Aside from having a funky name, I like the ‘tude over at flash site Brain Harvest, especially the mustaches. They’re Clarion workshop alumni who wanted to make something happen. I like it. Plus, a contest deadline is always motivating, to me anyhow.
Thanks to Jamie for posting this.
So, I’m alive, and in spite of the fact I haven’t posted in FIVE FRIGGIN’ WEEKS. Two unfortunate things have happened, causally relating to this:
My cat threw up on my laptop. Seriously, I am not making that up. Right in the middle of the keyboard, so now a bunch of keys don’t function. Maybe I could have had some fun with synonyms, trying to work without those keys, but since one of them is A, another is W and another is Delete, I really couldn’t manage. I must use Delete more than any other key (it takes the place of the PC Backspace).
Also, I have a high-maintenance guest in my home in the form of my mother-in-law. That might sound amusing until you hear that she has Alzheimer’s. That condition is not without some humor, as anyone caring for someone like that can tell you, but mostly it’s a pain in the backside (sorry, honey). I won’t go into it here, but suffice to say, it’s distracting, and six weeks of it is too much for me (four down, two to go). I haven’t written much of anything other than lesson plans in weeks.
Stir in wacky offspring who resists sleeping and homeschooling plus the stress of three different not-fun deadlines on top of gearing up for Fall teaching. I was kinda close to mental breakdown at one point, but somehow recovered with help from loved ones, and I’m invigorated by the directed study I’m teaching. So, here I am!
In the interim, I got a rejection from Every Day Fiction, which I’m actually a little relieved by. After submitting, I started to think my piece really didn’t fit in with what they do there, in terms of themes people seem to enjoy as well as quality (only sometimes, though). Not to sound sour grapes-ish, but I’ve been aggrieved by the appearance of typos and other issues with more than a few posts. That is really not snarky pseudo-superiority, that’s just the English teacher in me talking. I’ve not been published yet, outside my freelance news features and academic stuff, so I can’t gripe there. It’s just that with some of the issues I’ve seen, it rankled a bit that my rejection note encouraged me to rework the story and submit to a “more forgiving” venue. But I’m glad for another reason: that story’s been percolating a little in my head, and I think it could be a traditional-length piece with some work.
Look for more regular postings from here on out.
This post is not about writing, and really, it’s a rant about my inner life. But it could make my writing life better, so maybe it is about writing.
With me, it takes a crisis point to realize something’s wrong. Or better stated, “nature has a way of restoring balance.” Usually, I stress so hard that I make myself sick and have to spend a week in bed with a cold or something worse. Then, I realize that the world doesn’t stop turning if I take a break from all my responsibilities.
Well, I got a big shove in that direction on Sunday. I was nearly frantic trying to fulfill all my obligations, and I just broke. I know my life is out of balance: the things I most want to devote my time to (writing, spirituality, family) are the ones I give the least to, in favor of activities that satisfy the least and best serve others. SO, I’m done!
A little prayer, to the Goddess: “Mother, help me. Mother, heal me. Please release me from all things worldly that do not serve me.”
I know what needs to be cut. I need to be at peace in myself to do the work I most desire.
So mote it be!
I am very pleased to say that I got a fresh eye on “The Conduit” yesterday, and it really helped. This story had been hashed over by yours truly so many times that it felt dead. I couldn’t even read it anymore, but this reader helped me see some obvious places that needed strengthening. Many thanks to Aika, and all the other readers who’ve helped with this story so far. The revision effort I put into it today made me feel more confident about sending it out again to face another possible rejection.
Advantages of critique demonstrated! However, I still haven’t decided whether or not to join an online writing group. Some of the candidates on my shortlist are getting mixed reviews from other writers. I think I need to focus on discipline at the moment, to get more viable pieces closer to completion.
I just happened to check my spam box and guess what I found? A submission rejection dated June 10th! Nothing good comes from the spam folder, I guess.
I’ve submitted this story, “The Conduit,” to three places so far, and garnered three rejections : the Anspaugh Science Fiction Contest, Clarion Writers’ Workshop, and recently, Strange Horizons. Not a particularly good record, but at least I’m getting the story out there instead of sitting on it.
Am I supposed to get the message that this story stinks? There are plenty of examples of authors who stacked up multiple rejections before selling a particular story. Then the story won an award, once it got into print where folks could read it. Sure, that’s probably not me, but I still don’t have to give up. Maybe just not quit my day job.
Yet.
My sweet little iBook, from whence all this blogging goodness emerges, can’t keep up with me. It is incredibly frustrating to compose on a computer and have the words sometimes appear more slowly than I am typing. And it needs upgrades it can’t handle (like Flash, grr, SLOW).
You can support my writing habit, er, career with the Smarty Pig widget on the right. Smarty Pig is basically a virtual piggy bank, and a set number of dollars goes into each month from my (our) account. My goal is to write at least ten times as many words each week as the amount of money deposited monthly. So far, doing pretty good (see previous post). Maybe I can get up to ten times as many daily, if this keeps up.
Every penny helps! Yes, I am shameless.
I don’t want to toot my horn just yet (not too loudly, anyhow), but I am pleased that I seem to have settled on a writing routine that works. For the past four days (not counting Sunday), I wrote for at least an hour each morning.
This means getting up before my family at 5:45 A.M. and getting straight to work. Since I am not a morning person, this is challenging. Couple this with the fact that my family tends to keep me up late, and this is VERY challenging. However, the knowledge that the characters are waiting gets me moving after a couple of snooze-button mashes.
In this relatively short time, I’ve revised and submitted a short story to Strange Horizons. I also finished a new flash story (dream-inspired) temporarily titled “What’s That Pinging Sound?” that clocks in at just under 1K, and I’ve added over 700 words to a story seed, as yet to be titled.
At the risk of sounding trite, routine periods of isolation are the most important gifts writers can give themselves. If writing is your job, or you wish it was, you have to set aside time to do it every single day.
I have shared outside the blog (and a little here) the value I’m getting out of Stephen King’s On Writing. A few people have made disparaging remarks about the quality of King’s work, but I am not deterred because his advice is solid and honest (and his success speaks for itself). It’s not told me much that is radical and new, but it’s given me permission to do what I know I should be doing. It’s like having a mentor I can peek in on every few days, and when I do, he says “Try this,” and “What are you waiting for?”
Routine writing, every day, AT HOME, is one piece of advice he gives. Stop hiding in the library carrel or at the coffee shop with your laptop. Your work needs to be housed in your space, as a part of your life, not away somewhere else.
I am happy that I’ve given myself permission to find this groove and stick with it.
If I could stop procrastinating, I could write at least fifty short stories from all the story-starters in my “percolator,” a big blue binder that houses my writing life. I used to make the excuse that “I would write if I just had some ideas.” But I have gobs of ideas; they fly at me from everywhere. Sometimes I capture them right away (QuickVoice, people!), but some escape.
My best places to get ideas, if you need a few:
Obviously, my ears perk up to tech topics, and that’s where the fresh fodder for sci-fi hides out.
I think the key is to write down anything vaguely interesting or catchy, even if it sounds absurd (especially if it sounds absurd).
Sent off a submission, finally. I hope Jordan and the other folks over at Every Day Fiction are nice to me (but not too nice). My thanks to Oso for pushing me forward in a better direction.
I thought flash fiction would be easier, but somehow it’s not. If anything can be said to be “easy” about the form, it’s the fact that word limitations force me (the wordy) to get to the point, advance the plot, and round out characters as much as possible in fewer words. These are NOT simple matters, obviously, but at least the form encourages me to make these things happen economically.
As an exercise, it teaches a useful lesson: if you don’t know where the story is going, you can’t get there. I’m considering writing “flash drafts” of longer pieces that are not coming together well.
This is more of a personal reflection than a book review, for what it’s worth.
I know I’m not the only person out there indulging in reading about writing rather than doing the work of writing (you know, some of the time). Classic procrastination disguised as progress. On the same note, there are plenty of writers who are penning “how-to” books instead of producing fiction. Most are not that worthwhile, and folks would be especially wise to avoid books that have big promises on the cover, like “Jumpstart your creativity!” and “Write your novel in three easy steps!” and so forth. This is probably self-evident.
However, a few decent books exist that are thoughtful, inspiring and actually helpful to my process. Right now, I’m reading Stephen King’s On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. Now, before you say “Eww, not that guy,” just hang on a minute. I thought that, too, before I picked it up. King is one of those writers that people seem to love or hate. I used to love his stuff, but I was a ripe old seventeen years old. Then I moved on.
But this book is not (obviously) horror, and King is successful for a reason. Primarily, I think it’s his astonishing output. I admire that kind of work ethic, and many people suggested the book to me. I was able to overcome my initial reluctance, and I’m very pleased that I did.
What I’ve enjoyed so far about the book is King’s “memoir” bit, which is a brief description of events in his life that he believes “formed” him as a writer (he doesn’t believe that writers are made, BTW; they either have what it takes, and do something with it, or they don’t). I found it fresh and funny. I was thrilled by his descriptions of everyday encounters that later coalesced into story concepts and characters. Write what you know, right? For instance, an amalgamation of hapless girls he observed in school became Carrie (he always disliked her), the main character in his first successful book. He also engages the struggle that plagues many of us, balancing personal life with the demands of our writing ambition/addiction (are you listening, Oso?)
I found this so interesting that I sat down, and as an exercise, wrote an outline of my adolescence and filled in key memories from those times in my life. Nothing comprehensive, just random thoughts, really. I am shocked at how little I recall about my own life. King expresses his amazement at memoir writers who seem to recall every detail of their lives with clarity; he just doesn’t have that, and neither do I. In fact, I question the authenticity of those tidy autobiographies.
Then in the second section, King launches into a pleasant discussion with the reader about his personal sense of wonder concerning writing as “telepathy,” a method of communicating directly with another person on the page. The result is surprisingly intimate:
“I never opened my mouth and you never opened yours. We’re not even in the same year together, let alone the same room… except we are together. We’re close. We’re having a meeting of the minds.” (106)
In the next chapter, entitled “Toolbox,” he discusses ways to develop oneself as a writer. No discussion so far about plotting, or character, or any of that although it may come. A pleasurable difference from other books I’ve read about writing.
Somewhere, I think in a Nebula volume, Ursula K. LeGuin made a statement about writing workshops that went something like this: If we teach everyone tried and true methods for fiction writing, then we’ll probably get a lot of stories that sound pretty good. But they’ll all sound the same. We have to work on ways to help emergent writers find their own unique voices, or there won’t be any ground-breaking new work(s).
I’m enjoying the process of finding my own voice.