Nyan Cat: Proof friends are the best part of this gig

This blog post will best improve your mood if you play this video as you read:

I love this gig. Being a writer is the absolute shit. People have paid me--or promised to pay me--for putting words together. And sometimes I put words together and the things I've managed to say are actually awesome. I started a new story this weekend, and let me tell you: I love it. (I'll probably hate it before I get done editing, but that's just the way the editing process works. I mean, it's supposed to work like that.)

Not every thing about writer is terrific. There are times when I get frustrated by my inability to rock the words. There are times when the publishing industry pisses me off. And there are DEFINITELY times when the genre community pisses me off. Last week, I saw a lot of jackasses trying to explain why they weren't racist or sexist as they screamed and wailed in an attempt to defend the white boy status quo.

I tried to come up with a really good post about what I felt, and maybe I will figure out the right words someday. In the meantime, I think Ian Sales said it best in one of his comments on the SFSignal discussion on sexism: "If you support the status quo, you are sexist. End of story." You can replace "sexist" with "racist" for equal effect.

You know, every single one of us has unconscious biases that come out in our work. What we owe the world isn't our apologies, it's opening up our worlds to each other. When you know people of other races and you have positive experiences with them, you don't write bigoted work. When you know awesome LBGTQ people, you don't write work that excludes them. When you have a terrific boss that you admire who is a woman, you create fiction that reflects your understanding of women who are men's equals.

You have to open up your head, and you have to make friends. They will make sure that the process of mind-opening isn't as terrifying or painful as you fear it will be. (And yeah, it's scary. It's not easy being vulnerable!)

Plus, your friends, new and old, will help cheer you up when your words get rejected. They'll give you a pep talk when you aren't writing as fast as you like. They'll make sure you get back to your hotel room when you get sloshed at the con.

And they'll make sure you know about Nyan Cat so you, too, can have the song stuck in your head.

SO SAY WE ALL! -- An SF challenge

Today, during an exciting chat with the rest of the Inkpunks about the state of science fiction, I threw down the gauntlet: I challenged us all to work hard to master the science fiction short story. By master, I suggested "achieve a SFWA-pro-level sale of an SF story." No matter what it takes, we're going to rock the roof off the science fiction genre.

I definitely think a lot of people are afraid to write SF -- because they're afraid of science. There's so much to get right when you want your story to fit within the parameters of reality. There's research to do! Embarrassment to be had! But that doesn't mean it's not something worth doing. Writing is one of the best ways to explore the nature of humanity, and what's more worthwhile than skewering the human condition with the most exciting crap technology can dish out? :D

By science fiction, we Inkpunks are restricting ourselves only to fiction that works within the generally accepted rules of nature. So the piece can be a mundane work or a near-future dystopian or a post-apocalyptic adventure ... it just can't have magic or elements that make zero sense within the boundaries of modern science. Zombies--the undead kind--are pretty much out. Witches, too. (What the heck am I going to write about?!?! Isn't everything I write about zombies or witches?)

If you're a writer who reads this blog, I throw the gauntlet at you, too. The world needs more great science fiction. It's science fiction that fed the hearts and imaginations of the mid-century American scientists who took us to the moon. It's science fiction that stirred the dreams of the great twentieth century inventors. Let's give the next century something to talk about!

PS: If you're already on-board the science fiction train, I know that right now the Science in My Fiction site is running its 2nd annual short story contest. Go send them something exciting!

AMAZING people being amazing

Today was a wonderfully normal day after two weeks of struggling with health issues. It was nice to have nearly full command of my brain (still feel groggy and tired), and be able to go a day without a nap break. Since I'm still kind of dumb, I thought I'd just banter about the last few days. So, in no particular order or logic:

• The amazing Snarke came by for some quality girl time (and lawksamussy, we were two girls in need of some girl time!), aka, Lunch At Burgerville + Marathon Chat. She blew my mind by bringing me a copy of Fuzzy Nation. Signed. By Mr. Scalzi, the Overlord of SFWA. I'm pretty certain there is no kinder person on the earth.
• The amazing John Joseph Adams sent me many, many older issues of F&SF magazine. The next daunting task is to read all these babies, which will be inspirational!
• Due to the encouragement of the amazing Molly Tanzer and the amazing Erin Stocks, I have picked up the cookbook Appetite for Reduction and have started cooking really healthy & delicious foods. I say "encouragement," but mostly I mean "mouth-watering posts on their blogs & Twitter that feature these amazing recipes." But it's nice to be returning to my whole-foods, healthy ways! It's been a while since I've been inspired to cook!
• On a totally unrelated note, we had ramen for dinner. *looks shamefaced*
• A new submission was made, for the first time in, like, months.
• I had a major brainwave, erased the last 1500 painfully scraped together words of the novel-in-progress, and belched out 908 exciting wonderful words.
• In a totally related note, put Richard Matheson's Hell House on hold at the library.
• I've been listening to the podcast of my story "Cold Iron and Green Vines" over at Beneath Ceaseless Skies. It's so cool to hear someone else read my stuff!

Well, that's really about it. It's wonderful to be awake and healthy enough to be blogging at 10 at night!

Unseen Stage Fright

Sandra Wickham said it today on Twitter: I think about my novel all the time. I can't wait till I it's time to write. Finally, I sit to write and I freeze up with stage fright.

Boy do I understand! After taking that my sick days, I feel paralyzed with fear, especially after reading through a chunk of pages yesterday and getting the work back into my head. What if I screw it all up? What if I've lost my touch? What if an evil interloper has strangled my muse and is going to pretend to be my muse, thus leading me to write 9 pages of chick lit inside the haunted house I've been struggling to create?

I read Erika's advice about getting started, and while it all resonated deeply inside me, I know me. I know there are only a handful of things that can turn off my stage fright: chocolate, gum, and massive doses of caffeine. Since it's evening, coffee is out of the question--I need to sleep tonight. But I can bribe myself with my candy bar (just a few squares! I'm not crazy, and honestly, I don't like more than a small serving of the super-dark stuff) and my two fresh packs of Orbit gum.

Yeah, wish me luck. These are the moments when I understand why so many writers have substance abuse issues.

Sick days?

So I spent the entire weekend being sick, and now that I'm perking up a bit, I'm starting to feel the words revving up again. Does anybody else find that getting sick makes it hard to write? And if so, is there anything that seems to help?

Break it or burn it

I had an astonishing revelation today: I've got writing burn out. And I've had burnout for a while now, like since October. Not only have I rarely felt that words-straining-at-the-seams feeling that used to inflict me with an itchiness to write, but every single day I've been able to write fewer and fewer words, and I feel more tired after laying them on the page. Needless to say, I decided I needed to be more serious about taking break time from writing.

I spent the afternoon cleaning and reading out of an anthology of French reading exercises. Why? I'm not planning to go to France any time soon. I don't know anyone who speaks French. The only reason to try to read a book in French is just because it's something I always enjoyed and it was something I had no reason to do. Absolutely free goofing off.

I've still got plenty of editorial work to catch up on, but this weekend? I'm going to go nuts. I might even play VIDEO GAMES. Nothing says "slacker" like sitting in front of the tv shooting zombies.

Sometimes it's hard for me to admit that writing isn't the end-all and be-all of who I am. I will still exist if I turn off the word tap for a couple of days. There's no shame in it.

Right?

Rescue Remedy

Today was the kind of day that required some kind of serious pick-me-up: I had a blister, a stomach ache, a headache, and my brain was spinning in a post-work fog (this is the Noisy Season at work). A nap was out of the question, what with an influx of playful children racing around my front porch and yard (there's a reason I hate summer). I needed coffee and chocolate, stat.

I've reached a point in my life where I no longer like sticky-sweet chocolatey treats. More often than not, they leave me feeling queasy and unsatisfied, the bouquet of the chocolate overpowered by the fats and sugars. (Dear heavens, did I really just use the phrase "the bouquet of the chocolate"??) When I buy chocolate, I buy a Theo dark chocolate bar and nibble my way through a stick at a time. But I didn't have a chocolate bar handy. I had cocoa powder. So I whipped up a quick and dirty microwave cup of cocoa.

You've made cocoa a hundred billion times--or at least, I hope you have. There's something profoundly meditative about blending the dry ingredients (2 Tb cocoa powder, 2 tsp sugar, dash of salt, and if you're in our household, about a tsp of nondairy creamer) and slowly dripping in the liquid (I usually start with coffee). At first, the liquid beads up on the surface of the powders, finally seeping in and creating clumps. With a little stirring and a few more drops of coffee, everything turns into one awkward ball of fragrant mud. I always feel a little nervous at this point, because it feels like the ingredients will never come together, and I will have wasted all my efforts to make a lump of sludge.

But with a little more coffee and a bit more elbow grease, the lump becomes a paste, the paste becomes smoother, and soon there's something akin to chocolate syrup at the bottom of the mug. At that point I'll usually add a little more coffee or hot water, filling my mug halfway before topping off with soy milk and a spin in the microwave. A dash of vanilla--or better yet, a teaspoon of Kraken rum!--rounds off the flavor profiles.

I'm revising a story right now that's currently at the "lump of sludge" phase. I'm nervous and a little terrified that I've killed the poor thing. I can only hope that with a little more elbow grease, it will smooth out and turn into something delicious.

I might need a few more cups of Rescue Remedy first, though ...

Process & Practice: the Writer in Savasana

It's been the kind of busy week that makes a gal's head spin: an article due, revisions coming back from various editors, career opportunities throwing themselves in my path, changes at the day job, invitations to fun social events five days of the week. And behind it all, the constant pressing knowledge that queries and submissions are out there, my work under evaluation and my future on the line.

Hey, it sounds melodramatic, but dang it, that's how it feels! You know it. You've subbed to big things before, things that could have a significant effect on your life. If you let yourself think about it, your brain might explode. You can't work, because the pressure and excitement sucks the words out of your brain like a Dyson vacuum cleaner--and we all know those things never lose suction. The only solution is NOT to think about these things and try to focus on the work in progress.

But if you're anything like me, burying my thoughts is hard. They have a way of knotting inside me and settling like lead into my gut. I've always had a lot of issues with my thoughts bursting out as physical manifestations, and it's part of the reason I spent a lot of time being sick as a young person. Interest in the mind-body relationship took me to yoga and yogic philosophy, and at one time, I actually planned to be a yoga teacher.

That's right. Me. The lady who creaks when she tries to touch her toes, the lady whose Reubenesque physique is more aptly associated with Polynesian royalty than fitness instructors. I was a yoga junkie--Bendy Wendy, beloved children's yoga class leader! And I quit yoga for the same stupid reason a lot of people quit writing: I forgot to focus onprocess, not results.

You see, I've always been a chubby kid, and I've always been sensitive about being overweight. And one day, after two years of reading and studying and pretzeling, I saw a picture of myself and realized I looked nothing like what a yoga teacher should look like. My limbs were stocky, my ankles blocky. A predisposition toward a pear shape gave me the requisite prominent ribs, but my thighs never got the memo that I was supposed to be skinny. My confidence crumbled. And one day, I walked into my yoga class and realized that every woman in the room, put together, would fit into one pair of my pants. (Hey, it seemed completely possible at the time!) I ran out of the building crying.

Little by little, I left my yoga practice behind. Dropping into Downward Dog was just too emotionally exhausting, and it was easy to push yoga time out of my schedule: I'd made a commitment to writing more, and I could justify any amount of time sitting in front of the computer.

What I forgot is how great yoga feels when you're doing it and not thinking about anything else. Like writing, it's easy to fall into a magical space where your inner essence is perfectly aligned with your activity, where you're just you, and nothing else matters. Whatever happens once you roll up your mat or click that "submit" button doesn't really matter. That you you find when you hit that magical space? That's the gold. You have to let the crap--the recycled pop-bottle mat carrier that everybody else is carrying to the studio; the rejections from the agents; the good reviews of your latest story--fall away from that place. You can't let it touch the you you've worked so hard to find.

In the last few months, I've started to forgive my body for being itself. I had a realization one day, and Regina Spektor says it best in her song "Folding Chair:"

I’ve got a perfect body, though sometimes I forget
I’ve got a perfect body cause my eyelashes catch my sweat

My body is perfect because it does the things it's designed to do. Instead of resenting its shape, I've started treating my body better, revisiting the healthy recipes I used to love, taking those long walks. Setting up a standing workstation, like Christie did. Even doing some yoga. It's amazing how the old lessons come back, all the training for clearing the mind wiping away the tensions my writing life piles onto my mind and body. After doing something physical, it's usually much, much easier to come to the keyboard. The monkey mind, with its constant need for reward, is settled. Instead of feeling neurotic about seeing results, you can enjoy the process of writing.

Book giveaway: Way of the Wizard!

Mr. John Joseph Adams is giving away copies of The Way of the Wizard over on his Goodreads page! If you're interested in getting your hands on this fantastic anthology, featuring a story and a handful of headers by yours-truly, check it out!

How to Write a Bio--for SF/F/H writers

I realized something the other day: most of the writers I know hate writing their bios. Every time a friend makes a sale, I hear a round of misery and sympathy on Twitter as they share their struggles to create a concise blurb that will encapsulate their career and draw readers' interest. But it doesn't have to be that hard! Writing your own biography is one of the easiest tricks you can put in your nonfiction writing magic kit. (And just so you know--I'm going to focus on nonfiction tips and tricks for my next blog post over at Inkpunks.com. If there's anything in particular you'd like to know, let me know and I'll try to address it in that 5/20 post.)

Start by collecting your material.

Many spec fic writers like to begin exploring their work's characters by filling out a character sheet, very like the sheets role-playing gamers use to create their gaming character. When you begin writing your bio, you need to construct yourself as if you were the character. (If you think about it, your persona as a writer is a fictional character. You're drawing this persona out of your real life experiences, but you're not selling yourself. You're selling Writer You. It's like an alternate universe self!)

Check out the character sheet I've linked to and think over some of the answers. Answering someone else's questions can really help reinvigorate your sense of perception. When I think about my personal identity, I think of my family, my core values, my favorite activities. But honestly, these are really, really boring. A bio about me would include: "Wendy Wagner is a mom who is constantly riled up about social causes and therefore must restrict her consumption of all news, save for Vogue and Boing Boing. 80% of the time, Wagner is thinking about coffee or eating sweets." Kind of a dud.

But when I look at the character sheet questions, I come up with thoughts like:

I was born in Eastern Washington. Great. Nobody cares.

I grew up in a town so small the Bookmobile came only ever two weeks. Quirky--and life-changing.

Our house sat across the street from the cemetery. Hey, I can use that for horror markets!

I don't have any pets. I better leave that out or no one will believe I'm a writer.

I have practiced using a shotgun in order to better prepare myself for zombie attack. If I rephrase that, that could be perfect for horror markets!

I used to believe the back door of our house opened into Narnia. Hey, I can use that for fantasy markets!

Focus on audience and market.

You'll notice that many of my thoughts about my character material were focused around markets. That's because there are different kinds of bios, and they all their different size and tone, depending on where you'll be sending your work. Here are some examples:

• Basic bio, added to bottom of story or article. This bio usually runs 3-4 lines. It will have a clever opener, a line about your writing credits, a second line that includes any awards or critical praise, and a final line about where you live, where you blog, and/or something witty.

I write a new basic bio for every author spotlight I do for Fantasy Magazine, because I think it's fun and clever. My latest reads:

Wendy N. Wagner grew up in very rural Oregon, where she dreamed her family would abandon her to be raised by wolves. Her short fiction has appeared in Beneath Ceaseless Skies and the anthologies The Way of the Wizard and Rigor Amortis; her interviews and poetry have run in Lightspeed, Fantasy Magazine, Horror-web.com, and Abyss and Apex. She lives in Portland, Oregon with her very understanding husband and daughter, and blogs at www.inkpunks.com.

Because the author spotlight is nonfiction, I thought it was worthwhile to include my nonfiction writing credits in that second line. If I was doing a basic bio for a short story, I would leave that out. If I wanted to sound like a blow-hard, I could have said "Her short fiction has appeared in Beneath Ceaseless Skies (this piece is actually forthcoming, but it will be out before anyone reads the bio) and the anthologies Rigor Amortis and The Way of the Wizard. Publishers Weekly described Wagner's story 'The Secret of Calling Rabbits' as 'melancholy and deeply affecting.'"

I made sure that the hook--the clever first line--of that bio connected to the theme of my article. You don't have to do that, but I think it is a good idea to write a hook that is in the tenor of the market you're writing for. If it's a horror market, I'll usually reference growing up next door to the cemetery. If it's fantasy, I'll mention the Narnia connection. If it's for more general consumption, I'll talk about the summer I read 125 books in two weeks.

• "I am a human" bio. This is the bio you'll use on your blog or webpage to make people like you, and it can short or long. The master of the short human bio is Blake Charlton, whose "About" paragraph on his webpage says it all:

Debut novelist and medical student, Blake Charlton is a new face in both fields working to establish a dual career in fiction and medicine.

Currently, Blake is writing fantasy novels, science fiction short stories, and academic essays on medical education and biomedical ethics.

Blake's extended bio is also a great example of the human bio, although he leaves out his writing credits. He has a bibliography page--which you should have on your webpage, too--but your bio will often be lifted wholesale from the about section of your site. So do yourself and anyone writing about you a favor: have it put together tidily in one spot.

I need to update my human bio now that Her Dark Depths is no longer forthcoming, but you can still read it here. It mentions a bit more about my past and how I got interested in writing, and the hooks are less focused on the particular market, and more on general interest items in my life.

• The really big bio for guest appearances. You probably won't need this one until you win some awards and get invited to be the guest of honor at a convention or workshop. Most of these run 300-500 words, a full page about yourself. You'll want to focus on creating three or four paragraphs, instead of three or four lines. You can include more about your non-writing life, as well, so if you have an interesting day job that you feel okay talking about, this is a great place for that information. If you have a quirky hobby that has helped your writing career, mention it. If you were mentored by a famous author, mention it. If you went to an awesome workshop ... hey, you get it.

Now that you've got a sense of what each kind of bio requires, and you're certain about what flavor and tone your bio will need, it's time to begin crafting your piece. And like all nonfiction works, you'll need to focus on mechanical details. They are your only hope to be interesting.

What do I mean? Well, when we write spec fic, we have the advantage of creating a special, unique world populated by fascinating characters. When you're writing your bio, you are writing about a chump who can never, ever compete with the people you make up. I mean, think about it: who's more interesting, you or Wolverine? Or anybody from Game of Thrones? Even the most caricatured spec fic bad guy is about 95% more interesting than your average writer.* But you are lucky. Unlike that bad guy, you have words on your side. And there are some cheats that will can you sound much, much better those muscle-bound fictional heroes you're writing about right now.

• Use active verbs. It's the same advice you've been struggling with in your prose, but it can make a huge difference. Look at my bio. I've got grew, dreamed, appeared, runs, lives, and blogs. There's not a lot of "she was," "she is" action. And that's good. Those constructions aren't bad, but in a short space, you don't have room for not bad. You're trying to make people share their beds (hey, most folks read in bed!) and hearts with you. Rock them!
• Use a little colorful language. It's okay to sneak in a drop of alliteration or a fun idiom. In a short story, colorful language can be too distracting from the action. But remember, there's nothing going on in your bio. It's not an adventure. A dab of colorful language will not hurt. That's why I shared about being "raised by wolves" or I've talked about "preparing for the zombie apocalypse." These phrases sound fun. In real life, I'm not actually entertaining, but I'd really like my readers to think I am. Maybe I'll sound so fun to be with, my readers will buy me a drink at a con!
• Variate sentence constructions. Easily the most important factor. If you start every line of your bio with "He was xyz. He does abc. He likes def," your bio will be boring. Make sure you have a variety of sentence structures: "A constant thrill-seeker, John Remy finds himself drawn to high risk rock-climbing. His work draws on his adventurous life, and his thrilling short fiction has appeared in Y & W. He lives in Town X, State, and blogs at blah blah." That's variety. That's the spice of life.

It's not hard to write a bio and you shouldn't be frightened of the process. It's a simple matter of doing your research, focusing on your market & audience, and playing your best tricks--which are the three base-points of writing non-fiction. It's actually pretty fun!

* Average writer. People like Blake Charlton and Mary Robinette Kowal are not average. Their regular lives are actually cool. I mean, CNN did a feature on Blake. I totally wish I could write his bio instead of mine.

Super Heroes

Sometimes when I think about current events and the future of humanity, I get pretty damn depressed. Our natural resources are steeply depleted. We're overpopulating the globe. The weather just keeps worse. Sometimes I think that the future can only be a terrible god-awful hell, an apocalyptic wasteland full of bandits pillaging the earth for water and fuel. So ... basically Mad Max.

But the truth is that our world would already be in a state of war, starvation and hunger if it weren't for the brains of one man:

Fritz Haber.

Because he invented a process that would bind nitrogen from the atmosphere so it could be added back into soil, we were able to reinvent agriculture, radically increasing productivity. The agricultural boom has provided for the massive growth of the human population--population thinkers suggest that one-third to one-half the human beings currently alive on this planet would not have anything to eat without the Haber-Bosch nitrogen fixing process. By stretching our nitrogen resources, we have pushed back the some of pressures which lead to fighting and misery in animal populations.

[Yes, I'm aware of the military applications of Haber's work. But I think his fertilizer work has probably had a larger effect on more people.]

In many portions of the world today, people lead better lives than they did in the Dark Ages. There's much less violence, especially in First World nations. People live longer. People have more opportunities to explore their world and to be creative. And that's not because we have more resources. It's because we've had more education. We've drawn on the brilliant ideas of scientists like Haber. We've nurtured thinkers of all stripes to create a cultural climate of innovation and curiosity. It takes experts in the arts and the sciences and the humanities to make a culture that can create a new future.

Our world is better because of the work of an elite team of Heroes. Super Heroes. Super Thinking Heroes. They're scientists and writers and painters and philosophers and other folks who are committed to feeding ideas, nurturing thought, and stimulating the world around them to be a better place.

Here are pictures of some of my favorite core members of this remarkable League of Extraordinary Thinkers. Can you name them all?

a.

b.

c.

d.

e.

f.

g.

h.

Names:

1. Jane Austen

2. Albert Einstein

3. Karl Marx

4. Charles Darwin

5. Jules Verne

6. Rachel Carson

7. Beatrix Potter

8. Benjamin Franklin

I'll put up the answers tomorrow. In the meantime, just imagine: who are the thinkers today working to change the world? Do you know them? Are you one of them?

Edited 5/6: I've had some problems with the answer post, so I'm just adding the answers here:

a-5, the pioneering SF & adventure writer Jules Verne, whose imagination has stimulated generations of explorers and dreamers ; b-2, Albert Einstein, the man who gave us the General Theory of Relativity, one of the fundamental underpinnings of contemporary physics ; c-Beatrix Potter, whose illustrated children's books have been urging children to love nature and reading for more than a hundred years ; d-3, Karl Marx, a political philosopher whose realizations about the co-evolution of society and the economy led to the creation of the postmodern outlook--oh, and Communism; e-8, Benjamin Franklin, inventor, political philosopher and US Postal pioneer ; f-6, Rachel Carson, a marine biologist whose writings about pesticides' affects on the natural world challenged human ideas about the environment and our responsibilities within it; g-Jane Austen, a writer whose witty romantic novels skewered the social mores and structures of her times ; h-4, natural historian Charles Darwin, whose writings on natural selection changed our understanding of individuals within their environments ; i- .

Super big weekend

Gosh. I can't believe how tired I am. People tell you getting married is hard work, but I hadn't believed just how worn out it would leave me. Who knew being a hyper-emotional mess for an entire week would leave a girl so tuckered out?

I'm not really sure why I was such a crazy emotional disaster, although I feel certain impatience, nervousness (what if they don't like my chili?!?), and excitement played equal parts. After all, it's not every day that I get to see my parents or meet a really awesome friend (who proved to be just as awesome in person as in her near-daily emails) or marry the most excellent man alive.

Now I just want to take naps, hold toes with my new hubbie (yes, he really does hold toes. It's enchanting!), and try to recoup some of my brainpower. I have so much writing to catch up on, it's not even funny!

Soaking & siphoning

Have you ever noticed that once you commit to take a break from creative work and just focus on soaking up the world around you, everything is super-fascinating? Posters, stickers, photographs in Vogue, cheesy movies ... I'm not sure if I'm just hopped up on pre-wedding hormones or if the world is just being extra co-operative!

Off to sketch girls riding elephants and watch 80s horror flicks.

SFWA Northwest Reading Series!

Just a reminder that Tuesday marks the first event in SFWA's new reading series! (7pm, the Kennedy School--Jay Lake, Kay Kenyon, & Brent Weeks will reading, drinking, and having fun with folks.)

I'll be there, sucking down beer and tater tots. :D

Schedules, rituals, & routines

Last year I got to meet the fantastic, super-cool Blake Charlton. The man is an inspiration--he's going to Stanford medical school and putting out quality fantasy fiction. And he blogs and tweets and cracks up everybody around him, too.

Of course, the first thing everybody asks is: "How the heck do you manage to go to med school and still have time to write?" I asked it. He volleyed: "You're a mom. How do you do it?"

I honestly don't know how Blake does it, because medical school isn't like other school. Going to (normal!) school and raising kids are both lifestyles that can actually dovetail quite nicely with the writing life, because children and school both demand structure--a schedule, a regular routine.

A smart writer finds a way to settle into a regular writing schedule. You get used to writing at certain times, and your body helps remind you to sit down and pump out some words. It's a lot like the way that if you eat lunch every day at a certain time, you'll be hungry even if your schedule gets thrown off.

Kids thrive with routines. It's comforting for them to have clear expectations about their day. You can use that to your advantage if you're a writer. My daughter comes home from school and eats a snack--but then she very regularly takes some quiet time to herself. Sometimes she hangs out in her room and listens to a book on CD. Sometimes she watches a movie. Sometimes she just disappears into the basement and hides. But I can pretty much count on at least half an hour of downtime in the afternoon that I can use to catch up on weird writerly tasks (blogging or reading slush or something).

School kids often have a structured rhythm to their week, as well. I feel a sort of ticking clock during the week--a friendly pressure to get the bulk of my writing work done before the weekend. That nudging really encourages me to keep on top of my to-do lists.

Kids also need a certain amount of ritual. Rituals are related to routines; they help kids mark off time and make it meaningful. Rituals come at the small scale (the careful rite of bedtime activities, the same every single day) and the large scale (the comforting ritual of Thanksgiving family breakfast followed by time in nature) and even the sporadic (weddings and funerals).

Writers can use ritual to their benefit, too. Having a certain specified sequence at the beginning of your writing session can help you shift from the prosaic world into the creative realm. Doing something special when you start or complete a project can help you cut your ties to a project so you can move your energy into the next one.

For me, I can't imagine being a mom who wasn't a writer. In part, it's because in those brief months when The Midget and I lived alone, I realized that to be a good parent I would have to put aside all pretenses and be really and purely myself. If I was going to be psychologically healthy enough to take care of a kid, I was going to have to take care of myself and live my life purposefully, with intention and passion. I knew I was going to have to give her advice about pursuing her dreams, and I couldn't undermine those values by turning my back on hers.

Your children deserve parents who are the best possible people they can be. And if you are a writer, then you owe it to them and yourself to be the best possible writer you can be. It might sound overwhelming, but you can make it a part of your ordinary life. Getting the words out is just like remembering to brush your teeth before bed: a routine. A ritual.

What makes a murder?

I write science fiction and fantasy, but I have a background in philosophy. For me, the most obnoxious part of my philosophical training was my coursework in ethics. We had to discuss many hot-button topics, and a great deal of the conversation was compounded by an inability to agree on our terms. It's difficult to have effective discourse when people's different backgrounds have given common words very different connotations.

The hottest topic in ethics class was abortion. I think it's a topic that exemplarizes the fractured communications that come from word connotation.

• For some, abortion means murder. It's killing a person, and that's it.
• For some, abortion can't mean murder, because murder requires personhood, and some people don't feel as if unborn entities qualify as people. They tend to see abortion as a medical procedure, primarily affecting the mother.
• For some, abortion can't mean murder, because murder requires malicious intent, and some feel that the choice to end a pregnancy isn't a malicious one--it comes from some kind of hope to prevent suffering. These people often see abortion as euthanasia.

With these three major differences in word usage, how can people talk clearly about the same subject?

When you're writing fiction and ethical situations come up, think deeply about word usage. The words you choose and the attitudes your character has about them will deeply color your reader's experience of the work.

When it comes to murder, your characters will use the term in fascinating ways. Here are some possibilities:

• War involves killing, but depending your outlook, deaths in combat may or may not be murder. Someone who believes the battle is justified will not usually use the word "murder;" a peace advocate probably will.
• Killing animals for food is typically not considered murder, but if you're writing a character who is an animal empath, you'll almost certainly use that term.
• Assisted suicide might be called murder by someone with a set-fate religious belief, but a concerned grand-daughter who's spent time watching her grandma battle with cancer would probably use the term "euthanasia" or "assisted suicide."
• If a horrible accident happens--say your character's new invention explodes and kills a young child--the devastated family members might use the word "murder" if the accident was the result of particularly stupid behavior or if they don't like your character.

It's not always easy for us to step outside of our own word connotations to explore morality, but as writers, it's critical, especially if you're digging into unfamiliar cultures. If you're creating your own new planet full of its own fascinating cultural mores, you'll be glad you slowed down and dug deep.

Families We Choose

Family. It's a weird creation, isn't it? It's this notion that something fundamental can bind people together, a binding that transcends borders and distance and age. That no matter what happens to you or who you've become, you can turn to your family and they will be there for you.

Most of the people I know have had to build or prune or reshape their families. From the simple and traditional (marriage is the classic way to claim a new person as a family member; adoption another) to more intense and unusual, most of us claim family members who aren't related to us by blood or marriage, and many of us have cut bonds with people who are related in those traditional methods. Some of my friends were expelled from their circles of kinship for reasons of religion or sexuality.

Since I'm gearing up for my wedding, family is on my mind. One of the major reasons my partner and I are marrying is to help him adopt my daughter. He's the only father she's ever known and we understand that we need to protect their special relationship. Our marriage is the first step toward taking better care of our family.

And of course having a wedding means inviting friends and family to be a part of the ritual. Sometimes it's hard to know where "friend" ends and "family" begins, especially in families where relationships are sometimes strained. Or where friends are exceptionally closely bonded!

I'm lucky to have so many wonderful people joining me to celebrate the new direction my family is taking. I know there have been times in my life where I've dreamed of moving away and starting fresh, with no ties, floating like dandelion fluff along the wind. But there is a pleasant weight to family, no matter the bad memories, the difficult times, and the hard choices. I'm glad I've chosen to keep them.

Going BRIDEZILLA

Okay, I didn't think it could happen, but I have recently become that woman who only talks about "my wedding this, my wedding that, my wedding blah blah blah blah blah." OMG. It never stops. My kid has sprained her eyeballs rolling them about my wedding prattle. I am a marriage monster!

I can't really state anything in my defense, although I guess I understand how it happens. There are all these details about arranging this giant party, a party where everybody is going to be looking AT ME, wondering how my butt got so big. (Really. It's been a while since I saw Kaz's family, and I was a lot skinnier then.) That's actually kind of stressful!

And when I say there are a lot of details, I mean, there are a lot of details. Like, who knew these dresses required all these special undergarments? I didn't even buy a crazy foofy fancy one, but I'm still investing about a jillion dollars in Spanx. (Okay, the Target knock-off line. Jeez. I can't fool you guys for a second.) Apparently regular underwear makes a girl look "lumpy." I thought lumpy was just my natural look. But in order to minimize in-law mockery, I'm willing to go for the lycra.

As if restraining my bulges wasn't enough, there's restraining my house. My future in-laws plan to be in the Pacific Northwest for 9 days. Do you know how many family dinners that will mean? Do you know how clean my house will need to be? I can barely bring my kitchen up to safety standards, let alone Impress Your Mother-in-Law standards. Luckily, my mom and dad are short on time, so I don't think they'll make it over for any meals. My mom would eyeball the ceiling and push the food around on her plate, as if suspicious the over-looked cobwebs might have somehow contaminated it.

I might, perhaps, exaggerate slightly.

My family members are all wonderful, kind-hearted people. They won't judge or condemn me for spending more time noodling around on the internet and making up dirty fiction than cleaning my house and working out. They will have fun and help me have fun at my wedding.

Yeah ... still gonna invest in the lycra.

Housecleaning and stuff

Uff.

I spent the afternoon working on moving my main webpage over to a Wordpress design. The old set-up was really irritating, and since I wanted to rebuild my bibliography page, this seemed like perfect timing. I also got my POP settings fixed so I can finally receive business email (wendy at winniewoohoo.com)!

I feel like a smart techno-girl tonight!

Hear the Evil

The other day good chance brought me to an interesting blog post about sound, something that made me think about how we write about sounds.

As Rob points out in the post, we spend a great deal of energy getting rid of unimportant sounds in our world. Our brain is hard-wired for this task, and because of its hard work, the sounds that actually trickle into our conscious minds are highlighted for our attention. A sound might be attention-worthy because it's new and unusual, or at least something we haven't heard for a while. It might be attention-worthy because it's something we've learned is important. We've all had the experience of riding the bus and hearing someone else's phone ring--it's not worth getting worked up about unless the person has your same ring tone. You have habituated yourself to a quick response when you hear that sound, and your ears can pick it up even over the annoying chit-chat of fellow bus riders.

This has two effects on our perceptions of sound cues in fiction. For one, we automatically assume that a sound cue is meaningful. People don't reference sounds unless they really affect the narrative. If a character makes a noise, the reader will work hard to try to figure out how that noise changes the scene. As readers, we know that every sense reference is important, but because of our superior aural filtering systems (I think most people have very adept noise filtering powers, much stronger than our visual "ignoring" powers), sounds really pop for us.

Also, sounds stand out as more threatening. I'm not crazy here; we're hard-wired to be skittish about noise. Humans have weak night vision, and so night, our most vulnerable time, is also the time we have to most attune ourselves to our hearing. In the dark, every sound elicits a leery response. Every noise is analyzed for its threat quotient. When we force our readers to rely on auditory sense cues, we make them turn to their internal danger diagnostic and mull over their peril.

I think this is one reason why hearing is such an under-used sense in most fiction genres. Writers often limit themselves to auditory references that are linked solely with communication: sighs, grunts, purrs, groans. It's a method certain to keep readers in their comfort zones.

But what about writers who are eager to get their readers out of their comfort zones?

There is one genre that relies heavily on sound cues, and that's horror. There's a reason why haunted house stories are famous for their clanking chains and creaking floors: in real life, those sounds are actually scary. Writing them into our stories is one way to tap into simple, natural terror.

One way to take your creaks and groans and other eerie noises and give them a little extra mileage is to tinker with their placement in the text. Position your auditory references where your readers can't ignore them. Here's an example--a passage written with the same sentences, just reorganized.

I walked out to the front porch and realized night had fallen without my notice. The wind nudged the old swing, making it creak. Over the lawn, fireflies twinkled.

I could almost believe Mama wasn't dead.

vs

I walked out to the front porch and realized night had fallen without my notice. Over the lawn, fireflies twinkled. The wind nudged the old swing, making it creak.

I could almost believe Mama wasn't dead.

There's not much difference in the two passages, but I personally feel as if the sound cue--the cliched creaking!--is played up by its placement at the end of the paragraph in the second variant. The first version of the exercise feels more tender; the second, a little more spooky. Maybe Mom's a ghost!

Of course, it's easy to think about silence and spookiness right now. I just spent four nights in the Quinault Rainforest, a place heady with dark clouds and darker forests. And I might be thinking a little extra about writing because I was on a retreat with a number of incredibly talented writers.

I can't say enough about the beauty of the last weekend, but I can say: it was a great place to start writing a ghost story. :D

(Picture stolen from John Remy.)

Neglecting my blog!

If you're curious what exciting things have kept me away from the blog lately, brace yourself for excitement. My world has been rocking lately. Here goes:

Shopping for wedding stuff. Like corduroy pants--for Sweetie-Pie--and kraft paper. Plus, the top secret wedding favor shopping that involved a 45 mile drive and trips to 8 separate thrift stores. Including a Goodwill with a bins, where I thought we might be rendered for our parts by vicious shoppers.

Shopping for underwear. You wouldn't think this would be difficult, but you obviously don't live in my world. See, Sweetie-Pie remembered that his employer had a deal with Target that gave their employees 10% off purchases made on Target.com. So we thought we would make our annual bulk sock-underwear-tights purchase on the website and save a little scratch. Brilliant, right?

Apparently not! Target.com was out of children's underwear. They didn't carry the kind of undies my Sweetie likes. They not only didn't offer cotton briefs as an option in the women's department, but in response to a search for women's briefs (yeah, yeah, I know they're granny panties, but I like 'em!), the first item on their list were these Booty Pop Enhancing Panties.

Okay, I've seen myself in the mirror. My booty is popped. I don't need any more padding than I've grown myself--what I need are booty-shrinking panties. Or at least booty-restraining panties. But a search for that product brought up only the suggestion to check my typing. *sigh*

Eventually, we caved and went to a brick-and-mortar Target and bought underwear in person. Too bad I didn't check the package before Sweetie-pie washed them all. Turns out my 6-pack of undies was mislabeled, and when I started folding laundry, I was dismayed to find panties that could double as t-shirts in my laundry basket. They're only *4* sized too big!

Selling a story. In good news, I did sell a story to Beneath Ceaseless Skies, a really beautiful online fantasy magazine. The piece took a good chunk of re-writing, and I can't thank the editor, Scott Andrews, enough for his amazing advice, skills and patience. He might just be my new editorial hero.

I mean, editorial hero #2. Because obviously my boss is my hero. I'm not sure I ever want to put together anthologies or run a magazine, but if I find myself doing either, I want to do them just the way he does.

Which is why I'm pleased as punch to announce the re-launch of Fantasy Magazine! It's looks incredibly awesome!

Oh yeah. That kept me pretty busy, too.

But mostly, I've just been getting ready for the Rainforest Writers Retreat. If I was any more excited, I'd probably need adult diapers.

Which might be easier to shop for than cotton briefs...

Writer's Meh

Meh.

I typically hate that word, but I can't think of any better description of my feelings toward making words the last few days. What's the point?

Scared by the garden

I stepped out into the side yard today and took a look at my winter- and chicken-ravaged garden. YIKES! It's a disaster out there! Soil all over the place (because one old planter finally burst its seams and leaked dirt everywhere); chicken doodie landmines under every step and jet-launched leaves strewn about like the Nordstrom lingerie section after a white sale. Oof!

What is everybody else doing to get ready for the spring growing season? I haven't even glanced at any seed catalogs yet this winter!

Mogwais in Publishing

You remember what happens to a mogwai when it gets wet, right? Can anyone forget the bubbles of fur shooting out poor Gizmo's back? Or the dozens of giggling furball baby mogwai?

That's what happens to a normal person's to-do list when they step into editorial work. And that's not necessarily bad--I mean, who wouldn't want lots and lots of cute giggling furballs to snuggle and play with? It's all a matter of mindset.

Jaym Gates brought this idea up on Facebook: once you put on an editorial hat, the days of tidily checking tasks off a to-do list is out the door. There's no done in a magazine, not as long as the magazine is still operational. Like dishes and laundry, the tasks replenish themselves almost as soon as you wrap them up. That's because the quest for great literature is never over. Every time you find a great story, deep down, you're hoping there's another one, even better, just waiting to be discovered.

Being busy is part and parcel of the game. I think some editorial folks take an obscene joy in their over-worked, stressed-out attitude. But that's not any more help than pretending the work will do itself. I might have just started in this business, but it seems obvious that plugging along bit by bit is the only way not to burn myself out or feel resentful.

As a former serial procrastinator, this is a new lifestyle for me. In college, I lived for deadlines. Plowing through a slug of work at the last moment was my method operandi. But getting old changed me. Or maybe it's just doing work I actually like. But at any rate, I'm not scared of the multiplying duties in my inbox.

I just have to remember not to feed 'em after midnight.

Goodness

Today I am overwhelmed by the sense that I am doing what I am meant to be doing, that my passion has found me and every day is full of something exciting and magical.

I think I have found my place in the world, the place I've always been looking for, that dare-to-be-great sweet spot where my talents are useful and the things I can do count for something.

I want to hold my breath so I don't blow it away!
I want to shout out loud!

And then ordinary life, with its toothbrushes and dirty dishes, reminds me that this is all real.

Slaying the green-eyed monster

You will hear it time and time again: jealousy among writers is bad; being jealous of other writers only proves that you are really insecure; being jealous of other writers' successes only wastes your energy. Those things are probably all true. But that doesn't mean I haven't spent the last several months boiling in a Hot Writing Jealousy Stew. When you're inside that stew, everyone you know seems to be succeeding while you spin your wheels in this business.

The thing about jealousy--or at least my jealousy--is that it's not actually jealousy.

I know, it didn't make sense to me, either. But wait, I'll explain. When my friends had great stuff happen, did I resent those happy moments and want to take them away from my wonderful pals? No. When my fellow ToC-mates got great reviews and my stories languished unmentioned, did I want to tear apart the reviewers and make fun of my fellow book-mates? No.

No, what I said was: Why don't you write anything good enough to get a glowing review? Why didn't you write anything good enough to get in Year's Best Fantasy? Why didn't you get into Anthology X? Are you falling down on the job? Aren't you working hard enough? You stupid loser! Get to work! I hate you!

I hate you. Whoah. Is that really something you should tell yourself every day?

Not that I realized I was saying it. But when I sat around feeling glum that I had no agent when my friends were hanging out with industry hot shots, or gloomy because I didn't meet X standard, I was actually telling myself all kinds of awful stuff. Jealousy was a symptom of some greater dissatisfaction with my life. Once I realized that, then I could do something about it.

You see, what I want most in this world is to write. And in my head, my day job & ordinary reality hold me back from writing. Every time I have a writing achievement, I feel more like a "real writer." The more achievements, the more I feel like I'm growing up and taking up my role as a full-time writer.

Here's the earth-shaking revelation: I spend more time writing than I do cleaning, taking care of my family or going to work. Combined. And that's not because I am winning things or publishing things or getting amazing reviews. But because I love writing and I've re-arranged my life to do it.

If somebody spends 40+ hours a week working as an accountant, wouldn't you call her a real accountant?

So why aren't I are real writer?

If my life dream is to be a writer, then congratulations! I've succeeded! I'm a writer and then some! I'm making overtime at this business.

And as much as I don't want to hear it, maybe what I'm unhappy about is that the rest of my life is calling to me, reminding me to live a little. Maybe knock off a day a week to catch up with reality. Even Stephen King takes the day off now and then.

I guess what I've learned about jealousy is that it's not a waste of time and energy. It's not a feeling your body has stirred up to sabotage your creativity. It's a message from within you. If you don't listen to it, you'll regret it. But once you let it speak its piece, it will leave you alone.

Which is a pretty good thing. Because if there's a second thing I've learned about the green-eyed monster, it's that I look pretty creepy with green eyes.

Mea culpa!

I learned something important today, people: that if you're going to shop for 40th birthday presents for the man you love, you will need chocolate.

Okay, I know, I'm supposed to be dieting (you know, to keep fitting into that vintage wedding dress* I bought that just barely fits), but JEEBUS! Do you know how hard it is to find an affordable zip-front hoodie that doesn't have stupid graphics all over it? Do you know how much board games cost? I had start shopping for airline tickets to WFC as a kind of shopping therapy. Seriously, you can fly to San Diego and back for the same price as most board games. --Only a little hyperbole here.--

Anyway, I know I shouldn't have eaten the chocolate. And I'll probably regret it. Maybe I'll get up early tomorrow morning and go for a run.

Oh. Hey, I think I just sprained something laughing so hard. I don't get up early on Saturdays. I crack myself up. Which burns calories. WIN!

*Dress for a wedding, not "wedding dress." Remember, this wedding is a nylon- and high heel-free zone. It's no place for white lacy floofy shit!

The Guaranteed Results Writing Advice You've Been Waiting For

I have seen a lot of rock-solid short story writing advice the last few days. Christie Yant blogged about what she's learned in a year reading and editing stories at Lightspeed. Mercedes Yardley posted about what she's learned reading slush at Shock Totem. I even attempted a post a week or so ago. But these tidbits of information aren't going to win you the instant success you're looking for. Neither of these ladies is laying it out straight.

Well, it's time for some straight dope. No lying. No cutting corners. This is what it takes to succeed writing short fiction in the spec fic genre marketplace. Follow the steps, and you'll be delivering your Hugo acceptance in no time.

1. Locate the nearest crossroads. From my house, I'd probably pick the on-ramp just west of the Ross Island Bridge, where Highway 26 touches I5 southbound. Another good alternative might be the intersection of Powell Boulevard (Highway 26) and 82nd Ave, since that street is also Highway 213.

2. Locate a living chicken. That's easy. My neighbor has three and they're usually eating birdseed underneath my birdfeeder.

3. Bring chicken to crossroads. This is tricky, since I don't have a pet carrier, and all animals need to be crated to ride the bus. But no serious problem--I'll just borrow one from my sister.

4. Wait until midnight. Luckily, Carl's Jr here on the corner is open until pretty late. I can probably keep myself awake drinking Mt Dew and eating french fries. The chicken would probably appreciate the fries a lot, too.

5. Call upon the powers of darkness. There are plenty to choose from. Satan's always a good choice, as Beezelbub is really into flies, which have those dirty little feet, and the Elder Gods are just really slimy. But if you're willing to put some research into it, I'm sure you can find the right evil demon or underworld-dwelling god to fit your own needs.

6. Light a candle. Or better yet, a bonfire. Evil gods like fire. So do good ones. Pyromania goes hand in hand with omnipotence, I think. It explains why so many men enjoy barbequeing.

7. Sacrifice your chicken and surrender your soul in return for literary success. Ahh, crap. I'm a vegetarian! I can't kill a chicken! Take my soul, please--I don't need it. Wait! Elder Gods! I didn't mean what I said about the slime. Come back!

Come baaaaack!

Damn it. Well, it looks like I'm going to miss out on next year's Hugo ceremony. On the plus side, though, my neighbor still likes me, and I'm totally wound up on caffeine.

Funny animals

Every now and again, you just have to talk about funny animals. Like this guy. I was looking through old pictures--okay, I was looking for cute family photos for a slideshow to have on at the wedding, I admit it!--and I found Chubbles here.

I don't know if you can see it in this picture, but this ground squirrel had rolls on his rolls. He was easily twice as large as the next biggest ground squirrel, and his double chin wobbled when he walked. He had bat-wings made of pudge. Of all the squirrels at this park, he was the one aggressively tasting garbage around the parking lot. He tested a cigarette butt, but deemed it unedible. He came right up to me and begged for food.

I know shouldn't have fed him, but I could resist. When I gave him a piece of rice cake, he zipped off and gave it to the attractive lady squirrel hiding in the grass.

Yep. Damn cute.

The first step

Today I typed the first scene of my next book. (Novel #5 if you're counting.) The five minutes before I actually started typing were brutal. A thousand million doubts leaped into my mind: you don't have enough pre-writing done; you haven't done enough character-building; this isn't the right story; this setting is too dark for the market; why don't you keep doing research on that other project you want to start, that wonderful adult, gothic, tree-licious project that will be so much more fun to write/potentially be critically acclaimed/make a better movie/have a cooler title/ impress more people.

I almost succumbed to the desires to eat a big chunk of chocolate or wash dishes, but I pushed them away. Okay, I didn't actually push away those desires. I actually bellowed "By the power of Orbit gum, I can do this!" and then typed "Chapter One."

Aren't you glad you're not my neighbor? Mine are pretty certain I'm insane.

But 3 sticks of gum later, I have 900 new words about a kid I think I'm going to love and a planet I'm already glad I don't live on. There are still a few doubts malingering around in the back of my brain, but at this moment, I don't feel like I need to listen to them. They'll probably wait at least another 6,000 words before attacking again, at which point in time I will probably need to invest in my favorite flavor of gum: Mint Mojito. It's the little bribes that really get you through these things.

I do feel like today is an auspicious day to start writing this particular book. Today is J.R.R Tolkien's birthday, and I love his books--not for the writing, which can be awkward, but for their amazing sense of place. Tolkien was a master worldbuilder, a creator of place and peoples with a depth like no other. And this book that I'm starting came not from a situational idea or a character, as most of my other projects have begun, but from the thought of a world. I fell in love with a shot in a movie and I wanted to create a world around it.

Little by little, the place evolved. I struggled to make the place make sense and I struggled to figure out what kind of people would (or even could!) live in this cruel environment. I can't say that my main character came easily. I was struggling with her even last week. But a few nights ago, I was in the bath, and a scene played out in my mind. And I knew I had her. The one and only girl who could power this story.

This morning all I had to do was push aside my self and my world and put that girl on paper. And by the power of Orbit gum, I have begun!

Are you getting ready for any new challenges this year? Maybe this will turbo-charge you the way it charged me:

2010: Stats

So here's a report on my booklife, strictly by the numbers:

Short story submissions: 43

Poetry submissions: 2

Novel submissions: 1

Short story acceptances: 6

Poetry acceptances: 1

Novel acceptances: 1

Queries (for agents): 21

Story headers for anthologies: 57

Author spotlights: 3

Author interview: 1

New stories: 10 submittable

New poems: 1

Novels: 1 drafted and revised for submissions; 1 revised with editor for publication.

Slush-read for the Glasswoman Prize.

Began reading slush and related stuff for Fantasy this month.

2011 starts in 2.5 hours. I'd better get cracking if I'm going to top 2010!

Slush it to me!

Confession time: I started reading slush at Fantasy magazine, and I have to say that I like it. 80% of the time, I wind up reading the entire story, because I'm a neurotic jerk like that. I want to know what happens, damn it!

But I've learned something from the process that I desperately hope I can take to my own writing. I've learned after achieving a certain level of craft, there's really one one thing you need to make from my pile of slush to the editor's desk. It's not using fancy metaphors or exotic language. It's not something you could put in a cover letter. It's not anything you could learn in an MFA program. It's just one small thing. Can you guess what it is?

Don't be boring.

Now once the boss-man gets your story, your prose probably gets scrutinized and the publishing schedule gets looked over. Lots and lots of criteria rolls into place. But the biggest hurdle for an unknown writer is making it to the editor's desk in the first place. And all you have to do is manage a reasonable proficiency at writing--while not boring people like me.

There's a lot that goes into not being boring. I brought up some requirements back in March in my post "Lessons from Free Fiction." I back every last claim in that piece, and if I was your critique partner, I would rip through your piece and point out every ugly incidence. On top of those recommendations, I would suggest working on your world-building and character creation. If they're unique and interesting, a slow story can still rock my socks.

Anybody else have any good suggestions to cut the boring right out of your short fiction?

Blogging becomes tricky

There's actually a lot going on in my writing world, but I'm not really able to blog about any of it. I started querying for Novel #4. I'm doing some editorial work. I sold a story, but the anthology is in this weird limbo. I sold a poem, but I'm not sure when it comes out.

On the plus side, I started the notecards for Novel #5 last week. The holidays have slowed everything down, but this afternoon I hope to get more work done and start the first page next Monday. It's a YA project and I hope it pans out. I love the world it's set in.

I don't have any big plans for New Year's Eve, except lunch with a friend and hopefully baked brie for an exciting evening appetizer. Anybody have any favorite baked brie recipes?

True North

Do you know what a lodestone is?

A lodestone is a naturally magnetized piece of the mineral magnetite. In the picture above, you can see the paper clips sticking to the chunk of ordinary-looking rock--it's a lodestone.

In medieval China, navigators developed a compass using the lodestone. Because it will point north, many people associate lodestones with telling direction and finding one's way in the world.

Almost eight years ago, I had lost my way. My plans to go to graduate school clashed with my new role as a single mom (at this point, I was a hugely pregnant emotional mess); I felt alone and I had no passion for anything. After two years of almost rabid environmental campaigning (letter writing and marching and organizing protests about agricultural issues), I felt depressed about the future of the world and powerless to do anything about it. And while I'd always dreamed of being a writer, I felt guilty that the only story ideas I had involved dragons, fairies and vampires. I was ashamed of everything about myself.

At the time, a friend of mine was planning a birthday party, and since she was interested in paganism, I stopped by a magic and herb shop. Nothing seemed like the right gift for my friend, but a display of lodestones caught my eye. It felt like a sign, like an offering from some mysterious spirit. I bought one and kept it in my underwear drawer.

I didn't think much about it, taking it out once in a while to wonder at the tiny iron filings clinging to the stone's black flanks. It wasn't a beautiful stone, but its heft in my hand and magical magnetism fascinated me.

Weeks passed and decisions that had tormented me became easy. I quit my job. I wrote a children's book. I moved in with my mother. I set aside grad school plans and began a novel. Life wasn't easy--I had to move to Portland and take on odd jobs to pay my student loan, while mooching a home from my sister and sucking the food stamp teat--but somehow, I knew which direction I was going. I knew I needed to be a writer.

Sometimes I still take my lodestone out of my underwear drawer and study it. The superstitious part of me deeply believes that this little charcoal-colored stone pulled me back onto my life path. The more rational part believes that my lodestone is simply a beautiful symbol for the love of story that has always been inside me, hidden beneath the chatter of a busy young life. My time alone turned off that chatter and let the truth tug at me.

We must all look for our own true north. For me, it lies in a land of myth and mystery, of fantasy and horror. It lies in the darkest forest of the Realm of Words, the place on the map labeled "Here there be dragons." There are other places in that realm, good places, wonderful to visit. Maybe you pull you.

If they do, you should let thtem.

Picture by Ryan Somma.

Waves & runs

Hi, blog! I just wanted to let you know that I am still alive but I've started some editorial projects that are very absorbing. If you need a bloggy treat, hit up my interview with Blake Charlton over on the Inkpunks blog!

Family & friends

I spend a great deal of time talking about work and writing and the career. And those are really important parts of my life. But this year, I've learned something important: it's the people I love who make my life hold together.

This year, the relationship part of my life blossomed like it's never blossomed before. I made new friends with a remarkable group of people: the Inkpunks, a crew of writers who are incredibly supportive, talented and large-hearted. I have gotten to know a lot of people online, but of them all, this crew has created a special and incredible bond. I am so glad they added me to their lives!

One of the Inkpunks is a remarkable lady who asked me to critique a story for her. I read it, then she read one of mine, and soon we were inseparable critique buddies. Amazingly enough, these first stories we read for each other were purchased by the same editor for the same anthology--our first pro sales. Now we don't just read for each other: we talk every day. Seriously, a day without talking to Christie is weird and empty--and totally unusual.

My very special family has played an extra-wonderful part of my life this year. My wonderful partner, Kaz, asked me to tie the knot after I came back from my trip to England. After a week of single parenting, he not only didn't hate me, he was ready for more! (Which he'll get to try out again this March when I go to the Rainforest Writers Retreat.)

I have so many treasured people in my life, but I often push aside being social. Sometimes the thought of spending time with people is overwhelming. It's easy to say "I'll get together someday." It's easy to say "I've got a deadline coming up." But life doesn't always offer you a someday. This November, another Portland writer I know had a major health disaster. We'd met a time or two and I always thought that someday we'd get together and have coffee again. There was plenty of time for it. But he could have died that weekend, and all those someday's would be gone.

We're having coffee this Friday.

Life is busy. I know my life is only going to get busier. After all, there are a lot of projects on my horizon--and some of them are pretty big. But this year, I'm going to do a better job making time for the people I care about. They are a pretty wonderful part of life.