Friday, August 27, 2010

Friday Guest Postings and Calls for Reviewers and Such

Hey, writer-friends. Nice of you to stop by! It’s Friday, in case you didn’t know, and I have a couple of announcements. Well, really it’s only one announcement, and one sad little cry for help. We’ll do the announcement bit first, though, since I don’t much like being pathetic.

Hey, before I go on with announcing things and being pitiable and stuff, can I say a quick thank you to Alex Cavanaugh for alerting me to the fact that Underworld IV has been green-lit? (Green-lighted? Greened-light? What’s the proper past tense of that anyway?) Okay, then. I will. Thanks, Alex! As much as I liked Rhona Mitra in Rise of the Lycans, I’ll always have a soft spot for Kate’s outfit ass-kicking vampire gal.

kate_beckinsale Pretteh vampire. Hai.

On to business then!

No, wait. I’m going to look at that pic a bit more. *looks* *looks more* *sighs*

Okay, I’m done now. So! First order of business. Today I’m guest blogging over at Jeffrey Beesler’s World of the Scribe. Jeff asked, I said yes, and the rest is history. Why don’t y’all check it out, huh? I was nice, I think. Encouraging, even! I don’t know what came over me. I’ll be back to normal tomorrow. LINKY! –> In which I am not a celebrity.

Now the second thing, I’m going to need your help with. Not all of you, just one or two. Here’s the deal: the lovely and soon-to-be-published Tamara Hart Heiner at Chasing Dreams asked me to participate in a blog tour promoting her forthcoming YA thriller, Perilous. How flattered was I? I was very flattered. Except, um… my YA reviewing street cred might be a shade or two below Clive Barker’s. Or maybe, if I’m lucky, it falls somewhere between Clive’s and Stephen King’s. I don’t feel I’m qualified to do Tamara’s book justice, so, sadly, had to decline the request.

But you know what? I’m pretty sure some of you, O lovely readers and writer-friends, have rock-solid YA reviewing street cred. Some of you are like the 50 Cent of YA reviewing. Maybe even the Snoop Dogg. So… can anyone do Tamara and me a favor by taking my slot in the blog tour? Anyone? Anyone?

Drop me a line if you’re willing to help. You’ll have my eternal* gratitude, and Tamara’s also.

And that’s it for the Friday round up o’ guest postage and pleading! Have a wonderful weekend, folks. If anyone needs me, I’ll be mowing the lawn/pulling weeds/rough framing for the attic renovation/doing laundry/writing/reading/drinking vodka/sleeping/watching the Underworld Trilogy/drinking vodka.

* Of course, by eternal I mean forever and ever, or until one or both of us forgets about it. Whichever comes first. Still, we’d appreciate it awfully.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Dead Rain (Rainy Day Blogfest)

Yeah, yeah. I know it’s been a while since I blogfested. And I used to be such a booster for them, too! Except then I got all busy and overwhelmed and stuff. Did I mention that I couldn’t even read all the entries to my own blogfest? Yeah. It’s true.

And you know what’s funny about that? I ran into a lovely lady at a local writers’ group meeting last month, and during the course of the conversation, discovered that she’d actually posted an entry in my blogfest, but just happened to be one of the entrants whose blog I never managed to visit. Color me slightly embarrassed. I remedied the situation promptly. Like, four months late. Uh…oops.

SO. Christine is hosting her very own blogfest now. And, since I’m guilt-ridden, I’m posting an entry. Also, if I do this, maybe she’ll buy me a coffee at the writers’ group meeting tomorrow. I’m not above writing for coffee.

Therefore, without further ado, and with none of that procrastinatory or perendinatory stuff I’m generally known for, and with the utmost haste, right after I’m done adding qualifying clauses, may I present you with a last-minute, banged-out-on-a-whim, thoroughly-unedited flash fictiony Rainy Day Blogfest thingy? Yes? Okay. Here:

* * * * *

The rain needles my neck as I crouch at the edge of the roof, staring down at the alley below. I blink against the moisture streaming into my eyes and curse quietly. The bastard’s flayed his victim, as usual. Shreds of skin and chunks of flesh litter the asphalt. There’s not much left of the body beneath the broad expanse of the vamp’s back. He’s nearing the end of his feeding, slowing, choosing the choicest morsels, tossing the rest aside to bloody the roadway.

It’ll be his last meal.

I stand, curling my fists around the hilts of my knives. Anger swells in my chest, hot and swift. Yet another innocent splayed on the sidewalk to gratify the unholy desires of the Nightwalkers. I can’t stop them all, but I can stop this one.

I leap toward the vamp through the moisture-laced air. I am a rain of death, an avenging, falling angel.

My boots connect with the beast’s back and I ricochet off, tucking and rolling to my feet. He sprawls face-first in the gutter. The recovery is quick: he’s on his feet, teeth bared, hissing, even before I stop my backward motion.

The familiar grin spreads across my face, the adrenaline rush spiking my spine. I twirl the knives in my hands, waiting, watching.

He moves first, streaking toward me at supernatural speed. I’m prepared. Leaping, I twist away from his slicing nails, land off to the side. A sharp jab of the heel buckles his knee. My knife sinks into his side.

His arm whips around, his fist connecting with my jaw. I tumble with the force of the blow, absorbing it and rolling away. My shoulders splash through a blood-laced puddle as I jump to my feet.

He’s coming fast. I whip my arm forward, sending one blade into his shoulder. He grunts, but keeps coming. Exactly what I expected. He leaps at me, and I arch backward, shoulders snapping toward the asphalt. My head cracks against the pavement, but the vamp passes over me, fingernails, swiping within inches of my face. I plunge my second blade upward; the point opens a furrow in his abdomen.

The thud as he hits the pavement brings a smile to my face. I shoulder-spring to my feet, turn. He’s getting up, but slower. Organs bulge against the slash in his belly. He yanks the knife from his shoulder, hurls it at me. I snag it from the air. It feels good to flip the son of a bitch off. He glares at me, pressing his innards back with one hand. I approach, cautiously.

His teeth are bared, his shoulders hunched around the slice in his middle. I step over the remains of his victim as I approach. I have no sympathy for this bastard.

Cold rain needles my neck as I arch away from his last feeble swipes. My blade sinks deep between the vamp’s ribs. I wrench my wrist sideways. His ribs crack against the cold steel of the knife, and I watch the light die in his eyes.

Water spatters against my face, my shoulders, as I stare up at the bleeding sky. The stench of death is thick in the alley, but the coursing channels in the gutter are sweeping it away, piece by grated piece.

I breath deep, pulling the wet air into my lungs, and start for home.

* * * * *

Okay, I’ll explain just a bit. This was a short scene written from the POV of the MC of my current novel. These events could be assumed to happen before page 1 of my WIP.

And hey, speaking of WIPs, it’s Work In Progress Wednesday, isn’t it? Yeah, I guess it is. Except here’s the thing: I had to bugger off on a medical mission of sorts last week, resulting in very few evenings available to actually add to the word count. THEREFORE, I count it rather a success that I managed to add another percentage point to my WIP progress meter.

SCREW YOU IT’S TOTALLY VALID! DON’T JUDGE ME!

I’ll do better next week. I promise.

WIP STATUS

Current word count: 7,576

Number of future scenes sketched out: 5

Past week’s effort classification: Marginal, but Excusable

progress

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Airports and Teetotalling and GAH!

I disappeared halfway through last week, writer-friends, and there’s a really good reason for that. No, I’m not going to tell you what that was, since, frankly, it’s nane o’ yer beeswax. Suffice it to say that it involved epic-length road trips, flight delays, and no alcohol whatsoever. I KNOW!!!

So for your edification and delight, dear people, I offer a small sampling of the things I learned over the past several days:

  • I could never—absolutely NEVER—live in the South. It’s the climate. I just couldn’t do it. Humidity makes me disgruntled. Sorry.
  • I can only handle loud, boisterous people in very small doses. Let’s say your standard dose is about 5 mL of something. My dose tolerance for loud, boisterous people would be about 1 pL. That’s picoliter—one trillionth of a liter. Yeah.
  • I can survive four days without alcohol.
  • Exposure to loud, boisterous people makes it VERY HARD to survive four days without alcohol.
  • Cicadas are friggin’ HUGE, man!
  • They’re also noisy.
  • Occasionally kittens will catch cicadas and toy with them for fifteen minutes before killing them outright. This gratifies my sense of schadenfreude, since I don’t technically classify cicadas as worthy of any special rescue efforts.
  • My in-laws fear for my eternal soul.
  • My in-laws probably have good reason to fear for my eternal soul.
  • Atlanta International Airport’s free wi-fi access is a sorry affair, since the only sites that are free to access are Atlanta area tourist and university websites. THAT’S JUST TEASING, ATLANTA INTERNATIONAL, AND WE DON’T APPRECIATE IT PRECIOUS NO WE DON’T!
  • I can, apparently, survive without updating my Twitter account 30 times a day. This surprises me.
  • Rotelle dip is some tasty stuff, but makes me feel staggeringly unhealthy after eating it.
  • Apparently when you’re visiting family, it’s considered rude to put on your headphones and write in the evenings. They want, like, conversation and stuff. What’s with that?
  • Sometimes it’s both good and necessary to leave the headphones and laptop off and interact with people you don’t see very often.

So there we have it, folks: what I learned on my summer (non-)vacation. You’re welcome.

Maybe tomorrow my brain will be back in writerly mode and I’ll be able to say something cogent and non-rantish. We can always hope.

Now I’m off to pour myself a well-deserved drink. Cheers!

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Work-In-Progress Wednesday (I’m CAVING! I ADMIT!)

I know, I know…everyone and their writer mother does this on their blogs, but it’s finally time for me to jump on the bandwagon and check in with my writing progress on a regular basis. The reason for this is twofold:

  1. I need a source of public embarrassment if I don’t buckle down and add words to the WIP on a weekly basis. And
  2. I need a source of public embarrassment if I don’t buckle down and add words to the WIP on weekly basis.

I think you see what I’m getting at.

THEREFORE! I’m adding one of those work-in-progress widgets to the sidebar, and every Wednesday, I’ll check in and let you all know how I’m doing. If I’ve been a lazy sod and added less than 1000 words in a week, you may feel free to virtually scourge me and subject me to intense mockery and derision.

Not that I’ll ramble on every Wednesday about WIPage—that’d be boring, and anyway, I’m not inclined to overshare about my story, since I’d rather keep high-concept ideas sub rosa. I’ll just check in at the bottom of a Wednesday post and open myself up to scorn if need be. Scorn is motivating for me.

So there you have it, writer-friends. I’ve joined the WIPmeter club. Is there some kind of secret handshake I should know? Are nametags necessary? Do they serve alcohol at the weekly meetings?

I need to know these things.

* * * * *

WIP STATUS

Current word count: 6,517

Number of future scenes sketched out: 5

Past week’s effort classification: Sorry-arsed

progress

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

THE EVILS OF NON-“SAID” DIALOGUE TAGS AAAHHH!!!

SAID

I’m kidding. I don’t really think all non-“said” dialogue tags are evil. Just some. I bet you’d like to know which ones aren’t evil, wouldn't you? Yes, you would. (I make this assumption because it’s my blog and, frankly, I’m allowed to, and if I didn’t this post would be ending right about now-ish.) Well, I’ll tell you. (♫ He’s going to tell. He’s going to tell… ♫ Stop that! No singing!)

Right. Well, we all know that “said” is the bestest and most usefulest dialogue tag that ever was ever invented, right? We read right over it almost without noticing it’s there, and so it’s rare for us to need more than that. “Asked” is another one we kind of ignore, though honestly, when you end your dialogue with a question mark, you don’t really need to add “he/she asked” afterward, now do you? (he asks).

And to be sure, I’m more of a fan of avoiding dialogue tags altogether, substituting instead some action or gesture on the part of the speaking character to denote the speaker. Merrilee feels the same way, and makes an excellent case for avoiding dialogue tags here. ( ← click the linky! CLICK IT! In a minute, that is. Once you’re done reading my post.)

HOWEVER! I am of the fixed opinion that you can and should use other dialogue tags under certain conditions. What got me thinking about this was Hart, Hart, the Watery Tart’s post the other day about this very issue. Why not use “whispered” when the characters are speaking softly? she asked. (I used the tag to make it clear that she was asking, and not me. See how that works?)

And that got me to thinking. And formulating a rule for myself to use. Maybe you can use it too, writer-friends! You’re welcome in advance.

The rule is this:

YOU MAY USE DIALOGUE TAGS TO DESCRIBE TONE OF VOICE!

What do I mean? I’ll give you some dos and don’ts by way of example.

THE DOS (not the old Microsoft OS, dummy)

“Be quiet!” she whispered.

“Get out. Now!” he screamed.

“That was your last mistake,” he growled.

“Keep your damn flowers,” she spat.

Analysis: Each of these describes a tone of voice or way of speaking. “Whispered” and “screamed” clarify the volume of the speech, whereas “growled” and “spat” denote styles of speaking (teeth-gritted and gravelly for the former, clipped and harsh for the latter). I feel these and other tags like them are perfectly acceptable, and actually add something to the dialogue.

THE DON’TS

“Where to now?” he queried.

“Aw, c’mon. Can I please go, mom?” Bobby wheedled.

“But I think you know more than you’re saying, my dear,” she insinuated slyly.

“That’s what she said,” he joked.

Analysis: These tags simply reiterate what the dialogue is doing, and don’t add a damn thing to the narrative. Why be redundant and repetitive when you don’t have to be or need to be? These tags can go altogether. Also, some of them are just AWW-KWARD. Nobody should ever “query” in your manuscript. I’ll trip over that and fall on my virtual face every time.

So there, writer-friends. Do you see what I mean? Not all non-“said” dialogue tags are evil. Sometimes they can even add something to your prose. Use them wisely and sparingly, of course, but don’t limit yourself because someone (or some multitude of ones) said insisted you should.

Now get thee hence, and spit and grate and growl and snap and scream to your twee little hearts’ content!

(Okay, maybe your hearts aren’t twee, but whatever. I just wanted to use that word today.)

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Last! Day! To! Win!

Just a quickie post, y’all, to let you know that The Literary Lab’s Notes from Underground contest is ending tomorrow. They haz a button, too! Check it:

notesfromunderground_button_small

(Click on the button to link to the rules, peeps.)

For some reason, people appear to be intimidated by the open-ended nature of this contest. Don’t be. All you have to do is send the good folk at the LitLab five pages of your bestest and most interesting creative stuff—poems, stories, pictures, whatever. You could even go all modernist-minimalist and send a full page with a single period right in the middle. *shrugs* Whatever floats your boat.

Really, that’s it. Just corral 5 pages of stuff together and send it off. How hard can it be? (A post walking you through the process can be found here.)

And the prize? Well, should you be selected as one of the 25 winners (the odds are looking good already), you’ll get 10 pages in the Notes from Underground anthology to DO WITH AS YOU WILL!

You heard me. You get 10 pages of whatever. What could you do with 10 pages of freedom in a book that’ll be printed and bound and sold with the proceeds going to charity? Oh, and did I mention it’ll be available on Amazon and Smashwords and such, too? Yeah, Michelle Davidson Argyle recently braved the stormy seas of self-publishing, and knows all ab0ut how to do it right.

So. Want to get your name out there? Showcase your creativity? Garner the respect of your peers? Show your parents/spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/grandmother/bff/creative writing teacher/parole officer what a success you’re becoming? Put 5 pages together and send ‘em to LiteraryLab(at)gmail(dot)com. What have you got to lose?

Now get out there and get crackin’. If all goes well, we could be published in the same anthology. Wouldn’t that be nifty?

Yes. Yes, it would.

Friday, August 13, 2010

The Interview to End All Interviews: Victoria Mixon

Yeah, you heard me: it’s the interview to end all interviews. (Possibly because after answering my questions, she may never give another interview again.) (Okay, that’s not entirely true—she’s a very good sport.)

Now where were we? Ah, yes. Victoria Mixon. Yeah, so not only did she kick me in the tenders (which I found oddly endearing), but she her husband made me a custom award. (Look in the right sidebar! Isn’t that awesome? Oh, screw you. It totally is. Shut up.) And after receiving a custom award, I’m pretty much obligated to offer a tiny bit of promotion for the lovely lady in return, aren’t I? Yes, I am.

SO! Read on, writer-friends. This runs long, to be sure, but if you’re pressed for time, start at the bottom and read the answers in reverse order. If you’re anything like me (sans the weirdness, perhaps), you’ll be encouraged and inspired. Yes, she’s that good.

Now onward, writer-friends! Prepare to be impressed!

* * * * *

v

1. You've worked in the publishing industry for quite a while, according to your bio. (Chivalry compels me to note that you must certainly have begun working in it at a very tender age, possibly falling afoul of child labor laws, since you appear so exuberantly youthful in your photographs.) How long ago did you make the transition to freelance editing, and why?

Well, bless you for the compliment—I am pretty exuberantly youthful most days. But I couldn't actually do the work I do, the way I do it, without all those years of experience.

I started as editor of my high school paper in the 1970s, which I liked so much I did it the entire time I was in high school and would be doing it still if those young whippersnappers hadn't chased me off. After that, I was writing and editing the smallest newspapers in the Pacific Northwest, which is the period from which I date my professional experience.

I co-authored my published book in 1996—CHILDREN AND THE INTERNET, with Prentice Hall—and wound up in the *Who's Who of America* for that. So, you know, then I knew I'd arrived. [Ed.: You arriviste, you! Okay, sorry. I know that’s not necessarily a compliment, but I just wanted an excuse to use that word.]  I spent many, many years making good bucks in technical documentation and writing fiction on the side. And just two years ago I was still doing contract editing work in Silicon Valley. But that was the summer Silicon Valley discovered cheap tech documentation in India, so when that contract ended there were no more telecommuting jobs to be had. And I sure wasn't moving back to Silicon Valley. Instead, I gave in to my husband's pressure (by that time, many years in the making) to start a blog and hang out my shingle as an independent editor.

That was February, 2009. I count it exactly approximately a year and a half.


2. Do you have any particular specialty, or are you an equal-opportunity editor? Are there genres you just don't enjoy editing? Subject matter you prefer to avoid?

I won't edit p*rn. [Ed.: Okay, I added that asterisk so the bots don’t find me and spam my comments section. And anyway, we call it “erotica” nowadays, thanks.*]  That's pretty much my only parameter. Other than that, I see all work in terms of what's yet to be done to make it the manuscript the best it can possibly be.

That's why talk of being a “literary” editor versus a “genre” editor is meaningless to me. The delineation between good work and bad simply doesn't run along those lines. Genre fiction from the nineteenth- and earlier twentieth-century was often extremely well-written stuff. Modern literary fiction is often glib tripe. I mean, we all know about the Lord of the Rings, right? Raymond Chandler? Douglas Adams? Colette? P.G. Wodehouse? WUTHERING HEIGHTS? All genre. All great fiction.

Can you do a better job with any particular manuscript than you've already done on your own? Probably. Can I teach you how to do that, while also building your self-esteem as a writer, treating you with the professional respect you need to take your writing seriously, and making you proud of your work, thrilled to be the writer you are becoming? *Absolutely.* That's my job.

[Ed.: That, good lady, is an awesome job to have.]


3. You're a writer as well as an editor. You can level with us: you're writing Twilight fan-fic under a pseudonym, aren't you? Well, maybe not. But what do you write? What thrills your writerly soul?

You thought you'd trick me with that one, didn't you? Well, you did. I DO write Twilight fan-fic—under the pseudonym "Emily Bronte." You've probably seen my latest, with Bella's official seal of approval right there on the cover. Now my secret is out.

As it happens, I have boxes and boxes of manuscripts in my store room. They date back to the first novel I wrote in high school, and at this point I think I have four or five finished novels and a few incomplete ones languishing in one corner of my life or another, plus a handful of stories and a *whole lot* of random literature. I write long, involved novels about people who don't understand why their lives are so strange.Once upon a time, this was called regular ole fiction, but since the rise of genre obsession in the 1980s it's been considered literary fiction because it doesn't fit tidily into any particular genre, the way schizophrenia used to be used as a catch-all for mental illnesses that couldn't be identified. I have outlived my own literary categorization.

Recently I've become obsessed with vintage mysteries. I have four paper bags chock full of them stacked around my side of the bed, and I'm working my way through them, recording my progress on Goodreads. I just went out and bought more yesterday. I can't stop myself. My son is thinking of putting a 24-hour guard on me.

I'm teaching myself the craft of writing mysteries, so I spend a lot of time taking notes on their structures. I started working this past year on a collection of *noir* mystery stories, with a licensed PI protagonist, a rather tormented young woman who lives in an old Airstream in the redwoods and can't seem to escape the mistakes she's made with her life. She's fun to write. The people in her life are fun. And *noir*. I love *noir*. [Ed.: Hey, if you love noir, have you read my serial blog with Mercedes Yardley? You should. And yes, I’m a shameless self-promoter. What of it?]

My real calling, though, is as a poet. You didn't know that, did you? That's the only stuff I've actually gone to the trouble to get published, and that only because my college professor bullied me into it. I don't try very hard to publish. It saves my clients from comparing themselves to me. Also, I'm lazy that way.


4. Do you find that after a long day of editing, you're slightly surfeited on words? Do you need some time and space between your editing work and your writing work?

Oh, you know that's a very good question. I get surfeited on individual manuscripts. After a certain number of hours, I begin to lose that objectivity that's the key to my entire craft, and the client's manuscript starts being difficult in the same way my own manuscripts are difficult. It's a form of option paralysis. Should conflict #1 end with this scene or that one? Should the hook be the party or the aftermath of the party? How many catastrophes can we pack into conflict #3 and the climax? Could the hook sentence survive without that one word or couldn't it? What advice should I GIVE? The most important skill I've developed over the years is the ability to answer these questions from my gut without waffling. Once I start waffling, I know I'm getting into the dark and murky land of brain mush.

So I make sure I'm always working with more than one client at a time—on any given day, I'll work on one manuscript for a few hours, take a break to annoy my writing friend in Silicon Valley and find out what havoc she's been wreaking around her office, answer client questions over email, then work on another manuscript for a few hours. That keeps my brain sharp. I begin Developmental Letters to each client early in the week and keep them around all week, adding, expanding, polishing, and making sure they're absolutely as useful and crystalline as I can make them. I do Copy & Line Edits in-line while my Developmental Letters are going cold. Then I fire the entire things off late on Thursday, so I have Friday to field the inevitable barrage of excited questions from everyone. Friday is my good day. That's the day I collect all the great client accolades I post on my site. I love Fridays.

I work on my own stuff when and if I can. I have a child to raise, and I also spend one day a week tutoring local creative writing students. I'm also supposedly still preparing a book for print. We're waiting for my husband to get through conference season and straighten out the printing snafu, and in the meantime I keep editing the ebook. Someone should make me stop.


5. You spent all day line-editing a treatise on the mating habits of fruit flies in Malaysia, then took a long walk to clear your head. What kind of drink do you pour yourself as a reward?

Me? What drink do *I* pour? I don't pour my own drinks. I wait until my husband gets restless in his office in the next room (we work out of adjoining offices in our attic) and says, "I'm running downstairs for a little something. Do you want anything while I'm down there?"

If he seems to be lagging, I ping him on IM, mentioning the fact that's 5:30 and the drink cart is just about due to arrive. He usually takes the hint. He's pretty bright. And often thirsty.

[Ed.: I think I like your husband, and not just because he customized that award for me. You should let us go out for drinks sometime.]


6. What kinds of things make you happy when you're reading a fiction writer's work? Say, for example, you were an acquisitions editor at a stupendously-large publisher. What would make you club your fellow editors with baby seals to get the senior eds to accept a manuscript?

Beautiful writing. Sentences like this one from my client Kathryn Estrada's MG historical adventure: "They met with an impact that cracked the air." Amazing, realistic characters and fresh plot ideas, like the intricate internal portrait and one-day timeframe in Ania Vesenny's SWEARING IN RUSSIAN AT THE NORTHERN LIGHTS or the heartbreakingly unsentimental depiction of rural India with a reverse mystery embedded in it in Bhaichand Patel's WHEN THE STREETS WERE DARK AND COLD. Totally tanked tension, like the convoluted dark edgy/black humor stuff in the novels of Chris Ryan. I've had lots of clients who were writing the most incredible fiction—dark stuff, deep stuff, intense and profound stuff. My husband and son listen to a lot of carrying-on over the dinner table about how brilliant my clients are. They know all their names.

Some aspiring clients from a year ago have agents now, and that's thrilling for all of us. They're heck of good.

But, you know, my favorite thing isn't even the writing, it's the writers. When someone comes to me saying, “Am I a writer? I've never taken classes, and I sucked in English at school. But I love fiction, so I wrote a novel. Then this agent told me my novel doesn't have a hook,” and I can say, “Your novel has a hook, all right, and it's *fabulous*. It's just not the hook that leads into this particular story. Let's discover the story that goes with that hook,” and over the weeks I watch them learn and grow, improve their skills by leaps and bounds, take themselves and their craft seriously—that's the real joy of this work.

I almost never lose touch with clients. They write periodically to let me know how things are going for them. My inbox is a smorgasbord of ex-clients just checking in, and my outbox is all me responding to them. They come back months later with more work. Their novels are alive to both of us—it's so exciting, I wake up thinking about their stories in the morning. It's a wonder I ever have time to write to the new folks.


7. What... is your favorite color? (The Gorge of Eternal Peril awaits should you get this one wrong.)

Paisley.

[Ed.: Well played, good lady!]


8. You've read a metric crap-tonne of work by aspiring and published authors. You're not supposed to have opinions about your clients' work, I know, but it's impossible to avoid gut reactions. How many pages does it usually take you to assess whether a given writer is destined for greatness? (I had to ask at least one controversial question, you know.)

Two answers—

One: I'm pretty much like agents. I can see in the first few pages how serious a writer is about their craft and how well they understand storytelling. But I also know that the first few pages are the ones that get the most careful loving attention, so if something's really wonderful I skip to the middle to see how well the craft is holding up. Middles are notorious bogs. I think when T.S. Eliot came up with the title "The Wasteland" he was probably thinking about the middle of some novel he was trying to write.

Two: I can edit any manuscript into a great story, given enough motivation and dedication on the part of the writer. I think this is true of any really good developmental and line editor. Is there a brilliant novel in the most early-draft manuscript? Sure! Why not? Everyone has to start somewhere. I myself have written some dreadful shlock in my time. I just keep working on it until it's better.

So you wrote 250 pages of which only one or two elements are diamonds in the rough. Those one or two elements will get you where you want to go. You simply need to be shown the way. You need to be supported and given faith that you can make it. And then you need to pull up your socks and do the work to get yourself there. This is the writing life.


9. Would you like to read my Twilight fan fiction?

Send it. I won't edit it, though. Unless you pay me. Then I will.


10. Even with the publishing world in a bit of upheaval right now, and the fact that you likely see a lot of unpolished work, would you classify yourself as optimistic about the future of fiction? Why?

Absolutely.

I was a terrible, anguished cynic for many, many years. I was watching the quality of a lot of published fiction plummet like a rock down a dry well, lamenting—along with everyone else—"Why is this happening? Where does it think it's going?" And at the same time I was meeting incredible aspiring writers everywhere I went, in classes and workshops and conferences, people like Sasha Troyan and Lucia Orth, who were still unpublished when I met them (now award-winning novelists). And I was clutching my hair under the cold indifference of the sickle moon, crying, "Why? Why?" Along with everyone else.

Then I started independent editing. And these *incredible* writers started bringing their work to me. And I started researching the industry, meeting agents and other professionals, reading up on what's happened over the past forty years. And it all—finally—started making sense.

So now I know. I know why some things get published and some don't, why some books sell in the gazillions and some don't sell beans, why it isn't always about the quality of the writing, and what a writer can do about that. I know a lot about the forces that drive this industry.

And, I'll tell you, as much of a stinkbomb as self-publishing seems to have been since it first hit—as bad a reputation as it's gotten—there is a lot of really exciting stuff going on in that arena. And that's what's going to break the stonewall between the gorgeous fiction being produced by really talented, dedicated, intelligent, visionary craftspeople out there and the dollars-for-eyeballs business of the publishing industry, which relies so heavily on Walmart fiction. I look at what happened in the music industry when the labels got too corporate, what happened in the movie industry after the studios got too self-indulgent. Technology happened. And suddenly we had indie music and indie film, and now they are extraordinary sources of some of the best art in those media being created today.

It doesn't necessarily make a billion bucks. But it's *great art*.

Fiction is on the cusp of that right now. It's fascinating. It's electrifying. This is the best time ever, in all my years on this planet, to be a fiction author. I can't *wait* to see what the future brings.

[Ed.: Okay, that’s seriously awesome. You rock.]

* * * * *

Didn’t I tell you, writer-friends? Didn’t I? She’s pretty cool, ain’t she? If you’re feeling down about your WIP and need a boost, wouldn’t Victoria be a great editor for you? Yes, she quite probably would be.

For more information about the good lady, do check her website at:

http://victoriamixon.com

Hell, even the advice she gives out for free over there is worth a look. Swing on by. You’ve got nothing to lose, and a good bit to gain.

And thank you once more to Victoria for indulging me. You, good lady, are a great sport and a wonderful human being.

See you next week, all!

*I don’t write erotica, FYI. I was kidding about that. No, really, I was!

Thursday, August 12, 2010

I'm strange? Really? Uh...okay, I suppose I am.

Ah, yes, writer-friends. It’s no surprise to you, O loyal minions readers, but someone thinks I’m a bit cracked. That someone, strangely enough, is someone who, quite frankly, is a bit askew herself. Who would that be? Well, the lovely and ever-so-slightly-dangerous Mercedes M. Yardley, of course! (Yes, the one who stabbed me two weeks ago and wanted to poke me with a burning-hot needle on Monday.)

Anywhee, the deranged one herself passed on a blog award of much strangeness to me. Check it:



See, this is part of a contest being run by Cate Gardner, whose book of short stories, Strange Men in Pinstripe Suits, is forthcoming from Strange Publications. To enter, all one does is pass along the award to other strange types and let Cate know about it to be entered for one of two prize packages (rules here).

To wit! I hereby pass the award to the following people whom I find rather strange (in a wondrously entertaining way, of course). The nominees are…:


Right! There we have it. Strange people. Go forth and be strange with your strange selves and such. If you need me, I’ll be over here in the corner being strange.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Snarketing for Marketing

Victoria Mixon said a while ago, in one of her comments sections, that she started posting opinionated, snarky articles about writing on her website because they generated FAR more traffic than articles with a more pedestrian tone.  There is, writer-friends, a lesson to be learned from this. I’ll unpack it for you. (You’re welcome.) It’s this: when it comes to marketing yourself online, a little attitude goes a long way.

Angry woman

Not that you have to be angry to snark, or anything (via www.zazzle.com).

You think I’m lying? Screw you. (See? There’s the attitude. You know you liked it.) I’ll prove it to you. I’m going to give you the exact same information, twice. The first time, I’ll be polite. The second time, I’ll drop the filter and snark like a mofo. Here goes.

Nothing makes a writer like writing. If you plan to be a success in the publishing world, you must write, write, and write more. Learn to self-edit. Find critique partners. And above all, never give up.

*YAWN* Wait… what? Sorry, I think I bored myself a bit there. Let’s try that again, shall we?

You think you’ll get ahead in the publishing world just by dabbling in fiction here and there whenever you have time? Wrong, bucko. There’s a word for people who think they don’t have to work at the craft in order to succeed: amateur. Here’s another: unpublished. Get out there and work harder, fail better (as Beckett said), learn more, and above all, DON’T YOU DARE QUIT ON ME!

Right, so even making allowances for individual tastes, I’d venture to say you’d remember the second paragraph better. The first is just standard advice—you may have heard it a hundred times before. The second? Well, it has some attitude, some personality, and chances are you’ll retain it more readily.

See, Victoria’s website exists for one main reason: to generate traffic for her freelance editing business. When she puts up a post about writing or the publishing industry, she’s hoping to draw readers who are also writers, and who may (surprisingly enough) have need of a good freelance editor to take their work to the next level. If her post gets retweeted, shared on Facebook, linked in blog posts? Win, baby.

The more writers read her posts, the more writers know who she is and what she does. If she writes well, and makes points that resonate with people (which she does), folk will begin to trust her opinion, and by extension, will begin to respect her professional qualifications as an editor. AND, if they respect her as an editor, they might be willing to fork over their hard-earned cash to have her look at their manuscripts. See how that works?

Look, I’m not saying you have to be obnoxious to gain an online audience. That’s not the point at all. What I’m really saying is that a little attitude bespeaks confidence, and confidence, in addition to being sexy, will help sell your business, whether that be ferret wrangling or freelance editing.

Buck up, baby. If you can’t muster the confidence to throw down a little on your blog (or on Twitter), how do you expect to stand up to agents and editors and reviewers who just aren’t that into you? Believe in yourself, writer-friend. You’re good. Own it.

And go ahead and snark a bit. It’s good for you.

(Ask Victoria if you don’t believe me.)

Friday, August 6, 2010

Pimp My Award, Baby.

I kinda do this, writer-friends. I get these awards, and then I hold onto them, and procrastinate until I’m pretty much WELL beyond the point where accepting them has any relevance whatsoever. BUT, I’m going to go ahead and accept some today. And, as is usual with me, there’s a definite reason for this, which is…

Hey do y’all remember when Courtney (the Southern Princess) made me my very own blog award with beer? Remember that? Yeah. That was awesome. (Name that reference in the comments section for 600 utterly irredeemable bonus points.) Anyway, I haz another slightly customized award. You may have seen the Versatile Blogger Award making the rounds recently, yeah? It looks like this:

Versatile Blogger Well, a number of people passed this one on to me, so I’d like to say a huge THANK YOU to:

Anastasia/Harley D. Palmer at Labotomy of a Writer

WritingNut at Writing in a Nutshell

Lisa Gail Green at Paranormal Point of View

Mia Hayson at My Literary Jam and Toast

Jessica Brooks at My Thoughts Exactly (a, uh, late addition, avec apologies, since I somehow missed this one the first time round. *tugs collar* *grins*)

“But that’s not customized!” you say. Um… no. It’s not. But this one is:

Versatile Blogger VMHAHAHAHAHHAAHAaaahahaaAAHAa!!1!1!!!!12!

See, when Victoria Mixon (Remember her? She kicked me in the tenders. Figuratively speaking.) passed on this award to me, she categorized me as an aspiring lunatic. I was so chuffed,(*sniffle*) that she (or rather, her husband) pimped up this custom badge just for yours truly. I was amused. I will display it proudly. Can’t you see me beaming from where you are? *beams*

PLEASE NOTE: The fact that Victoria gave me a customized version of this award IN NO WAY diminishes my feelings of warmness toward the other passer-onners of the VB award. I heart you all equally!

Anyhoo, I think there are rules to go along with that one, but whatever. I’m feeling a bit oppositionally defiant today. I’ll just move on to saying thanks for a few more.

SO. Next up is Hart Johnson, who blogs over at Confessions of a Watery Tart. And, really, can a gal who’s bent on naked world domination and names herself after a line from Monty Python and the Holy Grail be anything but awesome? No. No, she can’t. And since she’s awesome, she gave me the Awesomeous Maximus award. Rock on.

Who's Awesome

And that Alex Cavanaugh? Let’s hear some mad love for that fella, eh? He passed on the Meat & Potatoes Award AND the Your Blog Rocks Award. Alex, you da man. Sho nuff.

Meat_PotatoesAwardThe Your Blog Rocks Award. I think.

Your_Blog_Rocks_AwardThe Meat and Potatoes Award. I think.

And FINALLY, the last award I’ll accept today is the Journey Support Award. This was passed on to me by no less than three lovely folk, so a mongo THANKS goes out to Liza at Middle Passages, Jon Paul at Where Sky Meets Ground, and Courtney at Southern Princess. Y’all are awesomesauce with a side of nifty.

journeyaward 

And THAT, writer-friends, is that. That’s a lot of awards to procrastinate accepting. One more expression of gratitude to all those who passed these along: YOU ALL RAWK!

Right. Now I’ll get back to procrastinating putting these in my sidebar. See you next week!