Musings on Place (Mine) and Its Effects on My Writing (among other things)

The astute among you will have noticed, perhaps, that I’ve moved. Ohio to NJ isn’t the longest move in the world, but it is enough to be obviously different. I was wondering, before I left Ohio, how the “new place” would affect my writing, seeing as how where and how I live influence me so greatly. Here’s my initial report (I see you nodding off in the corner, there. Don’t worry, there will be no PowerPoint presentation, no dull — I hope — discourse on life, the universe and my cosmic place. Yet.)

Across the street from my apartment is a cemetery, founded in 1800, where I often walk. The oldest tombstones are fallen over and their engravings weathered away to near-invisibility, but the ones I can still read give date of death as around 1805, with the age noted as “67 years and 3 mo.” The sign in the center lists the veterans, by war, with the first war listed being the War of 1812. It’s a pretty cool place to walk. When I do, I often wonder about the lives of those interred there, and those they left behind. It’s led to my thinking, a whole lot, about death, mortality, and what we leave behind. About societal conventions in marriage, re-marriage, children, and burial practices, and how they change, or don’t. Which leads to some strange thoughts connecting in my brain.

I don’t want to say these are the only thoughts I have, here. They’re not, but they are pretty central to the ideas skittering around in my brain (as they try to evade being written about). It’s not what I thought NJ would bring to my writing, not by a long shot. But I must say, I’m not unhappy with it. Not one little bit!

So, just to prove I’m not entirely whack-o, here are some other, more normal, things about NJ:

Blueberries! They grow wild here. I am very impatiently waiting for them to ripen, so I can eat some!

Along with blueberries comes acidic soil. Sandy, acidic soil. The ferns love it along the shady river bottoms. I love ferns. Look at the different kinds sprouting along the river below the cemetery (taken earlier in the year):

What do I miss? That’s pretty easy. Snakes! I haven’t seen one since I’ve been here. That makes me a bit sad, since I used to see them quite a lot before the move. They kind of made me feel at home. Which takes us right back to how strange I must be. *sigh* Well, enough then. Time to get back to writing.

And, Happy Father’s Day.

Quote of the Week

The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe. –Gustave Flaubert

I don’t know about you, but for me, I often don’t discover what I’m really writing about in a short story until halfway through the initial draft. Oh, I might have some notion that the main character is So-and-So, and that there are time-traveling guinea pigs involved, and maybe a robot, too. But until I get into the meat of the story and wrestled with it a bit, I don’t know what emotional response I’m looking for. Is this a funny robot, and the story is a sideways look at tech gone awry? Or will the guinea pigs eat one another, so I want the reader to come away with a revulsion for the intricacies of “over-civilization” and such? Am I looking to make you, the reader, long for something unattainable, cross and re-cross your legs in discomfort as you recognize something in your world that is less than pretty, or do I hope you’ll get misty-eyed at the thought of a reconciliation?

Longing, discomfort, hope — these are just some of the emotional responses a reader might have to the overall story. Sure, you might still laugh at a funny robot joke in there, but if the end result is one of longing, I’ll go back and temper some of those jokes in later drafts (or start writing that way mid-draft, once I “get” my own story). See what I mean?

A few stories I’ll know the strings to pull right from the beginning. Those are, in some ways, easier to write. And in other ways, they’re harder. When I don’t know the emotional heart of the story, I can’t overdo it. When I do know it, it’s far too easy for me to go overboard. Then I’ll have to go back and cut, cut, cut. It’s a toss-up, I guess in that regard.

But those I know beforehand generally stick in my brain longer, forcing me to write them. The others will fade away if I ignore them too long, and their emotions will sweep away like the tide, only to reappear in some other story further down the beach. Unlike in life, nothing in writing is really lost.

So, this is part of my process. What’s yours?

“What Fates Impose” Signal Boosting

Okay, so you’ve heard that my story “Worthy” was published in an anthology by Alliteration Ink. Now, this same publisher is putting together a new anthology, called “What Fates Impose,” which is spec fic relating to divination of various types. They are running a Kickstarter to be able to pay the authors pro rates for their stories. Check out the link here to see the table of contents (lots of upcoming, new talent there, eh-what? and some “names,” too), and all the levels of backing support offered (a couple of tuckerizations are still left, I think, as well as some professional critiquing, if you’re interested in those).

Now, before you ask, no, my work won’t be in this one. But it sounds like pretty darn good reading, and Alliteration Ink is a pretty darn nice place (good people). I’mletting you know about it here. I’ve already reserved my copy, and hope you might find it interesting enough to support, too.

My Neighbors’ Plants Eat Better Than I Do!

Yes, this stopped me in my tracks, right before the doors of the grocery store. I couldn’t believe this, but there you go. My various neighbors’ plants are eating better than I am. How strange is this world?

A Bit of Frivolity

It just seems time for some light-hearted learning. I hope you like this video as much as I did. Enjoy a laugh, while learning the answer to the age-old question!

Are We Still Here? Really?

I’m not a member of SFWA–not yet–but it’s been my goal pretty much since I knew a) it existed, and b) that I wanted to become a writer, so the latest news really makes me mad, sad, and just plain old weary.

Here are a couple links to get you up to speed, if you have no clue what I’m yammering on about: one from Mary Robinette Kowal’s site and another from E. Catherine Tobler, and from Steven Saus, a round-up with plenty of links to follow to your heart’s content. See a tally of who’s saying what, where by Jim C. Hines. Finally, another image of the cover itself is available here.

So, what can I say about all this? First, I’m very sad that this is happening now, today. Again. Still. And to an organization that I’ve always held in such esteem. It made me question the value of joining it, if and when I become qualified. Tarnished dreams, and all that. I mean, who wants to join into all that? What woman wants to become part of an organization that objectifies her, and belittles both her and her ability to work and achieve?

But. . .there’s a silver lining.

The outpouring of responses that I’ve highlighted above show me that I’m not alone. These other people, males and females, authors, editors, beginners and pros alike, all feel the same as I do: that the talking-down-to and sidelining of females, in this profession especially, is so out-of-date and ridiculous that it’s really difficult to comprehend. It shows me that, despite the problems of the SFWA (or any organization of any size), there is more good to and about it than bad.

There may be a bit of tarnish on the silver, but shining a light on it, while highlighting that flaw, helps us eradicate it. If the problems continue . . . I reserve the right to change my mind, as do we all. But for now, I’ll still dream of “Active Member, SFWA” under my name.

The Wheels Came Off the Cart

June already. And after that initial success in May, everything fell apart. “The wheels fell off the cart,” as my mom would have said. Or, “It all went to H*ll in a handbasket.” Don’t you love old sayings?

Oh, I edited, and I wrote a bit of new material, but I got nothing new finished. I critted works for others, but my own editing went whirl, swirl,  stop. *sigh*

But it’s a new month, with new goals. A derailment in the past is not a dooming of the future. And I have some interesting ideas percolating, things that ought to get my fingers clacking away on the keys with a vengeance. There is no making up of lost time, exactly, but a burst of highly creative output can make up for a week’s inactivity. Hubby will be gone for nearly two weeks on business, so I’ll have plenty of free time to write and write and write some more.

There are good things that happened because of the lack of writing. For one, I got lots of reading done. I finished “A Dance with Dragons” (finally!) and “The Broken Kingdoms.” I don’t know about you, but reading something really, really good gets my creative fires burning brighter, hotter. It makes me want to write something. Anything. It starts an itch that can only be scratched by doing writing.

Second, I finished up some quilting that’s been lying around for wa-a-ay too long. I listen to audio books while I quilt, making this my version of multi-tasking. I finished a wallhanging, which I machine quilted myself (machine quilting is not my forte, which is why this lingered so long, I think.), and I’m nearly done attaching the binding on the back of a bed quilt that I had someone machine quilt for me just before we moved. It’s beautifully quilted, and I can’t wait to lay this on the bed when it’s totally finished (I’ll post a picture of it once it’s done). Another creative outlet, well-fed.

And now, I feel rejuvenated. I feel a clean break from the old stories that were lingering, clinging to my ankles, cluttering my mind and stealing my time. I think I needed to step back, away from it all and take a deep breath. I don’t like abandoning stories. I like to finish things, to see them through to a publication. But I needed to see it was time to let these darlings go, to move on. They are “finished,” even if they’re not published. Or publishable. And that’s okay. (deep breath) Really. I’ve moved on, these stories can’t. It’s okay. (taking a step away) They’re a step on the path, but they’ll become a barrier if you let them. (another step away) There are more stories to tell. Many, many more. And these, well, they’re not really dead. Just resting. Until I need to scavenge them for parts. Mmmm, zombie parts. Unicorn zombie parts. In space …

What are you writing?

Quote of the Week (end)

One only needs two tools in life:  WD-40 to make things go,
and duct tape to make them stop.  ~G.M. Weilacher

Just in time for the traditional beginning of summer, and the summer to-do and chores lists, this little gem of a quote. Remember, sometimes “simple” is really, really good. It gives you more time for the fun things in life. Now, go duct-tape something. Then, go have fun.