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Novelfail: Facing rejection with grace (or learning to)
I’ve had short stories rejected before, and I like to think I’m pretty good at dealing with it. At least, it’s enough to piss me off a while, but not enough to throw me into the pit and give up writing. The story selection process is extremely subjective, and I can deal with that. I just keep writing. However, yesterday, on my way to take my sister to her chemotherapy treatment, I got my first novel rejection letter. This is another bird altogether, and due to the timing of the situation–dealing with jetlag and the issues my sister is facing–I was a little bent out of shape for a few…
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Thursday poetry, 5/7 “Delight and the Word”
To keep my brain nimble and, um, creative, I’ve decided to start a Thursday poetry tradition here. I can’t promise the poetry will be awesome, or inspiring, or even good. But once upon a time I fancied myself a bit of a bard. So, here goes. Delight and the Word Delight and the Word met in a fever dance under the shadow of the ship’s mainsail– the creak of weathered wood and the hum of the engines played counterpoint. When the Word’s mouth opened, all was softness and breath, the hushed moist maw of the Beginning and End. But Delight was wilder and her hands were fleur de sel; her…
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Textual nightmares: or, some ways you can not suck at editing by learning from my mistakes
Writing novels is not my problem. My output has only improved in the last few years, and I’ve finally moved beyond the whining about not having time, or making every excuse in the world not to write stage. Those were big hurdles for me, and I’m proud of the accomplishment. I generally make my 1K goal every day, with a few exceptions, and I love telling the stories. So what’s the problem, right? Unfortunately, what’s resulted is lots of first drafts, and not completed novels. As a writer who fumbles around in the dark putting pieces together, this is truly problematic as editing, the next step in the process, just…
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GeekDad: Top 10 Geeky Instruments
By way of a wee announcement, my first post is live over at the GeekDad blog. So, even though I’m not a dad, I am a geek… so I’m a GeekMom! I’m really excited to be part of this deliciously geeky group of guys and gals! I know it says it’s by Michael Harrison, but that’ll soon change. Top 10 Geeky Instruments By Michael Harrison May 1, 2009 | 8:00 am | Categories: Armchair Geek Jay Cartwright and his Marvelon. Photo: Lemming Malloy “Music self-played is happiness self-made,” or so say They Might Be Giants. Not only can playing music make you happy, but, according to research, it can also…
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A note on giving up.
It’s okay. Really it is. Set it aside, take a walk. Go somewhere new; get a cup of coffee. Do some yoga, or scream a little. Writing can be such a pain in the ass, you deserve to take give up for a little while. Or a month. Or a year. Or a few years. Writing, if anything, is a roller-coaster. It’s moments of ebullient joy cut short by self-doubt and skepticism. It’s dark and light, brilliance and idiocy, utter bliss and deepest despair. And, it seems, such contradictions don’t go away, not with success or fame or age or time. Writers both in the glow of youth and the…
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I can hear the voice inside my head–saying you should be with me instead.
Me: Will you guys shut up, please? I’m trying to wake up here. Peter: But you just had a huge revelation about me, and you’re honestly thinking of working on that short story about grubby worm spider things in a Victorian garden? Spindly Grubbings: *intelligible chittering* Me: Yes, Peter. I am thinking about that. Doesn’t mean I have committed to anything yet. I have one afternoon to do this, okay? I’m trying to prioritize. Cora: (sighs) Great. So you’re leaving me on an island filled convicts and no resolve? Me: Stop sulking, Cora. You’ll be fine. You have friends to watch you while I’m– Captain Pars: Friends? She has friends?…
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My path to girl geekdom.
Yellow, not pink. Shel Silverstein, not Mother Goose. Dad on guitar, not songs on tape. Unicorns, not horses. Galaga, not Ga-Ga dolls. Muppets, not puppets. TMBG, not DMB. Fraggles, not ruffles. Wrinkles in Time, not Babysitter Clubs. Crusher, not crushes (but: crushes on Crusher) Ant farms, not petting zoos. Home-made, not Little Debbie. Poe, not a poser. Science, not social, experiments. Renn, not savoir, faire. News Radio, not Friends. Kids in the Hall, not SNL. Bald Eagles, not American Eagle. The Next Generation, not Generation X. Smoking hobbits, not smoking habits. “ooh!” not “eww!” Mallrats, not actual malls. d20s, not detention. Fangirl, not fanclub. “Bloody Mary” – not Bloody Maries.…
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Dreams and revelations.
I have written lots of stuff over the years, but my problem is always finalization, finishing. The first finished novel I ever wrote is a prequel, of sorts, to The Aldersgate, occurring in the same world but some 400 years before. It’s called Peter of Windbourne, and it has been sitting in stasis for… oh, three years or so. First novels are a tricky business. Writing them is like having your first crush; it’s a hectic, messy, emotional process, and the outcome isn’t necessarily something you hold onto for the rest of your life. Peter isn’t that bad, but it’s had a major, central problem that has taken me a…
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All the world’s your stage: the performativity of online presence
My freshman year of college, I discovered MUSHing, specifically Elendor, the Tolkien-based MUSH. Besides being a hole for creativity (well, who needs to write anything original when you’re in a world as detailed as that one…) it was my first real exposure to an online community. And it’s there that I discovered the vast difference between real and perceived personalities in virtual space. I called it a MUSHPersona. There were people, for instance, whom I knew in real life as relatively mild-mannered bookworms, who online became sarcastic, self-important, jerks. Shyguys turn into relentless flirts. Housewives turn into vixens. And I’ve found, especially with the birth of social media and the…
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Embracing my inner dragon… early fantasy writing.
Most of my college years were spent trying to be a “real” fiction writer. That is, writing crappy short stories and outlining (okay, thinking about) crappy novels in the real world, with real problems, and real issues. While I would say it was wasted time, I don’t think that’s the case entirely. I mean, all writers have to grow, right? I was just embarrassed to love SF/F so much; I believed that it was, on some level, childish and certainly not a legitimate endeavour. Well, thankfully I came to my senses after I got my BA. But even before that, I couldn’t shake the fantasy bug entirely. Rifling through my…
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The mask and the mirror: Otherness and fantasy literature
Take some elves, dragons, dwarves, hobgoblins, orcs, fairies, gnomes… (ad nauseum; lather, rinse, repeat) and add a protagonist, a wizard, and a magic weapon then voila: you have a fantasy novel. Other races, other peoples–especially those living in other worlds–typify, for many readers anyway, the very heart of fantasy literature. We want maps, cultures, civilizations, religions, and the oh-so-obvious dichotomies of good and evil. It’s comfortable, from a reader’s perspective, to fall into a world that is familiarly different–not uncomfortably so. The best-selling fantasy series of all time most often adhere into this very pattern. While some “classic” fantasy has fallen out of fashion as far as working writers are…
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I write because…
it makes me happy. the voices tell me to. other voices tell me not to. it’s what I know. it’s everything unknown. it’s who I am. it’s everything I’m not. it’s escape. I want to leave something behind. there are too many stories to tell. there are too many secrets to share. there are too many zombies at the window. it keeps me company. it saves me from reality. it brings me closer to the real world. the machine is already primed. everything’s already been written. it might be better if I write again. it’s the best of me. it’s the worst of me. it’s the greatest freedom I know.
