A Silence Descends (for now)

I have no voice! In more ways than one. This is extremely hard on me as a super-jabber type. Yesterday was another complete waste due to this awful throat infection. I got out of the house briefly to go to my book club, but I really shouldn’t have because now my voiced is tapped out.

Overall, I feel somewhat better. This improved vigor is dampened, however, by the release of the latest round of rejections from Clarion West. I’ve been getting to know these hard-working, bright people who seem to have a lot in common with me (for one, a lot of them teach = much respect). Speaking from last year’s experience, rejection is hard to take when you’ve pinned your hopes and plans for the future, or at least your summer, on something that may not happen. And, unfortunately, the kindly worded rejection doesn’t shed much light on the reason your work wasn’t selected.
After the rejection I got last year, I did some real soul-searching in order to determine for myself the extent to which “the Clarion dream” was just a foolish fantasy (for me). Did my work merit the time the readers put into it? What did it lack? What could I do better? What books should I read to improve? And worst of all, should I just give it up?
For me, anyway, the answers to most of the questions didn’t matter. I had done all I could at that point, except work more consistently. As for the last one, writing is important enough to me that I won’t be stopping.
To my fellow hopefuls, please take heart. Don’t stop. Not ever.

My Clarion Essay

Applicants to Clarion West Writer’s Workshop have to write a letter of introduction, presumably for instructors to preview. Of course, we all hope that the letter exerts other (positive) influence during the selection of candidates. A few fellow applicants are sharing theirs on blogs and such, so here’s mine. I tried to write from the heart; hope it doesn’t bore anyone to tears.

As a writing instructor at a community college, I enjoy helping others learn to express their thoughts in writing, and I think I’m pretty good at it. I have a BA in English and a Master’s degree in Women’s Studies. I first encountered the workshop method in the English program and did four terms of short story and poetry workshop there. Often, I worked with people who resisted the workshop process because they felt their writing was art, and art need not yield to criticism. Another sad aspect of the program was its hostility to science fiction and fantasy. Fortunately, the experience hasn’t dampened my enthusiasm for either, or my desire to attend Clarion.  
    The Women’s Studies program prepared me to write science fiction in ways my instructors would probably never have guessed. My MA thesis concerned women writers and utopian fiction, which was a guarantee that I could spend hours reading back issues of Science Fiction Studies and Utopian Studies in the stacks of the campus library, plus all the utopian and dystopian novels I could get my hands on. A pleasing side effect of the research was my first professional publication, on the same topic. I learned a great deal about science fiction criticism and applied a fresh eye to aspects of works I had formerly enjoyed for their entertainment value alone. Of course, the program also taught me a tremendous amount about gender analysis, which is sometimes but not always important to science fiction. This is not to say I converted from a naive reader to a joyless analyzer of theme, plot, characterization and so forth. Rather, my enjoyment was magnified by that critical understanding, as was my desire to write my own quality stories. 
       Like many writers, I have been writing since childhood. Writing is a smaller portion of my life than I’d like for it to be, but it is an immensely satisfying part. When I’m not grading papers for class, helping my son with his homework, performing various volunteer tasks, escaping in a sci-fi novel or walking the dog, I’m writing. I write a monthly feature for a local newspaper and write pieces here and there for academic publications, but my passion is science fiction. Reams of notes and hours of voice memos are filled with story seeds and half-remembered dreams, working in my subconscious until I can sit at the computer and work the ideas into stories.
    I recently emerged from the office after two solid hours of keyboard-pounding, with what must have been a triumphant expression, when my spouse said something that completely floored me. He remarked, “I can see this is what you’re meant to do.” He was observing my exultant behavior, but he rarely sees the work itself. I submit to publications and have online buddies who occasionally critique my writing, but my husband is too biased to be my first reader. However, his words that day hit home because they felt true. To say that writing makes me happy only makes a vague swipe at description of my inner experience; it’s an inadequate understatement of the obsessive, focused, thrilling condition that overtakes me.
    After years of jotting notes and fantasizing about the types of fictional worlds I want to create, I’ve now given myself permission to take that work seriously. I typically have several stories in process, and I have submitted a handful of shorts which have been politely rejected. I keep working on the parts of a novel that will one day click into place. This feels by turns incredibly frustrating and delightful, which (I’ve been told) means I’m doing something right. However, I can’t shake the feeling that something is missing, and if I could just figure out what that is, something amazing might happen. 
    At Clarion, I hope to develop a quicker, more critical eye that I can use to hone the writing that I’m doing into something professionally viable. I want to work hard and fast, and ultimately learn what’s working and what not. I crave the focused intensity of the experience and the intelligent company of other writers who feel the same. I’d also like to know that I’m on the right track, creatively, or if I should pack it in and stick to my day job. 

As an avid reader and writer from a young age, I wish to explore my own potential and soothe (or perhaps ignite) the craving I seem to have, the insistent urge to create the kind of fiction that has entertained and inspired me for so long. 

Vonnegut’s Rules for Writing

Ripped from the pages of Wikipedia:
In his book Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction, Vonnegut listed eight rules for writing a short story:
Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
Every sentence must do one of two things—reveal character or advance the action.
Start as close to the end as possible.
Be a Sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them—in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To hell with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

My Brain Hurts

I apologize in advance for the rambling…

Too much is going on in here! I’m still thinking and working on the new story, “Her Bones, The Bones of the Dead,” which I was half-hoping to finish in time for submission to Clarion (San Diego) by tomorrow’s deadline. However, I’ve been UU-ing all weekend and feel a bit used up!

It sounds weird, but more than one person has told me lately that I’m a good leader and would make a good minister, the kind of thing I was thinking myself, late last year. I’ve pushed that into the background so I could stay focused on writing. Now, I’ve been asked to serve the UU in a greater capacity (though, of course, not as a minister), and I took three whole days to think it over before saying “yes.”
I’m still writing because writing means a great deal to me. That is unlikely to change. I can’t explain why. It’s hard to describe although folks are always trying (read some of the responses to Jamie Grove’s “Writing Is…” post to see what I mean).
I actually found myself wondering what would happen if I wrote about UU stuff. Maybe this is not entirely off-base, as there’s at least one sci-fi story out there that deals with UUism in the future. Wish I could remember the title! BTW, Kurt Vonnegut, Rod Serling and Ray Bradbury, among others, were UUs.
Unitarian Universalism is trying hard to be the religion of the future, but they’re not quite there yet. I was proud to be present for Rev. Bonnie Devlin’s talk today, in which she charged UU folks to grow up and get off their butts so the message of UUism can get out there into the world.

Writing Advice from the Pros

Sage and humorous advice for writers, from writers. I needed to hear this today, as I am feeling a wee bit discouraged.


Common themes: don’t use adverbs, stop beating yourself up, cut and cut some more, quit worrying about the dirty dishes, keep writing no matter what.

My personal favorite (for today, anyway)?

“Only bad writers think that their work is really good.” (Anne Enright)

Do I Suck?


A rejection from Andromeda Spaceways already. I just submitted it three days ago! This rapid return disturbs me a little, especially since it’s the same story I’m hoping will get me into Clarion West.

I’m holding out hope that it was rejected for a formatting issue rather than on the basis of quality. Apparently, Google Docs doesn’t translate very cleanly into RTF; a very nice person from ASIM named Lucy notified me right away that the formatting was off a little. The double-spacing had reverted to single, bits that should have been centered (like the title and section break indicators they ask for) were not, and chunks of messy code replaced other formatting I used. Color me mortified.
While waiting for this new rejection (and maybe Clarion’s), I have been trying very hard to ramp up my writing-and-research mode. I’m working (still) on the “birthday story,” which was supposed to be a gift for my hubbie in January but is shaping up nicely, and I’ve subscribed to Locus and done more market research.
Argh. Maybe I’ll go back to bed.

I Submit!

Getting a little cranked up by the Clarion buzz, so I submitted a piece to Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, in Australia. The Internets make such things possible.

Now, I have a spreadsheet set up for tracking submissions, and I plan to fill it up. This gives me something else to look forward to while I wait for word from Clarion, even if this means more rejections.
I also considered submitting to Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show, but since the story’s protagonist is gay and OSC is against “that kind of thing,” I think I’ll pass. No need to beat my head against that wall, even if he’s passed the helm onto another editor. Maybe next time.

Clarion West, and a theft

I’m thoughtful and mostly calm about my Clarion West application, so far, not like last year’s histrionics. I finally joined the online forum for applicants, so I feel connected to the collective angst.

For my application, I submitted a revision of the story that I used last year as one of two stories for Clarion (the other one), and it feels a little crummy to do that. First, if it wasn’t accepted last year, why use it again? I’m convinced it’s a promising story, and I made some changes for the better. Second, I realized I’ve been working since last year on two stories that I’ve not yet finished. To be fair, one is a novel, and I wrote several flash pieces in the meantime, but the output otherwise is pathetically low. One thing that NaNoWriMo taught me is to let go of some responsibilities so I can write more, but the increase in pace has been marginal.
So, what’s the problem? Some of it, I think, is the fact that my favorite ideas, the unfinished ones, are ones that began with a seed, not a whole picture, whereas the finished ones hit me all at once. They were complete pictures that just needed to find a way out onto the page. I’m still floundering around trying to figure out what those unfinished stories are really about and how I want them to end. Now, I know that’s not inherently a bad thing, but I get stuck and can’t seem to get unstuck.
The other issue is discipline. If I don’t work consistently, it’s not going to happen. I spend way more time reading than writing.
Anyway, enough whining.
On another note, someone stole a big wooden statue of Buddha from my front porch. What kind of dick steals a Buddha? It galls me a bit. I don’t feel especially angry, though. I hope thieving individual at least gets some spiritual satisfaction out of it, however tainted. I should write about it, if for no other reason than spite.

Tickle, tickle

Five whole weeks without a post! No excuse really. I wasn’t too busy or any of that. I just didn’t feel like it. The break between semesters was very relaxing, and I’ve been reading a lot, which feels something like getting to eat your fill when you’re hungry (I would think). I finally felt a tiny tickle in the back of my mind this morning that said, “psst! Yer blog is fallow, you know.”

The new term is off and running, and I’ve found some kind of groove that is making the classes easy and satisfying. My students are raptly attentive, and I’m feeling a little perplexed and extremely grateful. In spite of that, I’ve given notice concerning my desire to take the next two terms off; I want to focus on writing, Mr. B, and community service. Writing, of course, is the one that’s getting the least attention.
The only big news is that my sister had her baby; I can’t wait until spring break so I can go up to NY to see them.
I’ve stopped watching news about Haiti because it makes me cry; I’ve lost myself in Children of God by Mary Doria Russell, which puts a sci-fi spin on the old “why-God-makes-bad-things-happen” theme.

The End of NaNoWriMo

It’s over, finally. NaNoWriMo was highly motivational, with the online tools and forums and all that good stuff. Unfortunately (and you knew this was coming), I allowed life to run rough-shod over my goals for that little project, and I ended up with under 6,000 words in a month that was meant to produce 50K.

However…

It was amazing what I was able to accomplish. A revamped, comprehensive outline of the entire novel is drafted out, and a prologue plus three complete chapters are written. I experimented with several point-of-view shifts before settling. I also did an analysis of several fantasy novels that provided me with new insight into how fantasy narrative flows. In short, I broke practically every NaNoWriMo commandment: don’t plot, don’t stop, don’t look back, don’t edit. But I still produced something I’m proud of, and I have confidence that I can build on that work. As the month went on, ideas for plot became clearer and made more sense, and characterization (which was my biggest stumbling block, really, trying to make my people do what I wanted them to do) started to gel. Overall, it was an exciting experience that pushed me to do something I didn’t think I could do.

It taught me a few things about myself and my life, too. I’ve been saying for a long time that I’m over-committed to volunteer activities, and mid-month I had a reason and the gumption to call it quits on two major responsibilities. Several people are unhappy with me now, but I tried to quit in a graceful way that indicated to others that now it’s someone else’s turn to serve. That may be the best accomplishment of the month.

Thanks, Office of Letters and Light. Even though I not among the 19% who reached the goal, I still appreciate the lessons learned in the attempt.