The problem with assimilation

The problem with assimilation is, you always have to give something up. Think about it. As liberal as your friends and neighbors may be, as open-minded as your surroundings may be, the fact is that when you say, "Hey - I want to be part of your group," you say, "Hey - I'm willing to become like someone in your group." It's unavoidable. It's human nature. No group of people can come together as one, without each and every one of them parting with some aspect of their personality. It's just not possible. Whether it's conscious or unconscious, people innately tend to "mellow" themselves, when they find a group they want to belong to.

Because deep down inside, everyone believes there is some aspect of themself that others won't understand or be able to relate to. We all believe that there is something in us which will cause us to be rejected. We learned that when we were kids, and our parents made it very plain that certain sides of us were unacceptable -- even if they were, when we were kids, we perceived those parts to be central to who and what we were, and the quashing of that was a bittersweet form of oppression. You cannot grow up and be properly trained without some sort of oppression. I'm convinced of it. But the lesson is not that parents should laud and respect every aspect of their children's developing personalities. The lesson is that we should all learn the ins and outs of oppression, and figure out how best to deal with it in our own lives.

The thing of it is, oppression has its rewards. Like social prominence. Like a high-profile job. Probably one of the reasons I'll always struggle with the limelight is that the limelight has demands, as well as rewards... and one of the big demands is that you be a good example for others. Loren Stone -- Role Model for the New Queer. No, thanks. I mean, it's all very well and good to be recognized and respected for quality work, but what a trap fame and fortune can be. I'm innately inclined to adapt to my surroundings (whether out of self-preservation, or because I'm too lazy to go against the grain every single moment of my life -- especially in public). And if I drag myself out of my obscure cave and make myself known, I'll not be able to be fully and completely who and what I am. It's not that I'm ashamed of who and what I am -- far from it. There's just too much of me, to fit easily into other people's perceptions, and if I let it all hang out, so to speak, I'd spend all my time trying to negotiate the insecurities and thought requirements of the people around me.

People have a lot of thought requirements.

So, I lay low. I'm probably sounding like a real wuss... afraid to stand up for myself, afraid to be who and what I am, afraid to strike a blow for personal integrity and uniqueness and queerness and all, but that kind of role-model work is not my main focus. I just can't be friggin' bothered to elighten people about why I really *am* just as normal as others -- perhaps even more normal, since I allow myself to simply be who and what I am. I just don't have the time to negotiate people's perceptions, and while I admire people who are able to be out and loud about their differences... how taxing it can be, to constantly stand on a hill, waving your flag.

I've got books to write. I've got ideas to massage. I've got a new book in the works.

Yes, it's true. I've got a new one on the way. I may have mentioned it in a prior post, but now it's official. I started it last month (January) and made a lot ofo progress in Provincetown, overlooking the harbor. The first draft is done, and it incorporates some writing from some other work I did years ago, that was promised to be published by a little lesbian-feminist publishing house (which then subsequently backed away from the project, because they thought it was too radical and I hadn't taken enough writing workshops). What a bunch of bullshit. The real reason was, they were in financial trouble, and they needed to stick with the "lesbian mainstream". The tried and true. The fiscally viable, safe and sound kinds of books that lesbians love to buy and read.

They could have been honest with me and told me they just couldn't afford to take risks, but no - they had to put it on me. Whatever. Not that I'm bitter, or anything. It was probably for the best. The book they wanted me to turn the material into, was weak and flaccid and didn't have the kind of bite I wanted it to have. Plus, looking back now, it wasn't the kind of book I wanted to be my first public foray. It would have raised too many questions I wasn't prepared to answer.

I may publish the book myself, on down the line. We'll see. It was a very personal project, and a lot has changed, since I first wrote it back in the mid-1990's. I'll see if I can salvage anything.

One of the ways to salvage it, is to work the different pieces into subsequent works, which is essentially how "Bait" got started -- I took one of the short stories and turned it into a full-length novel. The short story is good, but the novel is even better. And in the illustrious practice of "content re-use", there's nothing to stop me from publishing both. I think I'm going to pull out the good stuff from that old collection, and publish it, just 'cause I can. Fuggit. I think I will.

It will be a good way to get my mojo going, while I work on the new novel. Because the new novel needs a lot of mojo, and the collection of shorts has a lot of it in there. Lots of moxie. Lots of drive. Lots of virility. What fun.

And while I'm working on those two, I can be thinking about the sequel to "Bait", which is in the works. I already know pretty much what's going to happen. I need to interject some surprises and not get stuck in a safe, comfortable groove, but I think I know where it's going. I think I have a handle on it.

Which could be the best thing, or the worst thing. I knew where I was going with "Bait" for months (even years) before I wrote it. And I don't think having that info in the back of my head hurt the plot or the style at all. If anything, I think it gave it more depth and substance and allowed me to "play" with the storyline a lot more. Structure doesn't have to be a *bad* thing -- it can be very freeing. Especially if you come from German stock, which I do. Having that structure in place, makes it possible to play and explore and find out what's there, depth-wise. Not having a clue what's going on, just makes me nuts. In all aspects of life.

I'm not controlling. I'm just very, very busy, and I'd rather spend my time figuring out the subtle details, than constantly having to re-structure my work and my orientation in life.

Yes, there's lots going on. I've got books in the works. I'm looking for a paying job. I'm spending an awful lot of time in the woods, while I'm not working... hiking the trails on the land around my home... exploring and climbing and crawling around... finding things as I go... enjoying the unseasonably warm weather, while I can. Soon enough, I'll be back at work, and I'll have to fit my writing into my greater work/marriage schedule. There's a household to be maintained, and that household is very demanding. In a good way, of course. For every demand, there's an ample reward. And I like rewards.