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Looking for Lucy Pevensie

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I don’t think I can ever express just how how hard I tried to get to Narnia.

Sure, some people read books and are inspired by them; they’re influenced by them; they are changed by them. It’s normal. It’s part of the wonder of, especially I think, fantasy literature. That world just beyond the mirror, that glen just over the bend that blinks in and out of existence. It reflects the worlds we want to exist, lingering just there on the edge of what we see.

Except, for most of the fifth grade, I didn’t just like the Narnia books: I believed them. I hoped in them. I wrote strange notes to Aslan (some of which I still have) asking him to use me, to send me on missions because I was ready and willing. I knew that one couldn’t get to Narnia by thinking about it. That was one of the first rules. But I figured no one on earth had tried as hard as I did, and that had to count for something.

I remember sitting in the grass behind my house in Dalton, MA, spread-eagled, eyes closed, while the summer sun made my face warm. I remember being utterly alone, enveloping myself in the sights and sounds of the season, letting Nature swallow me whole. I believed with all my heart and soul that I was going to be taken that day. That Aslan would scoop me up and bring me out of this stupid world, full of sadness and confusing emotions and loneliness, and make me someone special.

But he never came, and I felt defeat and sadness like I never had before.

When I finally couldn’t stand it any longer, I drew my legs up under my chin and stared down at the weeping willow tree, sadly unanimated. No dryad. No magic. Nothing. I was alone in my own world with my sick father, my crumbling mother, and more feelings and frustrations than I knew how to cope with. I remember feeling, above all, that I was vastly different from everyone else (who doesn’t at that age?) and that no one really understood what I was going through. No one understood the pain my father was in (though I recall talking to our guidance counselor, I don’t remember any particularly good advice) or the stress my mother had to endure, holding up our entire family as she did. But Narnia let me escape all that, and even then it had failed me. When I needed it the most, it wasn’t there. (I think at last count I read the entire series six times over until a teacher kindly suggested I read something else; I know I read The Voyage of the Dawn Treader at least ten times.)

Time passed. I found other worlds. I followed Meg Murry into cells and across planets; I gallivanted across the Shire and Middle-Earth with the hobbits; I sought out Exalibur. But nothing ever moved me the way Narnia did. Nothing struck me, as Narnia had, had made me believe so firmly in something that wasn’t real.

Except, there’s the rub. Yes, Narnia failed me in not being a real place. But it didn’t stop me from pretending otherwise. It didn’t stop me from crossing over to my other worlds, from painting my own landscapes and passing through my own mirrors. Narnia stayed with me as the first world to which I truly escaped. It served as a point of origin for my desire to write. I’ve written plenty of secondary fantasy worlds, but Pilgrim of the Sky and most of my early work all holds a “through the wardrobe” sort of feel. And I think it’s important that this book has come first. Because, in my evolution as a storyteller, Narnia came first.

Without Narnia’s grave disappointment, I would never have tried so hard to find it again.

Tomorrow Never Knows: Thanks, Ann VanderMeer

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The Uncanny Beauty Issue

I read with dismay this morning that Ann VanderMeer will no longer be editing at Weird Tales, a publication she helped resurrect and redefine over the last four years. When I first started writing speculative fiction seriously, I remember staring at the Weird Tales website, thinking that some day in the magical future my writing might find its way there, into Ann’s hands. And it did, it turns out. I was part of the Uncanny Beauty issue, right there with my name on the cover, barely getting my feet wet in the spec fic world, and yet welcomed. Not many people have that opportunity, and I’ll be forever grateful.

Beyond that though, with Ann at the helm, I knew that opening Weird Tales, each story would make me feel something, would inspire me in some new way, whether it be through fright or surprise or simply fascinating writing. That’s the hallmark of an amazing editor. Someone you can trust. Someone in whose name you can assign faith. And that’s not easy. It saddens me to think that I won’t be able to look at Weird Tales that same way again. A loss, all around.

That’s not even to mention what a magnificent role model Ann is, especially for women writers and editors of the weird and wonky. I finally met Ann a few weeks ago, in person, and she is as smart and sharp and funny as I expected. Meeting her only deepened my admiration of her. (Oh, and Ann: next round of Duck-Rabbit Milk Stout is on me!)

The good news is that Ann is an astonishing talent, and will do amazing things beyond Weird Tales. Her projects are always inspired and unusual, and though she will no longer be lending her expertise and enthusiasm to Weird Tales, it will go elsewhere…

…though it doesn’t make the situation suck any less right now, I know. Right now it still doesn’t seem possible or fair or sensical at all. Right now is just sad and frustrating.

But: tomorrow never knows. Here’s to better days. Thanks, Ann. For all you’ve done, and all you have yet to do.

Maelstrom! Mayhem! (Okay, not really. But it is a good title.)

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I love the word maelstrom. I also love the word mayhem. They are related and have a certain alliterative delight, don’t they? Sure, this is just an update post and nowhere near as exciting as the last post. But yay! Updates.

At any rate. I am currently in the middle of a few fun things. I may have mentioned this on Twitter, or other places, but I’m now a fiction editor over at Bull Spec, the publication which in many ways is responsible for a great deal of the success I’ve seen in the last few years. I truly don’t know what folks do without robust writing communities like we have here in the Triangle of North Carolina. And Bull Spec has been at the center of that. I’m particularly thrilled to be working on selecting fiction, but, since I can’t ever just do one thing, I’m also helping out with web strategy and other fun things.

BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY: We’re having a Kickstarter fundraiser to keep our publication going. Did I mention we’re SFWA qualified? And if you’d like more fiction, and you’d like to see us continue to pay our writers, please consider pledging! :)

I submitted my last pass of Pilgrim of the Sky a few weeks ago and now I’m in the process of finagling a decent audio recording of the book. I’ve set up a little hole in my closet where I surround myself in foam and read into a microphone. Fascinating stuff, truly. But it’s great to be back recording again; I’ve really missed it. Of course I decided to do a book with a thousand complications (how exactly do you do a voice within someone’s head?) but I never was one to take the road more traveled. The rest of the book proceeds apace, and I even saw a glimpse of the layout of the book which, in all honesty, made me a little giddy.

I’m still trying to settle in to a book as far as writing goes, and I have a few clamoring for my attention. And by a “few” I mean four. Some days I want to lock them all up in a room and shut the door, but somehow I don’t think that would help matters, because I’d just end up with another idea. And the last thing I need right now is another idea!

For my birthday in June I bought a Kindle. I love it. End Stop. I’ve read more books in the last few months than I have in the last two years, and it’s actually becoming a habit for me. Having finished a good chunk of Edith Wharton’s oeuvre, I then finished A Dance With Dragon and am now simulreading: The Magician King on the Kindle and Glimpses by Lewis Shiner on audiobook (both suggestions from Mr. Montgomery-Blinn who astounds me with his ability to read so many amazing books.

I’ve got a short story near ready to ship. I wrote it a year ago. People laugh when I tell them it takes me longer to write short stories than novels, but it’s true. My lovely local writers group really seemed to like the story, mostly, and after I attend to some edits I’ll be putting it through the submission factory. Full disclosure: I did submit the story, once. And it was politely rejected. And I have sat on it since! Boo.

And that’s mostly it. In a few weeks we’re headed to Dragon*Con, which is always an experience. Looking forward to hanging out with friends old and new, causing trouble, and flouncing around in steampunk garb.

The Perils of Early Success: Or, Writing With the Pointy End

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So I started blogging “as a real writer” at the very beginning of 2008 in order to share a draft of my novel, The Aldersgate, with the world at large. I had already written two drafts, and then decided to start again and record the new chapters and launch them out into the world for feedback. It’s a steampunk western sort of fantasy story, with low magic and high politics and many point of views. You know; as you will.

While I commenced blogging in that first year or so, I had pretty immediate success with my short story writing and network building, and I felt like I was on top of the world. I was writing very unfettered, gamboling around in precious little Snowflake land (though I’d never have admitted it).

I was simply sharing my story. And I honestly believed that everything would fall into place. Having listened to a bit of Cory Doctorow I felt that, as long as what I was putting out there was good (which I was convinced it was) someone would find it, and I’d ride that golden pegasus out into the sunset and become a True Published Author.

People did come, it turns out. Wonderful readers, writer friends. And wouldn’t you know, but a year and a half later after I’d just about finished the entire podcast of the novel (and attracted quite a few positive responses which made me feel Truly Awesome) I was approached by an editor at Ace/Roc who wanted to listen to my story and read the manuscript. At first, I was entirely sure that the whole thing was a hoax and that someone was trying to mess with me. But no, she was totally legit. So in a state of utter glee and terror, I sent the manuscript to her, expecting to hear back in a few months. I knew that publishing was slow, so I didn’t expect a fast turnaround from a very busy editor. I was willing to wait for glory… or rejection. Either way, I prepared to wait.

No, I didn’t commit the first sin of writing. I didn’t stop writing. In fact, I wrote a few more novels: Pilgrim of the Sky, Peter of Windbourne, Indigo & Ink, and Queen of None. But the entire time I waited, I froze as a writer in many ways. To be honest with you (and me!) I don’t think I thought I had much room for improvement. After all, my book was with a Big Publisher. While I was realistic with myself, even preparing for rejection, I got lazy. Everything seemed to live in the shadow of that hope.

It’s been two years, now. And since you haven’t heard me jumping up and down and shrieking about a contract with a big publisher, you can imagine the result. Actually, I never heard back at all. I pinged the editor a few times, but never heard so much as a peep. Just… silence.

It takes a long time for hope to die. I can still tell you that I sent that manuscript out on June 23, 2009. For the first year, every 23rd was like a new mile-marker bringing me ever closer to the possible answer: yes or no. But by the 18th month, I was starting to doubt that it was ever going to happen at all. (I don’t even think about the editor and that hope these days, albeit in a passing, wistful sort of way.)

The thing is, well, life went on. Life got hard. And as life got hard, writing got harder. And it got harder to look at my own writing and be absolutely honest with myself, even after I stopped believing in the muse!

It’s funny how much something like this can impact one’s entire writing approach. Writing The Aldersgate was a mighty powerful experience. I was smitten with words, high on storytelling. And I think that comes through in the draft that’s out there on the internets (I’m not ashamed; the story has a lot going for it). People seemed to love the characters*, but the nuts and bolts of the story really need work. Work that for the last two years I haven’t given it. (Even though, on occasion, I tried.)

But I’ve always been someone who worked best with tough love. I was smart, but lazy, during school. I never pushed myself until teachers pushed back. “Any other student would have gotten an A on this project, but this isn’t your best work.” Even a resounding rejection of the manuscript would have most likely lit a fire under me.

But nothing? NOTHING? Nothing left too much room for hope.

Hey, I have lots of excuses why things have not gone as well as they did in the magical year of 2008, writing-wise. I have enough excuses to fill a damned book. But the only real reason that I didn’t grow as a writer is because I wasn’t honest with myself. I let hope cloud my better judgement.

Sure, I spent a lot of time editing and rewriting. But rewriting isn’t editing. Rewriting isn’t taking a cold, hard look at the way you write, which is the only route toward improvement and, well, success by extention. (Thankfully I’ve had the pleasure of working with some fantastic editors in preparation for Pilgrim of the Sky’s publication that really wonderfully helped in that respect, as well as advice from a seasoned pro writer friend that helps toward this rather jarring realization on my part, but that’s another post…) Rewriting is simply making another draft. Granted, it’s practice, and practice is part of the improving part, but editing is essential. You know, those fancy book editors don’t rewrite your book. They tweak it.

And that’s not to say that being a taskmaster is the only way to go. It’s got to be a combination. The successful, holistic approach to writing, revising, and editing, is a balance of fact and fancy. The fancy drives it, but the fact improves it. To use a martial simile: Your arm is the fancy, the creative drive, the raw excitement and energy and thought–but fact is your sword, cutting and shaping and ultimately turning your strength into something more. They work together, y’see? (It takes practice, but soon you’re carving through like a Braavosi.)

There is no easy path, it turns out. Would I trade early success for early struggle? I don’t know. But the thing is that early success can be maddening and counter-productive in its own right. (I’m admittedly  still a baby about rejections, probably because I didn’t get enough early on!).

My only hope for myself is that I achieve balance, and, more than anything that I find fancy again. Since I started work in December, fancy has been hard to come by; the muscles have gone weak. Fancy has to come first, before fact, otherwise progress can never be made. But it doesn’t always linger in familiar places. Sometimes you have to summon it up.

We all know that writing books is hard. Finishing books is harder. But the hardest part of all comes after all that. It’s being honest about the draft. And that honesty will usher in growth. For without growth, in any career or creative endeavor, nothing magic can happen.

* Much of this post was inspired by finding a trove of “pending” comments in the Aldersgate blog. For all my lack of growth, the experience of reaching readers who really felt a connection my story is not something I take lightly. I will finish the story.

July July July

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Edith Wharton

Life has been spinning by at a trajectory altogether too fast for me these days, but that’s what happens when you smoosh an actual career in between being an author, a blogger, a mom, a sister, a wife, and an editor. It’s really unfair of me to complain, since it’s the bed I’ve made, but thankfully our summer beach vacation is looming just around the corner and I am looking forward to a week with as little technology as possible, and basking in the sun reading books and maybe (just maybe) doing some writing.

Which is not to say I haven’t been writing, only that the writing is slow. Instead of writing at usual breakneck pace, I’ve been reading quite a bit in preparation for writing Glassmere, and am currently about three quarters of the way through Edith Wharton’s The Age of Innocence (which won her the Pulitzer Prize in 1921 — the first time it was awarded to a woman). I’d read Wharton before, in college, during a modern novel class. We read The House of Mirth and I was rather depressed after reading it. And at the time I was pretty much opposed to anything American and modern, so I really didn’t read her as I ought to have.

But that’s the joy of growing up and continuing to read. I am absolutely besotted with Wharton at the moment, and in love with her ability to turn a phrase and move me with words. I often speak of Keats as being delicious to read — that is, his words seem to taste good when you read them. There’s a musicality to Keats, to his careful words selection, that just makes my brain vibrate. Wharton is very similar, though obviously through prose. Take this bit, for example:

“It would presently be his task to take the bandage from this young woman’s eyes, and bid her look forth on the world. But how many generations of the women who had gone to her making had descended bandaged to the family vault? He shivered a little, remembering some of the new ideas in his scientific books, and the much-cited instance of the Kentucky cave-fish, which had ceased to develop eyes because they had no use for them. What if, when he had bidden May Welland to open hers, they could only look out blankly at blankness?” — Book One, Chapter 10

The book deals with many of the same issues I’m working through on Glassmere (though it’s set in the 1870s, much still holds true). And the tone is just… well, it’s very similar to the tone I want to achieve with Glassmere. Initially I attempted a more complicated tone, hopping from character to character in that English style, but I find it doesn’t achieve what I want it to. Part of it has to do with the fact that it’s a historical book, and the readership now isn’t familiar with the setting–adding even more complication with multiple points of view just muddles it up. So, even though the book has made a decent start, I’m going to rewrite it all again strictly from Evelyn’s point of view. Wharton does this with Newland in The Age of Innocence to great success, with a narrator following him closely and revealing his innermost thoughts. However, the narrator’s voice is distant enough and strong enough to be able to zoom out on occasion to comment on the society at large, which would work far better in the context of Glassmere as well.

Glassmere needs to be smooth, especially considering where the story ends up (low, low magic, but it’s there). And Evelyn is the heroine of the story, even if entirely unconventional.

Still, what strikes me the most about writing this book is how much reading I’ve done just to make the first 10K. Between the diaries of women written at the turn of the century to the countless historical articles to the novels of the period (most notably lately The Edwardians and Howards End – two very different but marvelous books) I’ve spent the majority of my spare time these last few months ensconced with books. It even inspired me to buy a Kindle for my birthday, which has proven wonderful for reading all these public domain books (and it doesn’t cost me a penny past the purchase of the device!).

But enough about that. Additionally I have been following the creation of the book cover of Pilgrim of the Sky by my friend and astonishingly talented artist Brigid Ashwood. Her ability astounds me, and to see Maddie come to life in vivid color (down to the mille-fleur jacket!) has got to be one of the most exciting moments of my writing career to date.

The book is slated for December, but in the mean time I am also working on a bit of a novelette that will accompany pre-orders for the book, which is an epistolary addendum to the book. It’s written between two of the main characters and serves as a sort of appendix to the book, by explaining some of the more complicated magical workings of the twains, while revealing some back story. For the first time I’ve been able to slip into first person with Randall, who serves as Maddie’s love interest in the book, and I’ve got to say it’s immensely enjoyable. And easy. Some characters have such loud voices that writing them seems to take no effort at all.

And there, a post. There are many other things going on in the realm of the real, where my father is preparing for a second heart surgery (very risky) and work is eating me whole. But the written word is a solace in the storm, and even if I don’t have time to write it I’m doing as I’ve always done: reading. Just as when I was little, curled up with C.S. Lewis for the umpteenth time, so too will I weather this… clutching my Kindle.

Thoughts on 30: Goals for writing, goals for life

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I honestly can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to tell stories. But I can tell you when I started taking telling stories seriously (well, not entirely seriously… thankfully). I was 25, had just had a baby, and went through the ringer with postpartum depression. On the other side of that, a truth glimmered. I don’t mean to be hokey or corny, but in the space of a few weeks it became abundantly clear that writing, being a writer, required my attention. It was one of those things that made me, and something I’d been ignoring a long time in favor of more acceptable aspirations.

I’ve talked about this before, of course. But as I’m approaching my 30th birthday, I think of another goal I made myself at the time: get published before 30. Not short story published, novel published. At the time I had 3/4 of one book, and a few chapters of another. (Now I’ve got considerably more than that, which is good to know.)

Honestly, such a goal was silly. Maybe. On the surface it has no meaning. Time is irrelevant. Quality is important. These days, I’m okay with writing one book in a year. Or one book in two years, now. Writing books isn’t something I need to prove to myself I can do. But at that point, five years ago, I needed to finish. I needed to cross that line. And a silly self-imposed deadline definitely helped.

Granted, Pilgrim of the Sky will release sometime around my 30 1/2 birthday, but I count it as a win for my goal. At least, I consider that the fuel that fed the flames were set when I decided I needed to write for myself, and I needed to make writing Plan A (and set the timer on the whole “by the time I’m 30″ thing). So, it hasn’t turned out exactly how I thought. Life has a funny way leading you through its own back alleys while you’ve got your eyes on the sky.

But still: goal accomplished. So what does that mean for me now? Time for a new goal? Or time to meander down those dark alleys conscious of what makes me, what’s important, and which stories need to be told? I’m not sure.

I’m not where I want to be at the moment, writing wise. Distractions are high, time is sparse. That sense of determination, that drive I had when I was younger and sincerely unpublished has dimmed. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe one can find peace and inspiration in the flow, rather than in raging against it. Maybe it means going slower, planning more, and being more precise. I’m not sure.

What I am sure of, though, is what I want out of this book. I’d never have guessed that Pilgrim would be the first to publication, but here it is in all its strange complexity, all its layers and symbols and filigree. I want readers to follow me on the journey within the book, escaping not only from this world, but into the many worlds in the book. I want to share this story more than I ever have before. And there’s no time limit on that!

April… May… June?

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Yes, officially I suck as a blogger. But hey: I’ve been at this a while. Sometimes a gal needs a break.

I’ve been away long enough that WordPress now has a totally different dashboard, it’s almost June, and I’ve been to San Francisco and back. There are some big, awesome things going on. So I thought I’d let you know about them instead of, you know, just keeping them to myself. (Bad author. Bad!)

ConCarolinas – I am a guest! I am speaking on four panels: Changing History at 11:00 am on Saturday at University Ballroom A, Political Intrigue at 1pm in the same room on Saturday, Panel of Ice and Fire at 4 o’clock in Keynes on Saturday, and Mythology & Folklore in University Ballroom A at 1pm on Sunday. Come listen to me babble!

I’m an editor at Bull Spec! I am thrilled to be lending my eyes and brain to this fantastic publication, which isn’t just SFWA qualifying now, but also really gave me my first break. “Dr. Adderson’s Lens” appeared in Bull Spec #1, and people still talk to me about it. I’ll be concentrating on all things fantastical over there, so when we open to submissions please feel free to send us your best! I’m particularly drawn to fantasy that pushes past the expected, stories that start off in surprising ways, and unusual settings. Not that I don’t have a soft spot for a well-told S&S tale, just that I’m particularly interested in where fantasy is going, not just where it’s been.

Pilgrim of the Sky. It has its own website now! It looks like the book will be out now in December, which suits me quite well. One of my favorite scenes takes place during the holidays (granted, in Second World it’s Marymas, and not Christmas, but you know…) There are going to be lots of cool announcements re: the book in the coming months, including cover art and purchasing details. To say I’m excited is an understatement. In the mean time I’m planning on another vlog this week, as well as some research/windows into the worlds I made, and why I made them. (And also some Art History 101!)

Glassmere. I am writing a book. With large quantities of vitamin B6 have done wonders on my hands (and, the good news, is that my carpal tunnel isn’t, technically, severe — i.e. there is no nerve death) work has commenced. But writing isn’t going quickly. Part of the reason is that I’m spending a ton of time researching. The book takes place in 1910, and getting details right is really important. But I’ve also been reading a great deal, especially books about English manor homes, like Howards End and The Edwardians. So far, I’ve just crested 8K (which is just a fraction of a book, I realize) but the pace is good for right now. It’s a complicated book, with lots of difficult themes (race, family, class, religion, love, revenge) that require attention. I’ve mentioned before that it’s a personal book, and obviously not because it’s real. But the characters are based on real people — or at least partially. Evelyn and Julia are much like my sister and myself, and their grandmother and great-aunt are much like my own. Except changed, moved around, and muddled with. Still, it’s a story about sisters. And it makes a person think.

Additionally, I’ve been falling into research pits every now and again. If it isn’t calendar houses, it’s Ming Dynasty jewels; if it isn’t fashion magazines and corset styles, it’s train cars and race relations. I will be an expert Edwardian when this is all said and done…

For now, that’s about it. Work is excellent, but definitely keeps me busy. Hard to believe I’ve been there half a year already. Finally falling into a writing groove is awesome, and I’m looking forward to the months to come!

Marching on…

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Oh, look, I’m starting this post with a pun about the month of March. But yeah. Looks like I went the entire month of February without posting a single darned thing to my blog. Apologies. Sort of. We’ve moved, I’ve been working full-time, and life in general has been speeding by so fast I’m having a hard time keeping track of time, let alone posts. I’m not really apologizing, because it’s not like I’ve neglected on purpose. Anyone who’s sent me email in the last month will probably attest to the fact that response times aren’t really my strength at the moment! But I’m getting there.

Anyway, in writing news:  I’ve tentatively started a new project, gotten some very good insight on an old project (which will, eventually, be revisited), and am preparing for the publication of that other project, Pilgrim of the Sky. In Pilgrim news, I do have some fun stuff to share. Just not yet. Things are looking very positive. The edits to the draft are so far very well received, and I couldn’t be happier on that account. I’ve secured an artist for the cover, too, which I’ll talk about soon. Good things are afoot. Not to mention, here in North Carolina, spring is blooming all around us–the pear trees are just starting to turn, followed quickly by the red buds and dogwoods. I never tire of spring here. The blooms just call to me to be creative, to breathe in the beauty, to go all Keatsian and romantic.

I also finally finished “The One in the Swamp” for the Shotguns v. Cthulhu anthology. I am so excited to be part of this project, as a fan of all things Lovecraftian. I’m even more thrilled that I was able to finagle a dark, weird west tale into the mix, and continue to tell the story of the Sutherland girls. This ain’t the last you’ve heard of them.

Writing as of late has been slow. I’m still struggling to balance work life and booklife. I’m getting an odd distance to some of my older projects, and spending all too much time thinking about what kind of writer I want to be instead of just sitting down and writing. Hence, I chose a more difficult project to attend to next. After wavering back and forth for a few months, I’ve finally settled on writing Glassmere; it’s magical realism, set in the 1910s in Kent. And while that might not sound personal, it’s probably the most close-to-life novel I’ve ever attempted. It’s dark, deep, challenging on every level. It’s going to require research, planning… it’s going to take a while.*

I also have not been reading enough. I’ve had Elizabeth Bear’s All the Windwracked Stars since last summer, when my lovely friend Julia Rios gave it to me. But I haven’t made progress in the book because I haven’t made progress anywhere. I’ve not been reading at all. Period. Which is a grave offense. I can blame work and moving and everything else, but the truth of the matter is that I don’t know how to write well if I’m not reading something, especially when we’re speaking novels. So I’m making time. And it’s amazing how restorative those moments are with the book, how they make me examine my own work as well as the world of storytelling on a larger scale. Marvelous.

At any rate. This week we’re headed to PAX East, and I am jazzed to have a chance to get out a bit, hang out with awesome geeky friends, and let loose. Yes, I work at an epicly cool place. I can’t imagine a better place to work than a video game company. However, work–especially when one is suddenly the breadwinner–has a way of warping life around you and making things rather different than they were before. I need to let my hair down for a few days, and PAX East will be the ticket.

I will try to not neglect the blog for another month. As I mentioned, good things are afoot, and I’ll be chattering more as the month progresses, I’m sure!

* Reading that paragraph I realize that’s the worst sell for Glassmere that I’ve ever seen. Consider this instead: Little Women and The Buccaneers meet The Chronicles of Narnia and Alice in Wonderland. With a bit of Gosford Park thrown in for good measure. The main players are two sisters in their late teens (Evelyn and Julia) and their grandmother and great-aunt. The magical realism part is important, as it’s a major plot function, but the heart of the book is about sisters, family, jealousy, grudges, and love.

Adventures in Editing

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Last night I turned in my book to my editor, Kate, over at Candlemark & Gleam. This is a first for me. You know, editing a novel that will actually get into the hands of readers. I’ve spent lots of time editing my own books, and I generally enjoy the process quite a lot. I know many writers find it tedious and awful. And it can be, absolutely. But I have a good feeling about this draft; the second I sent it off to Kate, I missed it.

As I saved the file, I thought of the last two years. In late 2008, I completed the first draft of Pilgrim of the Sky; it was somewhere around 65,000 words. It grew from a flash of an idea: a female protagonist getting sucked into a Neo-Victorian/steampunk world that’s a near mirror to her own. Now, in 2011, that one idea is a 93,000 novel.  A real novel. And it encompasses so much more than steampunk now; it really doesn’t even fit into a genre. Speculative, sure. But it’s got elements of fantasy, the Gothic, romance, and some heavy mythology and philosophy. It’s layered, like a painting, which makes sense since Maddie, the main character, is an art historian. Her eye is tuned to read into things, and so the book–told in a very close third person–reflects that.

But the book itself has undergone a journey, and most of it has been through editing. I submitted the novel in 2009 to another small press, and it was rejected on some rather curious reasoning. You can read the post I wrote, “Novelfail: Facing rejection with grace, or learning to” if you want more of the story. At the time it really did feel like the end of the world. I was furious at being rejected for such a stupid reason. Yet now, thinking on it, I am so glad the book was rejected. Sure, at the time it was a good 80K of a book. I’d beefed it up since its first draft, and done a significant amount of editing. But it wasn’t there yet. And thankfully I’ve had a brilliant editor help me get it to where it needs to be.

And that’s the thing. Editing isn’t just about dialogue and grammar and pacing. Yes, those are all important things. But editing gives you a chance to dig deeper, to find the themes that you might have missed the first time, that bring the book from good to truly complete.

The editing process didn’t just help me fix dialogue and tighten up the plot. It revealed a better story. This last edit was no simple run-through. It took a ton more research, and an editor who had the ability to, on one hand understand the book, and on the other challenge me to make it better. There are elements in the current draft now that would never have been there if Kate hadn’t made me sit back down with the draft and consider a few things. Of course I went a little deeper than she probably expected, but it’s only because I found so much room for improvement, so many places to make broader or more delicate strokes.

And most importantly, in this almost final iteration, my main character is someone I’d actually like to take out to coffee. The first draft, Maddie was so acerbic. She was crass and had a foul mouth, and as a result wasn’t a terribly compelling heroine. But that changed in the course of edits. She became softer in some instances and stronger in others. And most importantly, I dedicated a whole new section of the book to her truly discovering her own power. Before, she was passive; now she’s active.

Anyway, that’s a long rambly way to say: pay attention to edits. Take the time. Work at it. Use your editing time to push your novel to its limits, to stretch it far beyond your initial imagination. There are bits of magic hidden that will only out with work. The book will reward you in the end, I promise. It will make you a better writer, and it will surprise you at every turn.

That’s the magic of creation. People so often bemoan the difficulty of it all. And yes, it’s a tough world out there. Publishing is rarely rewarding, and the book industry is turning on its head right now. But you have the power to do remarkable things, to be better at every turn, regardless of the details out there. Writing and editing are in your control, completely. And that is power. You can always get better.

A Whole Lot of Publication Goin’ On

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Well. I have lots of things to share. Enough things to share to warrant a list. Yes, a list. With numbering and everything fancy. So: behold!

1.) Currently you can find me in the premiere issue of Fantastique Unfettered. My story is called “Without a Light”. It’s a story about deadly desire, set in early 90s New England backdrop where, well, weird stuff happens. Like that Stephen King guy, I grew up in the frozen wilderness of New England, Massachusetts to be specific, and it’s the first story I ever set there. I think it definitely owes a lot of its tone to King’s short stories, which I devoured as a kid. But I’m very honored that it was chosen for inclusion in this premiere issue.

2.) My short story “Dead’s End to Middleton” — about seven gunslinging gals (the Sutherland sisters) with preternatural abilities to destroy paranormal creatures in 1880s Arizona — just went live on EscapePod. Originally it was in Crossed Genres about a year ago. But you can now listen to it, too! Bonus. The premise of the story is pretty simple. I wanted to write a story with lots of explosions that didn’t end up with everyone dying. Because, honestly, I write too many stories that end in death. So it’s surprisingly light-hearted in spite of its rather curious setup.

3.) On a related note, I also sold a story featuring two of the aforementioned Sutherland sisters to Stone Skin Press, for their anthology Shotguns v. Cthulhu. With a title like that, you can imagine how thrilled I was to contribute. Let’s just say it’s got a whopping monster foe, some Pinkertons, lots of Swampland, a family feud (including a shootin’), and a heist. It takes place about five years after “Dead’s End to Middleton” and follows Cassandra and Lydia across the country to Georgia, where the story is set. “The One in the Swamp” will blend two of the things I love quite dearly: steampunk Western vibes and Lovecraft.

4.) I also sold a short story to an anthology-that-I-can-not-yet-name. Of particularly cool note, and to anyone who’s a fan of the Aldersgate podcast, the story is called “Pushing Paper in Hartleigh” and tells the tale of how Sir Gawen left his cushy post as a paper-pushing captain in the Order of the Rose and defected to the unruly Order of the Asp. In the mean time you also get to meet younger versions of Sally Din and Sir Renmen. It was immensely fun to write, and I’m thrilled that it’s found a place to call home.

5.) In addition, I just got note that a short story I wrote called (tentatively called “Fish Eyes”) will be included in a future issue of Bull Spec. This little story (little for me, meaning it was actually under 2k) has been a darling of mine. I let it linger for too long and went back, did a serious edit, and sent it to Sam thinking it just might be the kind of thing he’d enjoy. Turns out I was right. Anyway, it’s very dark, very strange, and vaguely Viking/steampunk. Sort of. And there is a kind of creepy mermaid in it.

I’d say this is all quite a jolly good start to the New Year! I’m still entrenched in edits for Pilgrim of the Sky, and certainly trying to focus my energy (what I have left over after work!) on that. But it’s definitely cool to see so much progress so early on in the year. Work is keeping me pretty busy, but I’m having a blast (and, considering my husband is still unemployed, thanking my lucky stars each and every day).