I'm Back!

I’m back!

The holiday season is officially here. It’s an interesting time. It’s fun. All sorts of Thanksgiving food, families coming together. Party tonight. Party tomorrow night. Time to get the Christmas tree up. Time to have a Christmas tree party.

I’ve been having a blast. Thanksgiving was a lot of fun. I had a few of them, depending on the side of the family we’re talking about. And then another at my girlfriend’s house. This coming week I’m going to Disneyland for four days for my dad’s birthday. Then I have to shop for Christmas presents. The worst thing about this season is that it’s likely to cost me a few hundred dollars, but even as far as that goes I’ve been careful to plan for.

So my personal life is awesome during the holiday season. Awesome. My professional life is slow, though. Of course it’s slow, though. I’ve been busy with my personal life, and the professions have been busy with their holiday schedules. That doesn’t mean nothing is happening. Out of frustration that I’m not getting call backs for more of my applications, I spent a lot of time recently rewriting and honing my cover letter template, making my resume more aesthetically available, and adjusting my approach (from attitude to routine). I am still submitting applications. I’m still probably being too picky and I’m still figuring out how a lot of this process works.

But for the first time in a while, my confidence is growing. I know that my biggest obstacle is that I’m underqualified on paper to be an Editorial Assistant. But the more jobs that I see and the more people I talk to, the more I discover I am only underqualified on paper. With the normal amount of training, I already possess all of the skills to succeed at these jobs. And somebody is going to look at the paper, and then look at me, and make a really good decision.

So I’m still frustrated. But I’m feeling ok about it.

And I can’t wait for Disneyland. And I can’t wait for Christmas.

Happy Holidays!

Leaving Stasis

Here’s what I’ve come to. And this has something to do with the Writer’s Block I was talking about before. See, I keep thinking about practicing this and practicing that by doing short-shorts or by editing some old piece of junk, and even when I’m getting myself to make progress, when I’m beating the block, I’ve been feeling like I kind of don’t care.

And it’s not that I don’t care about writing. That’s blasphemy. It’s terrible. It’s the kind of thought that leaves me cold inside if I keep it in my head for too long. No, I’m not not caring about writing. Hell no, I’m not doing that. I’m just not caring about what I’m writing.

I’ve run into this before. It’s usually happened when I’m trying to force a character type or turn a plot point that I’m not naturally inclined to turn, and it usually happens because when I do that, I’m actually forcing myself to write something I’m not interested in. I have written a story where I said “this guy is a jerk” and then followed that mission statement, letting it override every other inclination I have. And then I don’t care about the guy. Because he’s a jerk. Because he’s not redeemable. Because I’ve strayed so far from what I care about that there is nothing in that character for me. I’ve done that, and when I edit I always end up changing it, because a whole hell of a lot of the joy of writing is knowing that you’re writing something you would buy if somebody else’s name was on the spine. And I wouldn’t buy a story about that jerk.

This isn’t that, though. I keep trying to do something new. I keep trying to add to my pile. I have stories. I have documents that need to be edited. That need to be finished. And lately, more and more strongly, I don’t want to leave them alone.

I think that it might have to do with the fact that the rest of my life is in stasis. The Holiday season is sucking the opportunities out from under me. I got another rejection e-mail today. I want something to go somewhere. And the one thing I have the most direct control over is my own writing. So I can write new things and watch the pile grow, or I can finish an older thing and try to get published.

And I really feel like finishing something right now.

So I’m going to do that. There is a story that I care about enormously. It is about a fictional version of myself (pretentious, no?). It is probably the best thing I’ve written to date, and I desperately want people to see it. I desperately want people to see it finished. In print. I’m going to work on that.

And I’ll care about what I’m writing. Which will be a nice change.

Writer's Block

Holy Moly am I suffering from the worst case of writer’s block I can remember. I sit to write stories, they die on me. I sit to write blog entries, they die on me. I sit to write e-mails, nothing doing. Nothing comes out, and when something does it feels like the crappiest crap that’s ever been put down to type. Writer’s block, like editing, is a son of a bitch.

It makes you want to punch things.

But usually it’s not really anything more than a total psych out. Don’t get me wrong, it is a real doozy of a psych out, but most of the time it’s still just head games. And we’re playing with ourselves. And I’ve been thinking about why. I guess I think there are three reasons, and I’ll list them in the order of likelihood from least to greatest.

1) You actually don’t have anything to write. This makes up about 1% of cases of writer’s block, by my estimation. Your imagination is always working, and it always wants to do something. Given the chance, it will take advantage about 99% of the time. The other 1% is probably a good time for a nap.

2) You’re scared. I talked about fear before and it’s a real problem for writers. Even real, popular ones. You get scared. You get scared that you’ve already written the best parts of something, that you’ll make the wrong choice with character x, that if you finish you’ll have to show it to somebody. You’re scared about something, and it makes you hesitate at some point during the process. It would be easy for me to blame block primarily on fear, but I think that fails to give credit to a bigger problem. Fear is probably about 39% of cases, I’d think.

3) You’re self-critical. Every author is self critical. You’re your own worst critic, and that critic is your own worst enemy. And I’m not talking about being critical of your own talent, or critical of what you think you’re going to write. That’s fear. What I’m talking about is actually looking at the words you have written and being disgusted by them. Starting a story with a few sentences, paragraphs even, and dumping the whole thing because reading it over you feel like it was written by a hack. This is what’s been getting me, and according to my math about 60% of other cases out there.

But it stops you. It stops you to read your own words and think “this is bad.” I must have gone through five stories and three blogs last week because I felt like a hack reading it. During stretches like that I forget that nobody is more critical of my words than I am. I forget that I’m only writing a first draft. I forget that if I just keep writing, no matter how bad the beginning is, my imagination will get over it and do some really good things a few pages later.

I forgot all that. I’m starting to remember. Just write. Then rewrite. Every story looks like crap the first time around. I have to keep that in mind.

Kind of All Over the Place

It's really, really difficult not to want to do everything. And I mean everything. It starts small. Normally you write nonfiction stories. Maybe you're working on your novel. An autobiography. You know, the kind of thing you write. Then you read this awesome fiction story, get an idea, open a file and start making up a world.

Then it snowballs.

You and your friends watch Transformers and you start to think about what you would do if you wrote a sci-fi, and you start to like the idea. You go home to think about it. Grab your copy of Watchmen to pass a few minutes and start thinking about writing comics. Putting it down you flip on the TV. Script writing. Everything looks good!

I know that, fudging a few details, that pretty much describes me anyway. I get so worked up about all of these things. Fantasy, sci-fi, lit-fic, light-fic, non-fic, erotica, script writing, comics, children's books, choose your own adventure, video game scripting…

It goes on and on like that. I just want to get into it because I like it all. And if I like it, and it can be written, it kills me not to try. And I'm sure I will try. I know I will. I just can't do it now. I think there's something to be said for pacing. Getting to things by steps. Starting small and building big. More than that, though, I think it's just sound strategy if you're serious about what you're doing.

And part of it comes down to marketability. People won’t be willing to ask you for work if they don’t know what kind of work you do. There is a good reason that so many authors only writ sci-fi, romance, non-fiction, etc., and it’s not usually because they just don’t want to do anything else. It’s because they get published the most often by being consistent. It’s the same idea behind a novel writer who gets huge advances for every novel, suddenly writing a children’s book and finding the advance is a mere shadow of what they usually get.

And when you’re just starting out it is especially important. You need more than anything to build a portfolio that somebody will be able to look at and see that they can sell you. And since people usually sell to a genre or a niche rather than a variety of things, you can’t get picked up if you don’t fit their model.

So you have to start with one or two things and stick to them. The real benefit of this is that as long as you’re only doing one or two things, you should get much better at them than if you were doing a bunch of things. And that will again increase your chances of getting picked up or published. Once you’re settled in. Once people know what you have to give. Then fulfill your creative fantasies. But keep your priorities first.

Although I do really want to try writing a comic…

An Update, Of Sorts

So what am I up to, exactly? I’ve been at a temporary assignment for a little over two months now, and that is about a week from ending. I’m sure the agency will have another place for me to work after that, but I’m going to take about a week off because that is a week of valuable “daytime” time that I haven’t been getting. It’s time that I will be able to spend applying for internships and the occasional job. It’s time that I will be able to spend writing.

Which is not to say that I am doing neither in the meantime. I’ve gotten into the habit of finding and applying for roughly one internship a night. It’s probably still not as much as I should be doing, but time is murder, isn’t it? Still, it’s better than where I was a month ago. My focus has shifted from internships and work with publishing houses toward ones with magazines. The reason, pretty simply, is that there are more. The work is pretty similar and magazines also tend to give you a higher chance to contribute with your own writing, which I see as a benefit.

Still, I look forward to this week when I will have the daytime to 1) sleep in, 2) perhaps triple my application rate, and 3) do some writing. Almost all of the writing that I have been doing recently (aside from blogworld) has been casual. It’s good because it is writing, but it’s bad because it’s not exactly serious.

Following the week off, I want that agency to focus on placing me in assignments where I can build new skills. Too often they want to place me at an assignment that simply takes advantage of the skills that I do have, and even though it gets a paycheck the work isn’t particularly useful for me. If possible, I need to work with Filemaker Pro. It would be advantageous to be forced to make phone calls rather than just answering phones. Those kinds of things.

And hopefully something comes of these internships. I’d like an interview. Somebody? Just one, you know, maybe two, or all of them would be nice.

On the writing front, I am getting into a mutual agreement with one of my closest writing friends by which we will share and critique each other’s writing on a weekly basis. This is going to be great for both of us, because it is an environment that neither of us have been in since we graduated. An environment with deadlines and constructive, timely feedback. And I think that both of us have been severely missing that environment. Craving it, even. I know I have.

So there you have it. I haven’t talked a lot about what I’m doing because it’s a little embarrassing that I seem to be in the same place I was five months ago. But that’s my update for you. Of a sort.

Editing

While we’re talking about writing, I think it’s a good idea to talk about editing a little bit. Editing is a son of a bitch. I actually think after a while it starts to get a little fun, spinning things around, turning a mess of a sentence into something indispensible, seeing a story grow from a first draft into something approaching good (and believe me, I’ve never written a worthwhile first draft in my life, and I don’t know anybody who has). But it is a son of a bitch.

And it is because the thing you’re looking at when you start editing is almost always completely different from what you end up with. For example, I have a story on the burner right now that is about 17 pages long, and before even starting the rewrite, I know that I have to completely scrap half of the storyline. The first draft is essentially an A story and a B story that run parallel to each other. One is grounded in reality, and the other is low key fantasy. Feedback that I’ve gotten has sounded unanimously like this: “The two stories are redundant, and the reality based one is by far the stronger of the two. But my favorite parts were all fantasy elements.”

Ugh. That’s a helpful paradox? The key always seemed to be finding a way to make the two stories relevant to each other instead of simply parallel to each other. But every way that I worked out to do that either turned it into a moral story, or a boring story – both of which would deeply sabotage the weight of the story itself. The other option was to get rid of one half of it and refine the other. But whichever half I got rid of would eliminate a critical element of the story at large. It finally struck me that since the A and B story were telling the same story to begin with, they should just be the same story.

But that means half of the text will be completely lifted from the story right off the bat, with its critical elements reintegrated into the rest of the text, which will then itself have to be edited not only for story and style, but also for continuity problems that the first step might cause. And that will probably force me to completely rewrite about 90% of the remaining text.

But that’s just what editing is. Once you’ve figured out the problem that a story has it usually means that even the parts that are good need to be significantly reworked to account for the changes that need to be made. You should just see the first draft of About as Long… (you won’t, by the way). That story is only about page and a half to begin with, and the first draft would be unrecognizable (unrecognizably bad) to you.

It’s kind of fun. I mean, in that son of a bitchy way.

Flash Fiction: It's Shorter Than Regular Fiction!

Flash fiction is a style that puts the author in a pretty strange place. You just don't have enough room to do anything that you want to do. There isn't enough room to provide much in the way of exposition. There isn't enough room to develop all three parts of a traditional story: rising action, climax, resolution. There isn't enough room for more than a couple or characters. It really hamstrings you.

That's not a bad thing, though. If anything, it forces you to focus on one thing, rather than all of them, and refine it as far as it will go. Naturally, in terms of marketable skills this makes you better at all of the individual aspects of your longer stories. I don't want to insult flash fiction as a style, but it's greatest asset in the current market really is as a practice tool.

So I want to talk about the one I showed you. The one I wrote.

I'm not going to pretend that what I've written is any kind of high literature. It's just a little story, for better or worse. But it does some things. You can look at it and see what I tried to to deal with the size limitations. There are only two characters, one point of view, and two small rooms for the action to take place. If this is any of the rising action, climax, or resolution, it's the resolution. So everything is very isolated and small, which makes working with the limitations a lot easier.

But it doesn't eliminate them. I still need to show what came before the resolution for anything to make sense. I still need to track an emotion or emotional journey for both characters, and I need both of them to be something with more depth than cardboard. The only way to do this is to have details, thoughts, and dialogue all do more than one thig at a time. When the mother speaks, she is talking to herself and her daughter. When she doesn't pull the sheets up over her daughter's shoulders, it is both letting go and being spiteful. I made as many things as I could work in this way because there's not much choice.

There are still problems, of course. Very little happens. Everything is small and relatively unengaging. The daughter is a bit underdeveloped. And so on like that.

But it was great practice, can act as a solid writing sample in certain cases, and is a hell of a lot easier to post than 15 pages of short story!

Now You See Me

One thing that I've been pretty anxious to do around here is to actually talk about writing. In my last post, I breached the idea of sharing more of myself and letting the blog be more personal. And as a writer, the most significant way to do this is through your writing. So here's a treat: I'm actually going to post a complete work of original fiction, for you, in this entry.

The story is in a pretty convenient form known as "Flash Fiction." Usually between 250 and 1000 words, flash fiction is a difficult form to pin down exactly. It's easy to think of it as a writing tool more than an actual form because it's so short and has so little critical attention. Structurally, it tends to work a lot differently from longer fiction as well, which adds to the difficulty of writing it.

The form has only gotten any critical attention recently, and falls withing a pretty specific niche market. I think I'll elaborate on all of these ideas in my next entry. For now I'm just pretty anxious to let you see mine. And to let it hopefully speak for itself for a few days.

And just to be absolutely clear, this is specific story that I have written that I do not intend on trying to publish. I'm proud of it, but if I had any reason to protect it for my future, I wouldn't be so casual about putting it on the net for free. This particular story was written and revised as a class assignment, and is no more than 500 words.

So without further ado:


About as Long as the Length of an Arm


Her mother could see that Sam was awake, even though it was one in the morning on a school night. She could see her daughter yawning on the couch, elbow bent so that her arm was propped up as if reaching for the window behind. She would sleep on the couch all night, like she always did when she wanted to hurt her mother. She was impossible to deal with sometimes. Silly highlighted strips of hair draped across her face and would make her nose itch all night, but she fell asleep without moving them. Her shoulders would be cold in the tank top.

Her mother turned from the room and looked around the kitchen. It had been this way since the evening, not dirty but unkept. A bowl of pasta swimming in red sauce had gotten cold on the table, noodles wrapped around a salad fork hanging off the edge. A faint sweet smell was coming from a glass of milk that had also been left out. One of the chairs was pulled away at a sharp angle and a piece of paper had fallen to the floor not far away. She rubbed her eyes, walked tiredly to the table, and looked at the mess. She put her hand out, rested it on the fork, sighed, and then cleared the dishes.

“You have to pick up after yourself better than this,” she whispered. “How will you ever make it on your own this way?”

She sat in the chair to pick up the paper and held it in her lap without looking at it. It had taken a long time to write the resume because Sam had no experience and few accomplishments to work with. There was an entire section titled miscellaneous that listed values like teamwork and cited grade school softball games as evidence. Take it from you mother, she had said, even if they don’t ask for one, you’ll look better if you give them one of these when you apply. It was supposed to make things easier. It ended up being a catalyst instead. She stood up, adjusted the chair to its proper place, placed the paper neatly back on the table.

The other room was cold, and the closer she got to Sam the more her eyes were drawn to her daughter’s bare shoulders. She glanced out the window and remembered the mist that had fallen all day. Tomorrow would be clear. She hoped. She looked back at Sam and lightly gripped the blanket draped across the girl’s chest.

Sam’s mother sighed again, pulled her hand away, almost bent down with a kiss, and decided to go to bed instead. Sam’s shoulders would be cold tonight. Her arm was still resting upright, as though looking out the window while her eyes were closed for sleep, and she snored lightly.

I hope you enjoyed that.

Confessions

I’ve been away from the blog for too long now. Originally I said that I would update every three days, and then I got in the habit of updating every four, and now I’ve been away for about a week. This is a trend that I don’t like, and I’m determined to reverse it. I may not ever keep up the three day schedule, but a week is one step away from monthly, and then never.

And that scares me a little. One thing I’ve talked about here, one of the first things, even, is the fear of being a writer. But I talked about it with as much confidence as I could. It’s probably not a surprise that this was a bit of a front. The truth is that I’m pretty terrified. Terrified that I might just be kidding myself. Terrified that I might go forever calling myself a writer and never try to publish anything important to me.

I know that the tone of this entry is not in line with the tones of most of my other entries. It’s less guarded and less instructional and that’s important to me. I don’t think I’ve nailed down how personal I want this to ultimately be, but I do know that I need this to be a blog among peers and I can’t do that being as formal as I have been. It can’t work if I detach myself as the writer from the topics that I am writing about. So this is a little bit of a confession in that respect.

When I talk about being careful not to be scammed, it’s because I have been sorely tempted by scam artists, even recently, and have almost given myself up to them. I wanted to because it would be easier if I just ignored the warning signs until it was too late. I know that I can’t be reckless, though. Writing is my baby.

And when I talk about fear, it’s because I know I’m not doing what I need to do. I’m not writing anything new right now. I’m not editing anything old right now. I do have other priorities right now to get my adult life together, but how long does “having other priorities” last before I’m just fooling myself? I don’t know. And now I’ve taken a manageable step forward by starting a blog, which keeps me writing. I do get worried that even this might be a passing fancy, though. And the trend I’ve fallen into of taking more and more time between posts has scared me straight a little.

I wrote about building confidence to defeat fear, as well. I think that bucking this trend and being loyal to my blog will help me build the confidence to know that I can take on writing without dropping it by the wayside. And that will help me break through the other fears I have.

So that’s my confession today. Before today I’ve only really addressed issues. Today I wanted to share. Next time maybe I’ll split the difference.

Tricks of the Trade

I like it when things happen to me because of this blog. You might remember the first time this happened, when I got my first friend of the blog. The other day, something new happened. And it was noteworthy in another way.

I got an e-mail from a representative at a website called www.slushpilereader.com, a new website that claims it will let you the author upload your manuscript to be rated by the site readers and published as a real book if it is one of the very top rated manuscripts overall. Cool service, huh? No, not really. Honestly don't get yourself involved in this sort of thing.

You have to be careful. See, the e-mail I got specifically referenced my entry called "From Work to the Workshop." You might browse the entry and notice that I happen to drop the phrase "Slush Pile Reader" in the middle of my incomplete list of possible jobs. So they found my blog with a phrase search and failed to check for context. Cool, warning signs!

I don't know for sure if this particular website is a scam, and I have to say that after pretty extensive research they seem, barring further development, to be on the up and up. But that doesn't mean it's a very good thing to get involved in. Now, scams might be the biggest problem for any author. Don't take any service that you have to pay for. Don't take any service that compromises the safety or integrity of your writing (without copyright, for instance). Do not do anything that promises unagented publication - especially if it promises it with a major publisher. Major publisher's do not publish anything if you don't have an agent anymore. That’s the quick and dirty list for surefire signs of a scam. Be safe. Under no circumstances submit yourself to these problems.

But something like slushpilereader is dangerous for other reasons. It gives you no opportunity to ever record an advance through the service, for one. It has very limited exposure, for another. It encourages authors to give up on traditional publishing, for a third. And that is the most egregious offense. Why? Because traditional publishing, with a real agent and an editor, is the only way to make any money or have any widespread distribution. Services like slushpilereader, no matter how legit, are catering themselves specifically to the lazy (who don't want to go through the trouble of finding an agent and editor, writing queries, and getting honest rejections) the desperate (who will take anything), and the naive (who just don't know better).

I wanted to write an entry on scams today. That didn't exactly happen. But as a beginning writer you have to be acutely aware of the population of scams, scammers, and second rate services ready to fleece you for your money and your work. You just have to stay on the straight and narrow track. Alternative publishing is tempting because it is easier than traditional publishing, But it's easier because it's worse. And there are no two ways about it. So please, make yourself aware of the environment you're jumping into. It's a dangerous world for us.