AAA Ain't On the Way

A million years ago, I learned to change a flat tire. The decision to acquire this knowledge was prompted by a two-week span wherein I had no less than five flat tires on the same car. (They were doing construction on my road.)

I was living at home at the time, in the same town with my dad, my brother, and my brother in law. For the first four tires, I sat patiently and waited for one of them to come and change the tire. I also watched them, saw how they did it, and tucked it deep into my brain.

By the fifth flat tire, however, I had logged quite a few hours waiting for help to arrive. The prospect of sitting in a hot car for another hour or so was just too much, and I decided to try changing the flat on my own.

The sense of accomplishment I had was awesome--never again did I have to depend on anyone else to fix it for me. I eventually got AAA, and I'm more than happy to accept their help (or anyone else who offers) when it it is available. But I feel much more secure knowing that, all else failing, I can change my own damned tire.

This morning it hit me that I've been waiting for AAA to come along and fix my writing career (or lack thereof). I'm fortunate enough to have friends who are professional writers and editors, and who are very generous with their time and advise.

But the bottom line is that nobody can change this tire except me. AAA is the back-up plan, not the full strategy.

And it's freeing. I can create the career I want, in the way I want, by writing the stories I want. I make my own life happen--not the other way around.

So I'm done waiting for AAA to bail me out. Beware publishing world. I'm going to keep trying until you give in and pay me. You've been warned.

So much accomplished in a single day.

As of this time yesterday:
1. I did not have a new car (okay, used and bought from the MIL, but the windows and AC work and it does not have a deer-dented front hood).
2. I had not submitted a story to MZB's Sword & Sorceress 25.
3. I had not organized my queries (read: rejections) on QueryTracker.com
4. I had not sent my first new query letter in weeks.

I'm feeling so much love for myself right now. I think I'll go have breakfast.

Booyah.

Mr. Pain Body, Meet Your Match

Eckhart Tolle talks about something called "the pain body" in his books. This Pain Body is the essence of all your dark and negative emotions and experience, and it's sole purpose is self-perpetuation. So, like a nasty little devil on your shoulder, it whispers all these horrible things into your brain all the time, keeping you in a constant state of rage/fear/pain/sadness/panic. You know, its crack cocaine.

Anyway, today as I was angsting over the latest drama at The Day Job(TM), I decided to picture my Pain Body as a melodrama villain a la Snidely Whiplash. I saw him, with his handlebar moustache, top hat, and black cape, hovering near me, trying to whip up trouble.

Then I just started poking him, laughing at him, nyah-nyah-nyah like some brat. And rather quickly, all the paranoia I was feeling began to lift until I felt light and peaceful and energized.

It helps to depersonalize your insanity. Then you can mock it and reduce its power over you.

Oh, and I signed up for this site today. It's pretty nom-a-licious for the Compulsive List Maker.

The Perils of Marketing

I've spent the last several hours reading through listings for agents and literary magazines in the 2009 Novel and Short Story Market. And if their blurbs are to be believed, nobody short of Shakespeare and Jesus Christ, Superstar, are up to their high level of literary standards.

Now I am aware that it's a very competetive world out there, and agents and publishers want to entice the very best of writers to their doorstep. I am also aware that there are quite a few very, very, very bad writers out there trying to get published.

I'm just trying to find a space in my brain that exists between my overactive ego and my hyperactively low-self esteem. Granted, I've read a lot of terrible short stories out there which are hailed as "the best fiction of our time." Maybe I'm just two quotation marks short of being a complete prole, but I do not think that an ambiguous ending and the use of the word "lugubrious" in your text automatically qualifies your story as fine literature.

I truly believe there is a market out there for short stories that are not offensive, vague, uppity or self-important. An audience for short stories with realistic heroines who likeable as well as accessible (yeah, I tend to write female protagonists. Shoot me. Beat me. Just don't call it Chick Fic.) And I don't think the end-all be-all of a woman's existence is finding the right pair of designer shoes while juggling three self-involved yuppie boyfriends.

So, I am not exactly literary, but I'm also not Chick Fic. I can do genre, but not just genre. My stories are not romance, but they can be romantic.

ARGH. Somebody pigeon-hole me, damn it, before I explode!

Can you draw this turtle?

Remember a billion years ago when Art Instruction Schools used to put those ads in the back of magazines? You may have the aptitude to be a Serious Artist, so apply to our school and we'll Make You Famous(TM).

Sometimes that's how I feel about writing.

Can you write a sentence? Have you had a single good idea in your life? Subscribe to this blog/magazine/online course/writers conference, and we'll Make You an Important Literary Figure (or, we'll Make You Filthy Rich, take your pick).

At some point in my life, I thought, wow, I tell a really mean story. I Should Be A Writer.

Then reality hit. This isn't just aptitude. There is a lot more that goes into writing professionally than just telling a kick-ass story. The more I read, the more I learn, the more I realize that I have to learn about the craft of writing.

Oddly enough, instead of making me depressed and discouraged, I find this incredibly exciting. As I pore through the pages of books on the mechanics of producing stories, I find myself more enthusiastic about writing than I have been for years. AND I'm actually writing--not just reading.

It's a good day to be me. It's probably a good day to be you, too. Especially since you were kind enough to read this post. (Yeah, I'll suck up for readers. I ain't shy.)

Glimmers of Hope on the Horizon

And like spring, my mood is poking out of the cold, barren winter and feeling a bit more hopeful and renewed. I've started journaling--three pages a day, rain or shine, sick or well, handwritten in a notebook. This is just to make sure that I don't go a single day without writing.

I've also just about finished my first submission story to a popular fantasy anthology (yay, me!). Since this anthology accepts multiple submissions (submit one, if it gets rejected, submit another, etc.), I am planning on writing another piece as a backup. In the wonderful circumstance that the first piece sells, then I have another to try to market elsewhere. Win-win.

I'm not sure where this journey is taking me, but at least I'm back on the path again rather than cowering in a ditch on the side of the road.

Coming in from the Rain

It's been over a month since I've posted. I've been going through some really rough times with the writing--mainly the negative self-talk that results in sleeping on the couch while the Disney Channel drones in the background instead of being creative. I haven't been getting much written, but I now know the theme songs to both Hannah Montana and Phineas and Ferb. Yay!

In the past few days, though, I've managed to start writing again seriously. A friend suggested I submit a story to the latest issue of Marion Zimmer Bradley's Sword and Sorceress, and I discovered that I actually still enjoy writing short stories. I've got 3000 solid words on my story so far, and I actually think I can get it done in time.

I also found a WONDERFUL site called Archetype Writing. This is one of the best resources I've found in a while, especially when it comes to dealing with my writers block and depression.

So, my friends, I have been down, but I am not out. Allons-y!

Long Dark Catnap of the Soul

Somewhere along the line, I decided it would be a good idea to pursue a career in the arts during the worst financial times since The Great Depression.

Is this really the action of a stable mind?

Back in the 90s, the world was made of money and I couldn't write a novel to save my life. Now, I've got one and a half completed. Trouble is, half the world is now bankrupt, and the other half is in serious trouble.

My timing sucks.

On the other hand, I have a complete novel and email query letters cost nothing. I lose nothing by continuing to try to sell this novel.

If only I could wring myself enough out of this funk to think the other one is worth the effort of completing.....

It's been a while.

Snow and poverty and a Saints Superbowl have pretty much kept me busy in the last few weeks. However, I am still writing, submitting, and Living the Dream. :) Okay, at least on weeknights and weekends.

Sometimes it's difficult to keep up momentum, especially when you're doing it alone. Or at least, when it feels like you're doing it alone. My partner is a very good writer who does not write, so while she is great at encouraging me and helping me work out Escher-like tangles in my plot, she does not have that writer drive in her.

There are days when I wish I had an entire room full of writers to sit and bitch with, especially when my prose seems so terribly lame and my characters 2-D and my plot...well, just stupid. There are times i wish I had a room full of people just as neurotic as I am, where we could all commisserate on the absolute masochism of our chosen dreams.

On the other hand, sometimes it's really great to have a girlfriend who just says, you're great, you can do it, and NO you can't skip writing to watch your Netflix movie. Sometimes, that's a really wonderful thing to have.

Now, I'm going to log off the internet (having dutifully sent out the three chapters an agent requested) and get back to Fairville. Poor Mo--I left her in a bit of a pickle, and I guess I ought to just go move things along. Namaste, my peeps.

Progress on Fairville!

My partner Fey has taken it upon herself to not let me be a slug. She's given me an ultimatum of no less than 1000 words per day (not much, if I can get myself to the computer). Anyhow, thanks to her dauntless efforts, I have now broken the 25K mark on Fairville. Since your average women's fiction novel is about 90K, that puts me almost 30% of the way there. AND I'm having fun with it. (Ghost story, chick story, set in a reasonable facscimile of the parish where I grew up--who wouldn't have fun?)

Snow is my friend

Since this pile of white mush decided to cover my state, I have gotten several thousand words written on Fairville, sent out one partial, and sent two more queries on All the Back Roads Home.

I've also eaten half a large mushroom and onion pan pizza (no cheese, please), five breadsticks, and goodness knows how much of Fey's cranberry double-chocolate sweet bread.

So. January brings succes and weight gain. I can live with that.

New Year, Same Gig.

There is nothing like sending out query letters to turn a confident woman into a bundle of nerves. I'm always sure I could have done it better, written it smarter--oh, GAWD, did I forget the attachment? Was I supposed to include an attachment? Did I spell my own name right?

'Tis true, dear Reader, that I proofread these queries before I send them out.

Just like Aunt Mildred turns off the stove before leaving on vacation, then worries for the first 500 miles that she forgot to.

Well, writing is not for the weak of mind or spirit.