Monday, October 30, 2006
Query Update
Six more little agent assistants will have the fun of opening packages from me. I only hope they are all in happy moods and have gotten plenty of Halloween Candy.
Friday, October 27, 2006
Oh, am I in the wrong business...
| You Should Be a Film Writer |
 You don't just create compelling stories, you see them as clearly as a movie in your mind. You have a knack for details and dialogue. You can really make a character come to life. Chances are, you enjoy creating all types of stories. The joy is in the storytelling. And nothing would please you more than millions of people seeing your story on the big screen! |
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Because this is America and Grand isn't Grande enough...
It is getting dangerously close to National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo, and so I have be scheming, reading and researching to get ready to write a first draft in thirty days. I have having company come for Thanksgiving, so technically, I will be trying to get mostly done by the end of November 20th.
Anyway, it helps this year that instead of coming up with a totally original idea, I'm going to modernize a classic. The Brothers Karamazov. Now, David James Duncan did this and set his book in the 60's. But I believe that's one of the few out there, so I have a good chance.
If I make it based on Oil Barons from Midland, Texas, I'll be out of my element, and most likely sued for slander. So let's see, how about a mobile home manufacturer in a Navasota-like town? One of his sons may run for Governor of the great state of Texas.
And the title?
drumroll.....
The Venti Inquisitioner
Because Everything is Bigger in Texas
Anyway, it helps this year that instead of coming up with a totally original idea, I'm going to modernize a classic. The Brothers Karamazov. Now, David James Duncan did this and set his book in the 60's. But I believe that's one of the few out there, so I have a good chance.
If I make it based on Oil Barons from Midland, Texas, I'll be out of my element, and most likely sued for slander. So let's see, how about a mobile home manufacturer in a Navasota-like town? One of his sons may run for Governor of the great state of Texas.
And the title?
drumroll.....
The Venti Inquisitioner
Because Everything is Bigger in Texas
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
I am a Query-Aholic. Is there help?
I was reading an incredible book last night, Little Children by Tom Perrotta and for some reason, I got it in my little head that I should query the agent. Unfortunately, she only takes email queries. I sent it off at 9:15 this morning. The idea is how long the form rejection takes. It's just one of those little things I do to entertain myself on rainy days...
My record for a form rejection for an email query is about nine hours.
So here goes....
My record for a form rejection for an email query is about nine hours.
So here goes....
Monday, October 09, 2006
Still querying along...
For yet another week, two lucky agent assistants or interns will get the chance to try to convince their bosses that they can't live another day without representing me and my work. No, I'm really not that arrogant, but it's a good false attitude for today's victims, uh, selected agents. One is the type of person who really does represent books exactly (or as close as can be) like mine, but then she's this gorgeous society person who volunteer on all kinds of boards of groups (that I would totally support) and she golfs and runs. What would she do with a book like mine? I know, I'm not querying for a new best friend, it would be hard to beat the friends I have. But sometimes, you just have to wonder...
Monday, October 02, 2006
Eat your veggies....
Several months ago, I made the confession that personal trainers aren't supposed to make. I don't like drinking water. So I don't. Not the "tote your gallon jug of water" around amounts I was supposed to recommend. My theory, if you're thirsty, you might ought to drink something. Life's short, so may as well enjoy your beverages.
Lately, writing books I've been reading recommend reading poetry with the same evangelical zeal the Water People have. The same gusto as the Vegetable people. Famous writers write how they spend hours reading poetry, out loud, everyday.
Yeah? Bull.
I'm starting to think it's like the celebrities that are quoted in all the grocery store checkout line diet/fashion magazines. "Yeah, for lunch I have some broiled chicken and veggies."
Let's be honest here. The only people who eat vegetables are: Children (under compulsion), vegetarians (and not many of them! Peanut butter and cheese are not veggies.) skinny ashen vegans, and old people trying to regain their cholesterol levels of youth. Sure, everyone clains to, but I personally have never seen a grocery store out of vegetables. We had several hurricane scares last year. Couldn't buy bread, milk, or batteries. But the veggie aisle? Help yourself, plenty to go around. Face it, vegetables aren't sexy and twenty-somethings don't eat them.
Same for poetry. If poetry was something that sexy, that popular with the twenty-somethings, we'd know it. But every one talks about poetry, no one reads it!!
(Yes, they write it, to rid themselves of angst and all, but how often do you see someone with head deep into any book of poetry???)
Repeat. No one reads poetry. So I will no longer feel guilty for not reading it, nor pretending to.
If real people read poetry, then grocery store racks would be filled with poetry tabloids and celebrity rags would be "little journals."
Back to my coffee and the Stephen King Fiction Fest....
Lately, writing books I've been reading recommend reading poetry with the same evangelical zeal the Water People have. The same gusto as the Vegetable people. Famous writers write how they spend hours reading poetry, out loud, everyday.
Yeah? Bull.
I'm starting to think it's like the celebrities that are quoted in all the grocery store checkout line diet/fashion magazines. "Yeah, for lunch I have some broiled chicken and veggies."
Let's be honest here. The only people who eat vegetables are: Children (under compulsion), vegetarians (and not many of them! Peanut butter and cheese are not veggies.) skinny ashen vegans, and old people trying to regain their cholesterol levels of youth. Sure, everyone clains to, but I personally have never seen a grocery store out of vegetables. We had several hurricane scares last year. Couldn't buy bread, milk, or batteries. But the veggie aisle? Help yourself, plenty to go around. Face it, vegetables aren't sexy and twenty-somethings don't eat them.
Same for poetry. If poetry was something that sexy, that popular with the twenty-somethings, we'd know it. But every one talks about poetry, no one reads it!!
(Yes, they write it, to rid themselves of angst and all, but how often do you see someone with head deep into any book of poetry???)
Repeat. No one reads poetry. So I will no longer feel guilty for not reading it, nor pretending to.
If real people read poetry, then grocery store racks would be filled with poetry tabloids and celebrity rags would be "little journals."
Back to my coffee and the Stephen King Fiction Fest....
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Oh, My, I'm a World Class Poet Now!!
Your poem, Selected by Noble House publishers, United Kingdom
I got an email from Noble House Publishing. Apparently, some editor read my internet published poetry, or maybe some work I published for International Poetry Library, something like that. Any way, here's what the editor had to say:
As you may know, Noble House is one of the world's foremost publishers of fiction and nonfiction works by new and established authors. Our poetry division in the U.K. has had the honour of publishing the poetry of more than 800 poets over the past twelve years.
Recently I had the pleasure of reading your poetry that you have had published in the United States. I was moved so much by your written words that I have selected you to honour with our most desired and prestigious Noble House 2006 Lapel Pin. This stunning pin, crafted with 24-karat gold, proudly displays your status as an elite member of Noble House Publishers and is something you should be very proud of. This accomplishment should not be taken lightly since only a few writers have received such a distinction in the past.
Not only does the honour of wearing the Noble House Lapel Pin bring such a high level of respect in the poetic community, it also was designed by one of the premiere artists in the U.K. Samantha Higgins has been in the business of crafting precious symbolic jewellery pieces for over twenty years and is very well-known in the area. Her meticulous craftsmanship is highlighted in every jewellery piece's elaborate, yet simplistic design, not to mention the exceptional detail. Samantha Higgins used this same care and precision when she created the Noble House Lapel Pin. This striking jewellery piece has the official Noble House emblem set with 24-karat gold. It is truly a masterpiece that honours your outstanding and well-deserved accomplishments.
And that's not all! The pin comes with a Certificate of Authenticity attesting to its Limited Edition status and is formally presented in a striking, dark brown "leather" display case. Just imagine the sense of gratification you will feel when others see this Limited Edition pin with 24-karat gold honouring your poetic accomplishments and acknowledge your poetic distinction. What an impressive way to show off your status as an elite member of Noble House Publishers!
To take advantage of this 'once-in-a-lifetime' honour, simply fill out the order form or click on the link below. I must ask for a nominal fee of $69.95 (£40.20) to cover the costs incurred with the shipping, handling, and insurance of the Noble House Lapel Pin. It is extremely important to me that it is delivered to you in the right manner with the utmost care.
Susan, I was extremely delighted with your work and feel you deserve this type of recognition. Many people write poetry for years and never obtain the level of artistry that is present in your work. You should be very proud of your accomplishment.
I look forward to seeing more of your work.
Sincerely,
Nigel Hillary
Publisher,
Poetry Division
Noble House U.K.
Now, the prized work?
Poet now I know it
I always wanted to be a poet
But the words just would not flow...it
Was starting to be a waste of time so it
Made me sure that I would blow it
My chance to be a real life poet
I distracted my body with tae-bo - it
Really didn't help you know...it
Only made me sore and slow..it
Didn't help the desire go...it
Made me feel the entire woe...it
Made me sure that I would blow it
My chance to be a real life poet
I found the ILB,folks who knew great poetry
They helped me write, they helped me see
I had no chance at comedy
Like tall grass wants you to mow it
And a weedy garden needs you to hoe it
A dead car wants you to tow it
I found the line , now I'll toe it
My chance to be a real life poet!
Uh, yeah. Today the Noble Medal. Tomorrow, the Nobel Prize.
I got an email from Noble House Publishing. Apparently, some editor read my internet published poetry, or maybe some work I published for International Poetry Library, something like that. Any way, here's what the editor had to say:
As you may know, Noble House is one of the world's foremost publishers of fiction and nonfiction works by new and established authors. Our poetry division in the U.K. has had the honour of publishing the poetry of more than 800 poets over the past twelve years.
Recently I had the pleasure of reading your poetry that you have had published in the United States. I was moved so much by your written words that I have selected you to honour with our most desired and prestigious Noble House 2006 Lapel Pin. This stunning pin, crafted with 24-karat gold, proudly displays your status as an elite member of Noble House Publishers and is something you should be very proud of. This accomplishment should not be taken lightly since only a few writers have received such a distinction in the past.
Not only does the honour of wearing the Noble House Lapel Pin bring such a high level of respect in the poetic community, it also was designed by one of the premiere artists in the U.K. Samantha Higgins has been in the business of crafting precious symbolic jewellery pieces for over twenty years and is very well-known in the area. Her meticulous craftsmanship is highlighted in every jewellery piece's elaborate, yet simplistic design, not to mention the exceptional detail. Samantha Higgins used this same care and precision when she created the Noble House Lapel Pin. This striking jewellery piece has the official Noble House emblem set with 24-karat gold. It is truly a masterpiece that honours your outstanding and well-deserved accomplishments.
And that's not all! The pin comes with a Certificate of Authenticity attesting to its Limited Edition status and is formally presented in a striking, dark brown "leather" display case. Just imagine the sense of gratification you will feel when others see this Limited Edition pin with 24-karat gold honouring your poetic accomplishments and acknowledge your poetic distinction. What an impressive way to show off your status as an elite member of Noble House Publishers!
To take advantage of this 'once-in-a-lifetime' honour, simply fill out the order form or click on the link below. I must ask for a nominal fee of $69.95 (£40.20) to cover the costs incurred with the shipping, handling, and insurance of the Noble House Lapel Pin. It is extremely important to me that it is delivered to you in the right manner with the utmost care.
Susan, I was extremely delighted with your work and feel you deserve this type of recognition. Many people write poetry for years and never obtain the level of artistry that is present in your work. You should be very proud of your accomplishment.
I look forward to seeing more of your work.
Sincerely,
Nigel Hillary
Publisher,
Poetry Division
Noble House U.K.
Now, the prized work?
Poet now I know it
I always wanted to be a poet
But the words just would not flow...it
Was starting to be a waste of time so it
Made me sure that I would blow it
My chance to be a real life poet
I distracted my body with tae-bo - it
Really didn't help you know...it
Only made me sore and slow..it
Didn't help the desire go...it
Made me feel the entire woe...it
Made me sure that I would blow it
My chance to be a real life poet
I found the ILB,folks who knew great poetry
They helped me write, they helped me see
I had no chance at comedy
Like tall grass wants you to mow it
And a weedy garden needs you to hoe it
A dead car wants you to tow it
I found the line , now I'll toe it
My chance to be a real life poet!
Uh, yeah. Today the Noble Medal. Tomorrow, the Nobel Prize.
Friday, September 29, 2006
The Word for the Day....PACE
Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.0.1) -
pace1 [peys] noun, verb, paced, pac‧ing.
–noun
1. a rate of movement, esp. in stepping, walking, etc.: to walk at a brisk pace of five miles an hour.
2. a rate of activity, progress, growth, performance, etc.; tempo.
3. any of various standard linear measures, representing the space naturally measured by the movement of the feet in walking: roughly 30 to 40 in. (75 cm to 1 m). Compare geometrical pace, military pace, Roman pace.
4. a single step: She took three paces in the direction of the door.
5. the distance covered in a step: Stand six paces inside the gates.
6. a manner of stepping; gait.
7. a gait of a horse or other animal in which the feet on the same side are lifted and put down together.
8. any of the gaits of a horse.
9. a raised step or platform.
–verb (used with object)
10. to set the pace for, as in racing.
11. to traverse or go over with steps: He paced the floor nervously.
12. to measure by paces.
13. to train to a certain pace; exercise in pacing: to pace a horse.
14. (of a horse) to run (a distance) at a pace: Hanover II paced a mile.
–verb (used without object)
15. to take slow, regular steps.
16. to walk up and down nervously, as to expend nervous energy.
17. (of a horse) to go at a pace.
Uh, yeah, pace and pacing. No, I'm not pacing up and down the room trying to get out the next few pages. Rather, I read through the first draft of the current novel I'm editing. Read straight through. I felt out of breath which is not a good thing for an introspective novel about a missionary questioning how she spent her life. Nope, it's not supposed to move at Thriller pace.
My running pace however, needs to move faster than thriller pace if I have any hope of Boston. Thank God for Tom Petty and "Running Down the Dream" which puts me just over 8 minute pace. Dog isn't so sure he likes that pace. But he's on the end of the leash that doesn't have the vote.
He might even be awake in time for his evening walk.
pace1 [peys] noun, verb, paced, pac‧ing.
–noun
1. a rate of movement, esp. in stepping, walking, etc.: to walk at a brisk pace of five miles an hour.
2. a rate of activity, progress, growth, performance, etc.; tempo.
3. any of various standard linear measures, representing the space naturally measured by the movement of the feet in walking: roughly 30 to 40 in. (75 cm to 1 m). Compare geometrical pace, military pace, Roman pace.
4. a single step: She took three paces in the direction of the door.
5. the distance covered in a step: Stand six paces inside the gates.
6. a manner of stepping; gait.
7. a gait of a horse or other animal in which the feet on the same side are lifted and put down together.
8. any of the gaits of a horse.
9. a raised step or platform.
–verb (used with object)
10. to set the pace for, as in racing.
11. to traverse or go over with steps: He paced the floor nervously.
12. to measure by paces.
13. to train to a certain pace; exercise in pacing: to pace a horse.
14. (of a horse) to run (a distance) at a pace: Hanover II paced a mile.
–verb (used without object)
15. to take slow, regular steps.
16. to walk up and down nervously, as to expend nervous energy.
17. (of a horse) to go at a pace.
Uh, yeah, pace and pacing. No, I'm not pacing up and down the room trying to get out the next few pages. Rather, I read through the first draft of the current novel I'm editing. Read straight through. I felt out of breath which is not a good thing for an introspective novel about a missionary questioning how she spent her life. Nope, it's not supposed to move at Thriller pace.
My running pace however, needs to move faster than thriller pace if I have any hope of Boston. Thank God for Tom Petty and "Running Down the Dream" which puts me just over 8 minute pace. Dog isn't so sure he likes that pace. But he's on the end of the leash that doesn't have the vote.
He might even be awake in time for his evening walk.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Maybe we should call it the Query Factory
The book, the World War II book that STILL doesn't have a title I love, is finally "done." That means except for fixing typos, I'm not making changes unless requested by someone with a checkbook pointed in my direction. There are five other first drafts sitting in my book closet and I really must move out of the forties.
The goal of two queries per week is working for me. Except that I hate email queries because they can get squashed so quickly. I mean, less than twelve hours for a form rejection? Oh well, not everyone likes the forties like I do. But my dilemna is that if the query is slapped back in less than ten hours, does it still count for the weekly quota, or should I send out another on Wednesday? Not today, I have a full schedule. Apparently, the natives here feel that there should be foods they enjoy in the pantry and fridge at all times. Have no idea where they got that idea.
The goal of two queries per week is working for me. Except that I hate email queries because they can get squashed so quickly. I mean, less than twelve hours for a form rejection? Oh well, not everyone likes the forties like I do. But my dilemna is that if the query is slapped back in less than ten hours, does it still count for the weekly quota, or should I send out another on Wednesday? Not today, I have a full schedule. Apparently, the natives here feel that there should be foods they enjoy in the pantry and fridge at all times. Have no idea where they got that idea.
Monday, August 28, 2006
And on the Eighth day, there was progress....
Things are going well at the Story Factory this month. We are currently on chapter 22 of the novel currently in revision, and the other eight are patiently waiting their turn. Ok, I say chapter twenty two, but who knows how many chapters there are going to be. I am almost in the middle. That much I know. And the September 15th deadline is looming large.
Of course, I am happily skipping over little things like laundry and house cleaning. Because nothing says "writer lives here" like muddy paw prints on the carpet and a washer full of sour clothing...
Of course, I am happily skipping over little things like laundry and house cleaning. Because nothing says "writer lives here" like muddy paw prints on the carpet and a washer full of sour clothing...
Monday, August 21, 2006
It's all about the tools...
And Ernest Hemingway used Dixon Ticonderoga Number 1 pencils. For those of you who never took drafting, that is the extra soft. Number 2 pencils are used to fill in all the little dots when you take standardized tests in non networked environments. Surely you remember the humble scantron. I believe my children will forget about scantrons and blue books before they graduate from college.
Anyway, the number one extra soft that Papa preferred was perfect for editing bacause it is thick and dark. Yet you can still erase things when you change your mind yet again.
I ordered four dozen number one pencils from Lasermonks and they arrived on Friday. Can you say Happy Campers live here?
Anyway, the number one extra soft that Papa preferred was perfect for editing bacause it is thick and dark. Yet you can still erase things when you change your mind yet again.
I ordered four dozen number one pencils from Lasermonks and they arrived on Friday. Can you say Happy Campers live here?
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
IT'S ALMOST TIME!!
Sorry to shout, but it's almost time. Time to start thinking and plotting and daydreaming about a set of characters for the time-honored tradition of National Novel Writing Month. So far, I will be a Municipal Liaison again, mosttly because I really want a t-shirt this year. But the thing was a blast and there should be some cool ways to get more people involved this year. I may even send out the press release to some of the local papers. Publicity, what a concept.
So, I have my fountain pens and Dixon Ticonderoga's on order from lasermonks.com and I will be equipped to write huge quantities of really bad novel. Because that is what November is all about.
So, I have my fountain pens and Dixon Ticonderoga's on order from lasermonks.com and I will be equipped to write huge quantities of really bad novel. Because that is what November is all about.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Turtle writing
"It takes an awful lot of time for me to write anything. I have
endless drafts, one after another; and I try out fifty,
seventy-five, or a hundred variations on a single line sometimes. I
work on the process of refining low-grade ore. I get maybe a couple
of nuggets of gold out of fifty tons of dirt. It is tough for me.
No, I am not inspired."
--James Dickey
See, I am not alone. I have been working on this one novel, oh, for about three years. Consistantly. Quite a few thinking about it before that. Thing is, the questions every one asks, "Is the book published? How's the book?" stop being nice after the first year or so. Because John Grisham can churn out three books and year, as can most romance novelists, the general, non-book writing population thinks that is the regular production level. And we laugh here at the storyfactory. Actually, Lego the dog laughs, I just want to cry and get the stinking thing done.
But it's a lot like baking bread. There are some things that cannot, in anyway be rushed. It has to proof, like yeasty dough. All you can do is make sure the conditions are right and let the little yeast critters do their thing. With books, you have to make the conditions right and then let the story do its thing. Otherwise it feels forced and fake. Madeleine L'Engle calls is serving the work. The story grows like yeast and you know when it's ready, when it is strong enough for you to work on it without killing it.
And then there are the huge rabbit trails you go on and get lost, and have to back track and rewrite and yeesh...
"I turn sentences around. That's my life. I write a sentence and
then I turn it around. Then I look at it and I turn it around
again. Then I have lunch. Then I come back in and write another
sentence. Then I have tea and turn the new sentence around. Then I
read the two sentences over and turn them both around. Then I lie
down on my sofa and think. Then I get up and throw them out and
start from the beginning."
--Philip Roth
And there's a day's work.
endless drafts, one after another; and I try out fifty,
seventy-five, or a hundred variations on a single line sometimes. I
work on the process of refining low-grade ore. I get maybe a couple
of nuggets of gold out of fifty tons of dirt. It is tough for me.
No, I am not inspired."
--James Dickey
See, I am not alone. I have been working on this one novel, oh, for about three years. Consistantly. Quite a few thinking about it before that. Thing is, the questions every one asks, "Is the book published? How's the book?" stop being nice after the first year or so. Because John Grisham can churn out three books and year, as can most romance novelists, the general, non-book writing population thinks that is the regular production level. And we laugh here at the storyfactory. Actually, Lego the dog laughs, I just want to cry and get the stinking thing done.
But it's a lot like baking bread. There are some things that cannot, in anyway be rushed. It has to proof, like yeasty dough. All you can do is make sure the conditions are right and let the little yeast critters do their thing. With books, you have to make the conditions right and then let the story do its thing. Otherwise it feels forced and fake. Madeleine L'Engle calls is serving the work. The story grows like yeast and you know when it's ready, when it is strong enough for you to work on it without killing it.
And then there are the huge rabbit trails you go on and get lost, and have to back track and rewrite and yeesh...
"I turn sentences around. That's my life. I write a sentence and
then I turn it around. Then I look at it and I turn it around
again. Then I have lunch. Then I come back in and write another
sentence. Then I have tea and turn the new sentence around. Then I
read the two sentences over and turn them both around. Then I lie
down on my sofa and think. Then I get up and throw them out and
start from the beginning."
--Philip Roth
And there's a day's work.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Slow and steady wins the race...
I have been editing a 550 page novel at the amazing rate of 20 pages per day. Okay, it was 20 pages the first day and then I planned to revise twenty pages each day after that. The best laid plans...
But the good news is, it's pre-season football season. There is nothing better than curling up on the sofa with a stack of pages and a Dixon Ticonderoga Number One, extra soft (like Papa Hemingway used to use). See, there's replays, so I don't have to watch the live stuff. And I can even fire up the laptop.
So hopefully, things will progress this week and I can be starting new work by September 15th. Or 21st, you know, new season, new book.
But the good news is, it's pre-season football season. There is nothing better than curling up on the sofa with a stack of pages and a Dixon Ticonderoga Number One, extra soft (like Papa Hemingway used to use). See, there's replays, so I don't have to watch the live stuff. And I can even fire up the laptop.
So hopefully, things will progress this week and I can be starting new work by September 15th. Or 21st, you know, new season, new book.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Surreality shows....
While writing about a book in my Random Acts of Reading blog, I mentioned a fellow and a frequent occurence from eight grade. I actually included his name and the teacher's name. Couple days later, there was a comment from him, a big time California lawyer now. My surreal moment of the week. I think he must have had someone on his staff google his name once a week, can't think of another way for him to find my obscure readinng log. He remembered the book and the teacher, but not her favorite comment about him. His comment to me was "Geez, you have an amazing memory!"
I've been thinking about that, because I don't really have a great memory. But I remember junior high, more than high school and college. And not because of any chemical additives. I think the reason I remember junior high is because I wrote every day, and the reason I remember my junior high classmates is because I wrote about them. I do remember 4th grade pretty clearly as well. I read Harriet the Spy that year and kept a notebook about that year, a la Harriet. It did not go over well for me there, once people found the notebook. I solved that problem in Junior High by writing for "publication". I wrote a soap opera and my classmates were the characters. Every night, I would write two pages of dialogue and then call my best friend Maryanne and we would discuss the episode. She would make editorial suggestions and if I agreed, I would make changes. Then I would re write the thing, this time on a sandwich of carbon paper and notebook paper. I learned early to only bring one copy to school.
So what happened? In high school, there were "things" that had to be done, things that would lead to engineering degrees and law schools and grad degrees, etc. I followed along and did those things, even though I really had no intention of being any of those things. I always intended to be a writer. Somehow, my little twelve year old brain knew that to do that, I had to write every day and I did. In HS and the first two years of college, I didn't. And there was plenty to write about. So, did I just have more time and energy to write in Jr. High? Less time and energy dedicated to pretending to be something else? Jr. High kids have the amazing ability to totally be themselves and HS's do a good job of getting that out of them. Or at least me.
So I guess, like any good writer, I've spend a good chunk of years procrastinating.
"As a writer, I need an enormous amount of time alone. Writing is 90% procrastination: reading magazines, eating cereal out of the box, watching informercials. It's a matter of doing everything you can to avoid writing until it is about four in the morning and you reach the point where you have to write. Having anybody watching that or attempting to share it with me would be grisly."-- Paul Rudnick.
I've been thinking about that, because I don't really have a great memory. But I remember junior high, more than high school and college. And not because of any chemical additives. I think the reason I remember junior high is because I wrote every day, and the reason I remember my junior high classmates is because I wrote about them. I do remember 4th grade pretty clearly as well. I read Harriet the Spy that year and kept a notebook about that year, a la Harriet. It did not go over well for me there, once people found the notebook. I solved that problem in Junior High by writing for "publication". I wrote a soap opera and my classmates were the characters. Every night, I would write two pages of dialogue and then call my best friend Maryanne and we would discuss the episode. She would make editorial suggestions and if I agreed, I would make changes. Then I would re write the thing, this time on a sandwich of carbon paper and notebook paper. I learned early to only bring one copy to school.
So what happened? In high school, there were "things" that had to be done, things that would lead to engineering degrees and law schools and grad degrees, etc. I followed along and did those things, even though I really had no intention of being any of those things. I always intended to be a writer. Somehow, my little twelve year old brain knew that to do that, I had to write every day and I did. In HS and the first two years of college, I didn't. And there was plenty to write about. So, did I just have more time and energy to write in Jr. High? Less time and energy dedicated to pretending to be something else? Jr. High kids have the amazing ability to totally be themselves and HS's do a good job of getting that out of them. Or at least me.
So I guess, like any good writer, I've spend a good chunk of years procrastinating.
"As a writer, I need an enormous amount of time alone. Writing is 90% procrastination: reading magazines, eating cereal out of the box, watching informercials. It's a matter of doing everything you can to avoid writing until it is about four in the morning and you reach the point where you have to write. Having anybody watching that or attempting to share it with me would be grisly."-- Paul Rudnick.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Exciting times at the Story Factory...
Last time I looked, our little site is getting very close to the thousandth visitor. I know, small numbers for some, but I am pretty pumped about getting into the four digit numbers.
Coming this fall at the story factory, two exciting new works of fiction will be in progress, along with a contest to find better titles for some existing, but badly titled works. The two new things have titles already, Tyranny of the Ordinary, otherwise known as TOTO and The Brothers Keen. Ideas and research for both books are coming in nicely and I'm honestly not sure which book with get written first, although I will make every attempt to save one of them for November and the annual insanity known as National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo.
But the big question remains, which book comes first, the political book that will be fun, but a lot of research, or the other one, that will be more life based, at least life that I have been a bit more invovled in.
Coming this fall at the story factory, two exciting new works of fiction will be in progress, along with a contest to find better titles for some existing, but badly titled works. The two new things have titles already, Tyranny of the Ordinary, otherwise known as TOTO and The Brothers Keen. Ideas and research for both books are coming in nicely and I'm honestly not sure which book with get written first, although I will make every attempt to save one of them for November and the annual insanity known as National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo.
But the big question remains, which book comes first, the political book that will be fun, but a lot of research, or the other one, that will be more life based, at least life that I have been a bit more invovled in.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Shuttle Update...
Discovery undocked from the space station. They're checking for damage and getting set to come home tomorrow.
http://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/shuttle/main/index.html
http://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/shuttle/main/index.html
Motivations...and finding God in Stephen King
Why do writers write? Because it isn't there.
Thomas Berger
After reading some writing quotes, it struck me. Most of the truly successful writers have industrial sized chips on their shoulders. And are quite proud to show them off. The novels I've been reading this summer, the ones that get under your skin and stay with you a few days, they're not written by nice people with a message of grace and love to spread to the world. Most of them are damd mad and not going to take it anymore.
The problem is, nice people don't get mad. That's what my mother taught me. Anger was the big no no. Don't feel it, and certainly don't express it, not in front of anyone, anyway. So I go and write a book and totally ignore that fact that the main character is so pissed at the world it colors everything she does. I ignore and therefore she ignores it, denies it, and the whole book ends up feeling like a lie. So the question of the book becomes, sure the command is Be angry, but sin not, but what happens when you don't listen to that sage advice. What happens when you get angry and sin your heart out, then go on a bit more? I'm starting to think that's the book. Because nice girls didn't get angry in the forties. They didn't live it out and take it out on strangers.
Which isn't the typical "female adventure story." But maybe it's a bit closer to the female experience, of the world falling apart at the seams and not being able to do a damn thing the fix it.
So it's all Stephen King's fault. I've been reading through his stuff, in mostly chronological order this summer. And something stands out. In the darkness of all his stories, the light is clear. There is good and evil and no doubt which side is which. Unlike real life. But light shines brighter in the dark. You really don't need a flashlight at twighlight, but it sure is necessary at one am on a moonless night. But more on that another time...
Rage is the only quality which has kept me, or anybody I have ever
studied, writing columns for newspapers.
-- Jimmy Breslin
What I have most wanted to do throughout the past ten years is to make political writing into an art. My starting point is always a feeling of partisanship, a sense of injustice. When I sit down to write a book, I do not say to myself, ‘I am going to produce a work of art’. I write it because there is some lie that I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention, and my initial concern is to get a hearing. - George Orwell
I hated school. I don't trust anybody who looks back on the years from 14 to 18 with any enjoyment. If you liked being a teenager, there's something really wrong with you.
Stephen King
ps, I only liked school until I was 14. And I enjoyed college. But hs was the pits.
Thomas Berger
After reading some writing quotes, it struck me. Most of the truly successful writers have industrial sized chips on their shoulders. And are quite proud to show them off. The novels I've been reading this summer, the ones that get under your skin and stay with you a few days, they're not written by nice people with a message of grace and love to spread to the world. Most of them are damd mad and not going to take it anymore.
The problem is, nice people don't get mad. That's what my mother taught me. Anger was the big no no. Don't feel it, and certainly don't express it, not in front of anyone, anyway. So I go and write a book and totally ignore that fact that the main character is so pissed at the world it colors everything she does. I ignore and therefore she ignores it, denies it, and the whole book ends up feeling like a lie. So the question of the book becomes, sure the command is Be angry, but sin not, but what happens when you don't listen to that sage advice. What happens when you get angry and sin your heart out, then go on a bit more? I'm starting to think that's the book. Because nice girls didn't get angry in the forties. They didn't live it out and take it out on strangers.
Which isn't the typical "female adventure story." But maybe it's a bit closer to the female experience, of the world falling apart at the seams and not being able to do a damn thing the fix it.
So it's all Stephen King's fault. I've been reading through his stuff, in mostly chronological order this summer. And something stands out. In the darkness of all his stories, the light is clear. There is good and evil and no doubt which side is which. Unlike real life. But light shines brighter in the dark. You really don't need a flashlight at twighlight, but it sure is necessary at one am on a moonless night. But more on that another time...
Rage is the only quality which has kept me, or anybody I have ever
studied, writing columns for newspapers.
-- Jimmy Breslin
What I have most wanted to do throughout the past ten years is to make political writing into an art. My starting point is always a feeling of partisanship, a sense of injustice. When I sit down to write a book, I do not say to myself, ‘I am going to produce a work of art’. I write it because there is some lie that I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention, and my initial concern is to get a hearing. - George Orwell
I hated school. I don't trust anybody who looks back on the years from 14 to 18 with any enjoyment. If you liked being a teenager, there's something really wrong with you.
Stephen King
ps, I only liked school until I was 14. And I enjoyed college. But hs was the pits.
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