Torrefaction

I subbed my story "It's Your Funeral!" to F & SF about a month ago, and I just got a nice rejection from Gordon Van Gelder.  Liked the tone & style, didn't like the basic concept.  I'm ridiculously happy about this!  This is the first story where I really felt that I hit the tone I was aiming for - a mix of funny and dark - so it's great to have an editor validate that.  It's also great that the story made it into the hands of the editor, because presumably that means John Joseph Adams,  "the Slush God," didn't hate it!

As for the basic concept, it's a chipper little satire about suicide.  Some of my friends love it, some don't, and some would be freakin' horrified by it, so I'm not showing it to them.  I expect many editors to reject it, either because they don't enjoy the concept, or because I didn't execute it well enough.  Which is fine...getting this little bit of validation makes me eager to sub it again, and (much more important) eager to try writing something with more heart to it, so I can take another crack at F&SF.

Yay! 

Posted by alchemist at 09:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

The family home was full of life. Not in the sense of joy or hope or laughter, but in the biological sense. Moths in the cupboards, birds in the chimney, squirrels in the attic walls. They employed a cat to ride herd on the basement’s mice, but otherwise noninterference was practiced. Thus a self-contained ecosystem flourished, foundation to roof. And the humans within lived by the law of the jungle.

[originally posted on Ficlets, where stories have to be VERY short] 

Posted by alchemist at 10:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I ran as fast as I could down the alley, and they ran as fast as they could, and sure enough they caught me. Then it was all kicks and spit and “eat dirt, bitch!” and my backpack’s contents being dumped on my head. Why had I kept the empty ziplock from that day’s peanut butter sandwich, anyway? Were we really that poor?

[originally posted on ficlets, where stories have to be VERY short]

Posted by alchemist at 10:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I wrote a story that I like, that's not too long, that doesn't have any expository lumps, that's not too personal to share, and that has a nice mix of dark & funny.  Yay!

Now I have to decide where to submit it.  I'm thinking Strange Horizons, because they're a pro market, they're online, and they're free, which is cool, and is probably the wave of the future.  Thought of subbing to Jim Baen's Universe, but they require a subscription to read, which I'm not wild about.  I can get Analog on the newsstand and only have to pay for one issue.  Also Universe has you submit to a slush conference forum, which might be the greatest idea ever, or might suck.  This is only my second time subbing a story so I don't like the idea of it being kicked around in public (which might not be how that slush forum works, I'm still investigating).

If I want to be old-school and use paper, I'll sub to the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, probably.  They say they want more SF and more humor.  I also have to read a bit of Analog and Asimov's and see what kind of stuff they're publishing nowadays.

Still mulling it over...advice is welcome. 

Posted by alchemist at 05:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I was going to spend this weekend writing, but instead I'm spending it wandering around trying to get my head together.  I took Wednesday off from work to get a good start for NaNoWriMo, but a family member had to have surgery that day, so I spent part of the day at the hospital and the rest of it worrying. Managed to write a 1600-word expository lump, though.  Friday evening, instead of going to the NaNo kickoff party, helped my hub get the now-recovering family member settled in at the rehab facility.

Meanwhile, a difficult life change is underway for a couple of my friends--the two friends who kept me from drowning in the turbulent emotions of my early 20's. Many years later they're still among my nearest and dearest for reasons unrelated to gratitude or obligation or any of that.  So I'm pretty focused right now on doing whatever I can to help them, and then I'm also processing my own set of emotions about the situation.  

Then there's the dossier situation.  Now that it's out of my hands I have nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs until I hear something back from someone, many moons hence.  Not a good thing.  Now instead of being able to think about my endless task list, I get to feel sorry for myself because I've spent 9 months (almost to the day) working on my adoption dossier while many, many of my friends have been producing actual babies.  One such friend brought her 3-year old daughter and 7-week old son by the office to say hello.  I held the baby and everything, it wasn't too wrenching, but...she started TTC around the same time as me, and I remember talking about how our kids would play together. Huh.  I expected that the dossier being done would inspire a celebratory mood, but that lasted about 10 minutes and it's been a big pity party since then.

So...not writing this weekend.  Not even trying.  Yesterday Hub and I went for a little one-day road trip just to spend some time together that doesn't involve taking care of someone who's unwell or doing paperwork or meeting with a notary or what have you.  Then we bought the new Lego Star Wars game for the PS2 and played it for a couple of hours before bed.  Today I'm watching DVD's of Project Runway Season 1 and cleaning up my library/study.

Tomorrow I have to work until 9 or 10 pm so I won't be writing anything at all, but Tuesday I plan to get back on track:  Try to stop eating so much sugar, try to write a couple thousand words, and try to vote some Republicans out of office.  

Posted by alchemist at 01:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

when Susan died

we all sat in the lounge and cried

I phoned to tell Michael and Andre
Michael said "that's so heavy"
as if I'd dropped the news on his foot

as if he suddenly knew why people say
your nerves all end in your toes
it felt like when you mash
your toe into a crate
you can almost see the pain
crawl up your leg into your brain
if time would stop you'd tie
a tourniquet
the pain might not get past your knee
you could stop the nerves from clanging

but if you did you'd lose your foot
you'd limp around on a wooden leg
you'd feel the phantom of your foot instead
you could never scratch your itchy toe
you'd have to wear long pants and boots
or everyone would know

Posted by alchemist at 09:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I just signed up for NaNoWriMo!  This is the thing where you write 55,000 words of a new novel between November 1 and November 30.  Since I have a novel plotted out in detail in my head, this seems like a good way to get my first draft on paper without my internal editor gumming up the works.  I'll have to write very, very fast in order to "win" (reach the 55k word goal) so I won't be able to stop and pretty anything up or, you know, question my basic theme & structure halfway through every scene.  55k words of tiresome, ham-handed pedantery will do the job nicely, and I'm pretty sure I can produce that.  And I'm competitive enough that I want to make it into the winners' circle...really really want to.  This is my first time NaNo-ing and I'm super excited about it!  And I need a new project to look forward to right now.

So, who's with me?  My handle on the nano boards is alchemist.  See you in November! 

Posted by alchemist at 07:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

It's good that I'm actually getting my teeth into the book, and putting words on disk, but I hate having to push forward through the most incredibly crappy dialogue ever. Bad diologue is painful enough to read when someone else wrote it.

I totally rock at plotting.  I'm pretty good at characterization.  I can generally muddle my way through scene structure.  And I suck like an industrial-grade Hoover at dialogue.  I suppose this is what I get for spending my formative years writing poetry.

Unfortunately, as with so many things in life, the only way out is through.  So I'm putting my clunky, blather-laden scenes down on paper so I can push my fairly engaging characters through my cool plot arc/meat grinder and watch them come out at the other end, deeply changed, yet-still-flawed, with nothing memorable to say for themselves.

Then I'll do a second draft and hopefully learn something about dialogue between now and then. In the meantime, I soldier on.  The knitty among you will understand how I feel  about this when I say:  Imagine knitting your first Fair Isle sweater, using colors you hate, in a yarn that catches on your skin a little bit. And knowing that you can't switch to the pretty, soft yarn until you've mastered the pattern and are ready to knit a second sweater.

Partly in the service of my terrible first draft, and partly because it's fun, I've been reading the wonderful Jane Espenson's blog. She wrote a lot of the funniest Buffy episodes, and her blog is full of succinct lessons about writing.  In particular, she breaks down bits of dialogue and explains exactly what makes them work, or not work.  There's also nice slices of LA life in there, and answers to all kinds of interesting questions about how to make it as a TV writer. Writers of all stripes should check it out.  

Posted by alchemist at 08:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

So I'm writing this...thing. It's not worthy yet of being called a novel, or a draft of same.  But it's a thing and I've been working on it for a while.

Of course I've bitten off way more than I can chew.  It's what I like to do...take on an impossible task, and wrestle it into submission.  It's how I learn best but it doesn't always work; sometimes I'm the one who ends up hitting the mat.  So this thing has 3 major POV characters and covers a couple hundred years of future history--flashbacks, hidden connections, the works.  I've been wrestling with the best way to get into the full draft--really get into it.  Not writing bits and pieces, like I've been doing, and not outlining, but sitting and writing the thing from one end to the other.  It's like trying to catch a water balloon.

This morning I finally figured out how to do it.  I've been focused on plot, and that ever-elusive bangup first chapter, the thing that'll hook the reader and drag them kicking and thrashing into the book the thing.  But trying to plot this up front is like trying to detail a clay pot before actually throwing it.  Instead, I need to focus on story--the chronological progression of events--and get everything down in draft form in the order it happens in my fictional world.  As long as I mostly choose the right POV character for each scene, I should be able to use the chronological draft to piece together a workable plot for the second draft.

This is good.  This is exciting.  I finally have a door into this thing, instead of an endless series of windows.

Posted by alchemist at 08:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

 Ah, my old friend is back -- that's right, that searing pain in my middle that says "you're taking on too much! You're not built to withstand this kind of stress!"  When this started, back in college, I would just live off of bagels and milk for a week while blowing off my classes and avoiding human contact.  It worked.  Unfortunately, I'm now employed full-time, married, and lactose-intolerant, so while the bagels are still an option I can't really do the whole retreating into my shell thing, or drink any milk.  And it was never more than a short-term fix, anyway.  Somehow I need to learn to live a less stressful life...hopefully before adding parenthood to the mix.

At the moment, things are just piled up a little too high. First, there's the adoption paperwork thing, in which I have to write answers to questions like "how do you feel about your sex life?" ("like it's private") And I'm supposed to be finishing a freelance article right this minute, instead of blogging, but while writing articles brings me spare cash and free 3d software, it doesn't bring me inner peace.  And my rumbly tummy wants inner peace, or a near substitute, and blogging is like a binky for the soul.  I'm also supposed to be working on some 3d models so I can make some money to fund my new computer.  Working on 3d models on my current computer is excruciating, due to the age & slowness of the computer.  So that's a bit of a dilemma.  Maybe I can find yet another freelance hustle to use to earn enough $$ to buy the new computer so I can go back to my primary freelance hustle, 3d modelling...geesh.  Or I could just decide that one job is enough for any sane person, and just do my day job (grueling enough all by itself, and includes having a "crackberry" pretty much welded to my hip), and stop trying to make extra money?  Seems like a good idea but extra money is just so damn soothing.

Aside from the woes of my personal brand of capitalism, one dear friend is getting divorced and another is recovering from major surgery, so I'm worrying about them.  And a third is touring to promote his fabulous new book, which has just been published to rave reviews and brisk sales.  Which is not like getting divorced or having major surgery, so I'm not at all worried about him, but I'm, how shall I put it, completely eaten up with envy.  While I've been fucking off with one thing and another--career in computers, side gig in 3d graphics, thinking about writing, talking about writing, occasionally actually writing a teensy bit--he's been sticking his butt in a chair on a regular basis for 15 years and writing, writing, writing, writing.  So he deserves every bit of his success, and I'm absolutely delighted for him.  I'm also delighted to have earned a spot in the acknowledgements of his book, because I made a suggestion or two about his first draft.  But it's not how I always imagined first seeing my name in print, and it's forcing me to look at the whole writing part of my life and see if it really fits anywhere.

Until I figure that out, though,  bagels and zantac will have to do.

Posted by alchemist at 10:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)