My dad and I used to get in an argument about whether or not I was a professional writer.  I said I was because I commanded pro rates to do my work.  His point was that when my work could support my family, then I was a professional.

The dream of many writers is to be able to live solely off income generated from their writing.  As Nick Mamatas pointed out in Starve Better, this can be done by adjusting your lifestyle and taking on non-fiction gigs.  Slapped in the face with that reality, what we really mean with our dream is that “we want to live solely off writing what we want in the comfort of the middle class lifestyle we enjoy.”

As I talk to other freelancers about living the life of a freelancer we have a certain amounts of income banked away until you get to That Time.  You can define “That Time” different ways, but it’s all semantics for “when your spouse tells you it’s time to get a ‘real’ job.”  And by “real” it isn’t that they don’t necessarily support what you’re doing, but they don’t want the constant anxiety of “where’s the next check coming because we got bills to pay.”  They want steady income and little things like health benefits.

We crashed into That Time a few months back.  Thus me doing substitute teaching and tutoring to make ends meet while I searched for a “real” job.  The realities of making a go as a full-time freelancer involved and brief stint on food stamps and enrolling our kids in Medi-Caid (one of the biggest hurdles in the life of a freelancer is health insurance).  One of the things that helped the freelance larder refill, and thus pushing back That Time, was expanding into freelance editing and ghost writing.

You do what you have to do in order to live the dream.  Taking on non-fiction gigs where you can find them is little different than having a “day” job.  It IS my day job.  And it lets me give my creative muscle rest times as I switch between projects.

I’ve volunteered off and on for many years with Outreach Inc and have written about a typical day in the life of the ministry and how it impacts how I view the city I live in.  I was recently asked to write about what I felt the first day I went down to volunteer:

There are some mission fields where you end up saying “I’m glad someone’s doing that” because the idea of you doing it seems impossible.  Volunteering to work down at Outreach Inc and working with homeless teenagers can be like that for some people.  I know it was like that for me the first time I found myself down there.

I’m not always the most outgoing of people, so the idea of working with a room full of homeless teenagers was a daunting prospect.  To be perfectly honest, teenagers period were enough to stretch me out of my comfort zone, but in my mind, homeless teenagers were so especially out of the world and people that I dealt with that I was nearly frozen with apprehension from not knowing what to expect.  I certainly didn’t know how I was going to initiate a conversation with anyone “so different than me.”  We build up all of these “differences” in our heads:  they’re so much younger, they come from a different class, I can’t relate to their culture, they look so strange.  Through all of that, we forget what we have in common:  we’re all people.  We all have stories to tell.

I’m a professional writer and I tend to carry around a notepad with me.  As much as I’d love to claim that it’s so I can jot down ideas whenever they come to me, which it is, it also doubles as my security blanket.  Not to different from my own kids who carried their blankets everywhere we went for so long, I’d cling to my notepad whenever I get anxious.  So the first time I sat down with one of the kids from Outreach Inc., they asked me why I had it.  Was I with the government?  Was I taking a survey?  When I told them I was a writer, something wonderful happened:  they began telling me their story.  That’s when that moment of clarity, aka the D’Uh moment, hit me as I recalled the opening words from my own creative writing seminar I give:  “everyone has a story to tell.”

Having the proper heart and intentionality about building relationships is what Outreach Inc is about.  The problems many of the kids face won’t and can’t be fixed by throwing money at them, but having people who love them, support them, and want to walk alongside them certainly goes a long way in getting their lives back on track.  As much as I struggled with what “someone like me” might have to offer to “someone like them”, the simple fact is that we all have gifts to offer.  Everyone has a story to tell, sometimes all it takes to be there for someone is to be a willing listener.

“Conventions aren’t about winning awards or being guest of honor or whatever. It’s experiencing the people that makes events worthwhile.” –John Edward Lawson

How do you sum up the continuing experiment we call Mo*Con?

IT.  WAS.  AWESOME!

We purposefully don’t over program.  We have a single track of “programming” and allow folks plenty of time and space to hang out with one another.  It allows the magic, that strange alchemy of bringing interesting people together around food and drinks, to happen.  And by “magic” I mean things like:

-ending up at a burlesque show the night before Mo*Con (folks come in for Mo*Con early and we *have* to entertain them.  And accidents happen…)

-Mary Robinette Kowal doing a reading from her work in progress in my living room

-what we may have to dub the Tom Piccirilli smoker’s club (ever since his appearance at Mo*Con IV, people have brought ever more expensive cigars to share)

-rain or shine, the conversations that happen in the Broaddus family garage after the main programming

-going to see The Avengers in 3-D on the IMAX, the late night show, post Mo*Con, because, you know, who needs sleep?

As far as Mo*Con itself, we never know what quite to expect.  Our Friday nights have had everything from Open Mic poetry readings to a Celtic rock band performance (Mother Grove!).  Mary Robinette Kowal performing a puppet show this year was absolutely classic.  In Mo*Con tradition, we had conversations on spirituality (with Mary Sangiovanni and Nate Southard holding court) and race (watching John Edward Lawson and Chesya Burke holding it down for real).  In that same tradition, sparks flew, people disagreed, but it was done in a spirit of respect and listening to one another.  Not only was there a community art project spearheaded by Danny Evarts (we can’t wait to see how that turns out), but Michelle Pendergrass and Mike Altman led art demonstrations that revealed the inner artist in folks (I now have several pieces hanging in my home).  And though she was missed, Sara Larson’s presence was felt as we renamed the Mo*Con awards after her.

And then there was the food.  Italian food.  Cajun food.  Indian food.  (The secret to Mo*Con is to pack your big pants for Sunday because you won’t fit into whatever you brought when it began)

I’d like to especially thank our Indiana Horror Writers co-hosts who went above and beyond (Michael West, RJ Sullivan, Kathy Watness, Natalie Philips, Todd Manning, Chris Garrison) in helping out and making everyone feel so welcome.  Bob Freeman for his awesome design work (from the Mo*Con posters to the Mo*Con awards).  Danny Evarts who stepped in to help out in the kitchen and for just generally being awesome.  Young Mr. Rodney Carlstrom and his parents Pam and Gerald who prepped the food and made things run so seamlessly.

And to my wife, Sally Broaddus, who not only puts up with the chaos each year, but welcomes everyone into our home as if they’re family.

People are what it’s all about.  And we have great people that come to Mo*Con.  Thanks so much for being a part of it!

***

OTHER CON REPORTS:

Mary Sangiovanni – Mo*Con Report and GSHW Appearance Reminder

Jason Sizemore – Awarded, Me

Laura Long – Report on Mo*Con VII

synchroblog is a collection of similar articles or posts made by a diverse group of bloggers who have agreed to blog on the same topic on the same day.

“The Ideal Pastor: is always casual but never underdressed–is warm and friendly but not too familiar–is humorous but not funny–calls on his members but is never out of the office–is an expository preacher but always preaches on the family–is profound but comprehensible– condemns sin but is always positive–has a family of ordinary people who never sin–has two eyes, one brown and the other blue!” –R. Kent Hughes

I still remember when a family at a church we used to go to cornered me and my wife one day between church services.  It had the feel of an alley way deal about to go down:  “Psst,  Buddy.  Over here.  We hear you’re a Christian who likes to have fun.”  The issue at hand was that they were relatively new Christians, new to the church, but found it hard to find folks who liked to let loose (read: laugh and enjoy the occasional adult beverage).  I don’t know what it says about me that they were pointed my way.

But, much like the pastor in the above quote, many Christians struggle with the appropriateness of humor in their walks, much like hiding your glass of wine at dinner in case a member of your congregation might happen to pass by.  It’s as if becoming “dour” is the lifestyle choice many Christians make upon joining the faith.  There are several issues that conflate into the “problem” of humor when it comes to our spirituality:

1)  The pursuit of holiness is serious business. Many confuse a joke or two with irreverence.  For them humor has no place in the discussion of weighty matters, after all, a man died on a cross for you to make whatever bit of silly.  That’ll kill any mood in a room.  Look, we get it:  this world is difficult and fully of suffering; the Christian journey isn’t easy and will often drive you to your knees.  But humor and religion aren’t mutually exclusive.  We don’t need to put religion in the corner segregated with all the serious things in life just like we can’t lose sight that life is to be enjoyed and that laughter is a part of the human experience.

2)  Jokes are risky business. The best stand-up comedians are not only thought-provoking but even prophetic.  Their routines begin with an observational truth, the joke itself shaped with exaggeration.  Already you can see the roots of possible offense.  That which is the object of said observation may not always be amused and there’s a fine line between exaggeration and insult.  In other words, jokes risk offense.

3)  Jokes are a subjective business. This is probably just a corollary to point number two, but I really wanted a third point to seem like I really thought this through.  What’s funny to me might not be funny to you.  Humor is often fickle, subject to personal taste.

I’m probably the last person to offer any commentary when it comes to humor in church circles.  I’ve openly advocated for a tastier savior during Communion (cause I don’t think nasty @$$ stale crackers were how Jesus wanted us to remember Him by).  Left to my own devices, I would probably end sermons by yelling “Sexual Chocolate” and dropping the mic (there are maybe six people out there who may get that reference).  I have traced God’s interesting fascination of boobies through Scripture, reduced the immigration debate to the fact that brown people scare us, and written open letters to white people who seem to have only one black friend in their lives.  Satire is tough to do, just see the entire book of Jonah.

No discussion about humor is funny just as the first all-to-defensive comment will usually run along the lines of “who made you the arbiter of humor?”  I love my brothers and sisters who take themselves too seriously if for no other reason than they make for good targets to lampoon (because, seriously, who else is going to issue a gay warning concerning SpongeBob Squarepants).  However, I will say this:  joy and wonder and excitement and laughter are just as much a part of the human condition as sadness and suffering.  To everything there is a season.  Laughter is a gift and a blessing, and my wife and I both laugh at completely inappropriate things and situations.  It’s how we deal with the difficult and often ridiculous things life brings our way.  Humor helps us keep things in perspective.  So don’t look at me with any expectations of knowing where the funny line is (though if I had to guess, it’s probably in my rear view mirror).

***

SYNCHROBLOGGERS:

As Mo*Con approaches, my writing productivity moves toward zero, including blogs for the most part.  However, here are some blogs and articles I’ve popped up in recently (READ:  if I can’t write, I can at least talk about writing):

-THE LEAGUE OF EXTRAORDINARY BLACK PEOPLE: African & African-American Steampunk!

For as long as I can remember, I have been a fan of what is now called Steampunk – a mash-up of fantasy and science fiction that embraces a fantastical past while incorporating a spirit of progress, exploration and do-it-yourself ingenuity…My next search was Black authors of Steampunk, which did not yield much, however it did take me to an article written by an incredible writer by the name of Jha – who I later discovered is one of the leading authorities on Steampunk, Jaymee Goh – whose informative and inspiring work helped me to find other Steampunk People of Color.

In a search for black writers of steampunk, I was one of several writers interviewed.  So make with the clicky-clicky to see what drew me to steampunk and what future steampunk projects I’m working on.  And you can still read my story “Pimp My Airship” online.

-Gallery links residents to urban neighborhoods

The Harrison Center for the Arts is the Broaddus family’s first stop during our city’s First Friday events.  I was interviewed by The Indianapolis Recorder,  the nation’s fourth oldest-surviving black newspaper, in Calvin Fletcher’s coffee shop, my current favorite writing spot, about having an eye on moving to one of the city’s up and coming arts district.

-Diversity in Writing: Multicultural Characters in Speculative Fiction

In taking us beyond the world we inhabit, one containing familiar people, places, laws and social mores, and technology, writers of speculative fiction face challenges both similar to and different than writers of more “down to earth” contemporary or historical genres. For speculative writers, as for many, the story often begins with a character. Yet, are there unusual methods involved with creating characters like a young man infused with superhuman strength, a laboratory-crafted creature, a rescue operation starship commander or a time-travelling soccer mom?

I was one of several authors whose brains were picked (joining Chesya Burke and Carole McDonnell).  Among my quotables:  “It’s to the point where I go into an urban fantasy expecting not to encounter minority characters other than in a ‘magical Negro’-type capacity.”  But not once did I describe myself as writing “magic ghetto realism”.  This time.

The above picture was from an article on the St. Luke’s Singles group.  I have spoken to that group on a couple of occasions and Christ Thornsberry is awesome.  “We appeal to so many different people,” said Thornsberry, a lay director of adult ministries at St. Luke’s United Methodist Church on the Far Northside. “We promote healthy relationships. What’s healthy for me might not be healthy for someone else, and vice versa.” [Click here for the article on his singles' group]

Oh, and today’s my birthday.  I share it with fellow scribes John C. Hay and Brian Knight!

With Mo*Con around the corner I thought it’d be a good time to introduce yet another one of our guests.  John Edward Lawson, founding editor of Raw Dog Screaming Press, along with Chesya Burke and myself, are putting together the essay anthology, The Miseducation of the Writer.  Here’s more about that (as well as what he’s looking forward to about Mo*Con).

***

We behave as if life is free, but it is not. It comes at a cost. When the price seems too high many of us tell ourselves we will one day lease to own, but does that day ever come?

Wait. Let me backtrack a bit.

The inimitable Maurice Broaddus has asked me to provide insight into a collaborative project of ours, the Miseducation of the Writer anthology (a name he came up with–catchy, isn’t it?). The anthology features writers of color providing commentary on what it means to be an ethnic-other in the speculative fiction industry. Our contributors have exhibited bravery in their life choices, and determination, so much so that as an editor I am inspired by their stories; I hope readers feel the same.

The project was conceived at ReaderCon last July. It actually came about through discussions in the final minutes as we were preparing to find taxis to the airport. Mo and I were hanging out with the intoxicating Chesya Burke. Mo was already busy scribbling down thoughts on another potential project we hatched, when Chesya and I got into a feedback loop that led to her suggesting the three of us edit an anthology together–because none of us had enough writing and editing commitments already, right?

My personal interest in the subject of authors of color is a convoluted one. I am, of course, a multiethnic author and editor myself, but for whatever reason I spent most of my career not wanting to “use” that. To make it “on my own” as an individual, as opposed to part of a collective identity. Um…why? Looking back on it now I couldn’t tell you. There are some observations I can share, however, related to the buildup of overwhelming dread I’ve experienced as an editor.

Raw Dog Screaming Press, run by my wife Jen and myself, has always prided itself in diversity of content. We bring books into the world that other publishers turn away because they don’t conform to expectation. At first that was enough for me. As time went by it became painfully obvious we were publishing work from a very narrow subset of society. Other publishers didn’t seem to be much better off.

In short, a project like Miseducation of the Writer is still necessary because there seems to be poor self-governance in the publishing world, especially among those who are accustomed to being considered “different” due to our taste in entertainment. Too often we don’t strive to be inclusive; we’re so busy exploring fictional cultures we don’t have time to for real-world cultures we are unfamiliar with–or that we believe readers are unfamiliar with.

As children we dream we’ll be whatever we want, be part of “the solution,” be admired. Later, as adults, when we read novels or watch films we desire to be revered and mourned like the protagonists or, more to the point, to be worth revering and mourning. Then we reach a certain age where we must listen to our hearts. When listening to our hearts what do we hear? Is it a war drum, or a mouse tap dancing? Are we shucking and jiving for the pleasure of others, or pursuing the goals that would fulfill us spiritually? Do we sell out or do we stay true?

And now, the hard part: which answer would you prefer to tell yourself, to tell your childhood self, to tell your children? The answer is fluid…every day we wake up with the choice to either “do” or “not do,” all over again. If you’re interested in Mo*Con then you’re likely interested in the arts, and by taking such an interest–either as an artist, being involved in the production end, or providing monetary support through purchases, sponsorship, etc.–then you’re already being proactive. You are making a difference. It may not seem like it, especially when comparing yourself to the accomplishments of others, or the “importance” of your field next to the world’s troubles. However, if everybody in your position–artist, editor, collector–woke up tomorrow and stopped, what kind of world would we have? One with no visual legacy, no songs, no stories to pass on. No culture. So, really, every little action is important.

And this is one of the many reasons I admire Mo. Despite being one of the busiest humans on the planet he makes time, via Mo*Con, to give us a platform for interacting, being involved, being proactive. Bettering ourselves by bettering our respective scenes, and through them maintaining and improving our broader culture. I’m looking forward to seeing old friends at Mo*Con, to making new ones, and to contributing in some way.

And, most of all, I’m looking forward to the food. I heard the food at Mo*Con is off da chain and out da frame. I advise you to arrive early to ensure a plate for yourself, because all my “save the world” antics give me one rowdy appetite.

Trust me on this one:  you will want to pick up this issue.

In case you aren’t coming to Mo*Con, I thought I’d help spread the word for a local poetry event.  Station 25 is a meeting place of neighborhood artistic expressions.  Here’s more info:

Mo*Con VII will feature one of our largest art galleries to date.  In addition to new work by Michelle Pendergrass, Kristin Fuller, and Steve Gilberts, it will also feature work from local artiste extraordinaire, Mike Altman.   I invited him to talk a bit about his process and how he connects to God through it.

Guest Blog by Mike Altman

I am fond of saying that growing up, “I never wanted to be anything other than an artist. I never said policeman, fireman or male nurse” as many young men do. And then I cap the statement off with a “Well. I did want to be Batman.” Some days I still do.

The creation of art and all the trappings that come with it are something that has always come naturally. Mrs. Buffalino in eighth grade explained that a fine artist would be studied 20 years after their death, and a commercial artist would get to buy lunch. I chose, to no surprise to anyone who has seen my waistline, to be a commercial artist. Since of course the whole Batman gig was already taken.

A few years into the whole commercial thing I became pretty tired of folks, paying folks mind you, telling me what color to make things and where to move one object or another about on my creation. I remember working for a certain Art Director that would, as she was selecting or rejecting my pieces for print, would say we’ll take this one, we’ll take this one, oh this one is baby dorky…

We had a chat.

These creations are my blood and sweat and sometimes tears.

Oh, ok that may be a little dramatic. But they are definitely something that emanates from within me.

Something that has been created, with God’s gift of talent, by me. I value them and the talent to create them. There is a special kind of link with God and the ability to create something from a blank slate. Now before you get out your paper and pencils to write me a chastising letter telling me that I am not God and so forth, let me say relax. I know that I am not.

It is incredible to be able to draw a guy with a mustache and a girl in a red dress and a dog that smiles and can talk, and…well, the list goes on. I understand why God made fish at the bottom of the sea that nary a soul will ever lay eyes on. I understand why God created such a spectacular spectrum of color. (Sometimes that blue will just not work, and this one will.) I know the feeling of rendering a whole world with back-story and history and possible interactions and futures…all on a Macaroni Grill’s paper tablecloth. It is good to sit back and look at the creations and say “it is good”.

So any way I was saying that I was getting a little tired of folks adding their ingredients, right? So I started painting. Just for pleasure at first. Then after I had about 23 pieces in my studio I thought to myself that maybe I should see if a gallery would be interested in exhibiting my work. They were. It sold.

Years later I find myself straddling a very fun line between two disciplines of art that, well you really shouldn’t be able to make a living at either of them. My two worlds very much inform each other. There is definitely some graphic influence and good design in my “fine” art and some painterly expression in my “commercial” work.

I like to say if you write me a check and publish my art in a magazine or book, then I must be a commercial artist. If you write me a check and hang the work over your couch then I must be a fine artist. Basically what it boils down to is that you write me a check. I still want to eat lunch, and Batman never sticks around long enough to pick up the bill.