I have been meeting some phenomenal fiction critique-givers this semester. It's almost like they have an instant sense for what a piece needs to bump it up to another level... an instinct. So much good advice.
Each of them is, or has been at one time, a total moron when it comes to their own work.
I don't mean that in a derogatory sense. I mean that it is nearly impossible to apply the same cunning instinct that is normally applied to the critiquing process to one's own work... at first. I've seen it over and over again, especially with myself. I might spend a whole afternoon with my editing pencil out, crafting and reworking, only to have a massive restructuring suggested by my classmates... and find myself actually agreeing that it is the best course of action. Granted, I can't say that every workshop I've ever been in offered the same level of useful advice, nor would I say that I take every bit of advice offered in the most serious light... but the point is that I'm getting critique that I find useful from my classmates, and they seem to pull it out of thin air. And, I find that I am offering the same useful level of critique to them, possibly aiding them in shaping these pieces.
That's the power of a good workshop group.
I think that's the whole point of workshopping your pieces... not necessarily just to get advice on a specific piece, but to get closer to having that instant sense on your own work... to step away from it, look at it objectively, and be able to see the things you see in someone else's work... better organization, specific phrasing, the points you're making and how they might be more effective... these little details.
I'm not sure if other workshoppers would agree with me on this, but I feel very strongly that this is one of the most useful things I'm getting out of the process. I really am examining my own work differently now, taking it apart more, building it back up differently. Maybe it's coming out less awkwardly in the first place, too? Still, have to be careful to not be too careful when I'm there with the pen and the pad. Can't gum up those works... it has to come out after all.
I'm excited to move forward with the next few years of school. There is truly so much left to learn... but more importantly so much still to refine.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Hens that are French.
I don't know when it happened exactly, but I realized recently that I no longer believe in the power of cinema where the participation in its creation is concerned.
Hear me out.
First, I should say that this has not always been the case for me.
Second, I feel it is fair to note that I don't think this is a permanent state for my opinions.
In all the time I spent learning how to edit a film, I never considered that the screenwriters themselves were clumsy story tellers, or that screenwriting was a less-than-optimal format for story telling. All the evidence was there, of course, but my appreciation for the facts of the situation has come much later when I could appreciate the craft a bit better.
How can I take a film edit seriously when the storyteller themselves is unsure of the way to approach the storytelling? I'm essentially attempting to arrange a visual collage of an inexpert tale... essentially inventing story where none exists, smoothing the cracks, making the writer better than the writer, perhaps, is.
As I transition in another direction in my life, moving more toward storytelling, I am acutely aware of the fact that I will need to minimize the amount of time I spend mucking about in other peoples' stories.
Everything with New York fell apart. I've recounted the story so many times at this point that I don't really feel like completely unfolding all of the details here (imagine Bunny from Ed Wood describing his trip to Mexico... "Oh, that.").
The pertinent facts: It was expensive (many 10's of thousands of dollars), it was mostly unsubsidized (we're not in a financial bracket that necessitates much aid by way of Federally subsidized loans), the jobs were thin on the ground, the opportunity to take care of our property here in Florida was not there, and there were a bunch of other issues and things that could have become issues. So, anyway... we're here still and will be for the next few years.
I try not to have too many mantras, but one I definitely say... "one must buy with credit what one cannot afford with value." When I say I couldn't afford it, I realize I could have borrowed all of the money to make it happen. That's not affording it, though. I'm aware of the challenges in the publishing industry currently.
I'm all set up to continue my education here in town. I think things will work out nicely at the school I'll be at. There is a good program there, and I met the head of the program. We got along nicely, and he seems very dedicated to making his department a very unique and high quality place to learn.
What more could you ask for?
Of course, we had so many things aimed in the direction of New York, so there are some concerns... like we sold the wife's car, and were in the process of selling mine. The result? I'm giving her mine (which was the newer one) and figuring out alternative means of transportation. So far, Bicycle, and possibly scooter to supplement. We can get by with one vehicle. We have before. And getting by with essentially "1.5" is feasible.
I'm using this opportunity to fulfill a dream I've had for years... getting a Vespa. I considered a vintage one at first, then a used modern 2-stroke version, then a knock-off (identical copy) 2-stroke from Genuine Scooters (Stella)... and finally settled on an S150 modern 4-stroke. This is sensible for me, the price is right, and its cheaper than another car.
Kudos to blogs like Scooter in the Sticks for reassuring me that daily commuting is possible no matter where you live and what conditions you might be confronted with.
Making the best of things... and why not?
Hear me out.
First, I should say that this has not always been the case for me.
Second, I feel it is fair to note that I don't think this is a permanent state for my opinions.
In all the time I spent learning how to edit a film, I never considered that the screenwriters themselves were clumsy story tellers, or that screenwriting was a less-than-optimal format for story telling. All the evidence was there, of course, but my appreciation for the facts of the situation has come much later when I could appreciate the craft a bit better.
How can I take a film edit seriously when the storyteller themselves is unsure of the way to approach the storytelling? I'm essentially attempting to arrange a visual collage of an inexpert tale... essentially inventing story where none exists, smoothing the cracks, making the writer better than the writer, perhaps, is.
As I transition in another direction in my life, moving more toward storytelling, I am acutely aware of the fact that I will need to minimize the amount of time I spend mucking about in other peoples' stories.
Everything with New York fell apart. I've recounted the story so many times at this point that I don't really feel like completely unfolding all of the details here (imagine Bunny from Ed Wood describing his trip to Mexico... "Oh, that.").
The pertinent facts: It was expensive (many 10's of thousands of dollars), it was mostly unsubsidized (we're not in a financial bracket that necessitates much aid by way of Federally subsidized loans), the jobs were thin on the ground, the opportunity to take care of our property here in Florida was not there, and there were a bunch of other issues and things that could have become issues. So, anyway... we're here still and will be for the next few years.
I try not to have too many mantras, but one I definitely say... "one must buy with credit what one cannot afford with value." When I say I couldn't afford it, I realize I could have borrowed all of the money to make it happen. That's not affording it, though. I'm aware of the challenges in the publishing industry currently.
I'm all set up to continue my education here in town. I think things will work out nicely at the school I'll be at. There is a good program there, and I met the head of the program. We got along nicely, and he seems very dedicated to making his department a very unique and high quality place to learn.
What more could you ask for?
Of course, we had so many things aimed in the direction of New York, so there are some concerns... like we sold the wife's car, and were in the process of selling mine. The result? I'm giving her mine (which was the newer one) and figuring out alternative means of transportation. So far, Bicycle, and possibly scooter to supplement. We can get by with one vehicle. We have before. And getting by with essentially "1.5" is feasible.
I'm using this opportunity to fulfill a dream I've had for years... getting a Vespa. I considered a vintage one at first, then a used modern 2-stroke version, then a knock-off (identical copy) 2-stroke from Genuine Scooters (Stella)... and finally settled on an S150 modern 4-stroke. This is sensible for me, the price is right, and its cheaper than another car.
Kudos to blogs like Scooter in the Sticks for reassuring me that daily commuting is possible no matter where you live and what conditions you might be confronted with.
Making the best of things... and why not?
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Rhodia, Psychologist.
I was thinking this morning, while driving to work, of a particularly embarrassing moment for me from my youth. We all have many such moments, I'm certain. This particular one was sports-related.
Anyway, I was wondering if seeing a psychologist would help lessen the impact of that embarrassment, that humiliation that still stings decades later. Isn't that what they do? Then again, I considered that my own coping mechanism, my writing, has probably saved me so much money on psycho-analysis. So in that sense, IT IS PAYING FOR ITSELF, HA HA HA. Papa tax-man would probably not appreciate my deducting Rhodia notebooks and fountain pen ink as "medical expenses" on my 1040 this coming year, though.
Finding different work is always such a gigantic pain in the neck. Sustaining one's self is the primary drain on that sustenance. We truly are locked in a never-ending cycle of self-preservation when we are the "working class."
Anyway, I was wondering if seeing a psychologist would help lessen the impact of that embarrassment, that humiliation that still stings decades later. Isn't that what they do? Then again, I considered that my own coping mechanism, my writing, has probably saved me so much money on psycho-analysis. So in that sense, IT IS PAYING FOR ITSELF, HA HA HA. Papa tax-man would probably not appreciate my deducting Rhodia notebooks and fountain pen ink as "medical expenses" on my 1040 this coming year, though.
Finding different work is always such a gigantic pain in the neck. Sustaining one's self is the primary drain on that sustenance. We truly are locked in a never-ending cycle of self-preservation when we are the "working class."
Friday, June 05, 2009
Sloth Dynamics.
This morning I stopped off at my favorite breakfast fast-food joint for a bite since we were out of powerbars (not a good substitute, I know, but I went for it anyway). I ordered my food and the young man behind the counter went about placing the order and preparing parts of it within his sphere of influence. He asked me how my day was, and I said "Well, I'm awake and nearly to work, so I suppose successful so far." He smiled.
I looked down next to the counter sat a small, leather or leatherette bound book of similar size and shape to a bible, but with the Marine Corps logo stamped on it in gold. The lad came back with my food, and I asked, "Did you join up?"
"Yes sir," he said, "October."
"Congratulations," I said.
He must have known I was never in any branch of the service. I'm not tall enough, not steely enough. I don't have "the look" in me. My military contracting barely counts for anything except that I know what it is like to frustrate the Generals of the 9th Army, and how tough it can be to talk sense to a Navy man.
Two days ago the plans for the next few years of my life unfolded in front of me.
Let me explain a bit, since I've been so "not open" in my chronicles of seeking further education. Since I was nearing the end of my time at my current school in Florida, I decided, in the Fall, to busy myself with a head-start on my future education plans. I'm a fairly dedicated student, and am focused on achieving and learning each subject I set out to become educated in, and I have been successful in this particular leg of my education in doing that. Most people would probably say I'm being modest in assessing things thusly - I've had a number of academic distinctions, have served as an officer in an academic honors organization, and have maintained a perfect GPA for the past 3 part-time years of school.
Regardless, my targets for further education in my chosen field (big surprise, English) were some of our nations best schools. I applied to Cornell, Columbia, Oberlin, Brown, and Yale. Yale was certainly my main target, and it was not because of my distaste for the other schools... certainly Oberlin, Brown, and Columbia all had HIGHLY regarded English programs, perhaps more highly regarded in many circles than Yale's (especially Columbia's), but Yale had writers I wanted to learn from, and an enticing environment to study in. The fact that it was one of the "three" (Harvard and Princeton being the other two, neither of which is accepting transfer students this year for various reasons, Princeton because they never do, and Harvard because they find themselves without the space) did not dissuade me in any way.
I was fairly hopeful about my chances, having received a number of good recommendations from people I respect, and crafting my essays in a very specific manner. In the end, I was called in for an interview. In the program I applied to, only about 1 in 5 people were called in for an interview - the rest were essentially rejected. So, I flew up to New Haven to interview, and it went well, I thought. Of course, you know where this is going from my "I thought" comment. They eventually said no. About 1 in 3 of the interviewees were accepted and I was not one of them.
Meanwhile, throughout this process, I received rejections from Cornell, Oberlin, Brown, and acceptances to the local schools I applied to (University of Tampa, University of Central Florida) and some other schools I thought looked interesting (The New School in New York, and their Riggio Writing Fellowship), but most interestingly was a rather quick and enthusiastic acceptance to Columbia.
Granted, some people argue that the program I got into is fundamentally different than the one people get into as Freshmen, but I'm after educational quality, not status. Though I may be the product of prep schools, I'm clearly not "that" anymore. I am and will remain a property owner. I've got more to worry about than I did at 19, though I so infrequently am relieved of that worry anymore. It fuels me to some degree, I suppose. Regardless, I'm heading to New York. We shall all clasp hands in glory by and by.
Our trip to the keys was impressive. We camped, we drove, we kayaked, ate fantastic pizza at the No Name Pub, visited Hemingway's house and his aloof descendants of his cats, saw a former Navy ship that was headed to the bottom about 6 miles offshore to become a reef soon (it has now been scuttled, coincidentally, the USS General Dwight Vandenburg, I believe was its name). There are so many more details and pictures, but I'll let those be elsewhere for the time being.
I didn't post in May. I did, though, graduate from a school in May. There's also a story behind that.
Yes, I am writing. I'm working on the book again. Shh, that's a secret.
I looked down next to the counter sat a small, leather or leatherette bound book of similar size and shape to a bible, but with the Marine Corps logo stamped on it in gold. The lad came back with my food, and I asked, "Did you join up?"
"Yes sir," he said, "October."
"Congratulations," I said.
He must have known I was never in any branch of the service. I'm not tall enough, not steely enough. I don't have "the look" in me. My military contracting barely counts for anything except that I know what it is like to frustrate the Generals of the 9th Army, and how tough it can be to talk sense to a Navy man.
Two days ago the plans for the next few years of my life unfolded in front of me.
Let me explain a bit, since I've been so "not open" in my chronicles of seeking further education. Since I was nearing the end of my time at my current school in Florida, I decided, in the Fall, to busy myself with a head-start on my future education plans. I'm a fairly dedicated student, and am focused on achieving and learning each subject I set out to become educated in, and I have been successful in this particular leg of my education in doing that. Most people would probably say I'm being modest in assessing things thusly - I've had a number of academic distinctions, have served as an officer in an academic honors organization, and have maintained a perfect GPA for the past 3 part-time years of school.
Regardless, my targets for further education in my chosen field (big surprise, English) were some of our nations best schools. I applied to Cornell, Columbia, Oberlin, Brown, and Yale. Yale was certainly my main target, and it was not because of my distaste for the other schools... certainly Oberlin, Brown, and Columbia all had HIGHLY regarded English programs, perhaps more highly regarded in many circles than Yale's (especially Columbia's), but Yale had writers I wanted to learn from, and an enticing environment to study in. The fact that it was one of the "three" (Harvard and Princeton being the other two, neither of which is accepting transfer students this year for various reasons, Princeton because they never do, and Harvard because they find themselves without the space) did not dissuade me in any way.
I was fairly hopeful about my chances, having received a number of good recommendations from people I respect, and crafting my essays in a very specific manner. In the end, I was called in for an interview. In the program I applied to, only about 1 in 5 people were called in for an interview - the rest were essentially rejected. So, I flew up to New Haven to interview, and it went well, I thought. Of course, you know where this is going from my "I thought" comment. They eventually said no. About 1 in 3 of the interviewees were accepted and I was not one of them.
Meanwhile, throughout this process, I received rejections from Cornell, Oberlin, Brown, and acceptances to the local schools I applied to (University of Tampa, University of Central Florida) and some other schools I thought looked interesting (The New School in New York, and their Riggio Writing Fellowship), but most interestingly was a rather quick and enthusiastic acceptance to Columbia.
Granted, some people argue that the program I got into is fundamentally different than the one people get into as Freshmen, but I'm after educational quality, not status. Though I may be the product of prep schools, I'm clearly not "that" anymore. I am and will remain a property owner. I've got more to worry about than I did at 19, though I so infrequently am relieved of that worry anymore. It fuels me to some degree, I suppose. Regardless, I'm heading to New York. We shall all clasp hands in glory by and by.
Our trip to the keys was impressive. We camped, we drove, we kayaked, ate fantastic pizza at the No Name Pub, visited Hemingway's house and his aloof descendants of his cats, saw a former Navy ship that was headed to the bottom about 6 miles offshore to become a reef soon (it has now been scuttled, coincidentally, the USS General Dwight Vandenburg, I believe was its name). There are so many more details and pictures, but I'll let those be elsewhere for the time being.
I didn't post in May. I did, though, graduate from a school in May. There's also a story behind that.
Yes, I am writing. I'm working on the book again. Shh, that's a secret.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Fortunes.
I just had the fortune of hearing an interesting talk about a prominent media figure, and the talk focused on how he knew no other way than to inexhaustibly seek opportunities.
What a phenomenal lesson to take to heart, I think. I'm not really afraid of having nothing because I've had it before. I'm hopeful, but I'm not really afraid because when you have nothing you also have nothing to lose, and what power there is in that.
The wife and I are going camping in the Florida Keys in a few weeks to celebrate a milestone birthday, and my graduation from my current school (which will take place a few days before). I've spoken of all my intimidation about the ins and outs of whos and whats, etc. on into infinity, but I can feel myself becoming the arrow again.
I become the arrow sometimes. The arrow points in one direction, flies straight, and hits a target. I last became the arrow when we were attempting to buy a house. Before that when I was looking for work that wasn't waiting tables at Denny's, an experience I should have included in my college application in retrospect. I became the arrow before that when planning my move to Florida, and maybe only once before when I was attempting to get my grades up high enough to get an insurance discount for my folks when I was getting my driver's license.
When I am the arrow I am high strung, and ready to be released, from where I will swiftly fly.
We'll know my target soon enough.
What a phenomenal lesson to take to heart, I think. I'm not really afraid of having nothing because I've had it before. I'm hopeful, but I'm not really afraid because when you have nothing you also have nothing to lose, and what power there is in that.
The wife and I are going camping in the Florida Keys in a few weeks to celebrate a milestone birthday, and my graduation from my current school (which will take place a few days before). I've spoken of all my intimidation about the ins and outs of whos and whats, etc. on into infinity, but I can feel myself becoming the arrow again.
I become the arrow sometimes. The arrow points in one direction, flies straight, and hits a target. I last became the arrow when we were attempting to buy a house. Before that when I was looking for work that wasn't waiting tables at Denny's, an experience I should have included in my college application in retrospect. I became the arrow before that when planning my move to Florida, and maybe only once before when I was attempting to get my grades up high enough to get an insurance discount for my folks when I was getting my driver's license.
When I am the arrow I am high strung, and ready to be released, from where I will swiftly fly.
We'll know my target soon enough.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Let's talk about the weather?
The chance of precipitation today is 10%. It feels higher, and I have my raincoat behind me because it feels higher and I distrust meteorologists DEEPLY because I recently found out they don't actually study meteors to discover the secrets of the weather.
The answer is not in the stars, it seems... well, at least not to this question.
I was thinking recently about opening a store. Not seriously, just the theory behind it. Who wouldn't enjoy connecting people with the things that fascinate them, right?
My store would sell:
- Raincoats (nice ones) and other Jackets (A-2 Leather jackets, for instance, and a full line of Helly Hansen products)
- Fountain Pens and nice stationary/journals/notebooks/inks
- Interesting small-brand Sunglasses
- Watches
- Literary Magazines
- Classy hats in a number of price ranges
- A rotating stock of unique electronic gadgetry
- A variety of pocket knives/multi-tools
- Sweaters and Scarves
- Imported Tea
- Aluminum drinking vessels (a wide variety)
- Small luggage items
- A limited stock (and I mean LIMITED) of used DVDs and records
Then, I would sell the store to someone else so I could be uninvolved in operating this store (I'm far too busy to be operating a boutique at the moment), and would begin shopping there. Perfect.
Mostly I want those items in a boutique because I can't seem to locate the items consistently locally.
Amazon.com will have to suffice in the meantime, I guess.
Am I writing currently? Yes. One of my pieces is currently on "second round" consideration at a literary journal, also. I'm crossing my fingers, friends.
The answer is not in the stars, it seems... well, at least not to this question.
I was thinking recently about opening a store. Not seriously, just the theory behind it. Who wouldn't enjoy connecting people with the things that fascinate them, right?
My store would sell:
- Raincoats (nice ones) and other Jackets (A-2 Leather jackets, for instance, and a full line of Helly Hansen products)
- Fountain Pens and nice stationary/journals/notebooks/inks
- Interesting small-brand Sunglasses
- Watches
- Literary Magazines
- Classy hats in a number of price ranges
- A rotating stock of unique electronic gadgetry
- A variety of pocket knives/multi-tools
- Sweaters and Scarves
- Imported Tea
- Aluminum drinking vessels (a wide variety)
- Small luggage items
- A limited stock (and I mean LIMITED) of used DVDs and records
Then, I would sell the store to someone else so I could be uninvolved in operating this store (I'm far too busy to be operating a boutique at the moment), and would begin shopping there. Perfect.
Mostly I want those items in a boutique because I can't seem to locate the items consistently locally.
Amazon.com will have to suffice in the meantime, I guess.
Am I writing currently? Yes. One of my pieces is currently on "second round" consideration at a literary journal, also. I'm crossing my fingers, friends.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Grows on the wall?
Well, hi.
It's been an interesting few weeks, for certain. I've begun to hear from schools regarding admission, and I've plowed through stacks of paperwork that had to be handled regarding admission, and I'm just waiting to decide where to go.
Really, this process feels like running headlong at a wall. In many ways it seems like the "wrong" time to move, but on the other hand, it seems like when the common consensus is that it's the "wrong" time, someone else has figured out that it's actually the absolute "right" time.
I've heard back from one school already, but I'm maintaining a little secrecy at the moment. Perhaps I'll write a full note about the ins/outs of the situation when everything is settled, but for now still biding my time.
I was thinking, though, this morning about the Ivies. They've got a perilous situation on their hands right now, and it is difficult to interpret how they will handle it.
Certainly there has been a variety of Animosity toward our nations "top universities" in the past few years - hundreds, possibly thousands of voices ringing out with cries against the Ivy League's stranglehold on the image of quality education, noting that one might receive as good a body of knowledge from nearly any decent private University, and many of the top State Schools. This cannot have hurt their admission totals, but it has made the general populous shift their focus on the Ivy League schools from absolute admiration to casual dismissal and possible venomous objection.
I'm wondering how they're going to handle their acceptances for this fall. Consider that an increased percentage of "accepted but declining admission" students is entirely possible, maybe even likely this year. After all, despite their needs-blind admission (for the most part), moving out of state, away from family, incurring any expense may not be feasible for the average student right at this moment, despite the desire to at least test one's mettle where the Ivies are concerned. How shall they react to this knowledge? Widen the acceptance pool a bit to guarantee numbers are up? Ride out the storm with smaller enrollment and the promise of recovery in a few years? Accept even fewer people in hopes of an intentionally smaller student body in order to cut costs?
I'm curious. I mean, I'm realistic about my chances with some of these schools (specifically the ones that only accept, say, 7-15 transfer students per year), but I'm pretty confident that my application is strong and will be something for them to consider.
In other completely unrelated news, I am working on getting an Ex Libris for my books (both the ones I own, and, actually, the one's I write - I like the idea that my written works are, first and foremost, items from my library). I like the idea of bookplates a lot, and designed one for myself, but am not exactly skilled with penciling my visual ideas (I can get the job done, but the result is nothing stunning)... so I'm waiting to see if an opportunity to have it re-illustrated pops up. We'll see.
More as more things develop.
It's been an interesting few weeks, for certain. I've begun to hear from schools regarding admission, and I've plowed through stacks of paperwork that had to be handled regarding admission, and I'm just waiting to decide where to go.
Really, this process feels like running headlong at a wall. In many ways it seems like the "wrong" time to move, but on the other hand, it seems like when the common consensus is that it's the "wrong" time, someone else has figured out that it's actually the absolute "right" time.
I've heard back from one school already, but I'm maintaining a little secrecy at the moment. Perhaps I'll write a full note about the ins/outs of the situation when everything is settled, but for now still biding my time.
I was thinking, though, this morning about the Ivies. They've got a perilous situation on their hands right now, and it is difficult to interpret how they will handle it.
Certainly there has been a variety of Animosity toward our nations "top universities" in the past few years - hundreds, possibly thousands of voices ringing out with cries against the Ivy League's stranglehold on the image of quality education, noting that one might receive as good a body of knowledge from nearly any decent private University, and many of the top State Schools. This cannot have hurt their admission totals, but it has made the general populous shift their focus on the Ivy League schools from absolute admiration to casual dismissal and possible venomous objection.
I'm wondering how they're going to handle their acceptances for this fall. Consider that an increased percentage of "accepted but declining admission" students is entirely possible, maybe even likely this year. After all, despite their needs-blind admission (for the most part), moving out of state, away from family, incurring any expense may not be feasible for the average student right at this moment, despite the desire to at least test one's mettle where the Ivies are concerned. How shall they react to this knowledge? Widen the acceptance pool a bit to guarantee numbers are up? Ride out the storm with smaller enrollment and the promise of recovery in a few years? Accept even fewer people in hopes of an intentionally smaller student body in order to cut costs?
I'm curious. I mean, I'm realistic about my chances with some of these schools (specifically the ones that only accept, say, 7-15 transfer students per year), but I'm pretty confident that my application is strong and will be something for them to consider.
In other completely unrelated news, I am working on getting an Ex Libris for my books (both the ones I own, and, actually, the one's I write - I like the idea that my written works are, first and foremost, items from my library). I like the idea of bookplates a lot, and designed one for myself, but am not exactly skilled with penciling my visual ideas (I can get the job done, but the result is nothing stunning)... so I'm waiting to see if an opportunity to have it re-illustrated pops up. We'll see.
More as more things develop.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Wait until a star breaks through (funny)
I just tossed out about 10 submissions over the past 48 hours. I was looking at my submission list and realized that I hadn't made any in about 3 months or so. A few rejections were trickling in from ones I made back in November/December, so I decided to get a few more out. I'm not really expecting any results just at the moment, but I have to keep things on the cycle. Finding homes for these stories makes me feel like a caseworker in child services.
There was an interesting news item being discussed on NPR the other day (yes, I listen to NPR) about a man who had lost his eye long ago, and had since become a film-maker, and was currently working with technologists to invent an in-eye camera that he could fit where his prosthetic normally would be. In this way, he planned on making a documentary feature. The NPR correspondent asked him the requisite questions about privacy, voyeurism, legality, etc., and he made a rather brilliant point - we are the worst invaders of our own privacy these days. Blogging, twittering, facebook status updating - these things air our private thoughts to an audience, sometimes a context-less anonymous audience. Is this healthy?
As a writer, I think, perhaps, that sharing too many of these inner thoughts without context is not healthy... at least the twitter/facebook 250-words-or-less variety. The temptation with these sites is to update constantly, lighting up every witty or useful thought we have during the day. That sort of mental exposure is unprecedented... and it is difficult for me to see an sensory difference between obsessively updating twitter and publishing pictures of one's own genitalia. Perhaps in society-at-large we are not terribly far removed from a day when that becomes a reasonable activity as well?
Constructing thoughts in the blog format is not terribly unhealthy for those that are scatterbrains and use these things to collect/condense a set of ideas.
Where are we moving as a society, if we take this story into consideration and use it as a fulcrum point? Increased frequency of voluntary body modifications? Voluntary prosthetic work? Digital enhancements? Injecting ourselves more and more into the "web" realm?
We are perhaps moving toward a meta-life. That's the difficult thing about acceleration in society... you can never tell the shape the world will take next in light of the changes. Historical record might indicate that it will not change all that much, but walking a mile in the shoes of people who passed on long before I, or even my parents were born might indicate that within my own lifetime I may cease to recognize the shape of the world around me. Perhaps that is what it feels like to be elderly. Perhaps that is why the aged surround themselves with the familiar and reject the changed.
Will our enhanced ability to adapt and consume, bred into us by living in a time of massive "buy-culture" and "gadget-boom," save us from a similar fate?
There was an interesting news item being discussed on NPR the other day (yes, I listen to NPR) about a man who had lost his eye long ago, and had since become a film-maker, and was currently working with technologists to invent an in-eye camera that he could fit where his prosthetic normally would be. In this way, he planned on making a documentary feature. The NPR correspondent asked him the requisite questions about privacy, voyeurism, legality, etc., and he made a rather brilliant point - we are the worst invaders of our own privacy these days. Blogging, twittering, facebook status updating - these things air our private thoughts to an audience, sometimes a context-less anonymous audience. Is this healthy?
As a writer, I think, perhaps, that sharing too many of these inner thoughts without context is not healthy... at least the twitter/facebook 250-words-or-less variety. The temptation with these sites is to update constantly, lighting up every witty or useful thought we have during the day. That sort of mental exposure is unprecedented... and it is difficult for me to see an sensory difference between obsessively updating twitter and publishing pictures of one's own genitalia. Perhaps in society-at-large we are not terribly far removed from a day when that becomes a reasonable activity as well?
Constructing thoughts in the blog format is not terribly unhealthy for those that are scatterbrains and use these things to collect/condense a set of ideas.
Where are we moving as a society, if we take this story into consideration and use it as a fulcrum point? Increased frequency of voluntary body modifications? Voluntary prosthetic work? Digital enhancements? Injecting ourselves more and more into the "web" realm?
We are perhaps moving toward a meta-life. That's the difficult thing about acceleration in society... you can never tell the shape the world will take next in light of the changes. Historical record might indicate that it will not change all that much, but walking a mile in the shoes of people who passed on long before I, or even my parents were born might indicate that within my own lifetime I may cease to recognize the shape of the world around me. Perhaps that is what it feels like to be elderly. Perhaps that is why the aged surround themselves with the familiar and reject the changed.
Will our enhanced ability to adapt and consume, bred into us by living in a time of massive "buy-culture" and "gadget-boom," save us from a similar fate?
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
New Traditions!
I forgot to post anything in January... or perhaps I was too busy?
I think it was the busy-thing.
School grinds on, and I am currently directly in the center of preparing my college application materials for submission by March 1st (though I am aiming to have them completed by February 23rd - not much time now!).
This is pretty stressful, but at this point I just want to get these applications out there and find out which of these schools wants to accept me, give me money, etc.
There's a lot riding on these applications - whether I'll remain in this area, for one, in my job and house and all of that stuff. Part of me, the dreamer part, hopes that I'll be on my way to a different area really really soon, but the "adult" part that thinks about things like checking accounts and buying nutritious food, etc., says "the economy is bad, your job is decent, there are schools around here that will probably give you a full/almost full scholarship" and I'm concerned that the voice I listen to here is going to be the one I'm stuck living with from here on out... but, I mean, that's not realistic.
I've had a difficult time buckling down to write, except for some pretty pained/passionate sessions over a bizarre soft sci-fi piece I was working on for a while. I've been reverting to my other forms of expression and inspiration that help me when I'm in one of these slumps - playing my guitar and whistle, listening to albums I like, watching soccer games, things like that, transcribing stuff I wrote a while back into Scrivener. I'll clear this funk soon. There's a lot I want to get done at the moment and it'll brim over eventually.
Short post, sorry. Have a bunch of stuff to do today.
I think it was the busy-thing.
School grinds on, and I am currently directly in the center of preparing my college application materials for submission by March 1st (though I am aiming to have them completed by February 23rd - not much time now!).
This is pretty stressful, but at this point I just want to get these applications out there and find out which of these schools wants to accept me, give me money, etc.
There's a lot riding on these applications - whether I'll remain in this area, for one, in my job and house and all of that stuff. Part of me, the dreamer part, hopes that I'll be on my way to a different area really really soon, but the "adult" part that thinks about things like checking accounts and buying nutritious food, etc., says "the economy is bad, your job is decent, there are schools around here that will probably give you a full/almost full scholarship" and I'm concerned that the voice I listen to here is going to be the one I'm stuck living with from here on out... but, I mean, that's not realistic.
I've had a difficult time buckling down to write, except for some pretty pained/passionate sessions over a bizarre soft sci-fi piece I was working on for a while. I've been reverting to my other forms of expression and inspiration that help me when I'm in one of these slumps - playing my guitar and whistle, listening to albums I like, watching soccer games, things like that, transcribing stuff I wrote a while back into Scrivener. I'll clear this funk soon. There's a lot I want to get done at the moment and it'll brim over eventually.
Short post, sorry. Have a bunch of stuff to do today.
Monday, December 22, 2008
'Twas the Night Before the Night Before Christmas
And all through the house not a creature was stirring... except me and my laptop, and somewhere outside my house is a train going by off in the distance (not too far, though - like the middle distance), and my noisy neighbors having what is undoubtedly their 7th party in 4 days (they sound tired, though determinedly noisy), and all the other creatures, including the fuzzy feline variety, inside my house are doing anything but stirring at the moment. One seems to be snoring.
I'm awake, though. Dammit.
I'm spending this week's few days at the office topping up a certification for my job. Then I'm taking some days off, and then it will be the new year, and then I'll be back in school, and then all of my transfer applications will be due, and then I'll know who "accepts me" and will know my options, and then I'll be able to make a decision that is going to affect this rather whimsical career path I've embarked on after years of fiddling around with other options.
Can you see why I'm up late?
I keep arriving at these "crossings" and they always seem like such a big damned deal when I'm there at them, trying to make a sensible decision, and in retrospect they always look like the tiniest pittances of decisions. I can't throw decisions away anymore, though, because the wrong one will possibly consume a decade of your life without explanation or even you realizing it, really... or worse, and I can't fathom worse because consuming a decade is bad enough.
This evening Lesley asked me what consumes my mind these days, and I gave her a running commentary that slurred on for a good 3 minutes of non-stop banter... and in sorting it all out, actually, I've got an excessive pile of junk on my mind. I need to get that handled.
I'm getting a handle on my health situation, though. The kinesiologist I'm seeing currently has helped me identify, using his sciences, my particular issue... and more importantly the cause of my particular issue, and possibly even more importantly, a plan toward a solution that does not involve simple treatment of symptoms, but genuine healing.
One question remains in my mind, though... how does one drink a toast to their liver?
Probably with beet juice or something, because heaven help me it shall be a while before I have my beloved beer or favorite whiskey again.
Can you see why I'm up late?
I'm awake, though. Dammit.
I'm spending this week's few days at the office topping up a certification for my job. Then I'm taking some days off, and then it will be the new year, and then I'll be back in school, and then all of my transfer applications will be due, and then I'll know who "accepts me" and will know my options, and then I'll be able to make a decision that is going to affect this rather whimsical career path I've embarked on after years of fiddling around with other options.
Can you see why I'm up late?
I keep arriving at these "crossings" and they always seem like such a big damned deal when I'm there at them, trying to make a sensible decision, and in retrospect they always look like the tiniest pittances of decisions. I can't throw decisions away anymore, though, because the wrong one will possibly consume a decade of your life without explanation or even you realizing it, really... or worse, and I can't fathom worse because consuming a decade is bad enough.
This evening Lesley asked me what consumes my mind these days, and I gave her a running commentary that slurred on for a good 3 minutes of non-stop banter... and in sorting it all out, actually, I've got an excessive pile of junk on my mind. I need to get that handled.
I'm getting a handle on my health situation, though. The kinesiologist I'm seeing currently has helped me identify, using his sciences, my particular issue... and more importantly the cause of my particular issue, and possibly even more importantly, a plan toward a solution that does not involve simple treatment of symptoms, but genuine healing.
One question remains in my mind, though... how does one drink a toast to their liver?
Probably with beet juice or something, because heaven help me it shall be a while before I have my beloved beer or favorite whiskey again.
Can you see why I'm up late?
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Winter, yeah.
Winter in Florida. I still feel hot, mostly because the heat is always cranked up inordinately, compensating in these first few cold weeks. Floridians can't handle the sub-70 days.
Short story ideas remind me of (*gasp*) Sexual Arousal. The idea arrives, and the act of writing, scratching the itch as it were, is at the option of the writer. I file most away for later, myself, in notebooks, which probably means something in this analogy also.
The semester is ending. I need a break. This semester wasn't academically difficult, I was just really occupied by far too much stuff. Next semester is my last at my current school, theoretically.
Watching the re-broadcast of the Manchester United / Sunderland game from earlier today. Good play..... for the most part. Ferdinand v. Ferdinand (PS what a game, and also, the Villa/Toffees game was killer too - dramatic!)
A few more thoughts. First, there is a section in the book store that contains chairs that are mostly used by homeless people. What is it about the bookstore that attracts the homeless? Is it the casual "browse and sip" atmosphere mixed with the absence of authoritative managers harassing them to buy or leave? Sounds likely.
Finally, a thought on the holiday season. The "Home Sushi Kit" is officially the new "Fondue Set" in that it is likely to be looked at with a forced, crooked smile when unwrapped, stored in a cupboard for roughly two years, then moved to a closet, then the attic. Then, five years later, it will somehow survive the decision about what to take over to the local Goodwill, will be opened, and terrible, floppy, poorly shaped sushi will be crafted clumsily and inexpertly, and then the damned thing will get tossed once and for all.
Yours is on the way. Merry Christmas.
Short story ideas remind me of (*gasp*) Sexual Arousal. The idea arrives, and the act of writing, scratching the itch as it were, is at the option of the writer. I file most away for later, myself, in notebooks, which probably means something in this analogy also.
The semester is ending. I need a break. This semester wasn't academically difficult, I was just really occupied by far too much stuff. Next semester is my last at my current school, theoretically.
Watching the re-broadcast of the Manchester United / Sunderland game from earlier today. Good play..... for the most part. Ferdinand v. Ferdinand (PS what a game, and also, the Villa/Toffees game was killer too - dramatic!)
A few more thoughts. First, there is a section in the book store that contains chairs that are mostly used by homeless people. What is it about the bookstore that attracts the homeless? Is it the casual "browse and sip" atmosphere mixed with the absence of authoritative managers harassing them to buy or leave? Sounds likely.
Finally, a thought on the holiday season. The "Home Sushi Kit" is officially the new "Fondue Set" in that it is likely to be looked at with a forced, crooked smile when unwrapped, stored in a cupboard for roughly two years, then moved to a closet, then the attic. Then, five years later, it will somehow survive the decision about what to take over to the local Goodwill, will be opened, and terrible, floppy, poorly shaped sushi will be crafted clumsily and inexpertly, and then the damned thing will get tossed once and for all.
Yours is on the way. Merry Christmas.
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Can't afford it!
A friend told me today that the utilities company is going to cut the power to his business this coming week.
"The Economy"
We live in pretty cruddy times I suppose. There's a war that people seem to either hate or believe we're morally obligated to. We're politically divided and filled with animosity. People are either losing their jobs or thinking about what would happen if they did, and that slows everything down. Now, our finances haven't been directly affected yet, but I've noticed recently that every time I whip out the ol' debit card, it hurts a little to spend that dollar. I think I'm actually spending less as a result of it.
So, while the wife is out of town, I've been thinking about life. It is a little terrifying to consider selling an affordable house on which I have a fixed rate mortgage and a decent amount of equity, moving to a new state, and essentially starting out on a new career. I am terrified. I've said it twice for emphasis.
Of course I realize that this is where it happens, here on the edge. You have to take a risk or two, even if the poor-house is probable. If there is one thing I always forget, it is that I'm resourceful. We've been to the crap-farm before, Les and I, and we kept it together. They weren't the best of times, but we kept it together. We'll keep keeping it together, I suspect.
I have to keep remembering - this is for school. I believe in education. I believe that educated people have a better chance at the careers they want instead of the jobs they fall into. I believe that becoming educated is a fulfilling experience. I also believe that cowardly actions don't lead to anything positive, and recognize the difference between cowardice and irresponsibility.
The good news is, I'm still young. So, staying here seems cowardly. Maybe if we had a kid or something it would be different, but we don't and have no plans to... and, actually, come to think of it, having kids never seemed to deter my parents in any serious manner from moving (and, honestly, I have to say that consistent movement helped forge the personality I have today, so no complaints from me at this point... or back then, really).
I revert, in times like these, to a few rules - channel my unstoppable shopaholism into things that are useful and long-lasting (sensible coat, decent watch, good books - the stuff every guy needs), quit eating out by succumbing to my natural mistrust of every other living human, and just being smart about stuff. Keep the cars running, keep the card payments down, all of that stuff.
School is going well this semester. I signed up for my classes for spring, also. My mythology class takes place in... Second Life. I'm not a huge fan of Second Life, to be honest, but it is an interesting idea and if the system manages not to get in the way of learning (I suspect there will be some WebCT components as well) I'm game to try it. Hopefully the strange folks who seem drawn to a recourse-free virtual existence will leave us alone during class.
Quick question: How do people have time to play video games? Seriously.
"The Economy"
We live in pretty cruddy times I suppose. There's a war that people seem to either hate or believe we're morally obligated to. We're politically divided and filled with animosity. People are either losing their jobs or thinking about what would happen if they did, and that slows everything down. Now, our finances haven't been directly affected yet, but I've noticed recently that every time I whip out the ol' debit card, it hurts a little to spend that dollar. I think I'm actually spending less as a result of it.
So, while the wife is out of town, I've been thinking about life. It is a little terrifying to consider selling an affordable house on which I have a fixed rate mortgage and a decent amount of equity, moving to a new state, and essentially starting out on a new career. I am terrified. I've said it twice for emphasis.
Of course I realize that this is where it happens, here on the edge. You have to take a risk or two, even if the poor-house is probable. If there is one thing I always forget, it is that I'm resourceful. We've been to the crap-farm before, Les and I, and we kept it together. They weren't the best of times, but we kept it together. We'll keep keeping it together, I suspect.
I have to keep remembering - this is for school. I believe in education. I believe that educated people have a better chance at the careers they want instead of the jobs they fall into. I believe that becoming educated is a fulfilling experience. I also believe that cowardly actions don't lead to anything positive, and recognize the difference between cowardice and irresponsibility.
The good news is, I'm still young. So, staying here seems cowardly. Maybe if we had a kid or something it would be different, but we don't and have no plans to... and, actually, come to think of it, having kids never seemed to deter my parents in any serious manner from moving (and, honestly, I have to say that consistent movement helped forge the personality I have today, so no complaints from me at this point... or back then, really).
I revert, in times like these, to a few rules - channel my unstoppable shopaholism into things that are useful and long-lasting (sensible coat, decent watch, good books - the stuff every guy needs), quit eating out by succumbing to my natural mistrust of every other living human, and just being smart about stuff. Keep the cars running, keep the card payments down, all of that stuff.
School is going well this semester. I signed up for my classes for spring, also. My mythology class takes place in... Second Life. I'm not a huge fan of Second Life, to be honest, but it is an interesting idea and if the system manages not to get in the way of learning (I suspect there will be some WebCT components as well) I'm game to try it. Hopefully the strange folks who seem drawn to a recourse-free virtual existence will leave us alone during class.
Quick question: How do people have time to play video games? Seriously.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Welcome to Europe by which I mean Iceland. No, I'm not actually in Iceland.
I wonder how long it is between "tempting" literary magazines with your work and placing work in one.
Since the writing world works on a realllllly slow version of time (like, as though the world were revolving around the sun on Neptune's orbit, say, taking about 165 times as long to accomplish as any other thing one might do), I can only hope it is quickly... relatively speaking.
Since the writing world works on a realllllly slow version of time (like, as though the world were revolving around the sun on Neptune's orbit, say, taking about 165 times as long to accomplish as any other thing one might do), I can only hope it is quickly... relatively speaking.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Vacating?
I just returned from vacation to Ohio. Why Ohio? Well, of course, I did spend quite a few years there growing up, and my folks still live there, and there is a college there I was interested in visiting. I did visit it, in fact, and it was pretty nice.
How keen am I to be living in the colder climates again? SO KEEN. YOU CANNOT POSSIBLY KNOW HOW KEEN I AM ON THIS.
Yet, there are economic concerns involved, and I'm wondering if I wouldn't just be better to do an online degree at a school that offers an online degree in what I want to study, say, maybe with a scholarship for all of my hard work... after all, this is just finishing up my undergrad... right... right??? I mean, no one really cares where you go to your undergrad, right? RIGHT?????
......
Let me share this idea - I'm not entirely sure how this vision appears in my head as the wife and I have no plans to (read: plan not to) have kids, but I picture myself in my mid-to-late 40's sitting and discussing the idea of college with a kid, say 15 or 16 who appears to display a genetic resemblance to me, just unravelling the mysteries of "their future" and in this vision I'm explaining to them why, when I had been so keen on attending a top school or really hip lib-arts place, I settled for what made a variety of financial sense at the time when I was considering it... and then I picture myself as the 15 or 16 year-old and think of the older me as being sad somehow, as though he missed out on a great opportunity. Also, I am slightly angry because I can no longer apply to an Ivy League school as a legacy, and thus will have a slightly reduced chance at being able to attend. Come to think of it, I'm downright pissed at older me. Bastard.
But younger me... you have to understand... back then we were in a recession, and no one was sure if they could even get a loan to go to those sorts of schools... and we were so concerned about our financial states. I mean, we had a house and stuff, tiny as it was, and jobs, and all sorts of things were going right... and Lesley wasn't even sure she'd be able to find a job where we were going to go, and there was no way I could work and go to school full time. It was a big risk, you know, and it just didn't make sense in light of everything...
Shut it old man, you're making excuses and I don't even know what recession means so quite bla-bla-bla-ing at me like you are some sort of annoying duck that wants to justify his actions! Ducks don't justify anything! They have a slick back off of which things slide, and I know that fact from my data pad! Now, I will utilize the incrementally shortened attention span the youth of the future have and I shall tune you out now and go play ultra-games on my face-computer.
Younger me... if only I could explain or somehow put it in context, but alas, I cannot and that pains me so.
...
For the future non-existent children I must someday justify myself to, I do not feel I should compromise, people! That is totally sane, and not at all weird or unstable to think that, either. Trust me. I know. I whisper secrets to myself.
How keen am I to be living in the colder climates again? SO KEEN. YOU CANNOT POSSIBLY KNOW HOW KEEN I AM ON THIS.
Yet, there are economic concerns involved, and I'm wondering if I wouldn't just be better to do an online degree at a school that offers an online degree in what I want to study, say, maybe with a scholarship for all of my hard work... after all, this is just finishing up my undergrad... right... right??? I mean, no one really cares where you go to your undergrad, right? RIGHT?????
......
Let me share this idea - I'm not entirely sure how this vision appears in my head as the wife and I have no plans to (read: plan not to) have kids, but I picture myself in my mid-to-late 40's sitting and discussing the idea of college with a kid, say 15 or 16 who appears to display a genetic resemblance to me, just unravelling the mysteries of "their future" and in this vision I'm explaining to them why, when I had been so keen on attending a top school or really hip lib-arts place, I settled for what made a variety of financial sense at the time when I was considering it... and then I picture myself as the 15 or 16 year-old and think of the older me as being sad somehow, as though he missed out on a great opportunity. Also, I am slightly angry because I can no longer apply to an Ivy League school as a legacy, and thus will have a slightly reduced chance at being able to attend. Come to think of it, I'm downright pissed at older me. Bastard.
But younger me... you have to understand... back then we were in a recession, and no one was sure if they could even get a loan to go to those sorts of schools... and we were so concerned about our financial states. I mean, we had a house and stuff, tiny as it was, and jobs, and all sorts of things were going right... and Lesley wasn't even sure she'd be able to find a job where we were going to go, and there was no way I could work and go to school full time. It was a big risk, you know, and it just didn't make sense in light of everything...
Shut it old man, you're making excuses and I don't even know what recession means so quite bla-bla-bla-ing at me like you are some sort of annoying duck that wants to justify his actions! Ducks don't justify anything! They have a slick back off of which things slide, and I know that fact from my data pad! Now, I will utilize the incrementally shortened attention span the youth of the future have and I shall tune you out now and go play ultra-games on my face-computer.
Younger me... if only I could explain or somehow put it in context, but alas, I cannot and that pains me so.
...
For the future non-existent children I must someday justify myself to, I do not feel I should compromise, people! That is totally sane, and not at all weird or unstable to think that, either. Trust me. I know. I whisper secrets to myself.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Pow! Ka-bam! wait...
Last night I watched Casablanca for the second time in as many weeks. It reminds me of film school, inexplicably, as we never watched that film in film school. I remember watching Nosferatu, though. Anyway, I guess, when you look past the era-localized dialogue of Casablanca, you get down to the core of storytelling for film... the scene, the cast of characters, the leading character, their challenge, the road, the point of no return, the climax, the kicker. It's a classic and it's classy.
I'm working through a bunch of pieces for a section I was assigned for my school's Alumni magazine. They're coming out pretty good so far. I still have to organize an interview and might have to hunt down a few photos, but other than that, looking pretty sharp.
I feel like I haven't been writing lately, though, honestly, it seems like I've actually been doing little else. That's what happens during semesters with lit-intensive classes. I write constantly, just not as much the things I want to work on. Right now, actually, though, it has been a nice stack of essays, many of which are more related to school transfer applications. So much "self-selling," a big change from my usual self-deprecation and chronicles of human-nastiness. Hope I recover from all of this positive thinking.
In other news, I was recently given a sweater knitted by a werewolf. It is actually rather comfortable.
I'm working through a bunch of pieces for a section I was assigned for my school's Alumni magazine. They're coming out pretty good so far. I still have to organize an interview and might have to hunt down a few photos, but other than that, looking pretty sharp.
I feel like I haven't been writing lately, though, honestly, it seems like I've actually been doing little else. That's what happens during semesters with lit-intensive classes. I write constantly, just not as much the things I want to work on. Right now, actually, though, it has been a nice stack of essays, many of which are more related to school transfer applications. So much "self-selling," a big change from my usual self-deprecation and chronicles of human-nastiness. Hope I recover from all of this positive thinking.
In other news, I was recently given a sweater knitted by a werewolf. It is actually rather comfortable.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
more bla on submissions
Subs currently out: 23
How likely one is to be published: Less likely than I'd like to believe, I'm afraid.
I don't lead with B material, but as I gather new good short pieces, I frequently see who I haven't sent something to in a while and give 'em a bit of a razzle-dazzle. That's the correct method of dealing with this whole process, at least I'm told it is and am inclined to believe it is.
So, it is September, the month of my birth, and this September marks a whole really long giant and memory swallowing amount of time since I've been up North during the fall. What is it about Ohio in the fall? What is it about Connecticut's falling leaves, Maine's crisp coastal breezes, Vermont's local fall festivities that captivate me so? Sometimes I feel like a man possessed by apple cider and hay-ride memories. And cinnamon donuts.
Big shout out to Patterson Fruit Farm where the finest cinnamon donuts are available alongside scrumptious apple cider (this is coming from a guy who has pressed his own cider before, people).
(gosh I just realized how drearily New England it is to brag about pressing cider. Consider it stricken from the record, but secretly not)
I'll let you in on another secret, too: I wanted to go to bed 13 minutes ago, but I am compulsively staying awake right now. To what end I have no idea. I need sleep. I like sleep, when it is happening. It is the before-sleep brain-jogs that cause me to avoid the pillow, I think. My brain goes wandering, and when it does so, I get concerned. I usually try to blur it out by reading until I literally cannot keep my eyes open anymore, but that may not be an option tonight as the wife is already asleep and my desk lamp would probably wake her, that and my reading material is not the sort I can blur through.
I will wake up very tired tomorrow and will require coffee. I've become dependent on it, again, lately. I was dependent on it when I was younger, too... getting up at 6:ANYTHING to get to school on time (long drive, frequently in 3+ feet of snow, up hill both ways, sled dogs, etc.) causes one to crave strong stimulants early in the morning, minor status or not.
I was struck by a wretched thought today... just now, actually. I'm not sure that the people currently closest to me would tell me if I smelled bad or not.
I'll leave you with that thought until something more profound occurs to me.
How likely one is to be published: Less likely than I'd like to believe, I'm afraid.
I don't lead with B material, but as I gather new good short pieces, I frequently see who I haven't sent something to in a while and give 'em a bit of a razzle-dazzle. That's the correct method of dealing with this whole process, at least I'm told it is and am inclined to believe it is.
So, it is September, the month of my birth, and this September marks a whole really long giant and memory swallowing amount of time since I've been up North during the fall. What is it about Ohio in the fall? What is it about Connecticut's falling leaves, Maine's crisp coastal breezes, Vermont's local fall festivities that captivate me so? Sometimes I feel like a man possessed by apple cider and hay-ride memories. And cinnamon donuts.
Big shout out to Patterson Fruit Farm where the finest cinnamon donuts are available alongside scrumptious apple cider (this is coming from a guy who has pressed his own cider before, people).
(gosh I just realized how drearily New England it is to brag about pressing cider. Consider it stricken from the record, but secretly not)
I'll let you in on another secret, too: I wanted to go to bed 13 minutes ago, but I am compulsively staying awake right now. To what end I have no idea. I need sleep. I like sleep, when it is happening. It is the before-sleep brain-jogs that cause me to avoid the pillow, I think. My brain goes wandering, and when it does so, I get concerned. I usually try to blur it out by reading until I literally cannot keep my eyes open anymore, but that may not be an option tonight as the wife is already asleep and my desk lamp would probably wake her, that and my reading material is not the sort I can blur through.
I will wake up very tired tomorrow and will require coffee. I've become dependent on it, again, lately. I was dependent on it when I was younger, too... getting up at 6:ANYTHING to get to school on time (long drive, frequently in 3+ feet of snow, up hill both ways, sled dogs, etc.) causes one to crave strong stimulants early in the morning, minor status or not.
I was struck by a wretched thought today... just now, actually. I'm not sure that the people currently closest to me would tell me if I smelled bad or not.
I'll leave you with that thought until something more profound occurs to me.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Rejected by the best!
Top-down, or realistic?
As an amateur/unpublished writer, do you really want to "waste" the New Yorker's time? Is there really the chance that you're the breakout undiscovered super-scribe? On the other hand, does it do you any good to have a realistic goal with your writing considering the amount of pavement-pounding one must do to achieve even an MODEST placement in a litmag?
I say GO FOR IT. True, a literary magazine may shovel your work back into the envelope with haste and fury, slapping that SASE back into the mailbox faster than you can say "wait!" but they know your name, now, even though it is as an object of burning scorn, a red, swollen blotch on a day that was otherwise pleasant. And that's fine, just... next time send them something better. After that, something even better. Then a better piece after that. Etc. They'll see you growing. Perhaps that will encourage them to publish your work? It could happen, I mean, at least, I think it could. I imagine it could. Right?
I mean, I don't know, don't look at me for advice, though... everyone thinks my stuff is too WACKY to appear in their magazine. They've got a public to think about, people. They can't have my ramblings sandwiched, shoe-horned, if you will, between advertisements for the Iowa Writer's Workshop and a fancy watch company like "Omega" makers of the acclaimed Seamaster series. How would that look, a story about owning a pet shrimp, slapped in between those two advertisements, those fine purveyors of their craft and trade? How it would look is, people would think the "The Iowa Writers Workshop is obviously a beastly hippie commune that espouses hard substance consumption as a means of simulating creativity, and the Omega Seamaster watch is clearly not the sort of product I should be getting involved with. It will probably cease to work right when I need it, or magnetize my credit cards or shoot springs and gears at my grandmother in a malicious fashion when I'm not looking, and then phone to have her placed in a dodgy old-folks home. Also, as I read this magazine I feel that the ink may be lead-based."
On the other hand, your writing may not improve and you may not have the option to send a increasingly better work of fiction each time your submit. If that is the case, no problem, there are still options (and most of them are not even suicide!).
Consider, instead, becoming the editor of your OWN magazine!
You could also become a blogger. OH SNAP, THE JOKE BECOMES A MIRROR TO WHICH I HOLD MY OWN EXPERIENCE UP AND SAY "GEE GOLLY, WOULDJA LOOKIT THAT."
As an amateur/unpublished writer, do you really want to "waste" the New Yorker's time? Is there really the chance that you're the breakout undiscovered super-scribe? On the other hand, does it do you any good to have a realistic goal with your writing considering the amount of pavement-pounding one must do to achieve even an MODEST placement in a litmag?
I say GO FOR IT. True, a literary magazine may shovel your work back into the envelope with haste and fury, slapping that SASE back into the mailbox faster than you can say "wait!" but they know your name, now, even though it is as an object of burning scorn, a red, swollen blotch on a day that was otherwise pleasant. And that's fine, just... next time send them something better. After that, something even better. Then a better piece after that. Etc. They'll see you growing. Perhaps that will encourage them to publish your work? It could happen, I mean, at least, I think it could. I imagine it could. Right?
I mean, I don't know, don't look at me for advice, though... everyone thinks my stuff is too WACKY to appear in their magazine. They've got a public to think about, people. They can't have my ramblings sandwiched, shoe-horned, if you will, between advertisements for the Iowa Writer's Workshop and a fancy watch company like "Omega" makers of the acclaimed Seamaster series. How would that look, a story about owning a pet shrimp, slapped in between those two advertisements, those fine purveyors of their craft and trade? How it would look is, people would think the "The Iowa Writers Workshop is obviously a beastly hippie commune that espouses hard substance consumption as a means of simulating creativity, and the Omega Seamaster watch is clearly not the sort of product I should be getting involved with. It will probably cease to work right when I need it, or magnetize my credit cards or shoot springs and gears at my grandmother in a malicious fashion when I'm not looking, and then phone to have her placed in a dodgy old-folks home. Also, as I read this magazine I feel that the ink may be lead-based."
On the other hand, your writing may not improve and you may not have the option to send a increasingly better work of fiction each time your submit. If that is the case, no problem, there are still options (and most of them are not even suicide!).
Consider, instead, becoming the editor of your OWN magazine!
You could also become a blogger. OH SNAP, THE JOKE BECOMES A MIRROR TO WHICH I HOLD MY OWN EXPERIENCE UP AND SAY "GEE GOLLY, WOULDJA LOOKIT THAT."
Friday, August 01, 2008
Tagged and Filed: Summer 2008
Well, the summer semester of 2008 is over, the ponies are in and the jig is up. I must admit, this was probably the most academically challenged I have felt in my few years doing school/full-time work simultaneously.
A colleague questioned whether I will be able to handle 5 or 6 courses simultaneously when I return to school full time, if I'm feeling challenged by 3. I think I will, though. I mean, if the 9 hours a day I'm at work isn't enough for 2 courses lecture and homework (45 hours a week), I can't imagine that the courses are MEANT to be handled. Really, I hope that this will signify both a quality/thoughtfulness increase in my work as a whole (not that it is particularly poor or thoughtless now, far from it), and perhaps will give me the time to fully appreciate the density of material in a way I may not be able now. Maybe it will do these things. Maybe it truly will overwhelm me, though. So many variables, x's upon y's upon n's.
In the meantime, as the semesters tick down and I wrap up the last few classes I have left to sort out, I'm keeping the schedule for submissions heavy (I have about 10-15 out currently, and am endeavoring to keep that pace up), and am working on my transfer admissions essays heavily as well. Most schools require three essays in addition to resume and application information. I probably need to retake the SATs, though I need to get my scores from my high school and figure out what they were sometime this or next week (I think they said they'd be back to business in August). I'm 99% sure I could do better on them now, but, ya know, who knows. Just want to give them the best idea of who I am now, not... almost 10 years ago at this point.
Anyway, yeah, a lot on my mind. Off to a meeting. Later.
A colleague questioned whether I will be able to handle 5 or 6 courses simultaneously when I return to school full time, if I'm feeling challenged by 3. I think I will, though. I mean, if the 9 hours a day I'm at work isn't enough for 2 courses lecture and homework (45 hours a week), I can't imagine that the courses are MEANT to be handled. Really, I hope that this will signify both a quality/thoughtfulness increase in my work as a whole (not that it is particularly poor or thoughtless now, far from it), and perhaps will give me the time to fully appreciate the density of material in a way I may not be able now. Maybe it will do these things. Maybe it truly will overwhelm me, though. So many variables, x's upon y's upon n's.
In the meantime, as the semesters tick down and I wrap up the last few classes I have left to sort out, I'm keeping the schedule for submissions heavy (I have about 10-15 out currently, and am endeavoring to keep that pace up), and am working on my transfer admissions essays heavily as well. Most schools require three essays in addition to resume and application information. I probably need to retake the SATs, though I need to get my scores from my high school and figure out what they were sometime this or next week (I think they said they'd be back to business in August). I'm 99% sure I could do better on them now, but, ya know, who knows. Just want to give them the best idea of who I am now, not... almost 10 years ago at this point.
Anyway, yeah, a lot on my mind. Off to a meeting. Later.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Submissions. Lit mag.
Oh wow, two posts in one month!
I had a few thoughts, though, and I wanted to share.
First thought: Submissions, as an unpublished/underpublished fiction writer are tough going. I think, though, that most writers make it even TOUGHER by worrying a lot about scatter-shooting their submissions to hundreds of magazines they're unfamiliar with, and then just sitting around and waiting for the responses.
Here's the thing, though....... you HAVE to be familiar with the place you're submitting to. I mean, read the damned magazine a few times at least, just to make sure you're not wasting your/their time and, really, your paper. That's the thing - literary magazines have this groove, and the few consistent, interested readers they have definitely have an expectation about what they'll find in their favorite magazine's pages. They aren't going to divert from that style. Why should they?
Next, once you get a rejection, SEND SOMETHING ELSE OUT. Even if it is to a different magazine, send something to someone. Keep things going out constantly. Have 10 things out at all times, at least. Even after you get one thing published. Along those lines, keep records of what you have sent to whom. Keep writing new material, editing, revising, workshopping, and then... SENDING. Show them your progress. If you're serious about appearing in print/hypertext, that is the only way.
Second Thought: I wish I had the time to get my own online literary mag under way. I have the site built, the webspace, etc., but no time to actually do the thing, at the moment. Maybe once I am back in school full time and no longer working. That's okay, I can wait. I mean, do that many people read each online magazine unless they are conceptually brilliant? I think not, I think most people are generally ignorant that such things exist, or that such things have classically been the proving grounds for stories that eventually became their favorite movies, such as the basis for National Lampoon's Vacation, based on John Hughes short story Vacation '58, first published in National Lampoon Magazine in 1983, republished in the most current issue of All Story.
Maybe people should be more aware of lit mags, maybe more of online lit mags... and maybe we need to give them more reason to read them. WRITE WRITE WRITE BRILLIANT WORK!
Stuff to think about.
I had a few thoughts, though, and I wanted to share.
First thought: Submissions, as an unpublished/underpublished fiction writer are tough going. I think, though, that most writers make it even TOUGHER by worrying a lot about scatter-shooting their submissions to hundreds of magazines they're unfamiliar with, and then just sitting around and waiting for the responses.
Here's the thing, though....... you HAVE to be familiar with the place you're submitting to. I mean, read the damned magazine a few times at least, just to make sure you're not wasting your/their time and, really, your paper. That's the thing - literary magazines have this groove, and the few consistent, interested readers they have definitely have an expectation about what they'll find in their favorite magazine's pages. They aren't going to divert from that style. Why should they?
Next, once you get a rejection, SEND SOMETHING ELSE OUT. Even if it is to a different magazine, send something to someone. Keep things going out constantly. Have 10 things out at all times, at least. Even after you get one thing published. Along those lines, keep records of what you have sent to whom. Keep writing new material, editing, revising, workshopping, and then... SENDING. Show them your progress. If you're serious about appearing in print/hypertext, that is the only way.
Second Thought: I wish I had the time to get my own online literary mag under way. I have the site built, the webspace, etc., but no time to actually do the thing, at the moment. Maybe once I am back in school full time and no longer working. That's okay, I can wait. I mean, do that many people read each online magazine unless they are conceptually brilliant? I think not, I think most people are generally ignorant that such things exist, or that such things have classically been the proving grounds for stories that eventually became their favorite movies, such as the basis for National Lampoon's Vacation, based on John Hughes short story Vacation '58, first published in National Lampoon Magazine in 1983, republished in the most current issue of All Story.
Maybe people should be more aware of lit mags, maybe more of online lit mags... and maybe we need to give them more reason to read them. WRITE WRITE WRITE BRILLIANT WORK!
Stuff to think about.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Dear (Your Name Here),
Hi. How are you? I'm fine, thanks. So...
huh?
Anyway, reading George Saunder's "In Persuasion Nation," working on essays for school applications, and taking notes.
Someone told me once that the French do not respect Americans because Americans buy croutons. I refused to believe that, when I heard it. Then, I made my own croutons.
Our reliance on industry has truly undermined our ability to perform even the simplest task, hasn't it? What do you really need to make croutons, after all? Friggin' old bread, olive oil, an oven or even a couple of moderately clean bricks and a barrel fire....... maybe some spices, if you're A FANCY PANTS?
(which I am)
I say all of this as I wipe my hands on a paper towel. Ahhhh, hypocrisy.
Lately, Les and I have been playing this game where we kill a bug and then leave it wherever it died for the other to find.
"I think I'll have some of this sake! Ohhhhh, it was used to kill a Cockroach."
"Coool, I didn't know we had cheez-its! Ohhhh, dead ants."
Ah, summer in Florida. Roaches, the lightning storms, and the pollen make it totally worth checking out.
huh?
Anyway, reading George Saunder's "In Persuasion Nation," working on essays for school applications, and taking notes.
Someone told me once that the French do not respect Americans because Americans buy croutons. I refused to believe that, when I heard it. Then, I made my own croutons.
Our reliance on industry has truly undermined our ability to perform even the simplest task, hasn't it? What do you really need to make croutons, after all? Friggin' old bread, olive oil, an oven or even a couple of moderately clean bricks and a barrel fire....... maybe some spices, if you're A FANCY PANTS?
(which I am)
I say all of this as I wipe my hands on a paper towel. Ahhhh, hypocrisy.
Lately, Les and I have been playing this game where we kill a bug and then leave it wherever it died for the other to find.
"I think I'll have some of this sake! Ohhhhh, it was used to kill a Cockroach."
"Coool, I didn't know we had cheez-its! Ohhhh, dead ants."
Ah, summer in Florida. Roaches, the lightning storms, and the pollen make it totally worth checking out.
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