BRAD LISTI is the author of the Los Angeles Times bestselling novel Attention. Deficit. Disorder. (Simon & Schuster, 2006) and a creative writing instructor at Santa Monica College. He tends to be highly caffeinated. At present, he resides in Los Angeles, California, where he likes to spend time with his girlfriend, foraging for sustenance and contemplating smog. He can be found online right here and right here. And under normal circumstances, he can be reached at [email protected].
WORK MORE, SLEEP LESS, (AND TAKE GOOD CARE OF YOURSELF)
I teach creative writing at Santa Monica College.
Every semester, without fail, someone will raise a hand and ask me about time management.
How do you manage to get your writing done while also working two jobs?
How do you balance creative pursuits with other formal obligations?
Generally speaking, here's how I tend to respond: Work more. Sleep less. (And take good care of yourself.)
I often tell my students to take good care of themselves--to eat well, to exercise regularly--because a person who does these things has a tendency to function better while sleep-deprived.
"Be health conscious," I'm essentially saying, "so that you can be better at being unhealthy."
"Don't drink too much caffeine," I'm essentially saying. "Freebase it instead. And then go rollerblading."
Writers, of course, have often been noted throughout history for their tendency towards over-consumption. Too much booze, too much dope, too much sex, too much everything.
In my opinion, though, we don't get nearly enough credit for our phenomenal levels of under-consumption.
Most writers I know are borderline starving. We're barely able to pay our bills, much less consume anything.
And most writers I know don't consume nearly enough sleep. We're a bunch of walking zombies, juggling multiple jobs. Our bloodstreams are thrumming with homemade double lattes and ten fluid ounces of high-fructose corn syrup. And yet for the most part, we manage to remain semi-articulate, and sometimes even affable.
It's a feat.
As a writer in modern times, I imagine that my circumstances are entirely normal. My workaholism is probably par for the course. No big deal.
Earlier this year, my first novel, ATTENTION. DEFICIT. DISORDER., was published by Simon & Schuster. In support of the book, I went on a book tour. I read aloud in bookstores in New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles. I even did an old folks' home.
All the while, I was teaching. And freelancing for magazines, for cash.
I've been blogging everyday, too, in support of the book, ever since August 2005. And as an offshoot of this activity, I wound up launching a "phlogzine" called THENERVOUSBREAKDOWN.COM. It features peripheral news & commentary from a wide variety of writers from around the world. All of them are exhausted. Most are still friendly.
A couple of months ago, I was invited to join THE RIOT LIT COLLECTIVE, a group of upstart scribes intent on having their voices heard. RIOT LIT is the brainchild of N. Frank Daniels, the over-tired author of the acclaimed novel FUTUREPROOF.
RIOT LIT and THENERVOUSBREAKDOWN soon joined forces, and from there, we formed a three-way partnership with Susan Henderson's LITPARK, a lit-based webzine featuring interviews, essays, news, and other book-related paraphernalia. Each site has a different angle, yet all three serve the same basic function: They are meeting places for readers and writers who love good books. They provide relief to human beings trapped in cubicles. And they serve as life rafts for the disenfranchised.
At this point it's nothing new, and it also appears to be a growing revolution in modern publishing: writers working online, banding together and taking control of their own destinies, shaking things up and making a genuine ruckus.
The beauty of the phenomenon is that there is room for us all, and hardly any rules. Instead of having to compete for space, the playing field is wide open. We're linking up with one another and lending one another a hand. We're unified in our sleep-deprivation and in our tendency towards under-consumption. And slowly but surely, we're changing the way things work in the world of letters.
With this in mind, I must offer up my most heartfelt thanks to The Happy Booker for allowing me the opportunity to shoot my mouth off here in this wonderful forum. I'd love to continue rambling, of course, but unfortunately I have other obligations. I have to go choke down some broccoli, grade some papers, write a chapter, and ingest a handful of low-grade amphetamines. I'm training for the Boston Marathon.
Comments