OK, I’m not talking, it’s a mystery about cracking a code, secret societies, exclusive knowledge, murder and religion, although it is about all that. I’m talking they both open with the exact same scene, Langdon getting a phone call in the middle of the night and being called to a murder scene to identify cryptic symbols on an unlucky corpse… his connecting with the younger, equally ingenious but beautiful female relative of the victim, his consulting or consulting to a brilliant handicapped man…clandestine plane trips across international waters without passports, etc. It feels like I am reading the exact same book, with slightly different players inserted…

It’s still worth reading, I guess, but I hope he rethinks this for the new one in 2005.

On the other hand, I do understand the stress involved in responding to on-demand, often desperate calls which usually result from an end user not taking the time to master the tools at hand. It does require a letting off of steam, a camaraderie of those positioned deep in the help desk trenches.

Still, crisis calls were nothing new to me. My years in social work taught me what crisis really is. When you’ve been woken up by pager in the middle of the night by someone who is coked-up, suicidal, and currently standing on the roof of a tall building, the idea of an end user needing something installed on a Monday morning is somehow not as daunting. The former is crisis, the latter is another day at work.

Yet, to the user, dependent on technology to meet objectives due yesterday, or to keep the company afloat, it is a crisis and must be treated as such, even if the crisis is on their end.

Johnson: You give him a try but it doesn’t really go anywhere. He’s just a rebound relationship…

Nixon: You agree to go out with him but he’s always seemed a little too slick. You can’t shake that feeling that he’s “up to something.” You later find out he is and it’s illegal…

Ford: You respect him for where he’s been able to get in his life, but you constantly feel guilty, fighting back thoughts that he’s really just a lumbering oaf…

Carter: You’re walking down the street together, arm in arm, all very romantic, when all of the sudden two thugs come out from behind a corner. They push you down and take your purse. You look for your boyfriend and find him hiding behind a car…

Reagan: He takes you out to dinner, wines and dines you at the finest restaurant, ordering filet mignon and Dom Perignon. Things seem to be going well until the end of the evening when his credit card is declined. It turns out he couldn’t afford all of this afterall…

Bush Sr: He starts the relationship off with a “bang” but you later find yourself asking, like Janet: “what have you done for me lately?”

Clinton: He’s very flirtatious, and wants to have sex all the time, but soon you find out that it’s not just with you. Well, you know the rest…

Bush Jr: You finally agree to go out with the dumb guy at the gym who’s been asking you out, thinking, well, he’s got discipline and seems to have values–maybe there’s more to this guy. Four agonizing years later, you find out there isn’t…

I also found out about some local writers group, which I am planning to try out. When you have as many competing interests as I do, it is important to create an external source of encouragement toward your goal, as it is too easy to get distracted by other, equally compelling ones.

And it made me think, the problem in life is not a lack of opportunity. Opportunities abound in every direction. The challenge is in choosing which ones you really want, which ones make the most sense for your interests and abilities. Then you have to commit to one and reject all others, at least for the time being. So at one time in life I wished to be multi-talented. I worked on abilities in several different areas and achieved varying levels of mastery in each. Now, I am looking for focus…to decide what I want for the next five to ten years of my life and to go about achieving it.

Regarding writing, I am putting together goals. I know I want to write, but what exactly do I want to write? What do I want to be known for? If I were to design a “brand” for my style, what attributes would it emphasize? How much should I be writing a day and when? What is my genre? What is my definition of success in this area, or how will I know when I’ve met my goal? How will I develop my expertise in the writing of original fiction, as opposed to the cultural critique of others’ fiction, as is the norm for the English major? Who should I then be reading? Who will I look to for early direction in this matter? Who else has done it, and what were there experiences like? What can I learn from them?

Then regarding my current project, what is my premise? In one sentence, what is my book about? Is it interesting to anyone else but me? Would it have mass appeal? The thing that I like about mass appeal is that it taps into a zeitgeist; a shared experience. I like individual insight, but I like it in a way which others can relate to… Do I want to do research for a book? The answer to that is yes. I love books that contribute something more than just plot, and that are either technically or historically reliable, as well as entertaining and thought provoking.

Anway, these are some of the preliminary focus questions I am asking and answering. I am asking them because I got a great start to my novel then lost interest in my own plot–for two reasons. One, I realized a small part of it resembled a movie I’d seen and I got spooked. Two, my plot fell apart because I had no real over-riding premise, and was just creatively wandering to see where it would go. No problem, back to the drawing (writing) board to get more specific, is all…

One writer was talking about his process today, saying he gets discouraged when he watches the six o’clock news and hears a story which is his plot in a nutshell. I guess when you write about terrorism that sort of thing can happen these days. You just gotta keep typing away.