My Agent Told Me To Make A Blog

What does it mean for an author to be on submission? In a word, angst. Being "on submission" means your agent has pitched your manuscript to editors at publishing houses. As the author, literally the only thing you have to do is wait. And you know what? It's balls. I have no idea when I will get an offer. It could be tomorrow, next month, or next year. I get updates from my agent about rejections, so toward the end of the month, if I haven't heard anything, I know it's only going to be bad news. Meanwhile, a bunch of super big-name publishing houses have my MS in their hands, and I'm sitting here imagining them reading it, and freaking out. Did they read it already? Did they reject it already? Is it still in a pile to be read? Submissions is both better and worse than querying. Querying, when you're soliciting agents to represent you, is generally a first foray into the professional world. At that point, you have no idea if what you've written

If you ever feel frustrated with your writing, like everything is horrible and your book is stupid and everything you write is bad, allow me to leave you with a little tidbit. Everyone feels this way sometimes (or all the time). A friend mentioned to me, "I just wrote the worst line ever written in fiction." To which I replied, "No, you didn't." That very day, I had edited a chapter that, in the first draft, I got so frustrated I ended it thusly: “It’s all right,” she whispered. She hugged her arms around him, and the chilling tingle of her touch was an unexpected comfort. He hugged her back. And then everyone died, the end.

Science fiction has been pushing the boundaries of human imagination for over a hundred years, always presenting us with "what if?" and "imagine!" Even when our scientific awareness of the universe could barely tell up from down, writers toyed with what technology might be able to do and what life on other planets might mean. While this is wonderful and commendable, it's also, a lot of the time, hilarious. The golden age of science fiction produced a lot of very silly movies. They were ahead of their time, but looking back, cinematography has advanced as much as scientific knowledge. Once upon a time, my husband and I gathered a few classic movies, including Forbidden Planet and The Day The Earth Stood Still. They proved so wonderfully, lovably ridiculous, thus was born the Old Sci-Fi Movie Drinking Game. Here are the rules. Drink when you see... Random shots of the space ship Blatant sexism, including but not limited to: girl gets hysterical; girl is u

If you noticed the dearth of blog posts through July, I can offer my explanation. Namely, I went underground, avoided literally everything, and tried to finish a book. And for more than four weeks in a row, I was absolutely certain, "I'll finish it this week !" It mystifies me how these things take so much longer than intended. Near the end of June, I had about 80% of the novel rewritten for a major revision, and just ("just") needed to tie together the climax. This involved two converging POVs and 5 major character arcs, but I had a plan, I swear! I typed out my plan and it seemed sound. Then every day, I'd get a few thousand words farther and realize, wait, that plan doesn't work. So I'd spend a day sorting out a new plan. Inch forward, and throw it out the next day. Repeat. Something very frustrating about writing full-time is that it doesn't bend to my will the way my previously academic career would. In school, lectures took a certain

I finally read American Gods. It's oft talked about, referenced, and used as an example, and it was high time I got my butt through those 465 pages of pure Neil Gaiman bizarro genius. Mostly, when people discuss this book, they sit strongly on one side of the fence or the other: they love it or they hate it. I hate how often and sweepingly that you-love-it-or-you-hate-it statement is made, but in this case, it's so true, I really mean it. In the beginning, I was pretty skeptical--it's weird, it's slow, it's confusing. But with the whole novel under my belt now, I can firmly say I'm in the "love it" camp. It's still definitely freaking weird. But when has anything written by Neil Gaiman not been freaking weird? It's weird in a completely brilliant way. I was also worried about the pacing; critics complain how it's a meander without plot, and I generally hate that kind of book. I was afraid with my tiny, commercial-genre-fiction attention

I'm very fortunate that the non-writers in my life take me and my work seriously (for the most part). Many are not so lucky. If you have a writer friend, here are some gentle reminders... Writing is hard work. - I don't know why writing isn't given the same respect as say, practicing to be a concert pianist or a gourmet chef, but it does require just as much practice, training, understanding of theory, and hours of hard work. It's not as simple as sitting down and transcribing your thoughts onto the page. It's a complicated craft, and a single sentence can represent years of studying theory and wordsmithing. We need community, critique, lots of books to read, and if possible, events and mentors IRL. If you know someone who is working on a novel, respect how much time and dedication it requires. Writing takes a long time. - Similarly, but a slightly different point: a novel takes a long time to write, especially if it's your first. Practiced writers take mo

I gotta talk about something that I encounter on a daily basis from both writers and non-writers: not taking the industry seriously. This presents itself in many forms. Today, I need to gripe about the writers. Let's be clear, I mean writers who want to be published, not innocent hobby writers who want to have fun, share with friends, enjoy some fanfiction, and generally have no expectations for their work. I'm talking about when someone decides they have a story to tell, sit down to write it out, and then expects some publisher to fall at their feet. All of this comes from personal experience and many, many conversations with aspiring writers. Consider it an open letter to all those I've met who are stagnating in their writing careers, yet refuse to listen to the advice given by many (not just me! a dozen other people might have tried to get the same points across!). "I revised it once, I'm good to go."   - A lot of people start writing because they th

I planned to write this post ages ago, but I had a hard time deciding what to say. Then, as time passed, my daily schedule kept changing, and kept changing, and I still have no idea what I'll ultimately settle into. I decided that rather than making one post about my process, it would end up an ongoing series of updates with what I've tried and what I've liked. Because, surprisingly or unsurprisingly, writing really doesn't like to obey a schedule. When I still had the Day Job, I often daydreamed what my perfect writing schedule would be like. I'd start every morning with a critique, to get the engines warmed up, then have several hours of writing time. After lunch would be an hour or two for dog walks, parrot training, house work, groceries, and all those menial not-writing things, then back at it for afternoon writing. In the evening I'd practice the cello somewhere after dinner, and read for an hour before bed. And I totally wrote out this whole thing very

Aksdfajhdslkfalksfkjs I don't know what to say. I'm at a loss for words. I edited, and edited. I got an agent! And we edited more, and even more. We fixed the middle, the ending, the main character, the love interest--then we fixed all the problems created by accident while doing so. I got tired of friends and coworkers constantly asking if I'd sold my book yet. The last round of revisions took me more than five months. Some of that included job-quitting and house-moving, so technically more like three months. Still, there was a lot of rewriting, stitching together, throwing out chapters, and a constant worry of, "Oh god I've made it worse, she's going to hate it." It's probably 90% changed from the first draft by now. After I sent it back to Agent, my timing was so wonderful, two other clients also sent manuscripts back at the same time, and on top of it Agent had to go and get married, sheesh! Understandably, mine took a while to get to. Wh

Writers are quirky, hermit-like creatures who talk weirdly and follow trains of thought off cliffs. I think we would all admit this. It's interesting, however, to see how writers are depicted in film. Some writer-characters are hilariously accurate, with constant drafting, throwing out those drafts, and being "almost" done forever. Also with the "this is totally for my writing" excuse for literally every bizarre thing they/we do. But I want to zero in on a specific characteristic I noticed that irks me: when we get examples of how amazing their writing is, it's ridiculous. This may step on the toes of the "literary is the only quality writing" debate, but sometimes I feel like these script-writers haven't heard the other side of that argument. Because every example of a character's "great" writing is... the most over-the-top, flowery, metaphorical purple prose you've ever seen. I'm sure I'm overgeneralizing; I do t

I've finally realized what the worst, hardest, most frustrating thing about writing is for me. It took a few instances across a few different projects, but I've just noticed this is consistently the thing that sticks me in one place for weeks on end. Editing a chapter to finally work, then realize it doesn't work and have to scrap it. Multiple times in a row. Ending of my first book? A month of rewriting and throwing out chapters. Beginning of my second book? Another month of rewriting and throwing out chapters. In the drafting stages, I can get through it by reminding myself that I can fix all this crap later. In the editing stages, it is "later," and time to fix that crap. It's never the same issue twice, so it's not like I can predict and avoid. I suppose it's related to the fact that I largely "discovery write," and ideas crystallize as words form on the page. I may write through an entire scene, and then realize near the end there

Some more flash fiction for you today - and this one had to be less than 350 words. It's for weekly flash fiction practice my friends and I have started among ourselves, so expect more of these in the future! The prompt for this one was "silver." --- Time warped around Yellow and spat her out with the familiar pop . Jungle shrubs warped into flat counters; trees melted together to form walls; the stream solidified into a long carpet. She wobbled and clutched a hand to her head. “Oh dear.” A fashionably dressed couple glanced at her with matching frowns. In front of them, a confused mess of colors passed for a priceless painting. Yellow whirled around, gaze sliding over the array of clashed-color art, until—there. A track of mud on the tiled floor. She scrambled after it. “What happened to the Endari leader?” she muttered to herself. “Oh, the intern lost her somewhere in time.” She slid around a corner, arms flailing for balance.

A while back, I gushed about how awesome the solar system is , and gave a very brief overview of details I've learned about each planet. However, I felt I needed to give some extra attention to one of the planet that most "wows" me: Venus. (There may be another post in the future about the ice giants, which are a close second). The thing about Venus is how ferociously, cosmically, scorchingly inhospitable it is. I mean, all the not-Earth-or-Mars planets are pretty inhospitable, but Venus impresses me beyond the rest. Acid rain and metal snow, a molten surface that our probes can barely survive--it's fierce, man. I never thought much of it until I watched a planetarium show that demonstrated these aspects in blazing panoramic color. Venus has a few interesting quirks. The sun rises in the west and sets in the east. It has no moons. The planet itself rotates slowly, but the atmosphere whips around at hurricane speeds. A lot of old sci-fi speculated Venus to

I haven't done a signing yet, because I don't have a published book yet. I can imagine how that stage of the process must be exciting yet also terrifying; after months of hiding in your house talking to yourself in a word processor, it's time to go out and convince members of your community to buy and read the thing! As a writer myself, I'm a) instantly drawn to book-seller tables and b) overly compassionate toward local authors. I want to buy their book even if I'm pretty sure I won't like it. Unfortunately, some people make it pretty hard for me to keep wanting to buy their book. I mean, really, the cards are stacked in your favour--all you have to do is be polite and engaging, and I'm gonna buy it because you're a local author. Examples of what I'm talking about are people with tables at local fairs, festivals, and markets. I live in a small state, and we get really excited about local authors. When someone is pushy and condescending, it rea

I want to leave you with this little tidbit today. You know how when cows give birth, it's called calving? Guess what it's called when alpacas give birth. Unpacking. To use it in a sentence (a real quote from a veterinarian): "I have to go unpack an alpaca."

I've been keeping up with my flash fiction practice, so keep an eye out for more posts in the future! This is an older one, with a prompt given to a group of my writer friends. The prompt was to write about a character who has the ability to move heat like a heat pump, to an extreme degree. --- Chains of ice suspended the prisoner between walls of frozen steel. The chill in the air permeated every corner of the cell and sank into bone. His lone visitor had been outfitted in the same temperature-resistant suit that held the heat to her just as it prevented heat from reaching him. She stared at him through the glass of her helmet, and he met her gaze. “You idiot,” she said. Tears beaded at the corners of her eyes. “How could you let yourself get caught?” “Ten more seconds,” he replied, “and I could have drained the shield generator.” “It’s not worth losing you.” He thought he heard something deeper in her tone, but she cleared her throat. “You’re our strongest weapon.” “

The past few months have been adventurous. We bought a house, which involved all the annoying house-buying paperwork and errands that you'd expect. We then moved house, which of course involved all the annoying moving that you'd expect. We have an additional cat, who's the best cat of all so far. I set up an office, with a new desk, chair, and shelving that I assembled all myself. And a beanbag chair that the cats like to monopolize. As far as reading goes, I've started American Gods , finished the Writing Excuses anthology Shadows Beneath , and am working through a collection of Lovecraftian Cthulhu-mythos short stories. Oh! and I quickly reread A Wrinkle in Time in preparation for the movie. Writing-wise, I've made a lot of important progress. I was stuck on a major revision for months. Like, point-of-nervous-breakdown stuck-- so much had to be changed, gutted, and rewritten. There were certain chapters that took weeks of writing, throwing out, and rewr