It's on its way!
Edited to add this whole next bit
Sharp-eyed co-Codexian David W. Goldman caught that I (and a couple other Codexians, including my fellow Milford 2005 alum, Ian Creasey) are mentioned in Sheila Williams's editorial.
Sheila says:
It might seem as though it could be easy to become complacent about buying stories for Asimov’s and rely solely on the work of the established professional.
And (or rather, "but"):
New writers are the lifeblood of the magazine. Rarely does an issue go by that doesn’t include at least one person’s first sale to Asimov’s. There are cases (such as Edward M. Lerner, a long-standing Analog author, whose first story for us appeared in our last issue), where I’m already familiar with the work of the author from his or her previous sales to other SF outlets. Others (such as Merrie Haskell and Nick Wolven, whose stories are appearing in our next issue) will be authors whose work is completely unknown to me. In each instance, though, these stories caught my attention and held it all the way through. They were tales that I enjoyed and believed you would find rewarding as well.
Yay! I really like Sheila's ways of thinking as expressed in her editorials, but I REALLY like that paragraph. :)
Anyway, it's an interesting editorial, about how much she publishes of new writers, and she really has something to say about the "odds." "The odds can be very discouraging, but writing a story and sending it in to a science fiction magazine is not the same thing as buying a lottery ticket." Check it out!
They say that "Sun's East, Moon's West" will be in issue #17 of Electric Velocipede which is, uh, four? issues from now. In 2009.
That means, even if I never sell again, I have stories coming out next year and the year after for sure.
So.
That's something to look forward to...
One "Sun's East, Moon's West" to Electric Velocipede.
It's a fantastic market.
And I'm so glad my story found a home, and a good great home at that.
Sorry if anyone was confused about my entry about "Almanac." That's not a new sale, that's a publication date announcement.
So, while I'm here correcting that error, let's talk timetables!
Feb 2004 - I write an outline for a novel about aliens conquering us, Roman fashion. Complete with triumphs.
Somewhen 2004 - I write a "short story" instead
Somewhen later 2004 - my writing group says, "Dude, that's a novel." JJA says no thanks. Others, too. I reconsider.
2004-2006 - I don't write the novel, but I start it a lot.
October 8, 2006 - I finish a short story draft of "what went before" By Right of Conquest, and name it "An Almanac for the Alien Invaders"
October 2006 - Julie Winningham reads it, marks it up...
November 2006 - I rewrite, and send it to F&SF. Rejection.
December 10, 2006 - I send the story to Asimov's.
March 15, 2006 - I stop myself from querying.
April 1, 2006 - I stop myself from querying.
April 12, 2006 - Email from Sheila Williams. She likes the story, but not the tense it's written in. Would I be willing to rewrite?
April 13, 2006 - I comb through my verbs, and send on to Sheila.
April 16, 2006 - Email from Sheila accepting the story. I run around the internet screaming "Look at me, look at me!"
July 24, 2006 - Get the galleys on the story.
July 30, 2006 - Elizabeth Shack reads the galleys after me, and finds two dropped words and is my total hero. I send them back.
August 2007 - I get paid.
October 2007 - I get asked for a bio, so the item can go to press in May/April 2008.
March 2008 - I start haunting bookstores...
Even if you don't count the first inspiration of the story, or even the first efforts at writing it in 2004, it's still a long time between December 2006 and May/April 2008.
The three p's of writing: Pen, Patience, Persistence. Today's lesson illustrates patience.
Looks likely that the April/May issue of Asimov's will see "Almanac for the Alien Invaders" in it.
*glee*
Well, Steve Buchheit may be reluctant to shove his incremental successes in everyone's faces, but I am nowhere near as polite. I've a story that is officially out of the slush at InterGalactic Medicine Show, according to this here email from Edmund Schubert. I should hear in four weeks. Or so.
Feel any less egomaniacal, Steve?
I finished "The Girl-Prince" last night.
I was explaining to Julie at lunch today how, when I started the story, and it seemed well-begun at about 750 words, that I assumed it would top out around 3k, 4.5k max. HAHAHAHA. Apparently, in my new lexicon, well-begun means "10% done." Oy. Yes. The story did indeed expand to 7,500 words by the end.
It also turned from a fable to a dungeon crawl, and I'm still not at all sure how I feel about that. My main concern is this: dungeon crawls are fun. Is this fun? Do I even know how to write such things? In looking over my initial notes for the story, I don't see how it could have been other than a dungeon crawl--my initial notes were the story opening and then a list of obstacles: stickyfoam, net guns, non-Newtonian fluids, laser fields... yah. Okay. I wasn't fooling anyone except myself.
As usual.
Also, I have no clue if I have managed to satisfy my inner feminist with this story. I was going for a paradoxical situation, where the girl raised to be super-heteronormative kicks off the shackles of the patriarchy and does what needs doing. But in a very simple, unconflicted way. I'm unconvinced at the moment. We'll see what the rewrite holds.
But anyway. Yay, story!
On to the next one!
The last time I wondered where all my short short stories went... well, I should've checked the trunk. Every single one of these came in below 3,000 words. Which is very brief for me.
Here are my Pixel-stained offerings:
I decided it would not fit with the spirit of the day to explain why these were trunked; I'd love to share something with the world that I think I could sell, but they're nearly all visiting editors at the moment. I very nearly gave you all "Sticks and Bones" today, too, but I realized I'd just absolutely kick myself for not trying it at Interzone.
"An Almanac for the Alien Invaders" has been purchased by Asimov's.
I don't think I need to say how thrilled I am, but just in case you do need me to say it, I am SOEXCITED!OMG!!!.
My mom, when told, said, "Oh, I've heard of that! I mean, I've heard of him. He's a nice guy, right?" (Meaning Asimov, obviously.)
This story is based off the long-ago attempted short story "By Right of Conquest," which was read and critiqued by Julie, Lisa and Eric, all of who told me that I had a novel on my hands. Ever since, in attempting to write the novel, I have failed again and again, until I realized that really, I needed to know what happened in great detail before the novel begins. This is that story.
Huzzah! I never thought I'd find a place to sell "The Roman and the Regency" once Arabella folded up, but then a new romantic speculative fiction paying market appeared, Quantum Kiss, and I thought, "Perfect. Let's give it a try."
So, my story of a time-traveling Roman visiting Regency Bath finally has a home, I have a fourth sale for submissions made this year, and in spite of the cold rain and black ice outside, Friday is shaping up a-okay.
Hm. That was a fast response, too; I just sent that puppy off on Monday.
*dances*
*thud*
"An Almanac for the Alien Invaders," presumably complete in 6,500 words. I will try to subtract a full 1k from this before sending it out. I don't necessarily expect to be successful.
*bonk*
And that's how I know it's time to stop with the short stories and start back with the novels: all my short ideas have been trapped in a gravity well of ennui.
I am really digging yWriter. I have gone to town on some partial novels I have completed, getting them loaded into the program. It's the sort of busy work that is not writing, but it's also not precisely catwaxing. There is a need to load these things into yWriter. Since I can't settle down to other things, I may as well. It's soothing, like filing.
My newer novel tells me not to be fooled by apparent lack of progress: it will be done mid-December. I'm not so certain, and I wonder where it gets this sense of self-confidence.
I finished rewriting "Rampion in the Belltower" and sent it off to F&SF. I do not actually know if it does what I meant it to do--be a clear alternative to Rapunzel, that is. It's not an apologist's tale; there's no "but the witch was really okay"--the witch isn't even the witch, she's a stork. In other words, it may be utterly unrecognizable as Rapunzel, and it may garner rejections for referencing source material that clearly isn't.
And that's rejectomancy, my friends, in it's purest form. "This is why it could be rejected." But the thing is, I think the story has it going on in ways that defeat just about every other short story I've ever written, so I'm just preparing myself so I don't get slammed out of left field. The good news? I did have that held-breath moment of wondering "What happens next?" when I read through it recently, and that's always a good sign. And what I borrowed from Rapunzel was done just because I wanted the tropes--captivity, tower, prince--to turn them on their heads.
The zombies are there for a completely different reason, of course.
Now, to perform an appendectomy on "Wedding Dress Tea Parties" and maybe whip off the last segment of "Almanac," and we'll be done with short stories for a while. I'm not anywhere in sight of my usual goal of writing 12 new stories a year, but if these are the three I have to show for it, then I'm well-pleased.
Speaking of goals, I've managed to read 52 books this year, which means all I read from now on is pure goal-profit.
I'm really, truly done with "Wedding Dress Tea Parties of 2443" and I'm sending it out tomorrow (today). This marks my first brand new submission since, oh, January? And that's even with a bit of cheating the statistic, since the thing I sent out in January was a trunk story that probably should've just stayed in the trunk.
This one, however, has been critiqued, and polished, and rewritten, and yes, it will totally be The Kiss of Death to say this, but, I have faith in it. I had such a good time writing it that I cannot think of a dim future for it. I have my markets laid out in strategic order, and there will be no stopping until I have rejections from each and every one of them. Needless to say, I'm hoping it won't come to that, but it's a freakin' novella, so good luck me!
Actually, by Nebula rules, it's a novelette. Hm. Now what did I read that convinced me otherwise? Anyway, it's 16,700 16,606 words long after the last revision pass.
I put in some good work on "Gesundheit, Nantucket" this weekend, but I don't know if the story has that thing. Actually, I feel that the story doesn't have that thing, so I'm inclined to stop working on it. On the other hand, if I stop now, I may never start again, and if it's finished, I can at least rewrite it some day. (Some day!) I'm not sure if this story has anything going for it but the reveal--by reveal, I mean the next best thing to twist ending.
This is always a hard spot to be in. You can almost sense the story going stale as you write it. I'm beginning to wonder if my low finish rate is more related to fundamentals being off than my procrastinatory skills. If I don't feel an important element while writing the story, it's very hard to finish it. And of course, it's easier to say what's missing in each specific story that does this than to extrapolate widely as to what all stories need... but this one seems missing character. I guess that's my problem--the story is all concept and I have no idea what the characters are trying to do or become. Okay! I may have a path to take out of the wildwood now, actually... never let it be said that blogging about writing doesn't serve a purpose, even if it's just to talk myself around.
Of course, identifying the problem--and then having it be one of the potentially biggest problems there is--isn't solving the problem.
Right, anyway. What I actually meant to be saying by the time I got this far into my entry was that next up, I'm intending to rewrite "Rampion in the Belltower." It's at 8,000 words right now. I think it could be 6,500 if I'm diligent. After that, I aim to finish "Almanac for the Alien Invaders" and then go on vacation.
My mom is trying to convince me I don't need my laptop on vacation, and I'm half-convinced. We're pressed for space on this trip for starters, and I don't honestly see myself hauling the thing out in hotel rooms and trying to write hunched over on hotel beds. Well! Okay, then. A big ol' notebook it is. And a pen, of course. Probably even two.
I may, indeed, go crazy on this trip, but since that's actually a daily risk, I won't remark any further upon it.
My story, One Million Years B.F.E.: Diary of an Anthropologist in Exile is up Escape Pod. Read by Deborah Green, with sound effects. Shiny!
In other news, I have decided that my non-writing hobby will be making books. You know. From basic materials. I am planning to mostly do blank journals for friends and family; I would like to do a few, uhm, what's the word... adapted books? Where you cut the thing up and make art out of it? Yes, those. Mostly on out-of-date guidebooks to places I've already been. I think that's the only use of out-of-date guidebooks, frankly. And I would like to attempt to make a Snow White book, the text of which would be "Huntswoman," and a fable book, the text of which would be "The Mother of Forests" (not published), as gifts for my mother, and potentially anyone else who would be interested.
Other writers have talked about how they find they need creative, non-writing interests to sustain them in between writing projects, and I've been thinking about that. I can't seem to take up any of the yarn arts, while cross-stitch, which I rather enjoy, is actually too engrossing. I need this to be brain time. Painting is another option; I have inherited a painting kit and caboodle that belonged to my aunt, but any facility for it that I displayed as a child has gotten severely lost along the way. I need classes. And guidance. Drawing... I think drawing would be one step away from madness. I can't not take drawing seriously, and I could very easily step away from writing towards drawing and fall down a rabbit hole. Quilting? I don't have the dexterity. No, seriously, I took a quilting class, and I sucked. Plus, I'd have to buy a new sewing machine, since my current one sucks as much as I suck at quilting. Sewing? See quilting.
I basically don't want to do anything that will siphon away brain power. I'm planning to do this (book-making) because the results are functional as well as beautiful, and I think it keeps my mind in the right sphere while I work with my hands. Too many other hobbies can be done in front of a TV. This, I plan to do in front of my computer.
I will doubtless post pictures.
Sold: reprint rights to "Huntswoman" to Aoife's Kiss for March 2007.
Advanced planning at it's finest. There is a deep satisfaction in adding a 2007 section to your bibliography when it's still early in 2006.
I've moaned, not infrequently, about how hard it is to be objective about my work; I've even theorized that what I really need is an Objectivizer. Some would say that time is the answer to that, but I have lately learned, time is NOT the answer for me.
Cases in point: "The Library Seed" and "Bound by Spells." I had allowed enough time to come between me and the initial impulse on "The Library Seed"--enough time and enough hearing it critiqued on the Online Writing Workshop, which is also a good Objectivizer--that I really had no particular feeling towards it when I took it to Milford. I had gotten to the point where I was pretty sure it sucked, in fact; the enthusiasm for it at Milford was an eye-opener. I had honestly thought the story was simply not up to professional standard, and never would be. I've since become (re)enlightened to the fact that there are many great stories in the world that garner many great rejections--which was a good lesson to (re)learn. Just because the market doesn't love it doesn't mean it's not a lovable story. It's hard to reconcile that in the mind when you're facing a stack of rejection letters, no matter how enthusiastic, and thus, numbness sets in. Granted, I only had one rejection on "The Library Seed," so the numbness wasn't story-specific, but eight months of no sales, broken by a tiny sale, and then followed by more months of nothing--those can really take the toll.
Somewhere this spring I gave up on "Bound by Spells" as well. Again, I am/was convinced it was not written to professional standard. And there are some deficits of structure (like, I'm not sure I actually managed to get the climax on-screen; I'm afraid it's buried in my speedy denouement, and I'm appalled by that)--that, however, MIGHT NOT be deficits of structure (you can take the on-screen climax for what it is, and not second-guess it, but only if the rest of the story charms you).
Anyway, there's also this big gap between "high-mediocre" and "good enough to sell" and feeling "high-mediocre" all the time is like a shot of novacaine to the inner Objectivizer. I really have no handle on what I'm writing. It took a room full of twelve strangers to tell me what I was writing. The quest for objectivity can come at too high a price--a story doesn't sell in two efforts, and you write it off. Objectivity's quest can lead to a dent in one's persistence.
I honestly did make an effort to not keep throwing ALL the spaghetti at the wall just to see what would stick, but now I'm no longer convinced that it's the right thing to do. I may very well need to go back to throwing spaghetti everywhere, closing my eyes tight, and praying.
Man, I wish there were an instruction manual. A real one. Something that said "Don't Panic" on the front, and who knows what-all.
Anyway, I sent "Bound by Spells" back out. Score one for spaghetti.
My WorldCon roomie and I are trading hesitantly geeky emails (I, at least, wonder if I'm about to cross the line with my w00ting and the like) and getting generally pumped for the trip.
I'm having a hard time staring down the suitcase, though.
*
In other news, I passed the 100th submission mark today in my glorious two-year writing career. I subbed 4 items today: two reprints ("Huntswoman" and "Heretic's Day Out"; the former I have great hopes for and the latter I was just waiting for the right market), and two originals ("The Lonesome Dark," now with industrial-strength continuity action! and "The Library Seed" which I finally finished rewriting after my wonderful critiques on the OWW, including the Editor's Choice crit from Kelly Link. In honor of that, in fact, I sent it to the magazine Ms. Link slushes for...)
Could not get into writing at Write Club for all the tea in China. I blame it on the change in locations--our usual café is undergoing renovations, and we have been cast adrift upon the sea. Or, actually--we've removed to the Barnes & Noble down the road from our usual Borders. The food is better, but the atmosphere less homey. The music was stultifyingly loud. The tables were too high, or perhaps the chairs were too low, and I had to sit on my balled-up coat.
I did manage to outline and narrow my focus on "Peppercorn" or whatever that story is going to be called. I also managed to really, finally refocus my thinking on "Alloy of Optimism"--apparently it's a screwball comedy of manners. Ohhhh... well, no wonder I didn't know what to do next. Laying out the disparate plot elements and characters caused Julie and Lou to point out the Connie Willisishness of the thing, kind of an "Even the Queen" atmosphere. I had thought it was a much more serious story than that, but then I reread it and no, it's really not.
I came home and generated a whopping 223 words, but they were the right 223 words. I think. The story can be funny with so many disparate plot elements, and it's possible to do funny and meaningful together. Right? Right. "Even the Queen."
The first two sentences of "Alloy of Optimism" are behind the cut, for your brief amusement.
"There is nothing like a family gathering on a festive occasion to showcase the eccentricities of the filial bonds therein. To think otherwise is to invite ridicule by wiser and more pessimistic minds."
Patrick Samphire reviewed "Huntswoman."
I'm amused by the notion that I've written something so subtle that people have to read it more than once...
...considering that as a child, I thought subtle had something to do with torpedoes, and when I told some friends that, it was decided that it would be a very appropriate autobiography title: Subtle as Torpedoes.
"Huntswoman" is up at Strange Horizons.
Tell me you love it; tell me you hate it; but by gum, please don't tell me you think it's too elliptical.
I believe my story goes up at Strange Horizons on Monday. Unless the date on the galley was all a sham. But I doubt that.
So. Monday. You, me, "Huntswoman" and Strange Horizons. We can go for coffee together--a double date.
I'm off to ConFusion.
Mom was here on her way back down to North Carolina, so much of my yesterday was spent chatting with her or making the house look slightly more inhabited by people instead of monkeys.
The rest of my yesterday, and already some of this morning, has been spent responding to editors about my story, which has been tweaked and retweaked and better be darn near perfect soon.
I've already spent many, many times more effort conversing with the editor on this one story (the first one of mine in a pro market) than I have with all my other stories combined (semi-pro and not-close-to-pro markets). It's fascinating. It's revealing. It makes me happy, because always before when I'd sell a story and it would be published, I would wonder: "Is this *it*?"
It's also revealing because it makes me realize how much fine-tuning I really should be doing before sending the story out. Not that I didn't believe I had been doing all the fine-tuning I could before--but now I know I need to add more time into my editorial process, and really get in there.... read the stories aloud, in the absence of actually acquiring an uncommon word counter. And other stuff I haven't quite figured out yet. I'm still writing from instinct, and that's ok. I think I should continue to do so, actually. I don't know that I should be editing from instinct, however.
In other news, I got a few really excellent critiques on "The Library Seed" over at the OWW, and I'm impressed with the clarity with which some reviewers are able to explain what they perceive to be going on in my story, both on a macro and micro level. I was dubious at first, but now I'm pretty convinced that it was a good move. I don't think I'd ever be able to workshop a novel in that system, but short stories are in their element there.
It's been a highly educational week.
Bounce on "Souls on a String" today; bounce on "Subletter of my Subletter" yesterday. I had wanted something to come back that was appropriate to Fortean Bureau and now I have two. Hm. Decisions, decisions...
Write Club was productive. I worked on the first quarter of The Bitter Road. One more day, and the first quarter will be in good shape. I feel vaguely on track to have draft three in hand by Halloween.
I also wrote a pivotal paragraph for "Coming Due," and finally introduced the not-Polynesians in "The Lonesome Dark." I wouldn't be working on short stories at all in favor of the novel, but at the same time, I'm very quickly learning not to waste small bursts of inspiration on specific projects.
I've not done a goals schema in a while--in part because I never quite manage to really nail my specific goals, y'know? But I'd be super-happy if I managed to finish the two library stories ("Coming Due" and "The Library Seed"), the space opera of manners ("Wedding Dress...") and "The Lonesome Dark" by end of year. Think I could do a story a week in November? Me neither.
Well, my predictions for the veritable swarm of editorial correspondance I was going to have received by now were sadly off. Responses come in by dribs and drabs, and do not overwhelm me.
Alas.
1 rejection, 0 acceptances this week
I wrote about 3/4's of "The Lonesome Dark" at Writer's Retreat. Hardly a record. But relaxation was probably more important than busting tail, and I held steady at my usual rate of production instead of stunting this weekend. (Stunting in, say, a cheerleader's sense of the word, not as in a discussion of growth.)
I have no idea if "The Lonesome Dark" will end up being half as good as I feel it is right now, but right now, I'm simply amazed. I've never written a story this carefully, with this much control and clear thought and precision--and yet naturally. I don't feel overwhelmed by ideas I can't quite snatch, nor do I feel that I have to try and control every piece of the story from end to end with notecards. The story isn't all there, and I'm uncovering it, line by line... and each line feels crisp, precise, necessary.
When I finish it, will I have any idea of what happened? Why this story, like this, and not in any of the other ways? And will it still seem good at the end?
Dunno. Really not good with the predictions, you know?
Made my first pro sale today: "Huntswoman" will appear in Strange Horizons, probably in January.
I've been kind of hyper and kooky all day today. Save me from myself!
Looks like "Subletter" made it past the first round at ASIM. We'll see how round 2 goes. "One Million Years" made it past the second round there and still didn't get picked for publication, alas.
Sadly, that's all the news.
I need to get more news, y'know?
It had been a while since I finished a short story that I felt could go out to market. I mean, it's not ready for it yet, but the last couple of shorts I did are just not anything I could sell.
I'm experimenting in writing more linear stories. With clear problems and clear resolutions, and maybe only one thing really happening. You know, like short stories should be.
We'll see how that goes. I'm not sure I've accomplished it, yet. "Sticks and Stones," the thing I finished tonight, feels a bit wifty, to use a Mom-ism, and I don't know, maybe there's no plot, because the conflict isn't clearly defined. (Girl has hard task to accomplish. Girl's only real opposition is herself. Girl eventually gets out of her own way. Is that actually conflict?)
After a weekend of gardening and cheese and croquet and feeling that I was coming down with something, I came down with something.
But this (being home, sick) allowed me to turn my attentions the galleys for "Reparations," which bequeathed unto me a certain simple-minded delight I hope doesn't go away when and if I'm a jaded old writer.
Yep. There was a little squee in getting the galleys, and a little more when Jay Lake wrote the galley group at large back to say that he was traveling and wouldn't get to them today. Yes. Squee from getting a group email on the collegial level from Jay Lake. I'm not sure if this means good or bad things about me. It probably doesn't mean anything at all...
Ah, well. I've played so many other aspects of my life on the reserved side. It was time to be a little goofy out where people could see me.
Really, I meant to just sign on and write: "Reparations" will be up soon.
Because, after all, I'm rewriting, and shouldn't stop to do anything, squee or otherwise. (1)
I'm even sorta thinking of putting a big sign on the office door that says something to that effect, not that my husband has even looked like he was going to come bother me.
I sooo digress.
(1) Is it bad that I'm really, seriously thinking about putting slashy subtext between Kestrel and Justice, just to please an as-yet unearned bank of fans? It's just a little slashy subtext, hardly there at all. And the thought mostly brought up the fact that Kestrel and Justice don't really have a scene together later in the book, which is something I need to remedy anyway.
This thought completely brought to you by Write Club, who've been taking turns mocking me about the potential fandom for my book for about a month now.
I suppose this is why you have friends...
I won't mention my first story submission; I didn't even send an SASE out, because I was 15 (or younger), and didn't know. My aunt, when she wrote obituaries for the Midland newspaper, had made a friend, a poet, who encouraged me to submit said story to a certain magazine, but she sorta failed to mention the SASE, or my aunt failed to pick up on it, or maybe I didn't hear the advice...
And that's Rule #2. Rule #1 is finish a story. Rule #2 is the SASE. Even if you write in crayon (not advised), you gotta send the SASE, or you won't hear why they're rejecting your crayon-written story. Right?
I also won't mention how my first actual rejection was from myself, nominally. The double-blind submission process to the high school literary magazine that I edited meant that I never, of course, judged my own work, so I didn't really reject myself. I just happened to be the name on the mast-head, or whatever we had.
I crumpled that up and threw it away, by the way. I was pretty unhappy about that one.
The next rejections--I don't have all of them, and they are sort of hazy in my memory--were sporadic, because I submitted sporadically. Rule #3 is to submit a clean manuscript and Rule #4 is to follow the damn guidelines, but Rule #5, which is in bold type, is persist. That rule took the longest to learn.
Basically, I'd write a story, send it off, get a rejection, and mope about it for a year--shuffling said story out of sight for the better part of ever. In other words, I was not persisting. I was treating rejection like it was a rejection of myself, not my work.
And even when I started paying attention to other writers, I couldn't understand. I assumed, for example, that other writers just weren't getting rejections, or if they did, that they suffered the same torments I did. It didn't take much effort to realize this was fallacious--just time. About... three months of semi-concerted effort and about 10 rejections within that span of time.
Oh, it was a slower process than that. I'd get a rejection from Fantasy and Science Fiction, a JJA special: "didn't grab me," and I'd slump on the couch for a week and mope. Then I'd get up, because this was F&SF after all, doesn't the Pope subscribe to that?, and try a less well-known venue. But a week was way down from a year, and I didn't trunk my stories afterward, in part because I had friends who set a better example and in part because I promised myself 2 years of concerted effort before I gave up again. That second part is important. It's a committment I took as seriously as my marriage.
(When I said Pope, I just may have meant Connie Willis. Who knows.)
Then, it was four days, not a week. Then a day, not four days. Then, ten minutes. Then I got to where I looked forward to the rejections, because I might get an insight into what I was doing wrong (can I just say? Best rejections ever from Jeremy Tolbert from Fortean Bureau and Jed Hartman at Strange Horizons; both are largely responsible for how I stopped worrying and learned to love the rejection).
I can't say I still love the rejections (that may have been a strange case of Stockholm-type syndrome); however, they sure beat silence.
Likewise, hitting 30 rejections was nice. It felt round. And by then, I'd already gotten an acceptance or two, so the sting was right out of it, most of the time.
And today, in fact, rejection #36 (not counting any rejections prior to 2003), was one that's signed by Gordon Van Gelder. While the cautious part of me wishes to believe that JJA was merely on vacation, there's a part of me that's singing a little. I got passed up the ladder by the Slush God, so I could get rejected by the big guy. It's rejectomancy at its finest. Especially when it appears that the big guy didn't actually read my story, anyway.
I'm not complaining. (grins) I once said I thought that getting passed upward by JJA would be the reward that would content me for quitesometime.
Which is the point of all of this. My lessons are my lessons. I learned most of them the hard way, from the thing about the SASE to the persist rule. Learning to love rejection is just another hard lesson learned. I share with you all the love. You know, if you want it.
I poked gingerly at the sequel to "Reparations" last night (set in the same world, anyway). It's alternately calling itself "Reclamation" and something more clever that is written down somewhere I can't see from here. I re-read the first bit of it, and thought, "Yes! There, I have it, I have the plot--oops. It's gone again."
Bother.
So, fed up with the elusivity of "Reparations," I looked at "Antigone's" again, and it's proving equally elusive.
Yes, it's quite possible I'm Done With Short Stories For Now. I hope it won't be a long doneness. But on the other hand, I was Done With Novels for a while there, too, and you know. I'm over that.
And, and, I found a pretty piece of By Right of Conquest, which I showed to that novel's biggest fan, but he mostly just seemed flummoxed by it, since it was about a character I've never mentioned. Oops. But that's ok; it'll all make sense one day. It's only significant because it made me think, "Well, I know how to write some of it. Maybe I could just write around those areas I don't understand just yet." Non-sequentially. It's a thought. I'm not sure yet if I'm able to write non-sequentially, but why not give it a shot?
It's a thought. It might be a good summer side-project.
Actually, this whole dealing with elusive short stories is making me suspicious. I think it's probable that I'm about to (or just did) break through a plateau in the level of my writing, and I'm just... trying to deal with it.
Or maybe not. I might also be pretentious, and over-thinking it a bit.
Finally, Brook. I'm still distilling it, trying to figure out what to work on. Reading Sherwood Smith's philosophies avidly and turning over in my mind where I've been, where I'm going.
I realized that there's a point in Brook where people might think, "Gaugh! Message!" but ultimately, that was not my intent. Brook is blinded, both physically and clairvoyantly by a sorcerer, and has to deal with this; she regains physical sight, but not the other kind. It could be suspected that there's a Message in how she deals with this, but that was not my intention in the least. It's a plot point for the following books, as well as the thing which ultimately isolates her character from her peers. Yes, how she deals with it all is how I think people should deal with adversity, but that's not intended to be a Message, that's just the kind of people I want to write about.
Now, the fact that I spent all that time justifying myself, does that mean anything?
I absolutely must clean my office, and set a new writing schedule to go with my writing goals. Right now, there's no way to spread out and write at my desk. That's the other problem, you see; novel-writing (for me) has proven to be space intensive. Research books, book bible, notecards, notes, colored pens, all kinds of stuff. Tea or water. Space is necessary.
Rain has come. Every scent from the yard and garden is fighting its way in here. Lush. Yummy. The smell of green.
I just sold "Reparations" to Fortean Bureau.
This... yeah... I'm so excited! This one means a lot to me. I've been reading FB for a while now just for itself, as well as because M'ris and Stella have been published there. It's very good company to be in, in my opinion...
The story means a lot to me, too, but that's not news to anyone really...
I read The Twelfth Century Renaissance (or, the chapter in it on women) and picked Mary Lou's brain (since she actually took a class on the twelfth century, and fairly recently). And I took notes. And it was good.
I've got some interesting theories on how a woman of letters in 12th c. Europe would come about. She could be privately tutored. She could be educated in a nunnery. Either way. She can certainly travel to Glastonbury, and she can certainly know monks, and she can certainly write. There were enough women who did write.
I'll finish the chapter, though I doubt I'll read the whole book. It might be wise to, but I'm not so much with the wise when there are other things demanding my attention, like histories of typography.
Merely 1200 again last night. But I underestimated my wordcount, and as it turns out (less whatever I do tonight), I only need two 6,500 word days this weekend.
Noooo problem.
The plot clicks along. My broken out plot-conflict-tension sequences have found new ways of arranging themselves, finding new nooks and crannies to roost in rather than flying forward in straight lines--ie, some things have become foreshadowed, and others have become "found" instead of "contrived" in flavor.
I watched Elizabeth Bear's livejournal through the writing of Stratford Man, and now I think I understand the joy she felt every time she reported, "Hey! I know how to do this!"
Hey! I know how to do this!
Of course, it's still tempered by "Hey! I have no idea how to do this," but still.
In other writing news, F&SF has been holding onto "Souls on a String" for more than a week. It's not quite enough of a happening to get the rejectomancy coins out, but I find it interesting. Don't think I've had to wait longer than 9 days before, and we're working on 11 here. Probably just means it got lost in the mail. Bah. Stupid hopes. You go squish now.
Short story mugging last night.
I knew what I wanted to write about--thematically. I had a feeling, and it needed out. So I sat down, just to see what would happen.
Imagine my suprise when, 3 hours and 3500 words later, that there was actually a story there. I ended up retelling "East of the Sun, West of the Moon." Five hundred, maybe a thousand words more, and it's done. There's a bit with some dragon-slaying, which is how far afield I've gone from the original story concept.
Right now, I love it. I would cuddle it to me in dark nights and whisper sweet nothings to it.
Don't know how it's going to go when we have our first quarrel, though.
I did manage to enter all my edits for "Souls on a String" on paper, and the story holds together much better than I was expecting. Now, just to enter them all electronically.
I've also written not-so-many words for By Right of Conquest, but I did catalogue the book today at work! We're training ourselves on the new library management system, and I got to make a brief cataloguing record for anything I wanted, and Merrie Haskell's By Right of Conquest exists in the practice database for a few months. Publication date: 2007. Well, that's certainly a goal.
Oh, well. I'm up over 6k words, which is nearly the length of the original short story that wouldn't be a short story, so I kind of feel good about that. Maybe I can run past that this weekend. Another goal. Something more realistic. I like it.
No, I didn't rewrite like the wind this weekend. Rewriting seems to go best at Write Club, anyway. Or on nights when there's a specific kind of burn-out staring me down, like creative burst burn-out.
I wrote about 3k words on By Right of Conquest, read up on the Great Trajanic Frieze, read Render Unto Caesar in one sitting (one long bath, actually), and started a short story that Dann thinks I should entitle "Whenever Love" and I'm calling "The Regency and Romans." It needs a better title. But I've gone ahead and written time-travel romance, by-passing the modern day. I'm sort of impressed with myself. (Won't be when I find out how many other people have done it, I'm sure.)
Beginning to think my Thing is Rome.
Not sure I'm pleased. I was hoping I didn't have a thing. But (at cursory glance) it does seem to show up in over 10% of my works.
Hm.
Did have a semi-realization this weekend, though: that just because you make yourself write when you aren't inspired, you shouldn't ignore inspirations. Because really, how often are inspirations with you? Not bloody often. I'm not as highly disciplined as a writer as I'd like to be, but of the times I write, it's rarely with Inspiration. Ignoring inspiration, who only visits on alternate days beginning with S and that have a 2 in the date, but never on months ending in "R"--that would be foolish.
Levels of inspiration exist, of course. I have inspiration often enough that Inspiration is not often bemoaned, and I probably get inspired every fortnight or so.
The Chariot, by the way, is the tarot card representing inspiration. It's about harnessing that force. It's a good lesson for today.
Q: Can I rewrite all four short stories that are sitting in my Rewrite Folder -- this weekend?
A: Augh! Augh! Auuuuuugh!
Maybe.
The intended:
"Souls on a String" - only needs a spit and a polish. Well, actually, probably needs quite a lot, but I'm going to spit at it and then polish it. It's a stylistic piece. It could be other, if I shifted things around, but that would be denying its essential nature.
"Subletter" - only deserves a spit and a polish. This is for the silly mills.
"Bound by Spells" - another silly piece, but with a Statement. Don't know where it belongs. Julie and Lisa both agree that it's got to find the Right Editor. More so than most stories.
"Paradise Covenant" - needs more work than a weekend, and will be the true cause of any traffic jams. This may just stay in the folder until the next 'round of rewriting. And the next, for all I know. Too bad, though. And--maybe not?
Ultimately, in looking over the current list of candidates, I don't see anything Saleable. (Not capital S saleable.) Granted, I'm still a poor judge of Saleable, so I shouldn't dwell. Regardless, they ARE all things I want to work on, and for now, while I have a day job, I have the luxury of working on what I want to work on. Someday, I suppose, I may have to write to orders, or possibly write to make ends meet, but that day is not today.
Or even this weekend.
Kenoma e-zine will carry "Charmed Lives" in their Feb. issue. I'm mailing the contract back today.
Please note for the record: this is the first time I've gotten paid for something I've written.
Please also note, and congratulate me on, my calm whilst making this announcement.
I had a dreadful, dreadful time yesterday with the writing. There was much hair-pulling and gnashing of teeth and telling Dann how I was a failure. On his part, there was a lot of eye-rolling.
At midnight, I crept upstairs and started a long, whiny entry about self-doubt and its paler cousins. Then I stopped, and instead, opened up a file in the rewrite folder and rewrote "A Hero and a Prince." It's pretty decent, if I do say so myself, and it's ready to go out tomorrow.
Excellent.
So, the power of griping worked once again. The good news is, I deleted the whiny entry before I posted it, because it was terrible.