Baby, it’s cold out there.  The snow is so fluffy, it should be swept, not shoveled.  And I’m inside with an oven that doesn’t want to cooperate with my demands…like going to a certain temperature and staying there.  A repairman is supposed to arrive any month now to look at it and see if it’s repairable.  Again.  To be honest, I wouldn’t mind replacing it. 

In the middle of NaNo, a contest was put up by one of the editors at Girls with Insurance .  I liked the premise, but didn’t have time to work on it.  This week I did.  I’m not a writer of nonfiction very often.  It is getting a bit easier though.  The name of the contest is “You Could Have Had Me.”

The piece I wrote, “What I Was Going to Remind You of Someday” does have elements of truth in it.  So much was added though, it seems a bit like fiction.  It takes place when I was seventeen or eighteen.  I don’t know.  It probably isn’t any good at all.  I sent it to 4 people.  Two have not gotten it yet because it went out in the holiday cards I sent yesterday afternoon. The one reply I did recieve said it was convincing. I think it reads like an upgraded bit of my past where there was cause and effect and it all made sense somehow.  Nothing like the life I actually lived back then.   

I’d been considering the idea for a month then wrote it in my notebook in less than an hour.  I touched it up, deleted 1/10th of it and sent it in.  The maddening thing is that the contest doesn’t close until 31 January.  That’s a long time to not even know if it landed in the correct email inbox. I absolutely felt like I was cheating, too.  I know Dawn isn’t the editor to choose to send nonfiction to at that magazine, but still…

I’ve been in correspondance with somebody who doesn’t want to remember anything about his past, saying it’s long gone.  I challenged him, asking  how else he would know what to write, what details to lend to a story if he could only use his present.  I think it’s preposterous not to consider what you know to be true to add to a story.  I can write about working in a strawberry feild because I did.  I can only imaging working as a forklift truck operator because I have not.

Well, since this is another Friday instead of a Thursday, I’ll chasten myself for not writing this blog entry in a timely fashion.  As this appears to be the last entry of this wonderful year, I wish you joy and thank you for reading.  If I still made resolutions, perhaps I’d strive to be on time next year.  Happy New Year!

I have no idea what I was thinking, but I was not thinking yesterday was Thursday. Perhaps it was the copious amounts of snow. Maybe it was worry. Maybe I need to change over my calendar pages in a timely fashion.

Fresh off NaNo and I’m very happy with the result. The rewrite will begin soon. Tomorrow is the TGIO party and I am looking forward to that and meeting up with the best Municipal Liaisons: Madeline http://madelinecfranklin.wordpress.com and Sarah Elizabeth Diemer  (Sarah Elizabeth Diemer)… If you’re thinking about attempting a book and want to shoot for next year’s challenge, these two will ease you through the days until you’re on the other side wondering why you had the slightest doubt about the process. True, you do feel like you’re coming out of a coma at the end, but it is a delicious feeling; all sorts of lovely sensations face you and you think ‘I could use that in the rewrite!’

The snow. Ah, well, it happens. The upside was that my husband brought home a gorgeous filing cabinet that was scheduled for a dumpster rendezvous. It’s tall and beige and now serves as part of my cubby. This office space has seen a lot of changes over the years. I had to give up a desk to gain this cabinet and so far, it is working out well. I like the perception I have that somehow I am stimulating the economy by the reduce/reuse/recycle model we’re continuing to embrace.

All plans pointed to us traveling over the hill to see J.T.  (Jim Julie Tuttle)and the Law (Eric Lawton)play at Colden Lakes tonight, but the stamina just wasn’t there. Jim, if you read this, honestly, start the set before 8 p.m.! I don’t think the decision to not go tonight was because of the strange encounter that occurred the last time we went to see them play — a month ago — at the same venue. I knew it was going to be a possibility, but seriously, finding myself sitting across the dance floor from one of the deepest? greatest? fiercest? longest? loves of my life–Well, description fails me here; I haven’t given it enough thought. I didn’t think I was going to blog about this, but … “My Johnny” was there and he looked good; he looked fine and it was weird. Shalom. Put that into lyrics and sing about it.

By the by, have I ever mentioned that I love my husband? I do and can’t say it enough. How often is there a relationship where you can tell the other that you had thoughts about kissing your high school sweetheart and your partner doesn’t get mad at all? Some men are truly awesome. I’m glad I get to live with one of them. Until next time!

Here it is, day 18 of the NaNo challenge and I’m slightly ahead of the game. I have 30792 words written so far when if I’d put in the minimum 1,667 words per a day, I’d only be at the 30006 word mark. What a strange, long learning process it’s been.

Last year, I had drawn up a “plan” on paper. I had divided a page into ten scenes I wanted to cover and attached other information that seemed relevant when I thought it was and that piece of paper helped greatly.

This year, I am flying blind. I started with two main characters, a setting and a basic concept which formed while I was engaged in last year’s challenge. I told those characters that I’d work with them later. Throughout the year, they have visited. I listened to them. Now that I’m writing about them, I find they have far more depth than I ever imagined.

Do I like where this story is going? Do I like it at all? I think that it has the bones of a pretty good novel, but it needs re-writing. Thank goodness I don’t have to think about revisions for at least 12 more days! One character has gone from female to male and back again a few times. Supporting characters I thought were vital to the story, I see aren’t even necessary. I may change my mind when I get farther along, but right now, I have to tell you, this is turning into a novel unlike the one I imagined I’d write.

Each morning, before I begin, I read most of the words from the day before and lately it’s felt like a fancy tickle of a great story to be. Who knows? I may never get to the editing of it, but perhaps I will. Naysayers be damned, right AvA? 😉

I have no doubt that somewhere, deep inside me, there is a hidden bit that KNOWS that the instant I think something will go one way, it won’t.  I say this because I find myself having deeper reserves of patience, perseverance and lord knows what else every time I turn around.

I love the members of my writer’s group. If I ever get a book deal, each of them will be given a mention on the “Special Thanks to…” page.

A change in the day had reproductions I didn’t anticipate. I couldn’t ‘switch’ my activities from Tuesday to Wednesday easily, so I’m running behind yet again. I had an FB email to answer which I was able to put off for a day. But then I received a volley of emails from someone I sent a physical letter and several pieces to a few weeks ago. This threw me off kilter because I thought I wouldn’t receive any response for a while yet. Those emails were fun to read though. More fodder…

So, when I started the ‘Celebration thread’ this afternoon, I was just about ashamed of myself. I only had one submission to report, and that was made early this morning. (Fingers crossed.) After babysitting, I ran up here to start to send out a few more things and now I am back to an “11” in my list of things sent out.

Tomorrow, because I didn’t go shopping today, I’ll have to do that and then on Sunday there is the kick-off party for NaNoWriMo. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I am looking forward to the relative easy pace of November’s 1667 words a day — everyday.

Years ago, I came across the theory that if you had 12 things ‘out,’ you could expect one of them to be accepted. The first time I managed that, I had a poem published. Since then, I’ve kept a list and I make a line after I submit 12 individual things. Right now, I have 11 things listed since the last line I drew, so I’m antsy to get a ‘twelfth’ out.

I like to draw lines…

This led me to consider how valid the theory was, so I did the math. Since starting the list, I have sent out 295 things and 20 are still out = 275. I’ve had 17 things accepted/published, which puts me at 16.17 things submitted before 1 acceptance. Not bad. But if I add ‘special mentions’ (5) that takes me to 12.5 items submitted per 1 acceptance–which is awfully close to proving the theory. (I include everything in that list — from grant applications to New Yorker cartoon captions, letters to the editor to Scriblophile contest entries.)

The other bit of math I’ve been thinking about comes from Stephen King in his “On Writing.” In it he gives an equation that after a story is written, 10% should be trimmed. I agree with that — 90% of the time — in regards to my own writing. After years and years of hearing: “Trim! Cut! Less is more!” I feel trained. I automatically edit out ‘thats’ as I write, which is really going to be a hindrance when I start NaNoMo in less than a month…

Regardless, I’ve looked at a few things I wrote years ago and 10% is not always enough. In the last few hours, I’ve taken a 2890 word story written in the 1990’s and cut it down to 1677 words. I need to leave it for now and see how it reads in the morning, though I suspect a few more dozen words can be deleted.

That wasn’t effortless. I’d re-read it recently and didn’t think there was any saving this story at all. Once I gave up hope of ever being able to fix it for possible publication, I came up with a ‘fix’. Strange, isn’t it? It’s strange to me. I start browbeating myself, telling myself how horrible I am as a writer and then, boom: someone says ‘I like your story. I want to publish it.’ And on a few other days, I think, ‘Yes! This is good. It will be accepted and I’ll get the big bucks and be published in Glimmer Train.’ Then I receive the form rejection ‘why are you bothering us?’ email.

Sigh…

The ups…

The downs…

The life of one writer…

Those were mandatory deadlines; now I pick and choose from the myriad deadlines offered by writing contests and literary journals that only accept work during certain months. I’ve let a few slip, but it does serve its purpose. NPR’s 3-minute fiction came at an inopportune time, but I thought about the opening line and the last one for just a day or two. I scribbled a few notes down then wrote and polished it the next day. I still rather like it. I would have preferred the fiancé’s name to have been Samuel, but in an effort to get it to read in three minutes, I had to substitute Paul.

‘A Stranger So Helpful’ was written in a similar fashion though I’d known about that contest for months. The deadline was today. I thought it was humorous that when I gave it to B__ to read, she started to and thought a few paragraphs in that it was going to turn out one way and was ready to be furious with me that I gave it to her to read. She read on. After, she said it was a story of mine that she’d give to other people to read. A high compliment.

I’m glad that even though I’ve not been on time this month (September is ALWAYS a difficult month) with this blog, at least I am going to get this post in under the self-imposed deadline. I hope October turns out a bit more staid. Staid is a state of being that is underrated…

I didn’t expect to be this late.

Putting up firewood and making jelly and re-writing have had me hopping, and then, when you add in all the parties & visiting in the last five days, well, you’d be running a tad behind, too.

Or not.

 Striving for efficiency in my life is a fad that comes and goes. I even have seasonal ‘to-do’ lists and plans, affirmations and reward systems; I’m lousy with ‘knowing’ what I ought to do & how to set goals… then {chip} I get a call from a friend {chink} and we discuss something that sparks a memory or an idea and {drip} I go to jot down a few lines, {ping} a premise, {clink} or search out a folder…

And then the roof that had been holding all my high ideals collapses and as I stumble over the wreckage of my daily planners and multiple calendars, I brush off pieces of description and fragments of phrases. I yank on the arm of a character I thought I knew only to discover they have transmuted into different being entirely and I write some more…

Are all of those good intentions and goals leading me to hell or publication? It’s hard to say.

 Labor Day saw me scrappy with submissions. I got 9 out. One was rejected by one of the ‘swiftest’ markets, (with a note to go ahead and try submitting there again) so I sent it right back out to another market, but still–8 different stories are in the queue of 8 different magazines at this moment from that fit of fury.

 I’m very nervous about one of them. I sent “Unwitting Witness” to Vestal Review. As you may know, they accepted “The Virgin Forest” for their 36th Issue. I haven’t submitted to them since because I wanted the same ‘quality’ and ‘tone’ as that piece, and in my humble opinion, I think I was finally able to match it.

 So, with the previous submissions, I am at 20 things sent out. I just checked the mail and there was a copy of Tin House waiting for me, but no rejections (or acceptances) so, I’m going to finish watching “My Hero,” then I’m off to read, and write and most importantly, re-write.

While scanning the discussion boards yesterday (i.e. procrastinating) I came across an essay suggestion. It was for one Tim O’Brien wrote for the 2009 Fiction issue of The Atlantic. Luckily, I purchased my copy from Burlingham Books in Perry, NY when it first came out, so I was able to re-read it without straining my eyes by staring at the screen or wasting ink by printing it out. I had marked one line back when I first read it, and it is still the best line–in my opinion.

“Above all, a well-imagined story is organized around extraordinary human behaviors and unexpected and startling events, which help illuminate the commonplace and the ordinary.”

That pretty much defines the best stories to read–and to strive to write. I finished the article and ended up on a different writing site with those words still fresh in my mind. I reviewed a few things and let’s face it, if you can buy votes, it’s not a fair election. I gave lower marks than I might have otherwise, but none of the writing there sparkled in the slightest. It’s getting near the time I need to renew and I think I won’t. I have made some genuine flesh and blood friends there, and it can be a great place to pick up story ideas–I am a sucker for the ‘This sentence starts the story’ listings–but as a whole, it’s not worth it to me anymore.

Yes, I’ve had some minor success with my writing which has been gratifying, but I am having a hard time finding time to participate on the other sites, so to those of you whom I’ve spoken to about this, I hope that you better understand why I’ll probably be leaving. It isn’t you, it’s me. And you’ll notice I left the idea of returning open, too. My horror-scope said I’ll have a hard time making a decision today. I am amused when those things are right!

Besides, it’s rapidly approaching 1 September 2010, the day so many publications open up to submissions. I’m well on my way to being able to have 50 ‘new’ things out within that month, but I still need to polish. And yes, SG, the letter I promised to have written & sent out should be on its way… eventually, well at least it will be found so I can add the last two stories to the envelope. Progress!

Until next time!

Sometimes writing is really fun. I had an absolute blast writing ‘Of Wild Rides and Pirate Eyes.’ The characters were great and even in the last edits, I was still able to read it and wonder where it was going next. One of my first readers said he really loved it, which was fantastic. I worried/sweated/sent him three versions with admonishments to forget the last version I sent until he was probably sick of me. With that story, it was important that he and his wife liked it. I don’t think I would have written it had I not known them.

And now I’m at the start of something new. It has no name yet but it’s interesting. I had sketched out the premise in my last notebook after the end of a dream would not let me go. I even told people about it to dispel the notion I had, but it was no use. It was given to me to write, so that’s what I’m doing.

I do know I’m lucky. I think part of the ‘luck’ is a maturity based on an acceptance of myself that I didn’t have earlier in life. I occasionally want to kick myself for forgetting that other people don’t possess the same self-awareness I have. When I run into examples of jealousy and debasement instead of nurturing and encouragement of a talent, it disturbs me. It’s the reason I can’t watch American Idol/America’s Got Talent/etc. Yeah, I get it, not everyone can be #1, but why kill a person’s hope and passion? Just because you think you’re better? According to whom?

This is being written on Wednesday night. Not that I’m optimistic, but I’ve drawn up a “output calendar” I want to start following. Should things go according to the new ‘plan’ I’ll have posts on this site the first and third Thursdays of each month instead of the pell-mell intervals they have been going up. I’m glad you’ve stopped by to check in. If you notice me slacking, or not, feel free to gripe or praise in the comment section. I do read those you know.