On To The Next Thing...

Grrr!

I haven't heard back regarding Udopia from either the Main Street Rag or any agents. Allegory Magazine hasn't said anything about "Tarantulas On Leashes." And still no word on what the folks at Manic D Press think about my poems.

It's been like, two weeks. What is wrong with this people? Have they no sense of urgency? Removing tongue from cheek, of course it's going to be a while. So what am I working on now?

Well...

I had planned on finishing No Strings Attached. I estimate I'm about 40,000 words away, which would be a couple of months of good, solid effort.

But then something else struck my fancy. I pulled the first novel I ever began out of mothballs and began re-working it. I'm intentionally being vague on the details because...no reason, really. Just deal with it.

When I first wrote it, I put each chapter in its own document. Therefore, I had no idea how long it was. The other week, I put everything together. It's 75,000 words. I always had thought I was about 2/3 to 3/4 done with the the story arc. Working the math, it would be around 100,000 words when done. But also, in looking at it, I saw it takes a while to "get going." The action really didn't start until the 45th page, out of 170. So I've been mercilessly hacking, and re-configuring some stuff (such as the age of my protagonist).

It's definitely a case of addition by subtraction. It's now down to 54,000 words. But the good stuff starts on page 22 of 164. The story really moves along better now. It's crisper.

As I mentioned, I want to keep a lot of the details close to me. But here's the prologue:

    I am a dream weaver. That is how I make money:
        I make dreams for other people.
      Not just any dreams.
          But good dreams.
        And not just any people.
             But weak people, scared people. Everyday people, normal people.
    People like your friends, co-workers, maybe even your wife.
        People who are so close to the edge in this increasingly frightening world, that their nightmares begin to interfere with their lives.
      Virtually stop them from functioning.
          Literally scare them out of their wits.
        But I help them through the night by sharing my dreams, a sort of mental tour guide, if you will.
              Dreams 'R Us.
    We go there together, bound by the thinnest of filaments, to the place where the line between reality and creation bends and gives ominously.
            I hold their hands as we dodge and outrun the monsters, demons, ghosts, and                         bogeymen.
    In the morning, they are reborn, happy, and ready to go on.
           All because of me and my dreams.
    But…
    Dreams sometimes can go astray, and when they do, that's what we call nightmares.

Literary Man's Rant

Here's another post which illustrates my habit of nitpicking grammar, word choice, etc...

With regard to radio, I listen almost exclusively to college stations. One of my favorites is that of Case Western Reserve University, WRUW. I love them to death, so I probably shouldn't bust their chops. But I can't help myself.

Like I imagine every college radio station does, they hold an annual radiothon. One of the projects that this year's donations are being used for is a project to put their music collection onto a hard drive, to enable the DJs to have quicker access.  They sometimes run a PSA touting the conversion. I have to laugh. They say something to the effect of, "By 2014, we will have digitized our entire CD collection."

And I can't help but think, "Oh, so you have analog CDs somewhere?"

Did You Ever Stop To Think...

Today at work, while waiting for the microwave, I overheard two people chatting. One said she had been very busy, and finished with "Nose to the grindstone."

Really, what does that mean?

Think about it. If I had my nose on a grindstone, I don't think I'd be able to work, PERIOD, let alone work efficiently.

Here's The Pitch...

I've always been a "swing for the fences" kind of guy. And why not? If you connect, it's out of the park. But even if you don't, and just make contact, it can still fall in for a single.

Enough baseball.

A perfect example is my friend Kimberly. Several years ago, my wife and I visited Kimberly and her husband in the Bay area. Kimberly had recently published her book, Scrappy Project Management. She asked me if I wanted to write a book for the Scrappy label. Her ultimate plan was to develop the Scrappy series to the point where someone like "For Dummies" would want to buy it, as in, buy the whole concept. So I wrote and they published Scrappy Information Security & Scrappy BCP. There are now several other Scrappy books as well. As far as I know, For Dummies has not come a'calling. So technically, she / we did not accomplish the goal of selling the series. Is she disappointed? Hardly, considering that Scrappy Project Management consistently ranks in the top-50,000 best sellers on Amazon. (That's good.) Mine, unfortunately, do not get that high...yet! And though Kimberly may not be earning "retirement money" from the sales of her book, I'm sure it's funding some nice dinners and fine bottles of wine.

The point is, aim high, but be satisfied with reaching smaller milestones.

So here I am. I would love to get some of my poetry published. Again, I'm trying to build up my resume, my CV, in the hope of 1) attracting general attention to my work and, 2) giving publishers a varied list of works that were good enough to attract someone's attention, in order to help boost my cred when they're considering whatever project I've submitted to them. I read somewhere words to the effect of, "Don't try to convince a publisher to release a book of your poetry. Get poems published in a number of magazines and anthologies, and then you'll have a book." Good advice, which I had planned to follow.

But...

While looking for magazines and anthologies, I came across Manic D Press, which says on their website, more or less, "Hey, send us 5 - 10 poems if you want to have us consider a book of your poetry." This is the same publisher I referred to a few posts back, when I presented my poem, "On Writing In Coffeeshops."

OK, why not? So I just sent 5 - 10 today. Worst case, they say, "No thanks," and I fall back on my plan of looking for magazines and anthologies.

But if they say "yes" ...

Another Day, Another Poem

This popped into my head Saturday night, just before bed. So I scribbled it down in bits and pieces, and finished it the next day. I could see adding more in the future, as other "green" ideas come to me. But I'm pretty happy with it now.

Green

I feel terrible.

But I had no choice;

my hand was forced.

Today,
I stood and waited for the bus,
to take me to my job
at the food co-op,
reading the e- (rather than tree-) version
of the Times on my tablet,
at my feet,
my reusable hemp-fiber lunch bag,
containing:
organic carrots,
dolphin-safe tuna
on unbleached bread,
and a locally grown apple,
and wearing
only clothes that were not manufactured
by Chinese eight-year-olds.
And non-leather shoes.

The bus came early,
and I was forced to throw
the aluminum can
containing my half-consumed Dr. Pepper
into a "regular" trash receptacle,
because there were no others close by,
and the bus has a strict
no-open-container policy.

I hope they don't revoke
my "green card."

I'm not a huge fan of free verse. After all, what really is the difference between free verse and prose? Line length, perhaps. But in this case, it just seemed to fit.

On Writing In Coffeeshops

I'm in a poetry mood again. Some titles I've started are "Kitty Heaven," "9 Lives," "Vs." and "Couplets." (Not to mention the "tree series," but that's a whole other story.) I just need to find the time to finish them. But one I did complete...

I found a really neat poem the other day. It's by Adrienne Su, from her book, Having None of It. 

On Not Writing In Cafes

It's too much like sex in a car:

fine as a concept (everyone needs

to be seen at times by strangers),

but reality seldom agrees.

It's clumsy. Whoever happens

along as you start to forget yourself

is not what you fancied - a relation,

a stranger you know too well.

The hand that isn't holding the pen

flails like an animal pinned by a leg.

And the gorgeous epiphany, just then

at the tip of your tongue, has fled.

(Used without permission. But hey, I am giving her proper attribution.)

I really like this poem. The opening simile is precious, so appropriate. And I love the last two lines as well.

But, I like writing in public places. I find that I draw a lot of inspiration when I'm out. So I wrote a counterpoint.

On Writing In Coffeeshops

Blatant exhibitionism:

public display of erudition,

or "PDE." Bringing your art

out, where characters and plot lines hide.

It's exhilarating. Choosing

from the menu board of sensations:

The java smells, the conversation hum,

the visage kaleidoscope.

You put down the pen and dream into

a stranger's words, tics, gestures, or silence.

And then it happens. The muse, elusive,

flirty, coy, has pulled up a chair.

Fun, huh?

Signed, Sealed, Delivered #2

Fresh on the heels of submitting Udopia to the Main Street Rag ...

 I sent "Tarantulas On Leashes," a 2,500-word short story, to Allegory Magazine. Their current submission period runs until 10/31. The publication date will be 1/1/2012. The competition is fierce. Per their website, they receive 150 unsolicited manuscripts per month, and accept eight per issue.

Though I'd like to think it was a Herculean effort--Wow, you completed a novella and a short story over the span of two days??-- the truth is that "Tarantulas" has been finished for quite some time now. I even had a chance to give the once-over. But I wanted to focus on getting the novella to Main Street before thinking about any other submissions. Now, maybe I'll try to get some poems published...

I posted about half of "Tarantulas" on my "In Progress Stuff" page. Stop by, give it a read, and let me know what you think.

Signed, Sealed, DELIVERED!

It's done! Udopia, that is. I am thrilled to say that Udopia has been completed (first draft, of course; 39,200 words), edited (a big thanks to my friend Bill), and sent to the Main Street Rag, two days before the end of their open call for novellas. Their website says they hope to respond by the end of October. Wow!

I've also queried a few literary agents. It can't hurt to have a backup.

So cross your fingers and think good, literary thoughts on my behalf.

And how am I going to celebrate? By doing the dishes and a load of laundry. But after that, maybe I'll have some wine and ice cream.

Also, I'll take a look over the "how-to sections" of this blog site and see if there is a way I can post a document, such as the first chapter.  I know I could just paste it in, but I think it would be neater / cleaner if I could attach it as a doc.

9/11

I hadn't really planned on doing any commentary, but something caught my attention. The other day on the radio, I heard something to the effect on, "And on the 10th anniversary of 9/11..."

From a pure writing / grammar perspective, that statement is nonsense. There is no such thing as the anniversary of a month and date. September 11 happens every year. You could argue that every year, there is a 10th anniversary of 9/11.

And yet, to those of us who lived through that day, the statement makes perfect sense.

Just my $0.03.

Funny Foto #7

Once again, something from the department of, "Dude, who really cares?" I read this on a bag of onion rings:

"Heat for 10 - 24 minutes?" 

Nothing like a little precision.

Music Fest Part 4

I'll definitely finish the story tonight.

As I mentioned a few posts back, the actual party is Saturday evening. But getting to Saturday evening requires getting through Saturday day. With three kids away from home--and therefore away from all of the their toys--that can be a challenge. We went to the Washington County Fair. $9 a head to get in, including the kids. But at least the fairground is ALL UPHILL! Every way you turn, it's up. It's like an Escher painting. That place could use a funicular. My wife later commented, "You would think they could have found level ground somewhere."

But we persevered.

I think I mentioned that the Saturday evening party starts in the gazebo out back. Of the 150 or so attendees, perhaps 50 bring an instrument of some sort. There are a lot of guitars, of course. But we have mandolins, fiddles, banjos, drums, a bagpipe, and lots of voices. In previous years, a Japanese woman brought her Shamisen. At least I think that's what she played. I googled "Japanese instruments" and found a picture that looks like what I recall seeing. So it really is a musical feast, with various sounds and styles everywhere.

This year, we did something really smart: we hired a babysitter. We didn't foist all three kids off on her. We just used her as a third set of hands to maintain the 1:1 ratio. After all, there are woods all around, a pond, and 30 feet from the inn's front door (admittedly a hike, but doable nonetheless) is a 50 mph highway.

Suffice to say, in previous years it was a little hard to relax and enjoy the party. But this year...

Underscoring just what a good decision we made in hiring the young lady, at one point I was sitting on the gazebo's patio, with my daughter in my lap, talking to my friends Lisa and Denny. (More on Denny later.) I said to them, "This is why we hired a babysitter. I can sit here with her on my lap and talk to you both. I could not sit here with her on my lap, watching one run around, and talk to you both."

Parents of two kids have no idea how good they've got it.

Around 9:00 or 10:00, we got the children up to bed, and then re-joined the party. Or better said, parties. By this time, people have split off. Some are still playing in the gazebo. Others congregate on the stone patio above the gazebo. Still others play on the front porch. I usually camp out on the side with the aforementioned Denny.

Denny is a good cat. He plays a lot of 70s "traditional" acoustic stuff (Eagles, CSN). That's not always my first choices of genres. But I know how the songs go, if not the actual chords. And Denny is a very good guitarist and singer; I truly respect him and enjoy working with him. And, between the two of us, we probably could play every Beatles song. So there's a lot of Fab Four as well.

Denny and I played until around 12:00 or 1:00. Then I went inside to get a glass of water, and wound up staying for an hour, as a few folks were hanging out and playing in the tavern: Billy Idol (again), Cure, Mazzy Star. Now you're talking my music!

So to bed around 2:00, and up at 8:00 or 9:00. Then we had breakfast, checked out, and headed home, stopping at our friends' house in Washington to visit with them and the out-of-towners who had been staying there. We got back on the road around 2:00, and made it to our house by 4:00.

Then unpack, laundry, dinner, bath, bed...in other words, the real world.

Until next year.

Funny Foto #6

This is one that has always amused me:

Does anyone really need these directions?

And Now For Something Completely Different...

...well not completely different.  But I've been posting this week about our experience at the music weekend at the Century Inn. I had planned on finishing up that joyful sonic tale, but this just in:

I completed Udopia! Really!

In a previous post, I said that I had finished it, but acknowledged that what I meant was that I had managed to join the beginning and the end. The literary golden spike, if you will. 

So the past couple of weeks have been an exercise in filling in the gaps, correcting glaring errors, and embellishing. And I have filled, corrected, and embellished to my heart's content.  

It's just north of 39,000 words, and covers 81 pages. I have two weeks until it's due in the inbox of the Main Street Rag. I plan to tap my buddy Bill (though he doesn't know it yet), an experienced newspaper man like myself, to proofread and edit.

Two weeks ago, I felt as though I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Now I'm out of the tunnel, and chuffing (sorry, I read a lot of Thomas these days) to the station.

Woo-hoo!