Thought some of you might like to see how one writer's work goes, so I've collected some stats on my first 3 days of NaNoWriMo.
TITLE: Discovery
TAG LINE: Can the discovery of an alien ship help a nun in crisis discover God's purpose for her?
PLOT: Sr. Rita is torn between her vows and her love for James Smith. To escape the need to make a decision, she flees the university where she teaches, her order, and even the Earth by joining the Order of Our Lady of the Rescue. Nonetheless, she cannot escape memories of James. When ColeCorp, an interplanetary conglomerate with interests in everything from education to asteroid mining, discovers a crashed alien ship in the Kuiper Belt, it assembles a team of researchers and miners to explore the ship and bring it back to Luna for further study. They hire the "Rescue Sisters" Sr. Rita and Sr. Ann, to oversee safety. But when they also hire archaeologist James Smith, Rita must face dangers of the soul as well as those of space.
WORDS WRITTEN: 6,700
"HOLES" IN STORY (where I write "describe," "need problems," "brilliant idea" because I can't think of anything at the moment): 12
TECH (need technical info): 5
WORDS (couldn't think of the right word, so I stuck in a substitute): 19
HELP: (Need technical advice, quotes, etc. from others): 6
ROOMS I'VE WRITTEN IN: 4--(schoolroom, kitchen, bedroom (in bed, ont he couch, and standing with the computer perched ont he ironing board), bathroom. The joy of laptops)
THINGS I'VE DONE WHILE WRITING: teach, cook, clean, exercise, chat with friends (Yahoo IM, both distraction and aid!), and tweaked my website for ISIG. And I've fallen asleep over the computer a few times.
The point? Writing is a messy process. Not every writer has their novel spring fully formed from their minds like some kind of Greek god. Nor does every writer thoroughly research their ideas beforehand. In this case, I had only a general idea what I needed until I started writing. Writers don't always have the correct words or phrases; some of the best writing comes after struggle and re-write.
While some people function best when in a place specially set aside for their craft, some of us squeeze it in wherever and whenever we can.
Nor do writers need to do it alone. I'm only on chapter 3, and already I need to find people to help me with zero g physics, distributive economics, hypoxia, and changing religious orders. I've already sent questions to the Sisters of Charity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Catholic Economic justice Society, a physicist friend, and my writers group. When Rob gets back from TDY, he's going to devote a few hours to my questions, holes, and words as well.
The important thing in all of this is that the words are getting written. Jumbled, messy, full of questions and ????, they nonetheless tell a story that, with time and editing, will flow as smoothly as if dictated by the Muses themselves.
(There's a great analogy for Catholic SF--maybe I'd better tag that "reword.")
Now, I've written way too many words that should be going to the novel. Until Tues!
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Misc details before NaNoWriMo
NaNoWriMo begins in 45 minutes. Don't think I'll inaugurate it by some midnight writing like I'd planned. I had to take Rob (my wonderful loving, Air Force argument husband) to the airport at O-It's-Early this morning and I'm tuckered out. He's anticipating in Wargames in Hawaii for 2 weeks. Our anniversary is next week. He's spending our anniversary in HI. I told him to enjoy the irony.
I plan to be mostly incognito this month as I gamely try to squeeze 50,000 coherent words into one month full of homeschooling, four children, a house to keep, the Catholic Writers' Guild elections, three deadlines and no hubby to help for 2 weeks. St. Jude, pray for us!
If anyone knows anything about asteroid mining, the Kuiper belt, or interplanetary travel and would like to help me with the tech., please contact me!
I've got a new blog going: www.virtualbooktourdenet.blogspot.com. Come check it out for book reviews and synopses. If you have a book you'd like listed, please check out the site and follow the rules on the first post.
I've got a new website dedicated to our book Infinite Space, Infinite God. Check it out at http://isigsf.tripod.com. Leave me a note in the guest book.
King Kluck did not make it to mummification for Halloween. Dare we try Thanksgiving? That would certainly make a memorable holiday...
I'll continue to post this month, though it I may post links to other folks' blogs or articles I've seen lately. Or I may post snippets of what I've written.
I'll finish the links page when I come back from NaNoVille. If you have a link you'd like me to post, please contact me. I'd appreciate you posting my link in return.
I plan to be mostly incognito this month as I gamely try to squeeze 50,000 coherent words into one month full of homeschooling, four children, a house to keep, the Catholic Writers' Guild elections, three deadlines and no hubby to help for 2 weeks. St. Jude, pray for us!
If anyone knows anything about asteroid mining, the Kuiper belt, or interplanetary travel and would like to help me with the tech., please contact me!
I've got a new blog going: www.virtualbooktourdenet.blogspot.com. Come check it out for book reviews and synopses. If you have a book you'd like listed, please check out the site and follow the rules on the first post.
I've got a new website dedicated to our book Infinite Space, Infinite God. Check it out at http://isigsf.tripod.com. Leave me a note in the guest book.
King Kluck did not make it to mummification for Halloween. Dare we try Thanksgiving? That would certainly make a memorable holiday...
I'll continue to post this month, though it I may post links to other folks' blogs or articles I've seen lately. Or I may post snippets of what I've written.
I'll finish the links page when I come back from NaNoVille. If you have a link you'd like me to post, please contact me. I'd appreciate you posting my link in return.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Indiana Mom and the Temple of Kluck
(The title gives you an idea of the state of my house lately...)
It was a dark and stormy day...
Even worse, it was salt changing time in the Temple of Kluck. Looking at the weather outside, I decided to risk contagion and "Do the Kluck" in the house. That didn't last long.
"AARGH! Is that King Kluck?" my teenage son asked from down the hall. (For the full effect, say that sentence out loud while hoding your nose.)
I hadn't even opened the bag yet. While the boys prepared the salt mixture, I took our odiferous odyssey to the front porch.
"EW! What's that smell? Is that King Kluck?" demanded the neighbor's girl, who was at our driveway and could not see the pale salty corpse. As you can see, or more to the point, smell, our fetid fowl has achieved neighborhood fame. She decided to enter through the garage.
Jokes aside, the smell has faded, but it's still strong enough to make me wonder how the ancient Egyptian priests could put up with such a disgusting duty, especially for 40 days.
Once the salt was off, I checked the chicken for signs of mummification. Last time, I'd noticed how the decomposing muscle tissue and water loss had made the skin loose. Today, I discovered something new: Some of the meat, especially around the openings and lean areas, had become hard. However, the more fatty areas like the breast and thighs, were not the consistency of gel. The effect was a squishy layer you could form. It reminded me of one of those gross toys I refused to let the kids spend their allowance on.
Still, had I found a fringe benefit to mummification duty? "Hey, look, Ank-Atar! I can form a relief map of the valley of the Kings on his chest!" Or maybe they considered it meditative, like one of those squishy stress balls...
Whatever, the boys were not interested in the phenomenon. They patiently listened and watched as I showed them the discovery--this was their school project, after all--but at a distance and with their noses held firmly plugged.
Afterwards, I found I needed another long shower to excise the smell.
Still, it's been an interesting experience. Squish, squish, squish.
It was a dark and stormy day...
Even worse, it was salt changing time in the Temple of Kluck. Looking at the weather outside, I decided to risk contagion and "Do the Kluck" in the house. That didn't last long.
"AARGH! Is that King Kluck?" my teenage son asked from down the hall. (For the full effect, say that sentence out loud while hoding your nose.)
I hadn't even opened the bag yet. While the boys prepared the salt mixture, I took our odiferous odyssey to the front porch.
"EW! What's that smell? Is that King Kluck?" demanded the neighbor's girl, who was at our driveway and could not see the pale salty corpse. As you can see, or more to the point, smell, our fetid fowl has achieved neighborhood fame. She decided to enter through the garage.
Jokes aside, the smell has faded, but it's still strong enough to make me wonder how the ancient Egyptian priests could put up with such a disgusting duty, especially for 40 days.
Once the salt was off, I checked the chicken for signs of mummification. Last time, I'd noticed how the decomposing muscle tissue and water loss had made the skin loose. Today, I discovered something new: Some of the meat, especially around the openings and lean areas, had become hard. However, the more fatty areas like the breast and thighs, were not the consistency of gel. The effect was a squishy layer you could form. It reminded me of one of those gross toys I refused to let the kids spend their allowance on.
Still, had I found a fringe benefit to mummification duty? "Hey, look, Ank-Atar! I can form a relief map of the valley of the Kings on his chest!" Or maybe they considered it meditative, like one of those squishy stress balls...
Whatever, the boys were not interested in the phenomenon. They patiently listened and watched as I showed them the discovery--this was their school project, after all--but at a distance and with their noses held firmly plugged.
Afterwards, I found I needed another long shower to excise the smell.
Still, it's been an interesting experience. Squish, squish, squish.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
WRITING: I Can't Get Code Satisfaction
I was up until 2 AM trying to fix fabianspace and start up a new website http://isigsf.tripod.com. (Go check it out. It's actually very nice now.)
This pretty much describes my day and night....
(To the Rolling Stone's "I Can't Get No Satisfaction.")
I can't get code satisfaction,
I can't get no website action.
'Cause I type and I try and I type and I try.
I can't get no, I can't get no.
When I'm sittin' at my desk
and that error comes up on my screen
and it's tellin' me "No, no, no!"
but it's just useless information
I've the wrong kind of imagination.
I can't get no, oh no code no.
Hey hey hey, that's what I say.
I can't get code satisfaction,
I can't get no website action.
'Cause I type and I try and I type and I try.
I can't get no, I can't get no.
When I'm watchin' on my screen
My colors are wrong, universe page gone and
Links and Books look the same.
Plus it can't be a blog 'cause it's showing code
in the spot where the blog should be.
I can't get no, oh no code no.
Hey hey hey, that's what I say.
I can't get code satisfaction,
I can't get no website action.
'Cause I type and I try and I type and I try..
I can't get no, I can't get no.
When I take webbuilding class
and I'm doin' this and I'm trying that
and I'm tryin' to make some site
that tells me baby better come back later next week
'cause I see you're on losing streak.
I can't get no, oh no code no.
Hey hey hey, that's what I say.
I can't get code satisfaction,
I can't get no website action.
'Cause I type and I try and I type and I try.
This pretty much describes my day and night....
(To the Rolling Stone's "I Can't Get No Satisfaction.")
I can't get code satisfaction,
I can't get no website action.
'Cause I type and I try and I type and I try.
I can't get no, I can't get no.
When I'm sittin' at my desk
and that error comes up on my screen
and it's tellin' me "No, no, no!"
but it's just useless information
I've the wrong kind of imagination.
I can't get no, oh no code no.
Hey hey hey, that's what I say.
I can't get code satisfaction,
I can't get no website action.
'Cause I type and I try and I type and I try.
I can't get no, I can't get no.
When I'm watchin' on my screen
My colors are wrong, universe page gone and
Links and Books look the same.
Plus it can't be a blog 'cause it's showing code
in the spot where the blog should be.
I can't get no, oh no code no.
Hey hey hey, that's what I say.
I can't get code satisfaction,
I can't get no website action.
'Cause I type and I try and I type and I try..
I can't get no, I can't get no.
When I take webbuilding class
and I'm doin' this and I'm trying that
and I'm tryin' to make some site
that tells me baby better come back later next week
'cause I see you're on losing streak.
I can't get no, oh no code no.
Hey hey hey, that's what I say.
I can't get code satisfaction,
I can't get no website action.
'Cause I type and I try and I type and I try.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Latest Peep on King Kluck
The saga continues...
Yep, we are continuing our chicken mummification project. Almost three weeks and four salt changes later, the...educational...aroma of our fetid fowl has abated somewhat. Now it's more prone to surprise attacks on the senses. Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the bag...
The neighborhood kids know the King Kluck theme song. The favorite verse seems to be "Smells just like a diaper/makes the dog go hyper/King Kluck!" It's made for a few trying moments around the dinner table.
I heard from a homeschooling family in Australia who tried to mummify a duck. It was an impromptu decision, apparently: the duck attacked Dad, who blasted it with his shotgun. (Classic self defense. Can't be too careful with a murderous out-of-control duck.) her boys didn't want to pluck it, so they decided to "mummify" it by leaving it outside. Once it was--what? hard and dry?--they planned to make it into a hat. A Father's day gift, I'm sure. Apprarently a fox, no doubt interested in furthering its education, absconded with it. Sounds like a happy ending for fox, Dad and Mom to me.
Remember how the Pharaohs had slaves buried with them? We almost had chicken minions for King Kluck. In a laudable fit of domesticity, I decided to cook three dinners at once: chili, curry beef and crock-pot chicken. In a shameful episode of domestic apathy, I neglected to put the chicken in the refrigerator. The next morning it was pink. Yes, Pink! I was tempted to wrap them in linen and put them next to King Kluck. At least they didn't smell.
Thus the Saga of the Kluck King continues. We're pretty certain we can hang to the end--but I'm considering buying a solid air freshener to shove up his cavity.
Wonder if Anubis would weigh that instead of his heart?
Yep, we are continuing our chicken mummification project. Almost three weeks and four salt changes later, the...educational...aroma of our fetid fowl has abated somewhat. Now it's more prone to surprise attacks on the senses. Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the bag...
The neighborhood kids know the King Kluck theme song. The favorite verse seems to be "Smells just like a diaper/makes the dog go hyper/King Kluck!" It's made for a few trying moments around the dinner table.
I heard from a homeschooling family in Australia who tried to mummify a duck. It was an impromptu decision, apparently: the duck attacked Dad, who blasted it with his shotgun. (Classic self defense. Can't be too careful with a murderous out-of-control duck.) her boys didn't want to pluck it, so they decided to "mummify" it by leaving it outside. Once it was--what? hard and dry?--they planned to make it into a hat. A Father's day gift, I'm sure. Apprarently a fox, no doubt interested in furthering its education, absconded with it. Sounds like a happy ending for fox, Dad and Mom to me.
Remember how the Pharaohs had slaves buried with them? We almost had chicken minions for King Kluck. In a laudable fit of domesticity, I decided to cook three dinners at once: chili, curry beef and crock-pot chicken. In a shameful episode of domestic apathy, I neglected to put the chicken in the refrigerator. The next morning it was pink. Yes, Pink! I was tempted to wrap them in linen and put them next to King Kluck. At least they didn't smell.
Thus the Saga of the Kluck King continues. We're pretty certain we can hang to the end--but I'm considering buying a solid air freshener to shove up his cavity.
Wonder if Anubis would weigh that instead of his heart?
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Virtual Book Tour
I'm at an on-line writing conference this week and Carolyn Howard-Johnson mentioned the concept of a virtual book tour, where you visit other folks' blogs and tell a little about your book.
I thought it'd be fun to host one. So, I've started a new blog: if you have a book you want to tell folks about, send me a 200-word summary at comment (at) fabianspace (dot) com. All I ask is that I'm invited to visit your blog in return.
I've got a conference and NaNoWriMo to keep me busy until November, so the site will have a December Grand Opening!
I thought it'd be fun to host one. So, I've started a new blog: if you have a book you want to tell folks about, send me a 200-word summary at comment (at) fabianspace (dot) com. All I ask is that I'm invited to visit your blog in return.
I've got a conference and NaNoWriMo to keep me busy until November, so the site will have a December Grand Opening!
Sunday, October 08, 2006
King Kluck Filk
Changed out the salts on King Kluck today. The neighborhood kids all came to see. Watching from a distance, Alex felt moved to comment, "You're attracting flies, Mom."
One girl said wistfully, "Wish we could do projects like that."
The smell fills the garage and on occasion permeates the walls. I invited my mother-in-law to see their project and she said, "I've smelled it."
The kids wanted to know why he smelled so bad. Rob said because he's tearing up all his songs. After all, he's de-composing!
Anyway, there's just no better way to express my feelings about all of this than in a song. (Sung to--you guessed it--"King Tut.")
You know, one of the fowl-est homeschool projects ever to grace the Fabian garage is the Mummification of King Kluck!
(King Kluck)
(King Kluck)
When Bauer wrote her hist'ry,
She never thought she'd see,
(King Kluck)
A Momma's eyes a-burning,
While making a mummy.
(King Kluck)
How'd you get so funky?
(Funky Kluck)
You're really smelling skunky.
(One he was free-range; now, he just smells strange, King Kluck)
(King Kluck)
Now if I'd known,
The stench would fill my home,
(King Kluck)
I'd've bought de-odorizer,
To kill that foul arome.
(King Kluck)
Bathed in cheap merlot,
(Funky Kluck)
Covered in oregano.
(Smells like a diaper; makes the dogs go hyper, King Kluck)
Change his salt out in the yard,
(We're all gagging)
The local kids think he's a star.
(Gross Kluck)
Stinkin' for a mile,
(Stinkin' Kluck)
We just grit our teeth and smile.
The garage will never be the same...
(King Kluck)
(Kluck, Kluck, Kluck, Kluck...)
Soggy salt stuff!
He's an Ovarian!
(King Kluck)
Technically, trans-genderin'
(Female Kluck)
Now when I die,
Now don't think I'm a nut.
(King Kluck)
Don't want no fancy funeral,
Just don't treat me like King Kluck!
(King Kluck)
He might make it to a mummy,
(Mummy Kluck)
If he'd only smell less scummy.
(Kids won't smell him on a dare, but the cat don't seem to care, he's fetid and he's fowl)
But we've learned a lot--and how!
(From King Kluck)
One girl said wistfully, "Wish we could do projects like that."
The smell fills the garage and on occasion permeates the walls. I invited my mother-in-law to see their project and she said, "I've smelled it."
The kids wanted to know why he smelled so bad. Rob said because he's tearing up all his songs. After all, he's de-composing!
Anyway, there's just no better way to express my feelings about all of this than in a song. (Sung to--you guessed it--"King Tut.")
You know, one of the fowl-est homeschool projects ever to grace the Fabian garage is the Mummification of King Kluck!
(King Kluck)
(King Kluck)
When Bauer wrote her hist'ry,
She never thought she'd see,
(King Kluck)
A Momma's eyes a-burning,
While making a mummy.
(King Kluck)
How'd you get so funky?
(Funky Kluck)
You're really smelling skunky.
(One he was free-range; now, he just smells strange, King Kluck)
(King Kluck)
Now if I'd known,
The stench would fill my home,
(King Kluck)
I'd've bought de-odorizer,
To kill that foul arome.
(King Kluck)
Bathed in cheap merlot,
(Funky Kluck)
Covered in oregano.
(Smells like a diaper; makes the dogs go hyper, King Kluck)
Change his salt out in the yard,
(We're all gagging)
The local kids think he's a star.
(Gross Kluck)
Stinkin' for a mile,
(Stinkin' Kluck)
We just grit our teeth and smile.
The garage will never be the same...
(King Kluck)
(Kluck, Kluck, Kluck, Kluck...)
Soggy salt stuff!
He's an Ovarian!
(King Kluck)
Technically, trans-genderin'
(Female Kluck)
Now when I die,
Now don't think I'm a nut.
(King Kluck)
Don't want no fancy funeral,
Just don't treat me like King Kluck!
(King Kluck)
He might make it to a mummy,
(Mummy Kluck)
If he'd only smell less scummy.
(Kids won't smell him on a dare, but the cat don't seem to care, he's fetid and he's fowl)
But we've learned a lot--and how!
(From King Kluck)
Monday, October 02, 2006
HOMESCHOOLING: Mummification Most Foul
You do not know the meaning of "stench" until you've tried to mummify a chicken.
It looked like such a neat project in the book: mummify an actual chicken. Make your own King Cluck! How cool can that be? Well, my older two kids refused to try, but my younger boys were game.
The older ones were by far the smarter.
For weeks, the Alex and Liam bothered me about when we'd mummify our clucker, so on Thursday, they were bouncing with excitement when I pulled it out of the fridge to start the project...
Until I told them we had to pull out its guts first.
They're boys! How can they get so squeamish about some giblets in a bag?
Well, Mom came to the rescue and it was decided to trash the giblets since the book said they'd stink even after mummification. (Of course, I'm savoring the irony of that statement now.) In the grand tradition of Fabian First Aid supplies, the rubbing alcohol had disappeared, so we decided to do things the Egyptian way and bathed it in wine.
Merlot, actually. Napoleonic Egyptians.
The boys were more than happy to mix the salt, baking soda and baking powder, plus the herbs "to improve the smell." The instructions said to double-baggie it, but not what to do with it then, so it sat on the counter.
Friday, according to instructions, we (read Mom) went to brush off the salt, which had absorbed the moisture of the chicken. While the boys made a new batch of salt, I opened the baggie--filling the kitchen with an aroma that defies description.
Think baby diaper, open sewage plant, and the Rappahannock River on a really off day. With oregano.
But it's all part of the learning experience right? So I wiped down King Cluck--now King Cluck-Awk!-Oh, Man! in honor of his royal stink. We filled him again with salt and double-baggied. This time, he went into the garage. We have to open the garage door regularly to air it out, but it's bearable.
Today was change the salt day. I was alone in this endeavor.
I didn't get to it until late evening, and while the older kids did homework in the school room, I dragged the malodorous, foulodorous project out of the garage. It immediately announced its presence.
"What's that Stench?!" Rob exclaimed.
"King Cluck! Be done with him in a minute!"
Well, it was more like 10 minutes of tending the fetorous foul, followed by 20 minutes of sterilizing everything from counters to floors to gloves. I bumped it against our Pur water filter. It may never be Pur again. I found the rubbing alcohol and used about half of it. Afterward, I took a long shower. We've discovered new meaning for the word "foul."
And the smell? Well, it's crept all around the house. I've got the windows and doors open downstairs and all the vent fans on. Rob has the window fan putting positive pressure in our room to keep the reek out. The dog is hiding up there, but the cat's being nonchalant about it all.
Next phase is Saturday. It will definitely be done outside.
I'm not sure if we'll be able to go the distance in preparing Ol' King Cluck for the Egyptian afterlife, but I if we do, I have a pretty good idea what Anubis will say.
And it's not, "Is that oregano?"
It looked like such a neat project in the book: mummify an actual chicken. Make your own King Cluck! How cool can that be? Well, my older two kids refused to try, but my younger boys were game.
The older ones were by far the smarter.
For weeks, the Alex and Liam bothered me about when we'd mummify our clucker, so on Thursday, they were bouncing with excitement when I pulled it out of the fridge to start the project...
Until I told them we had to pull out its guts first.
They're boys! How can they get so squeamish about some giblets in a bag?
Well, Mom came to the rescue and it was decided to trash the giblets since the book said they'd stink even after mummification. (Of course, I'm savoring the irony of that statement now.) In the grand tradition of Fabian First Aid supplies, the rubbing alcohol had disappeared, so we decided to do things the Egyptian way and bathed it in wine.
Merlot, actually. Napoleonic Egyptians.
The boys were more than happy to mix the salt, baking soda and baking powder, plus the herbs "to improve the smell." The instructions said to double-baggie it, but not what to do with it then, so it sat on the counter.
Friday, according to instructions, we (read Mom) went to brush off the salt, which had absorbed the moisture of the chicken. While the boys made a new batch of salt, I opened the baggie--filling the kitchen with an aroma that defies description.
Think baby diaper, open sewage plant, and the Rappahannock River on a really off day. With oregano.
But it's all part of the learning experience right? So I wiped down King Cluck--now King Cluck-Awk!-Oh, Man! in honor of his royal stink. We filled him again with salt and double-baggied. This time, he went into the garage. We have to open the garage door regularly to air it out, but it's bearable.
Today was change the salt day. I was alone in this endeavor.
I didn't get to it until late evening, and while the older kids did homework in the school room, I dragged the malodorous, foulodorous project out of the garage. It immediately announced its presence.
"What's that Stench?!" Rob exclaimed.
"King Cluck! Be done with him in a minute!"
Well, it was more like 10 minutes of tending the fetorous foul, followed by 20 minutes of sterilizing everything from counters to floors to gloves. I bumped it against our Pur water filter. It may never be Pur again. I found the rubbing alcohol and used about half of it. Afterward, I took a long shower. We've discovered new meaning for the word "foul."
And the smell? Well, it's crept all around the house. I've got the windows and doors open downstairs and all the vent fans on. Rob has the window fan putting positive pressure in our room to keep the reek out. The dog is hiding up there, but the cat's being nonchalant about it all.
Next phase is Saturday. It will definitely be done outside.
I'm not sure if we'll be able to go the distance in preparing Ol' King Cluck for the Egyptian afterlife, but I if we do, I have a pretty good idea what Anubis will say.
And it's not, "Is that oregano?"
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Now Here's a Good Use of Frequent Flyer Miles!
What amazes me is that VG let him stockpile so many! I wonder what special fees are involved? Mostly, though, I'm just envious.
Rob's already announced if we ever have $200,000 to spare, he wants to go. (Fat chance, but I wish I could give it to him.)
London man uses air miles for space trip
LONDON, Sept. 29 (UPI) -- A London man has become the first person to exchange his frequent flier miles for a trip into space with Virgin Galactic.
Electrician Alan Watts said he flew to and from the United States on Virgin Atlantic flights more than 40 times in the past six years, earning him enough miles to take the trip into space with Virgin's space wing, London's The Sun newspaper reported Friday. The trip cost 2 million frequent flier miles, compared to the 90,000 miles required for a first-class flight from London to New York.
Watts said his daughter convinced him to sign up for the trip, scheduled for 2009.
"My daughter said to me 'if nothing else think about the view you would get out of the window,'" he told The Sun.
"I'm glad I decided to do it -- I would be kicking myself if I didn't. It really is a once in a lifetime experience. The more I think about it the more I get excited."
Virgin Galactic, which expects to begin flights in 2008, has been building five spaceships and two aircraft for its planned voyages, which will last 2 1/2 hours and include five minutes in zero gravity. Tickets cost nearly $200,000 each.
Rob's already announced if we ever have $200,000 to spare, he wants to go. (Fat chance, but I wish I could give it to him.)
London man uses air miles for space trip
LONDON, Sept. 29 (UPI) -- A London man has become the first person to exchange his frequent flier miles for a trip into space with Virgin Galactic.
Electrician Alan Watts said he flew to and from the United States on Virgin Atlantic flights more than 40 times in the past six years, earning him enough miles to take the trip into space with Virgin's space wing, London's The Sun newspaper reported Friday. The trip cost 2 million frequent flier miles, compared to the 90,000 miles required for a first-class flight from London to New York.
Watts said his daughter convinced him to sign up for the trip, scheduled for 2009.
"My daughter said to me 'if nothing else think about the view you would get out of the window,'" he told The Sun.
"I'm glad I decided to do it -- I would be kicking myself if I didn't. It really is a once in a lifetime experience. The more I think about it the more I get excited."
Virgin Galactic, which expects to begin flights in 2008, has been building five spaceships and two aircraft for its planned voyages, which will last 2 1/2 hours and include five minutes in zero gravity. Tickets cost nearly $200,000 each.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
WRITING: Faith in Fiction Workshop
On October 11, I'll be giving (with three friends who are talented authors) a workshop on Faith in Fiction at the Muse Online Writers' Conference.
The whole concept of an online conference is truly cool. In this way, we're not bound by money or space or even physical ability. If you write and have a computer and Internet access, you're a go for the conference! In addition to live chat workshops, many of the folks giving workshops are providing their e-mail addresses to answer questions for those who can't make a 12:30 AM (their time zone) chat.
Even better, the conference is FREE!
The conference looks terrific! There are workshops on poetry, ghost writing, publishing, journaling, improving your writing and improving your marketing. There are authors, editors, publishers and instructors to meet. There's lots of free stuff, including an e-book interview of Piers Anthony!
The conference runs Oct 9-13. The registration ends Oct 1, so go sign up now. Hope to e-see you there!
The whole concept of an online conference is truly cool. In this way, we're not bound by money or space or even physical ability. If you write and have a computer and Internet access, you're a go for the conference! In addition to live chat workshops, many of the folks giving workshops are providing their e-mail addresses to answer questions for those who can't make a 12:30 AM (their time zone) chat.
Even better, the conference is FREE!
The conference looks terrific! There are workshops on poetry, ghost writing, publishing, journaling, improving your writing and improving your marketing. There are authors, editors, publishers and instructors to meet. There's lots of free stuff, including an e-book interview of Piers Anthony!
The conference runs Oct 9-13. The registration ends Oct 1, so go sign up now. Hope to e-see you there!
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Announcing "my" new book
Finally, it's out! Yay! The e-book comes out Sept 25. If you don't like reading off the computer, wait a few months and it'll be out in print!
Please pass the word to your friends!
Hey--is that religion in my science fiction or science fiction in my religion? The writers of the Catholic SF anthology Infinite Space, Infinite God (available at Twilight Times Books) have so seamlessly combined the two that it's hard to tell.
Infinite Space, Infinite God is an anthology of fifteen stories about the future Catholic Church: its struggles to evangelize aliens and lost human colonies and to determine the soul-status for genetically modified humans, genetically-designed chimeras, and clones made from the Martian sand; the adventures of religious orders devoted to protecting interstellar travelers or inner-city priests; and how technical advances allow monks to live in solitude on the Moon and help one criminal learn the true meaning of Confession.
Please pass the word to your friends!
Hey--is that religion in my science fiction or science fiction in my religion? The writers of the Catholic SF anthology Infinite Space, Infinite God (available at Twilight Times Books) have so seamlessly combined the two that it's hard to tell.
Infinite Space, Infinite God is an anthology of fifteen stories about the future Catholic Church: its struggles to evangelize aliens and lost human colonies and to determine the soul-status for genetically modified humans, genetically-designed chimeras, and clones made from the Martian sand; the adventures of religious orders devoted to protecting interstellar travelers or inner-city priests; and how technical advances allow monks to live in solitude on the Moon and help one criminal learn the true meaning of Confession.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
NaNoWriMo and writing descriptions
(Got lots to do with a confernce and ISIG coming up, so it's nice to have friends with great advice...)
This is courtesy of my friend and writer Erik Van Asch, answering another person's question about worldbuilding and when to end a scene (or a book):
I'm starting a new fantasy writing project. I wanted to ensure I have
the depth and breadth to have a setting and history that can be
revealed over several books or can drive plotlines over several
books. Thus comes the world-building.
I stumbled upon some world-building exercises in last year's National
Novel Writing Month forums and am currently using it to organize my
thoughts.
You can find the exercises here:
http://www.web-writer.net/fantasy/30days.html
I use an excel spreadsheet and each tab is a different day.
Going back to your first question, I find it useful to end in the
middle of some action. Typically I know what is to come next, so
picking up the story at a later date becomes easier for me.
To answer your second question, what I'm hearing is that you have
three story threads going on and not sure how to bring it all
together. Correct? You may consider checking your local library
system for "The Marshall Plan of Novel Writing" by Evan Marshall. One
of the few books that I've read that actually tackles multiple story
lines and subplots. His "templates" may be all you need to re-arrange
your storylines so the characters and plot begin to merge into one.
To your other questions about feedback from others. . .everything
I've read says "finish the first draft!" You don't need people
critiqing your work till you've finished the story. Many of us want
validation during the process but what I've found in most cases is I
stop my forward momentum to try go back over previous chapters and
address said feedback.
Just write the first draft!
Then grab a book on editing your fiction such as "The Complete Guide
to Editing Your Fiction" by Michael Seidman. Once you've done your
second or third revision of the story then worry about finding a
local fiction writer's group or online writer's group to provide
critiques.
So. . .with all that said. . .spend the next several weeks working
through your world-building then get yourself ready to write the next
50,000 words of your story at warp speed on November 1st when the
next NANoWrMo starts (http://www.nanowrimo.org/)
Hope to see you there.
God bless,
Erik
This is courtesy of my friend and writer Erik Van Asch, answering another person's question about worldbuilding and when to end a scene (or a book):
I'm starting a new fantasy writing project. I wanted to ensure I have
the depth and breadth to have a setting and history that can be
revealed over several books or can drive plotlines over several
books. Thus comes the world-building.
I stumbled upon some world-building exercises in last year's National
Novel Writing Month forums and am currently using it to organize my
thoughts.
You can find the exercises here:
http://www.web-writer.net/fantasy/30days.html
I use an excel spreadsheet and each tab is a different day.
Going back to your first question, I find it useful to end in the
middle of some action. Typically I know what is to come next, so
picking up the story at a later date becomes easier for me.
To answer your second question, what I'm hearing is that you have
three story threads going on and not sure how to bring it all
together. Correct? You may consider checking your local library
system for "The Marshall Plan of Novel Writing" by Evan Marshall. One
of the few books that I've read that actually tackles multiple story
lines and subplots. His "templates" may be all you need to re-arrange
your storylines so the characters and plot begin to merge into one.
To your other questions about feedback from others. . .everything
I've read says "finish the first draft!" You don't need people
critiqing your work till you've finished the story. Many of us want
validation during the process but what I've found in most cases is I
stop my forward momentum to try go back over previous chapters and
address said feedback.
Just write the first draft!
Then grab a book on editing your fiction such as "The Complete Guide
to Editing Your Fiction" by Michael Seidman. Once you've done your
second or third revision of the story then worry about finding a
local fiction writer's group or online writer's group to provide
critiques.
So. . .with all that said. . .spend the next several weeks working
through your world-building then get yourself ready to write the next
50,000 words of your story at warp speed on November 1st when the
next NANoWrMo starts (http://www.nanowrimo.org/)
Hope to see you there.
God bless,
Erik
Monday, September 04, 2006
Writing: If you give and editor...
Going on vacation for a week, but here's a great tale by a friend. You can find more of her stuff at http://heidihesssaxton.blogspot.com/
If You Send an Editor a Query Letter...
(With thanks to Laura Numeroff.)
(c) 2004 by ChristianWord.com, Inc.
Have you ever wondered what happens to the hundreds of query letters and proposals you have generated over the course of your writing career? Does some editorial assistant use it to line the bottom of her ferret cage? Do they cast shovels full of unsoliciteds onto the fire at the annual editorial weenie roast?
If you've ever wondered about this--or are just a fan of the full-circle themes of Laura Numeroff--keep reading. This piece, based loosely on the experiences of some editors I know (many of whom have exceptional assistants), offers a glimpse into the real world of editors everywhere. Enjoy.
If you send an editor a query letter, she'll want an SASE to go with it.
When she sees the SASE, it might remind her that she's almost out of stamps. She is also low on Diet Coke and Excedrin Migraine. So Ms. Editor loads up her 1993 Toyota Tercel with three large bags of cans--last week's soda supply--to take to the Piggly Wiggly on her lunch break.
On her way to lunch, Ms. Editor will pass the Fed Ex man, who is carrying a stack of boxes for her: three manuscripts (two of them late) and 260 proposals her cute-but-clueless new assistant requested while Ms. E. was out of the office last week. This reminds her to compose an ad to find Fabio's successor.
As she faxes ad copy, Ms. E's eagle-sharp editorial eyes will fall on her day planner: Meeting today at 3:00 with the publisher to discuss next year's fall lineup. Ms. E. digs production quotes and sales projections for her top six proposals (including your query, which she skimmed with enthusiasm as she guzzled her lunch) out of the mountain of paper in her inbox, getting a paper cut in the process.
The blood reminds her of the last editorial planning meeting, when some hapless editor (never mind who) suggested going to contract again with a talented but unknown writer, whose last book sold so poorly that the warehouse was using remainders as door stops. Ms. E. shudders and combs her pile of proposals for evidence of marketability, leaving frantic messages for you to e-mail her sales figures for your previous books and a copy of your speaking schedule for the following year. While Ms. E. is on the phone, one stressed-out graphics designer and three unhappy authors leave their own frantic messages, on a line to which no one but her mother is supposed to have the number.
Thoughts of her mother will remind Ms. Editor of a manuscript her mother's hairdresser's nephew sent for review "when she has a free moment." Ms. E's mother has been gently chiding her daughter about it for the past month. It doesn't seem to matter that the house Ms. E. works for doesn't publish science fiction, or that the young man couldn't write his way out of a paper bag. Ms. E. must convince her boss to publish it, or the hairdresser will make Mom look like she's backed into a weed-wacker for her fiftieth high school reunion. Ms. E. reaches for the Excedrin next to her office clock, and sees it is now 3:05.
Late for the meeting, Ms. E. carries your e-mail between her teeth, proposals in one hand and her Diet Coke in the other, and sprints for the conference room. Her ideas are met with unanimous enthusiasm. Giddy, Ms. E. proposes to give you a six-figure advance and a three-book deal. Someone asks Ms. E. if she's been sniffing glue.
The glue remark reminds her of the stamp on your SASE, which you so obligingly supplied. Ms. E. uses it to give you good news and bad news: They want to publish your book. But she doesn’t work there anymore. If you want the contract, Ms. E. adds, please send a full proposal and three sample chapters to her colleague, who was smart enough to keep her mouth shut during the previous editorial meeting.
A little surprised, you go ahead and submit the requested material, putting the new editor's name on the envelope. Four weeks later, you get a form letter from the new-and-even-more-clueless editorial assistant. "Sorry, but we don't accept unsolicited proposals. Next time you send a SASE... Be sure to send a query letter with it."
Heidi Hess Saxton is the editorial director of ChristianWord.com, a freelance writing and editing business. She has ten years experience as an in-house editor, most recently as senior editor of a medium-sized CBA publishing house. For permission to reprint, contact Heidi at hsaxton@christianword.com.
posted by Heidi Hess Saxton
If You Send an Editor a Query Letter...
(With thanks to Laura Numeroff.)
(c) 2004 by ChristianWord.com, Inc.
Have you ever wondered what happens to the hundreds of query letters and proposals you have generated over the course of your writing career? Does some editorial assistant use it to line the bottom of her ferret cage? Do they cast shovels full of unsoliciteds onto the fire at the annual editorial weenie roast?
If you've ever wondered about this--or are just a fan of the full-circle themes of Laura Numeroff--keep reading. This piece, based loosely on the experiences of some editors I know (many of whom have exceptional assistants), offers a glimpse into the real world of editors everywhere. Enjoy.
If you send an editor a query letter, she'll want an SASE to go with it.
When she sees the SASE, it might remind her that she's almost out of stamps. She is also low on Diet Coke and Excedrin Migraine. So Ms. Editor loads up her 1993 Toyota Tercel with three large bags of cans--last week's soda supply--to take to the Piggly Wiggly on her lunch break.
On her way to lunch, Ms. Editor will pass the Fed Ex man, who is carrying a stack of boxes for her: three manuscripts (two of them late) and 260 proposals her cute-but-clueless new assistant requested while Ms. E. was out of the office last week. This reminds her to compose an ad to find Fabio's successor.
As she faxes ad copy, Ms. E's eagle-sharp editorial eyes will fall on her day planner: Meeting today at 3:00 with the publisher to discuss next year's fall lineup. Ms. E. digs production quotes and sales projections for her top six proposals (including your query, which she skimmed with enthusiasm as she guzzled her lunch) out of the mountain of paper in her inbox, getting a paper cut in the process.
The blood reminds her of the last editorial planning meeting, when some hapless editor (never mind who) suggested going to contract again with a talented but unknown writer, whose last book sold so poorly that the warehouse was using remainders as door stops. Ms. E. shudders and combs her pile of proposals for evidence of marketability, leaving frantic messages for you to e-mail her sales figures for your previous books and a copy of your speaking schedule for the following year. While Ms. E. is on the phone, one stressed-out graphics designer and three unhappy authors leave their own frantic messages, on a line to which no one but her mother is supposed to have the number.
Thoughts of her mother will remind Ms. Editor of a manuscript her mother's hairdresser's nephew sent for review "when she has a free moment." Ms. E's mother has been gently chiding her daughter about it for the past month. It doesn't seem to matter that the house Ms. E. works for doesn't publish science fiction, or that the young man couldn't write his way out of a paper bag. Ms. E. must convince her boss to publish it, or the hairdresser will make Mom look like she's backed into a weed-wacker for her fiftieth high school reunion. Ms. E. reaches for the Excedrin next to her office clock, and sees it is now 3:05.
Late for the meeting, Ms. E. carries your e-mail between her teeth, proposals in one hand and her Diet Coke in the other, and sprints for the conference room. Her ideas are met with unanimous enthusiasm. Giddy, Ms. E. proposes to give you a six-figure advance and a three-book deal. Someone asks Ms. E. if she's been sniffing glue.
The glue remark reminds her of the stamp on your SASE, which you so obligingly supplied. Ms. E. uses it to give you good news and bad news: They want to publish your book. But she doesn’t work there anymore. If you want the contract, Ms. E. adds, please send a full proposal and three sample chapters to her colleague, who was smart enough to keep her mouth shut during the previous editorial meeting.
A little surprised, you go ahead and submit the requested material, putting the new editor's name on the envelope. Four weeks later, you get a form letter from the new-and-even-more-clueless editorial assistant. "Sorry, but we don't accept unsolicited proposals. Next time you send a SASE... Be sure to send a query letter with it."
Heidi Hess Saxton is the editorial director of ChristianWord.com, a freelance writing and editing business. She has ten years experience as an in-house editor, most recently as senior editor of a medium-sized CBA publishing house. For permission to reprint, contact Heidi at hsaxton@christianword.com.
posted by Heidi Hess Saxton
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Writing: National Novel Writer's Month in Nov
This year, I'm doing it.
For several years now, I've read about the National Novel Writers' Month and the NaNoWriMo novel writing contest. For those of you who don't know, the rules are pretty simple: write a 50,000-word novel by midnight November 30th. You can do all the research, outlining, and "pre-writing" you want, but not a word of the novel can be written until 12:01 a.m. November 1. If you manage to hammer out 50,000 words, of whatever quality, you can turn it in for fabulous prizes: i.e., a certificate and a little icon for your website. Even if you don't meet that goal, you're still a winner: your prize is the X-many words of your novel.
I was a little disappointed to have heard about the "no words until Nov 1" rule, because I'd originally thought to use the opportunity to add 50,000 words to my Dragon Eye PI novel that's been on the back burner or work on Book 3 of the Miscria trilogy with some real dedication, but yesterday, I got some encouraging news from a friend that's turned my mind toward a Rescue Sisters novel. Last night, Rob and I started brainstorming a plot: alien encounters and interplanetary rescues, a sister in a crisis of faith, the temptation of an old flame, the interdiction of the saints... All the stuff of classic SF and Catholicity. I can already guess, though, that there will be several scenes that say "TECH HERE!" But again, you don't need a finished product--just 50,000 words.
Over the next couple of months--and probably in Nov, when I bring me head out of space--I'll be posting about the nuts and bolts of pressurized production, from preparation to keeping the house sane. If you have any suggestions or questions, please let me know!
For several years now, I've read about the National Novel Writers' Month and the NaNoWriMo novel writing contest. For those of you who don't know, the rules are pretty simple: write a 50,000-word novel by midnight November 30th. You can do all the research, outlining, and "pre-writing" you want, but not a word of the novel can be written until 12:01 a.m. November 1. If you manage to hammer out 50,000 words, of whatever quality, you can turn it in for fabulous prizes: i.e., a certificate and a little icon for your website. Even if you don't meet that goal, you're still a winner: your prize is the X-many words of your novel.
I was a little disappointed to have heard about the "no words until Nov 1" rule, because I'd originally thought to use the opportunity to add 50,000 words to my Dragon Eye PI novel that's been on the back burner or work on Book 3 of the Miscria trilogy with some real dedication, but yesterday, I got some encouraging news from a friend that's turned my mind toward a Rescue Sisters novel. Last night, Rob and I started brainstorming a plot: alien encounters and interplanetary rescues, a sister in a crisis of faith, the temptation of an old flame, the interdiction of the saints... All the stuff of classic SF and Catholicity. I can already guess, though, that there will be several scenes that say "TECH HERE!" But again, you don't need a finished product--just 50,000 words.
Over the next couple of months--and probably in Nov, when I bring me head out of space--I'll be posting about the nuts and bolts of pressurized production, from preparation to keeping the house sane. If you have any suggestions or questions, please let me know!
Monday, August 28, 2006
ATTN: Mystery Writers!
If you like to write mysteries and would like to write one with a Catholic background, here's a place to submit it!
The Catholic mystery anthology with the working title "Luminous Mysteries" is seeking Catholic Church-centered short stories that show the Church in a positive/heroic vein. Length of the stories should peak at no more than 15K words, though if story is good we are flexible on that. If faith plays a positive (but non-preachy) role, it's a plus. Cross genre work acceptable. Pay scale will be determined once the publisher gives a thumbs up. Please send submissions to annlewis (at) joesystems (dot) com, subject line "Luminous Mysteries".
Double-spaced Word files are preferred. Deadline: November 1, though it may extended.
I already have a Vern mystery, "Greater Treasures" in, and there are two Sherlock Homes mysteries, but naturally, Ann is looking for more.
BTW--"Christmas Spirits" got rejected yesterday. WAAH! I kind of expected it: The had closed submissions early and there was just too much about the Faerie/Mundane universe to explain in 3500 words as well as the issue of eminent domain, the spirit of Christmas, Dickens' Christmas Carol and the mystery. I'll beef it up and send it elsewhere. Any ideas?
The Catholic mystery anthology with the working title "Luminous Mysteries" is seeking Catholic Church-centered short stories that show the Church in a positive/heroic vein. Length of the stories should peak at no more than 15K words, though if story is good we are flexible on that. If faith plays a positive (but non-preachy) role, it's a plus. Cross genre work acceptable. Pay scale will be determined once the publisher gives a thumbs up. Please send submissions to annlewis (at) joesystems (dot) com, subject line "Luminous Mysteries".
Double-spaced Word files are preferred. Deadline: November 1, though it may extended.
I already have a Vern mystery, "Greater Treasures" in, and there are two Sherlock Homes mysteries, but naturally, Ann is looking for more.
BTW--"Christmas Spirits" got rejected yesterday. WAAH! I kind of expected it: The had closed submissions early and there was just too much about the Faerie/Mundane universe to explain in 3500 words as well as the issue of eminent domain, the spirit of Christmas, Dickens' Christmas Carol and the mystery. I'll beef it up and send it elsewhere. Any ideas?
Monday, August 21, 2006
Queen of the Editorial Cut!
I can get blood from a turnip!
One of the things you read about from authors who've "made it" is the art of learning to cut your stuff. Spider Robinson wrote about how editor John Campbell would send his stuff back again and again with the instructions to "cut it by a third" or "almost there--take out 500 words." it was a painful process, but remarkably, each draft came out better than the first. Stephen King said in his book On Writing that after he's finished a draft, he goes back with the express goal of cutting 10 percent.
I'm a wordy person, as most folks can tell from my e-mails and blogs, so cutting is a way of life for me. My first real experience was when a friend and I wrote a Star Trek spoof that was 14 pages long. We had cut it to 8 for a contest. It took hours, and finally cheated by using 1.5 line spacing instead of double. I haven't had such a challenge as that since.
Until this week.
I was writing a Vern mystery for a Christmas anthology to benefit Toys for Tots. In it, Vern and Sister Grace must protect the nasty entrepreneur, Daniel Flint, who's being haunted by the Christmas Carol ghosts. Flint is trying to pressure the city to condemn Vern's neighborhood and sell him the land so he can build a mall. (It happens. Check out "Eminent Domain Being Abused?") Plus, it's Grace's first Christmas, and she's having culture shock. So, I have a lot of issues: eminent domain, materialism, the meaning of Christmas, Dickens' Christmas Carol, plus a homesick young woman, a heartsick old woman, a haunted theater, and let's not forget the mystery... I was feeling pretty good to write a first draft of 4100 words. Except that the max word count is 3500.
I cut it to 3750, then sent it around to friends. Those who aren't familiar with the Faerie/Mundane universe were confused, however. (Guess what I'd cut first?) So back in went an abbreviated explanation. 3950. I thought it was tight.
It needed to be tighter.
So back again, going backward, then forward. Can I exchange this three-word phrase with a single word? Is this emotional detail necessary or is it understood? This 50-word segue is great but doesn't advance the plot--cut it. This clue gets totally dropped later--drop it now. The manuscript bled black ink by the time I was done--but it was 3500 words. Even more, it's a sharper, cleaner story than the first, second, or fifth revision. And it was fun!
I accept my crown as queen of the editorial cut.
One of the things you read about from authors who've "made it" is the art of learning to cut your stuff. Spider Robinson wrote about how editor John Campbell would send his stuff back again and again with the instructions to "cut it by a third" or "almost there--take out 500 words." it was a painful process, but remarkably, each draft came out better than the first. Stephen King said in his book On Writing that after he's finished a draft, he goes back with the express goal of cutting 10 percent.
I'm a wordy person, as most folks can tell from my e-mails and blogs, so cutting is a way of life for me. My first real experience was when a friend and I wrote a Star Trek spoof that was 14 pages long. We had cut it to 8 for a contest. It took hours, and finally cheated by using 1.5 line spacing instead of double. I haven't had such a challenge as that since.
Until this week.
I was writing a Vern mystery for a Christmas anthology to benefit Toys for Tots. In it, Vern and Sister Grace must protect the nasty entrepreneur, Daniel Flint, who's being haunted by the Christmas Carol ghosts. Flint is trying to pressure the city to condemn Vern's neighborhood and sell him the land so he can build a mall. (It happens. Check out "Eminent Domain Being Abused?") Plus, it's Grace's first Christmas, and she's having culture shock. So, I have a lot of issues: eminent domain, materialism, the meaning of Christmas, Dickens' Christmas Carol, plus a homesick young woman, a heartsick old woman, a haunted theater, and let's not forget the mystery... I was feeling pretty good to write a first draft of 4100 words. Except that the max word count is 3500.
I cut it to 3750, then sent it around to friends. Those who aren't familiar with the Faerie/Mundane universe were confused, however. (Guess what I'd cut first?) So back in went an abbreviated explanation. 3950. I thought it was tight.
It needed to be tighter.
So back again, going backward, then forward. Can I exchange this three-word phrase with a single word? Is this emotional detail necessary or is it understood? This 50-word segue is great but doesn't advance the plot--cut it. This clue gets totally dropped later--drop it now. The manuscript bled black ink by the time I was done--but it was 3500 words. Even more, it's a sharper, cleaner story than the first, second, or fifth revision. And it was fun!
I accept my crown as queen of the editorial cut.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Communication: The Importance of Approach
Earlier this week, I was outside tossing the junk mail directly into the trash when one of those door-to-door magazine salesmen approached. Now, it's been a hot, sweaty, no-shower, clean-the-house, icky day, so perhaps it was the expression on my face; but from 10 yards away, he raises his hands and says, "Don't shoot me!"
Coming nearer, he sort-of croons, "Is your father or mother at home?"
I know I looked all of my 39 years and then some. "Funny," I said and went back to my mail.
"There must be a fountain of youth in this neighborhood, because everyone seems so young. I was talking to your neighbor Jason--"
So Jason's looking good to him? I decided to spare us both further embarrassment and didn't let him get past the "Sales training program to get kids like me off the streets"(he looked early 20s) and told him I wasn't interested.
What I really wanted to do was take him inside, offer him a cup of coffee and dissect his approach.
"Don't shoot me?" He was a young Black guy--I'm an old white woman. Was this racial humor of the poorest taste? OR did he decide I was giving him dirty looks? Sorry, my face froze that way as a child.
"Is your mother or father at home?" Twenty years ago, that would have been a good assumption. Ten years ago, looking my best, a half-hearted compliment. Now, especially in my grungy clothes and my dirty hair sticking out of its bun like a bruha's, it was stupidly false. Plastic used-car-salesman/closing-time pick-up line false.
I made it clear the line didn't fly, but instead of abandoning it and getting to business while he had a chance, he pushed it. (Incidentally, all the neighbors home at that time are about a decade younger (and 15 pounds lighter) than I. Of course they look younger.)
I assume that he was taught that such "compliments" will make a person feel good about herself and him; all it did for me was want to go in, get a shower and count my gray hairs. I have a hard time believing he got any sales except out of pity. Jason told me he bought a subscription because he felt sorry for him tramping around in the heat. Was it the heat or the training that made his approach so slimy?
I know I'm not a great communicator verbally--I think a lot of writers turn to the written word because spoken ones fail them. I'll never be a salesman. Still, I'm smart enough to know what doesn't work. Salesmen, especially the door-to-door kind, need to develop an immediate rapport and a sense of trust. Insincere, canned, pick-up lines like these destroy trust--at least for people who aren't gullible.
If this is the kind of training the "up-and-coming sales force of tomorrow" gets, I think they'd be better off getting training at McDonald's.
Coming nearer, he sort-of croons, "Is your father or mother at home?"
I know I looked all of my 39 years and then some. "Funny," I said and went back to my mail.
"There must be a fountain of youth in this neighborhood, because everyone seems so young. I was talking to your neighbor Jason--"
So Jason's looking good to him? I decided to spare us both further embarrassment and didn't let him get past the "Sales training program to get kids like me off the streets"(he looked early 20s) and told him I wasn't interested.
What I really wanted to do was take him inside, offer him a cup of coffee and dissect his approach.
"Don't shoot me?" He was a young Black guy--I'm an old white woman. Was this racial humor of the poorest taste? OR did he decide I was giving him dirty looks? Sorry, my face froze that way as a child.
"Is your mother or father at home?" Twenty years ago, that would have been a good assumption. Ten years ago, looking my best, a half-hearted compliment. Now, especially in my grungy clothes and my dirty hair sticking out of its bun like a bruha's, it was stupidly false. Plastic used-car-salesman/closing-time pick-up line false.
I made it clear the line didn't fly, but instead of abandoning it and getting to business while he had a chance, he pushed it. (Incidentally, all the neighbors home at that time are about a decade younger (and 15 pounds lighter) than I. Of course they look younger.)
I assume that he was taught that such "compliments" will make a person feel good about herself and him; all it did for me was want to go in, get a shower and count my gray hairs. I have a hard time believing he got any sales except out of pity. Jason told me he bought a subscription because he felt sorry for him tramping around in the heat. Was it the heat or the training that made his approach so slimy?
I know I'm not a great communicator verbally--I think a lot of writers turn to the written word because spoken ones fail them. I'll never be a salesman. Still, I'm smart enough to know what doesn't work. Salesmen, especially the door-to-door kind, need to develop an immediate rapport and a sense of trust. Insincere, canned, pick-up lines like these destroy trust--at least for people who aren't gullible.
If this is the kind of training the "up-and-coming sales force of tomorrow" gets, I think they'd be better off getting training at McDonald's.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Humor: Pirate Style!
Last Saturday, Steven's best friend had a "Pirates of the Carribbean" birthday party. Everyone dressed as a pirate (except for Alex, who made the best parrot costume!)
My costume featured an oriental sword, varous medals from my JROTC days and a small penguin wearing a bandana who sat on my shoulder. Naturally, since I can never do these things halfway, I not only had the costume but a routine:
Arr! I be Karina of the Waves, and I've seen ye eyeballing my wee Penguinito. There's a story behind him, so sit ye down and listen well.
Twas the summer of '63--and if you don't know what century, you've had too much grog. It may have been mild and balmy where you were, but on the straights of Magellan, there was a fierce windter storm, the worst I'd ever seen in my life. Me dear parrot Polly flew overboard--and not the good kind of flying, let me tell you. His last words were "AWK! Polly Don't Wanna!" I never found out what poor Polly didn't wanna do, but I'd guess it was drowning. And there wasn't much I could do to help him because me timbers were shivering, if ye know what I mean.
The next morning, I found this wee little penguin on the deck of me ship and I thought,
"Hey, why not go formal?"
Ah, but he's been a good companion--a silent partner of sorts. We've had many a fine adventure. You can tell by these medals. No, I didn't earn them--I stole them of the bonny Brits I've defeated. Well, these two were from bonny Brits--this one... Nah, he wasn't so fine. Fat and ill tempered he was. Had a lovely ship, though. Had.
And my sword? I got this off a Chinaman. He'd decided to give up the sea and turn to an honest life. I figured that was just as well, since I'd taken his sword, I'd taken his ship, and I'd taken his catfor.
What's a catfor, ye ask? The cats for gettig rid of the rats on me ship, ye lilly-livered landlubber! That's what a catsfor!
(And they walked right into it, too!)
Here's a not-so-old "sea" chanty. It's a space pirate theme, but you can adapt it. (I'd rate it PG-13 at least.) "New Sins for Old" by Leslie Fish.
My costume featured an oriental sword, varous medals from my JROTC days and a small penguin wearing a bandana who sat on my shoulder. Naturally, since I can never do these things halfway, I not only had the costume but a routine:
Arr! I be Karina of the Waves, and I've seen ye eyeballing my wee Penguinito. There's a story behind him, so sit ye down and listen well.
Twas the summer of '63--and if you don't know what century, you've had too much grog. It may have been mild and balmy where you were, but on the straights of Magellan, there was a fierce windter storm, the worst I'd ever seen in my life. Me dear parrot Polly flew overboard--and not the good kind of flying, let me tell you. His last words were "AWK! Polly Don't Wanna!" I never found out what poor Polly didn't wanna do, but I'd guess it was drowning. And there wasn't much I could do to help him because me timbers were shivering, if ye know what I mean.
The next morning, I found this wee little penguin on the deck of me ship and I thought,
"Hey, why not go formal?"
Ah, but he's been a good companion--a silent partner of sorts. We've had many a fine adventure. You can tell by these medals. No, I didn't earn them--I stole them of the bonny Brits I've defeated. Well, these two were from bonny Brits--this one... Nah, he wasn't so fine. Fat and ill tempered he was. Had a lovely ship, though. Had.
And my sword? I got this off a Chinaman. He'd decided to give up the sea and turn to an honest life. I figured that was just as well, since I'd taken his sword, I'd taken his ship, and I'd taken his catfor.
What's a catfor, ye ask? The cats for gettig rid of the rats on me ship, ye lilly-livered landlubber! That's what a catsfor!
(And they walked right into it, too!)
Here's a not-so-old "sea" chanty. It's a space pirate theme, but you can adapt it. (I'd rate it PG-13 at least.) "New Sins for Old" by Leslie Fish.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
WRITING: Update on my works
I got an e-mail from a publisher wanting to see the manuscript for Leaps of Faith, the Christian SF Anthology Rob and I put together. (Check out the summary in my BOOKS page). I won't say any more until I hear back, but please pray that this will be the year Leaps gets accepted by a publisher!
I'm also hosting a workshop called "Faith in Fiction" for a free conference in October. Check out the conference at http://museonlineconference.tripod.com.
Magic, Mensa, and Mayhem had its second installment in The Prairie Dawg, the magazine of the North Dakota Mensa Club. It's another Dragon Eye, PI story, and I'm having a lot of fun putting a lot of "real" Faerie folk in Disneyworld. Next episode, Vern is mistaken for a carnival ride. In Episode 4, Coyote (of Native American legend) makes his appearance. (He cheated on the Mensa test, but just to see if he could, and he's at the convention to talk about "thinking outside the box.")
My article on the Catholic Faith in Science Fiction is out in Hereditas.
I'm still looking for an agent that handles fantasy/SF. Any recommendations? :-)
I'm also hosting a workshop called "Faith in Fiction" for a free conference in October. Check out the conference at http://museonlineconference.tripod.com.
Magic, Mensa, and Mayhem had its second installment in The Prairie Dawg, the magazine of the North Dakota Mensa Club. It's another Dragon Eye, PI story, and I'm having a lot of fun putting a lot of "real" Faerie folk in Disneyworld. Next episode, Vern is mistaken for a carnival ride. In Episode 4, Coyote (of Native American legend) makes his appearance. (He cheated on the Mensa test, but just to see if he could, and he's at the convention to talk about "thinking outside the box.")
My article on the Catholic Faith in Science Fiction is out in Hereditas.
I'm still looking for an agent that handles fantasy/SF. Any recommendations? :-)
Monday, July 17, 2006
WRITING: Coming Up With Ideas
Like a lot of other writers, I get asked, "Where do you get your ideas?" I wonder though, how many other writers get asked this by people with such befuddled looks on their faces.
For my nonfiction, I usually let my interests guide my ideas. Thus, I've done a lot of pregnancy and parenting articles, particularly about homebirth, breastfeeding, or dealing with the care and education of little ones. (Along those same lines, I've done a lot of articles about simplifying your life.) As my children get older, I've started to branch out into new things, like science and technology. Here, Rob and science magazines are my usual sources for ideas. Sometimes, editors give me ideas. I'd have never thought to learn about sex during pregnancy until Fit Pregnancy asked me to do an article. I started writing clergy interviews at the request of my editor at Montana Catholic. Recently, I wrote about Catholicism in Science Fiction for Hereditas. Overall, my idea generation is pretty straightforward.
For my fiction, things get a little weirder, but the same principles apply. I just tend to mix them up more. I was working on a series of religious orders when Rob was very involved in Artemis Society; we came up with an order of spacefaring nuns, the Order of St. Gillian of L5. Some friends and I were talking about how to confront someone who was hitting their child in a store and what that parent might be experiencing; I wrote "Lovely Hands." I wanted to give my psychic character some psychological problems (being psychic is not easy!) and had read about Neuro Linguistic Programming, so my novel takes place in an asylum. I saw an anthology requesting "dragon stories," and was racking my brains for something that hasn't been done to death. We were watching a lot of "Whose Line is It, Anyway?" and they were doing a lot of film noir shticks, so my dragon became a film noir-style fantasy/mystery/parody.
So how do I come up with these ideas? I try to take the things around me and twist them into something new.
One more thing: I don't write only what I know. How limiting and dull. I write what I can imagine and what I can learn about.
How do you come up with your ideas?
For my nonfiction, I usually let my interests guide my ideas. Thus, I've done a lot of pregnancy and parenting articles, particularly about homebirth, breastfeeding, or dealing with the care and education of little ones. (Along those same lines, I've done a lot of articles about simplifying your life.) As my children get older, I've started to branch out into new things, like science and technology. Here, Rob and science magazines are my usual sources for ideas. Sometimes, editors give me ideas. I'd have never thought to learn about sex during pregnancy until Fit Pregnancy asked me to do an article. I started writing clergy interviews at the request of my editor at Montana Catholic. Recently, I wrote about Catholicism in Science Fiction for Hereditas. Overall, my idea generation is pretty straightforward.
For my fiction, things get a little weirder, but the same principles apply. I just tend to mix them up more. I was working on a series of religious orders when Rob was very involved in Artemis Society; we came up with an order of spacefaring nuns, the Order of St. Gillian of L5. Some friends and I were talking about how to confront someone who was hitting their child in a store and what that parent might be experiencing; I wrote "Lovely Hands." I wanted to give my psychic character some psychological problems (being psychic is not easy!) and had read about Neuro Linguistic Programming, so my novel takes place in an asylum. I saw an anthology requesting "dragon stories," and was racking my brains for something that hasn't been done to death. We were watching a lot of "Whose Line is It, Anyway?" and they were doing a lot of film noir shticks, so my dragon became a film noir-style fantasy/mystery/parody.
So how do I come up with these ideas? I try to take the things around me and twist them into something new.
One more thing: I don't write only what I know. How limiting and dull. I write what I can imagine and what I can learn about.
How do you come up with your ideas?
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