Tuesday, December 28, 2010

the blogroll

I'm addicted to a bunch of writer/editor blogs these days - especially the ones that let you submit your query letters for feedback. And by feedback, I mean they tear it totally apart with sarcasm and snark, and eat your hopes and dreams for dessert. It's educational and entertaining!

Evil Editor - Query feedback and absurd Guess the Real Plot games.
Query Shark - Great query feedback.
The Rejecter - Written by the first line of defense who goes through all the slush, and full of helpful hints.
Miss Snark - Retired, but chock full of great tips and, surprise!, snarkiness galore.

Also, this has nothing to do with writing or publishing tips (though the writer is a journalist), but I'm completely addicted to The Bloggess. The conversation about zombie junk is a personal favorite of mine. Check it out, if you daaaaaare.

Monday, December 27, 2010

the editing saga continues

I'm in the midst of editing, and the strange thing is that scenes that I hated when I wrote them are now not-so-bad-after-all. I just finished going through The Chapter in Which We Encounter the Dragon and The Chapter in Which Pretty Much Everyone is Defeated, and if you recall, I hated writing these chapters. They didn't seem to flow, parts of the dialogue were totally wrong, and I ended up totally rewriting the battle scene, and still wasn't totally happy with it.

Of course, this means that these chapters are the two that have bothered me the least over the course of editing this bdfhwkluawedljasdn manuscript.

Granted, I revamped the conversation between Niko and Merry about whether or not she would tag along. I changed the fact that Niko knew she was climbing onto the dragon's head, because that didn't really make sense. And I switched up the wording here and there. But over all, when I read these chapters I actually feel good about them; as opposed to, say, when I read the first few chapters and want to tear them up into confetti and scatter them in a godforsaken desert. Or something.

...also, Ferdinand K. Jowlfner is driving me nuts. He's got foreshadowing pouring our of his pores, but there's no logical place for him to show up again. Phooey.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

i'm already a sellout, and i haven't sold a thing

I realized something last night that made me feel like a HORRIBLE PERSON. Or at least a HORRIBLE WRITER.

I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, at approximately 2:30 a.m. because sometimes I'm an insomniac, and I was thinking about this new story idea that I've been tossing around lately and thinking I might try to write it for JaNoWriMo. This particular story idea involves using classic stories, which is all good cause of this thing called public domain and the fact that whoever wrote 1001 Nights has definitely been dead longer than 100 years. But then I thought, "Well, crap, are the movie rights to The Wizard of Oz and Peter Pan and all that copyrighted right now? Could they not put any of that in the movie?"

...that's right. I was worried about whether or not Hollywood could produce a movie of the novel I haven't even written because it included Toto and Tinkerbell. Nevermind that the chances of getting your book made into a movie are basically zilch (if that were my goal in life, I would need to call this blog negative eighty percent possibility, which really doesn't have as nice a ring to it). Nevermind that, I say again, THIS BOOK HAS NOT BEEN WRITTEN, much less accepted by a publishing company to even become a BOOK at all.

I am so lame. *headdesk*

But on the plus side, I had a great conversation via text message today with my best friend when the fire alarm went off in my dorm again:

Me: Out in the parking lot for the fourth time this quarter cause of the fire alarm.

Aimee: Hahahaha. That sucks.
(Editor's Note: Why yes, she's a wonderfully sympathetic friend.)

Me: If someone burned bacon for the third time…

Aimee: Hahaha. You guys need help with the bacon.

Me: Seriously. WHAT ARE THE CHANCES that burnt bacon would set off the fire alarm twice in two months?
(True story. Half of our fire alarms have been caused by burnt bacon. Sometimes real life is weird that way.)

Aimee: Well… People do love bacon…

Me: So they should be extra vigilant so they don’t burn it and waste it.

Aimee: Haha. Maybe their parents own the bacon kingdom and they have as much bacon as they need.

Me: Damn monarchs and their bacon monopoly. They’re jacking up prices for the rest of us. And raising spawn who don’t properly revere bacon and think they can just BURN IT whenever they want.

Aimee: Psh, rich kids. What can you do?

Me: Marry ‘em and control the bacon franchise from the inside. Or win their share in the family business from them in a poker game.

Aimee: Both possible, but I hear bacon princes are jerks. And then you wouldn’t be able to marry Bus Boy. Can you play poker?
(Bus Boy is the love of my life, who rides the bus that I take to campus. I have never spoken to him. I don't know his name. It's destiny.)

Me: Maybe I’ll get a second to win the bacon kingdom in my name. You know, like in a medieval duel.

Aimee: Hmm. Unless your swordplay has improved since I left that might be difficult. Bacon princes are expert sword players. Now, if there is a bacon princess you could kidnap her and demand they name the kingdom after you or you will feed her turkey bacon.
(Sidenote: Bacon princes are also expert harmonica players.)

Me: Hey, yeah, I didn’t even consider the possibility that the heir to the bacon fortune is a girl. Why the heck is a girl burning bacon? WE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE SMARTER THAN THAT.

Aimee: Maybe she is an evil princess that is burning bacon on purpose because she hates it and her family.

Me: Good call. Cause why else would a freakin’ princess of BACON be at [my vegan-friendly, hug-a-tree school]? Our DC serves tofu every day, but I have NEVER ONCE seen them serve bacon. Which could be because I’ve gone to breakfast exactly once. But who says bacon is only for breakfast?

Aimee: If it makes you feel better I’ve never seen bacon at [her school] and I go to breakfast sometimes. It would make sense that a bacon princess who hates bacon would go there and eat tofu every day.

Me: …bacon didn’t start the fire. For the record, We Didn’t Start the Fire, either. It was a steak. And you know something? I’m even more offended by a college student who cooks a STEAK in the DORM than I am by that stupid bacon princess.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

hundred word stories

...are tough. 100 is a big number when you're dealing with Big Macs or cockroaches, but not when you're dealing with words. To write a complete story in exactly 100 words - no more, and no less - takes some finesse and finagling.

Of course, those of you who are acquainted with one of my favorite "short stories" will argue that 100 words is plenty compared to Ernest Hemingway's story: "For sale: baby shoes, never worn." That's it; that's the whole story. But in six words, Hemingway tells a full story - not only that, but he tells one that actually makes the reader feel something.

But I'm no Hemingway.

Anyway, a friend of mine is doing a final project this week for one of her classes: she's trying to collect 101 100-word stories. You can go HERE to get in on the action and submit your own 100-word stories - she needs to collect 101 of them by Tuesday, after all. Just remember, no more and no less than 100 words.

Here are my two attempts so far. As I said, I'm no Hemingway, but at least I amused myself for a while with these stories.

The Nightmare Vanquisher

At 4:13 a.m., Henry sat up in bed. There was a sour taste on the back of his tongue and a ringing in his ears: a Nightmare was close. Probably trying to devour the sugar-sweet dreams of little Emily Bishop across the street again, he guessed. Henry climbed out of bed and fished around in the dark for his shoes. His wife – accustomed to this behavior after fourteen years of marriage – mumbled, “Lock the door behind you.” She was asleep again before her husband had found his left shoe; she dreamt of daisies while he kept the Nightmares at bay.

Polychrome, Inc.

Benjamin Bumperee worked at the Polychrome, Inc. color factory, manufacturing Blue615. It wasn’t a stimulating job: Blue614 came down the conveyer belt and he used an eyedropper to add one drop of Blue to each sample. It wasn’t an important job: no one liked Blue615 much. So finally, Benjamin quit. He tossed his company-issued eyedropper into the trash and walked out. But without Blue615, Blue616 couldn’t be manufactured; nor Blue617, or anything down the whole Blue conveyer belt. And as Benjamin Bumperee strolled away from the color factory, feeling proud of his brilliant career move, the sky (Blue873) turned gray.