le grande update

As you may have noticed, my last two posts were exceedingly brief. And as you're aware, I'm a long-winded bugger who can't abide sparing the slightest detail. So I think it's about time I gave you a full update on where I stand, before things get crazy.

First, I'm going back to Korea. It's official. It's genuine. It's true. I don't want to jinx it (this will be my fifth attempt, and every previous job offer has gone south due to unexpected delays and unforeseen obstacles), but nothing short of an Act of God can stop me now. I'm Asia-bound, so help me.

I sure didn't see this coming. I loved Korea, rest assured. It was a blast. A kick in the pants. The cat's pajamas. The elephant's instep. Despite the complete and abject lack of limes, turkey, single-malt Scotch, sausage, real cheese and decent hamburgers, the place was alright. I had a ball. I crammed my existence into a tiny studio apartment, took frequent walks, wrote in my journal, blogged, scribbled a novel, taught hyperactive children the rudiments of the English language, tried to learn Korean, lost 20 pounds, became addicted to bulgogi and kimchi, acquainted myself intimately with debauchery, danced, raved, sang, drank, ate, and was merry. Oh, and I made myself a ton of cherished friends, with whom I remain in contact to this day (and many of which I will see again come February).

But I didn't think I'd go back. I thought I was done with living overseas and making money there. I figured I'd return to the States, get some stuff done (like my pilot's license) and then find a job and get busy. I really had no ruttin' idea that things were so bad here. Now I look back at the day in 2009 when I stepped off the jetliner and into the warm, moist, smoggy air of the Inland Empire, and I giggle at how naïve I was. I thought I was set for life. I had a year of international job experience under my belt and a wad of cash in my pocket. I thought I was sitting pretty. Boy, was I whistling Dixie. What I should've done was move someplace with low rent and cheap gas (like, I don't know, Kansas perhaps?), get a crummy job and work for five years until I had a suitable sum of money saved and a modicum of job experience. Then I could've looked about me, gauged my options, moved to Alaska, gotten my pilot's license, whatever.

But I jumped the gun. Drunk on prosperity and globetrotting confidence, I decided to get my pilot's license right away. Hang the job, hang security, hang responsibility. You know what came of that. I got myself stuck in this goddamn desert pest-hole for two and a half years.

They say hindsight is 20/20. My hindsight should've been a lot clearer, though, considering how far up my ass my head was.

So, poor economic decisions aside, I got my pilot's license. I worked two low-paying jobs (a temp job at the local newspaper, which lasted about a month, and that flying job I've been talking about for ages). I lived in my parents' house. That was godawful. I felt rotten, like I was a kid again, not a forward-striding, self-sufficient man's man as I'd imagined. My folks were sweet as pie, and did everything to make things as comfortable as they could for me, giving me loads of excellent advice (most of which I didn't listen to until it was too late). They salvaged my pride at several pivotal junctures, too, bless them. But the malaise, the ennui, and the remorseless hindsight gnawed at me day and night. And worse yet, I had no escape route. Jobs there were none. Prospects there were none. Money was running out. It seemed I was doomed to remain in the doldrums forever.

It's difficult to believe that Miss H and I started looking for jobs in Korea back in June. June! Thanks to delays and unguessable disasters, we've endured one of the roughest, bleakest times of our lives. The ennui was ten times worse for her; she couldn't find any jobs at all. She worked a seasonal stint at Target last year during the holidays, and that was it. There's nothing in this damn desert. Zilch. Squat. Nada. The desperate downward spiral took a heavy toll on us.

Our hand had been forced. We decided to go to Korea. But couple's positions were thin on the ground, and the delays and backups just kept mounting. We had to make some tough calls. Ultimately, Miss H decided to stay behind. She would not accompany me to Korea. We would separate temporarily, she to seek her fortunes, I to seek mine farther afield. And lo and behold—snap—the pieces began to click together. I got a job offer from a hagwon in Bucheon (somewhere between Seoul and Incheon) the very same day I told my recruiter to find me a singles' position. And things bloomed at Heather's end, too: she got several bites from a social work agency in the same town she'd gone to college in. She knows the area, and rent and gas are very reasonable. Boom: just like that, things are looking up for us. Seems like an impossible dream after the long hard slog we've had for the past two years.

And in other news, I finished my novel. No, I mean finished: it's written, it's edited, it's proofed, everything. Of course there are few tweaks to be made, and it has to be peer-reviewed, but the thing is largely done.

That feels good.

No, really. You remember how scared, nervous, self-conscious and maudlin I've been? For three years it's been like this. I started the dang novel in Korea. Finished it not long after I returned, in late 2009. Ever since I began I've had the feeling that it was crap, and that I was a the world's largest hack, and that the whole thing was a waste of time. Normally I'm a secure and confident bloke and don't entertain thoughts like these. But I did. And they bedeviled me and my writing efforts for three long years, before I finally wised up, gained perspective, achieved Nirvana or whatever, and buckled down and finished.

The second rewrite was much easier than the first, because I felt no insecurity. I felt fine, in fact. The novel felt like a novel. The author felt like an author. The work felt like work, but more than that, it was fun. For the first time, it was actually fun. Hallelujah for that!

So I spent about a fortnight just blasting through my entire manuscript, line-editing, spell-checking, rearranging syntax for mellifluousness, and making some major revisions and rewrites. And you know what I came out with? A novel. An honest-to-Gawd debut science fiction novel. It's got plot. It's got theme. It's got premise. It's got character. It's got conflict. It's got action. It's got a climax, a denouement, and all the rest. It may be a bit amateurish (after all, it's my first book) but everything's there.

Now I just need somebody to read it. And a publisher to send it to.

This is tremendously exciting.

So, in summary, I'd just like to say that after thirty months of waiting, worrying, striving and stagnating, things are looking up. The novel's done, and I'm going to Korea. And Miss H and I are doing better than ever. 

Thanks for sticking with us.