Over the past two weeks, I’ve been stealing small moments here and there to score an original piano piece (nothing new – a piece which was completed 8 years ago save for very minor tweaking) in a new package of software. The experience has been rewarding and revitalizing, and is one of the few even semi-creative works which can be done in such a halted fashion and in brief episodes.

The software in question is “LilyPond.” This is actually a phenomenal front end to the LaTeX typesetting engine. Neither of these are intended for general audiences and take some time to work with well – programming knowledge of the PostScript standard helps too. A number of front-end GUIs are available for either, but being the geek I am I forewent these crutches and dove straight to the markup by hand.

I’m rather glad I did – though challenging, there was at least one issue I encountered that I don’t think any of those front-ends could have coped with. As of last night at entirely too late an hour I finished transcribing the notation. I still have the articulation, dynamics, and other general expressions that I need to insert, and then crown it all with a few minor tweaks to the layout and non-musical content and it’ll be ready for prime-time.

To clarify, I already had this music written down. Eight years ago I used an outmoded (even then) piece of software originally designed for Windows 3.x, and on my little Frankenstein laptop (a whopping 12mb RAM and a 540MB HD running a pre-release of Windows98) plunked through to at least get something down on the page. The results were somewhat cartoonish and unfortunately proprietary – I didn’t have PDF rendering capability at the time. Eventually all that remained of the effort was an old inkjet print-out which is showing its wear. I have no idea what the current state of the laptop or its original contents is now – I handed the entire thing off to my tech buddy Mat. I doubt any of it survives to this date, but now I’m off topic.

I’ve taken that original print-out, and making several improvements to the quality of the original notation (some styles were changed previously to accommodate failings and conveniences in the software) have inserted it into the new source. The output is of higher quality, definitely more to my liking, and produces PDF by default making it much more likely to survive the digital advance.

I’ll be showcasing the piece on my site once it has reached maturity. The current state of the project, which may or may not match the inarticulated state mentioned above, can be seen both in its source text file (with comments): Epic.ly(10k) or print-ready Acrobat document: Epic.pdf(341K).

Please save artistic criticisms for a different forum – I know the piece isn’t for everyone and may have its issues. Here I’m still just geeking out about the technology behind it.

I’ve finally decided to begin “solidifying” my online presence. In quotations because nothing online is concrete or permanent in any sense, but at least there’s now something there which defines the space and ties my internet activities together.

Though still somewhat bland, I’ve followed the latest standards in assembling something which works for me. Whether or not this will ever lead to anything productive beyond simple experience and exercise is unknown – I’m treating it with professionalism regardless. By professionalism I mean my distinct version of it, which can also be self-effacing and tongue in cheek. It also has a particularly geeky bent, which I don’t mind but am not going to over-emphasize as a defining character trait.

Any comments or suggestions are welcome, especially regarding content which you may expect to find but is currently absent: I’m still fleshing it out, and ideas would definitely help.

Go there now: paultomlinson.net

Having just re-read “Exceptionism” and “Repressed, renewed…” in context with one another, I’m surprised at the prescience and solidarity demonstrated by my subconscious.

The similarity and reiteration of themes is impressive to me. One of the first areas to suffer as a result of my sleep disruption is memory – my journal especially reflects this, with repetition of large areas and ideas across multiple entries even chronologically close together. Can’t keep it straight for some reason, and/or should start to re-read recent entries before I try making a new one (which isn’t always possible).

Back to this, though: somehow the underlying currents remain true. No matter how scattered I may feel on the surface, the deep water currents have a unified and predictable flow. This makes me happy, and gives me hope that some anchor will prevent me from drifting too far, and a proverbial compass (to make the analogy complete) guides my course – even if I’m a little to dumb too see it on a day to day pace.

I should spend some time far removed from the cares of my own life, get a high level view on things. AKA, I need a vacation.

I was thinking yesterday on the drive to work, about the nature of writing. Why writers do, what it means to them (I don’t feel qualified to say “us” by a long shot), and what it takes.

As I settled onto what it takes, I realized that many of my recent attempts at prose have suffered from a need to perfectly craft the entire story: setting, characters, plot elements, all requiring an airtight intersection and agreement with one another. I’ve struggled with this before, but more from a perspective of accusing myself of procrastination – an inability to actually commit to the movement of the pen (keyboard, whatever) until I had everything in place, and the ability to keep that goal line perpetually extended into the future.

This never felt quite right though, because I would put in the effort – a mind-numbing amount of it on select details and tangents of exploration and research, hunting for that minutia which would make my crafted reality indistinguishable from any other. The thought being that at a book signing, were this to scale up to a novel, readers would approach and naturally ask, “Where’s ?” Then act all surprised, confused, and disillusioned when the character turns out to be, no really, completely fictional.

A mildly delusional fantasy, I know. Maybe not just mildly. Whatever the case, in order to imbue the elements of the story with that kind of identifiable humanity, I want to have them polished as they’re created. Which is completely overboard – a sculptor, for instance, roughs out the entire form from his stone at the same rate of completion. Which only makes sense, as then during the evolution of the piece all areas can be weighed relatively to one another and appropriate adaptations made as they may be required.

So why have I insisted on going to a polished state early on? Probably because I lack the real experience in the value of the rough draft. And, that I fear a loose thread left anywhere, and any stage of completion, could cause the whole thing to unravel and the work rendered null and void. And lastly, that the work would be somehow flimsy and insufficient without it, repelling readers as a piece of worthless writing. Which reader in this case would be me: I’m merciless in my dissection of the written word, often to the point of precluding my ability to enjoy the work for what it is. Same for most creative works, actually; I’ve probably spent too much time focused on the defining elements of quality expected in software development, focusing on that flawless analytical bent and carrying it with me into the more creative, less scientific endeavors.

I am finally brought to the origin of the title for this entry: I have decided one of the defining characteristics of writers is the ability to make complete exceptions for themselves. To be able to say to the world at large, “That’s fine, but it doesn’t apply to me.” A certain bravado that tells the rest of the world to go suck it: either you can accept the work I’ve created for what it is, and understand the meaning I have chosen for it, or you’re really just not worth the effort.

Throughout my life I’ve felt guilty for being the exception to many rules. I’ve enjoyed significant success and after felt the fruition of my labors was unwarranted, or unfair in my favor. That still doesn’t fit well with me, and I have to find ways of justifying it to myself by what I do with it afterward – which is usually to enlarge my capacity and capability through refining my resources, unfortunately resulting in somewhat more success. There’s a lot of guilt that ends up in my life – hopefully I can turn that into humility rather than loathing.

Here at the same time, I’m talking about an ability to indiscriminately give the world the literary finger. I don’t desire dissociation or any kind of social disconnect from my fellow man. But I also have no reason to subscribe to their bias (which as I mentioned above, may in truth be entirely my own, simply projected outward), or be controlled by their prejudices for what makes a fine piece of literature. I must arrogantly throw to the wind the fact that so many people smarter than myself have gone before and written – and do it anyway, despite the formulas for perfection they may have ascribed to (if at all – again, I’m projecting a lot of my own prejudices out there).

My prior perspectives on the subject have always been from the consumer perspective. I’ve been able to transition between consumer and producer before, where it comes to a few other pursuits (most specifically software, as I’ve mentioned). So what if I end up with a few bugs in my writing? They can be worked out – it’s more important to rough the entire shape with increasing refinement than to pretend I can perfectly predict the end state from the beginning. The writing should be a journey for me as well.

And if someone else has used this or that meme, or knows how to construct this phrase better, so what? Screw’em, this is my book.