines and tech glitches I couldn’t plan for) I try to stop work by 9 pm. After that, my brain is too overstimulated and I’ll be up for the night. Though the day had been an example of Murphy’s Law, I made time to go on a long walk with She Who Must Be Obeyed. Sometimes that’s the only time we have for long talks, as well.

I’ve gone back to vegan eating. There’s a long theory about the relationship between ingestion, temperature, and sleep, but the short answer is, for me, more vegan = less insomnia. Since I’ve gone vegan, my energy is up and I’m not schlumping around like a wounded animal quite as much.

I even made time to give myself a haircut last night. I shave it tight on the sides. Any tighter and I’d look like I have mange. It’s kind of a Peaky Blinders vibe.

Despite yesterday’s frustrations, it turned out better by the end. I’m more calm than I might otherwise be. Thwart Day was tough, but I was determined to make today better.

Then the internet totally crapped out on us this morning.

Thor…damn…it.

And so … we begin again. When I mention my frustrations to a friend, he always comes back with how much harder he has it. I’m not sure whether he’s bragging or complaining, but he’s not wrong. There are vicissitudes, but the writing life is still pretty sweet compared to all my other options.

Breathe. Repeat. Continue.

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Racing down the spiral

The Night Man is me.

I suffer insomnia. And I do mean suffer. This is a list of some my thoughts from last night’s fugue. It could be a flow chart that loops back on itself.

  • Bedtime! Got to bed early! Great!
  • Not sleepy.
  • Not sleepy. Sigh.
  • Patience. The trick to falling asleep is to neither try nor not try. Do or do not, there is no try. Thanks, Yoda, you little green fuck.
  • Calm. Patience. You’re an expert in relaxation, Rob. You can do this.
  • In “Jenny from the Block,” why does she sing, “I used to have a little, now I have a lot”? If she’d sung, “I used to have a little, now I got a lot,” that would be better. “Got a lot.” Rolls off the tongue and pleases the brain. I mean, why? Her artistic choice, sure, but why?
  • I need help. Hypnosis app. I go through a sequence. The free hypnotic sequence was better than the one I paid for. Grr.
  • Not sleepy. The walls are alive. When I see my sleep specialist in a week, will he review all the health dangers of poor sleep? Will he go over all the sleep hygiene shit I’m already doing? I ruminate about how my brain is, at that moment, shrinking.
  • Deep breathing…progressive muscle relaxation.
  • Random thought intrudes: How many cast members of MASH are still alive? I remember the street I was on and the angle of the sunlight on the morning a kid in my class mentioned the name of the show on our way to school. I asked, “Is it a TV show about potatoes?”
  • Let it go…let it go. And now I’ve got a Disney song in my head. It’s a good song, but not now, Queen Elsa.
  • Elsa. Else. Elsewhere. Elsewhen. I want to be elsewhere and elsewhen.
  • An editorial question is revisited. The editorial question bounces back and forth in my brain in a hypothetical argument that will never happen. Resolution = zero.
  • Second hypnosis app. Nothing.
  • They say Adderall can be a recreational drug, but isn’t it more a work drug? I mean, if I got Adderall, would I finally clean up my office? That would make my wife love me more. The smart drug from Limitless doesn’t exist but, hey! Where can I get some Adderall for which I do not technically qualify except, look at me right now! Gee-Zuzz!
  • Is there a podcast called Limitless? Good pod name. I should look that up. Maybe they have some good ideas. I wish I had a podcast called Limitless. However, I am feeling extraordinarily limited and sorry for myself.
  • Self-pity is not attractive. Add that to my list of things I dislike about Rob.
  • How much time has elapsed? Is it 3 or 4 a.m.? It’s 1:46. What? Really? Only 1:46 a.m.? Shit!
  • I should put socks on. Body temperature/sleep theory says that might help. Sigh. I lie there, thinking about it.
  • Eons pass. Mountains erode. Seas evaporate. The sun explodes. The heat death of the universe ensues. The universe contracts back to the size of a softball again and another Big Bang shatters the void. I see all of Time as a heartbeat and every single Big Bang is the pulse of all existence. An endless, meaningless existence in which Time is a flat circle on infinite repeat.
  • Was Nietzsche fun at parties? I bet he wasn’t.
  • But then there’s the whole multiverse thing. Don’t even think about that, Rob. You know how you get.
  • Will they really make the Spider-Man movie where Toby Maguire and Andrew Garfield come back to play Spider-Men from alternate universes teaming up with Tom Holland? That would be sweet.
  • Eons did not pass. It’s only 2:06 a.m. Deep breathing…nope, nope, nope. Did I eat something today that makes me this way? Why am I like this? I’m pissed. Is this mania? Not clinically, but it feels like I’m on the same continuum.
  • I should put socks on, but then I’d have to turn on the light and that can trigger a wake cycle and I’m trying to get into the sleep cycle aaaand…now I have to pee.
  • I don’t wanna get up, but it’s not like lying here is working, anyway.
  • Get up, pee, get socks, back to bed. Wait.
  • Is the pillow a thousand degrees? It feels like it’s a thousand degrees. Turn pillow to the cool side. Still hot. How am I going to get any work done tomorrow?
  • Toss. Turn. Patience wanes. Fuck Adderall. I need to be knocked out. Where can I get those darts they use to tranquilize rhinos? Where’s the nearest zoo that has rhinos and how good is their security?
  • Give up. Facebook. Twitter. Email.
  • No one’s emailing me in the dead of night because they’re all asleep. How I hate and envy them.
  • Fall into an Instagram rabbit hole of Karens harassing people just minding their own business. View of humanity plummets.
  • Back to Twitter. News. View of humanity plummets further. I have the Iron Man fantasy again where I get the armor and fuck up some people who desperately deserve it.
  • If I were in a different state of mind, I could actually get up and use this time to write dozens of books. It doesn’t work like that, though. In this state, I’m simultaneously overstimulated but my head feels foggy, as if I’ve been bingeing a five-day marathon of golf tournaments. I fucking hate golf.
  • Golf. Remember that time that guy cornered me at a wedding reception and asked if I was interested in golf and I said, “Fuck, no,” and he told me his golf story, anyway? Review how to kill with the stem of a broken wine glass.
  • Sleep is needed. I should try again (and yet, somehow, not try.)
  • I’ve helped hundreds of people battling insomnia but I can’t help myself. I don’t make enough money. I don’t do a lot of things I should. I could do a lot of those things if I could just get a good night’s sleep!
  • Self-recrimination isn’t helping. You knew it wouldn’t, Rob, you moron! Let’s review every mean thing anyone has ever said to you or about you. (I have an eidetic memory for that.)
  • I want potato chips. And chocolate ice cream. Maybe find a way to combine the two that isn’t gross. But that would require intravenous injection.
  • If I get COVID-19, I have to get a block of plywood by the hospital bed so I can knock on it to ward off the disease. That’s unquestionably the stupidest of my superstitions, and yet…
  • One and a half nanoseconds later: What if, instead of piling food on a fork or spoon, we put each food category in a line on a long plate, as if we’re doing cocaine, but with snow peas?
  • Editorial question revisited on a loop. Pointless. Nobody listens to Rob. If I were thinner and taller and not named after a felony, people would listen.
  • “Got a lot!” I mean, the rhyme is right there, J.Lo! Jesus! This aggression will not stand!
  • Watch an interview with a new Black Panther in which the reporter seems well-versed in the organization’s history, but totally focuses on whether to carry weapons to a protest instead of even nodding to their noble work in community activism to feed and care for people who were otherwise forgotten.
  • 3:30 a.m. The bed is lava. Despite the fan, I am magma.
  • Give up, get out of bed, and move to my backup bed in the basement where it’s cooler.
  • Toss. Turn. I am a turbine. Hook me up and I will power the planet.
  • I should be sleepy by now and yet I have the nervous system of a squirrel.
  • I make a mental note that I should write these thoughts down in a blog post so I don’t have to think them again. That’s how I’ll let it go.
  • Shit. Disney’s back.
  • Nah, don’t bother writing it down. I’ll probably forget half of it by tomorrow. (I did forget half, and yet, here we are.)
  • 5-something, I think. Finally sleepy. At some point tomorrow, I will easily fall into a sweet and delicious nap that will not be denied. I’m not supposed to sleep during the day, but it’s nap or die.
  • Sleep is finally creeping in at dawn, a turtle in a race that all the happy rabbits finished long ago when the night was young.
  • Eyelids like heavy weights. Good…good…let the hate flow through you.
  • And here she comes, on a loop as my brain cranks up again. “Got a lot! Got a lot!” GODDAMN IT, J.LO!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8nCswWuyShg