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A post above the skies
From yesterday: I’m somewhere high above the earth, writing a blog post, on my way to Santa Ana/Orange County airport to visit my little sister. You may have heard me mention in other posts, but she is currently undergoing chemotherapy for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. After spending four days with her, I’m going to be visiting my great aunt in San Francisco, who’s also been diagnosed with cancer. It’s a bittersweet “vacation”–I found it very difficult to leave my two and a half year old this morning. But as usual, he seemed more besotted with my mom than worried about his Mommy going on a trip across the country. Someday he will…
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A Tuesday short story WIP excerpt
But Alice was practically obsessed with exposing the truth and making a name for herself as a journalist, one who plunged into the deepest, darkest corners of the city to expose the maggot-ridden underbelly. She would grab opportunity by the scrotum, and direct it where she wanted to go, never relenting in her pursuit of cold, hard, facts. Of course, first she’d write a few fluff pieces, just to get the papers interested in her work, but then she’d go for the jugular. The instruction card was hand-written, and stamped with a government-issued seal of authenticity. Alice turned it over again in her hands and read the opening paragraph: Congratulations…
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Reading writers of influence: the importance of reading and writing
If you don’t have the time to read, you don’t have the time or the tools to write. – Stephen King, On Writing I read Stephen King’s On Writing sometime around 2003 or so, before my husband and I were married. I was working at Starbucks, and getting ready to enter my MA program after having been wait listed for an MFA. At the time, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing with my life; I had relocated 800 miles south, was living in an old, drafty, flea-infested one-bedroom apartment in a crumbling Victorian, and I was adrift on the sea, as it were. I had about five…
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I haven’t lost to February.
And February was so long that it lasted into March And found us walking a path alone together. You stopped and pointed and you said, “That’s a crocus,” And I said, “What’s a crocus?” and you said, “Its a flower,” I tried to remember, but I said, “Whats a flower?” You said, “I still love you.” – Dar Williams, “February” I usually hate February. I drown in this sunless, useless, brown month quicker than Jimmy Hoffa in concrete shoes. At least, up until this year, that’s how the game’s gone. While I’m sure it’s seasonal depression, I’ve never done much about it except get through it. And eat chocolate. That…
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On a hobbity note.
Two days ago I clicked on one of agent Colleen Lindsay’s blog posts, mentioning opinions on Tolkien. I read, and ended up entrenched in a rather heated debate stemming from an essay by Richard K. Morgan. After two really long posts, and kind of working myself up about this, I came to a few conclusions. If you’ve read either of my blogs, you know I often cite Tolkien as an influence–lots of fantasy writers do that. It’s a common link for a lot of us, and I find that I climg more to the texts since the movies (not that I don’t love the movies). So, in a nutshell, here’s…
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Writing from where?
It used to be, at least in America, that writers often wrote from their heritage. If you were Irish, you tended to go that direction; if you were Jewish, that was important. And it made sense, especially in early 20th century America: everyone was struggling to define themselves as new, yet familiar. Hence, everyone is a (something)-American. What’s weird about me (and, I think, quite a few people of my generation) is that I have very little in the way of cultural identification. My mom grew up in Quebec, but she’s a mix of French, German, and First Nation (the Innu tribe). Most people think she’s Spanish, or Greek, or…
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Bookish personality
I’ve been making an attempt to read more. Our power went kaput yesterday, and without electricity, I picked up one of the books I received for Christmas, Emma Bull’s Territory. It had been suggested by a listener a few months ago, who said my style reminded her of Bull’s a bit. I didn’t realize how large of a compliment that was until I picked up and started reading. What strikes me about Bull is her ability to infuse the book with its own personality. It’s beyond narrative voice, something that Paul Jessup was talking about yesterday in his post about narrative urgency. It’s almost to the point where the book…
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Play it again, Frodo: why I love a remake
There are too many purists in the world. Too many folks who cling to original books, movies, songs, rallying for the acknowledgement that their beloved version is The Best That Ever Was. Hollywood is “out of ideas”, books are “recycled”. Like this is a bad thing? The thing is, we’re always telling the same story. It might be a different medium, the genders might be switched, the religions and locations different, but from the Dawn of Humanity, we’ve been obsessed with the same stories: stories of love, hate, revenge, honor, sacrifice. And quite often, we get it wrong the first time. And even more often, we get it worse the…
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You’re not special, you’re just stubborn.
I labored under a delusion for years that writing was precious, unique, and important. That my worlds were somehow glimpses into something Great and Beyond, and that my abilities as a writer would someday inspire awe and adoration. In those years, I didn’t write very well, and I didn’t write very much; I also never considered all that went in to actually getting a book published. I had a kind of distant understanding that eventually I’d have to actually share what I did, and that likely to get something to the masses, that would require, you know, time and publicity and all that (something I’m just starting to consider now).…
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(Dis)illusion – on magic
When I was young, the pursuit of magic was a daily adventure. I was nearly obsessed with tapping into some unknown ability, like a Jedi, that when unleashed would undoubtedly solve my problems. Of course, my love of fantasy fueled this preoccupation. I saturated my imagination with books that reiterated my convictions: magic was possible, it was just a matter of finding it. At about the age of twelve, I started writing what could (technically at least) be considered novels (though nothing was ever finished). And magic was everywhere; I remember how intoxicating it was to create a world for the first time, drawing a map, and developing magic. Of…
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Just to clear something up re: self-publishing
Okay, so the last few weeks I’ve been thinking a great deal about “self-publishing” and its definitions. Publishing has been radically altered because of the Internet, and so have the concepts of rights ownership and creative property. From the getgo, when I started The Aldersgate Cycle Blog, the idea was that I wanted to invite people into my creative process with no strings attached. Yes, technically podcasting my chapters is self-publishing, but it’s not the end-product. I don’t plan on going through Lulu or any of print-on-demand publishers at this space in time because, frankly, I haven’t even tried to get the book published. From the beginning I have referred…
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The white space: what we don’t write
Writers are always told: write what you know. It’s as cliche was “the pen is mightier than the sword”. Unfortunately this leads to lots of fledgling writers composing short stories about twenty-somethings disillusioned with life, breakups, and college. At least, that’s the bulk of what I wrote in my undergraduate writing classes (and what most folks wrote)–for the most part, they were drivel. The thing is, you can take the adage to mean more than one thing. It’s not just writing about what you know, as in what your life is about, but also what kind of reading you do, what worlds you know. Hence, these days I write fantasy,…
