If At First You Don't Succeed....

This is a long one. But I think it's a good one.

Back in September-ish, I felt certain that I would have a good October-ish.  

Why?

Because I had bravely sent out four of my children into the world.

- I sent Udopia to the Main Street Rag (a publisher), which had an open submission period for novellas.

- I sent ten poems to publisher Manic D Press.

- I sent my short story "Tarantulas On Leashes" to Allegory Magazine.

- I sent four other short stories to Uncle John's Flush Fiction.

I fully expected great things to come of this effort. You could say I'm an optimistic fool. But if I didn't think they were good -- and worthy of publishing -- then why would anyone else? And why would I bother?

By November 30, all four had said "no." Actually, one did not respond at all, but their website says “You will be contacted only if the editors are interested in reading your entire manuscript.” (Fair enough.)

Naturally I was bummed. But did I contemplate slitting my wrists? Of course not!

What did I do? I guess you could say I channeled my inner Gloria Gaynor. Since you're probably scratching your head, she's the singer of the 70s disco hit, "I Will Survive." That song is featured in the movie Chicken Little, which is in heavy rotation in our house right now.

So I declared that my works were "single" again, and free to seek out other fish in the sea. (Finding Nemo is big right now, too.) I emailed five poems to Freshwater. I sent "Tarantulas" to Best Fiction.

Fast forward a few months...

Early last week, I had the same feeling: something good was about to happen. Unfortunately, the week did not start out so auspiciously:

- On Monday, I learned I did not win radio station WCLV's love poem contest; I didn't even place in the top ten. And, Freshwater said "no" to all five poems.

- Tuesday, nothing either way.

- Wednesday, as I mentioned two posts ago, I hooked up with a few former colleagues at a luncheon. I showed Jack my infosec book. 
   "This would make a great introduction to information security college course syllabus," he said.
  "Or, at the corporate level, instead of having a training program, hand them this book," I replied.
   His eyebrows went up. As it turns out, he recently started working for a new company, and has been tasked with improving their information security program...and creating a business contingency program as well.
   "I also have a book on BCP," I said.
   His eyebrows went up again.
   We'll see what happens.

- On Thursday, I heard back from Pill Hill Press regarding "Worm Herding." And what I heard was "yes!" The downside is that the pay is only $10. The upside...well, there is plenty of upside: an additional fiction credit, my name out there. You get the idea.  Yay!

- On Friday, the editor of the Disaster Resource GUIDE reached out to me and asked me to write an article. Of course I'll be jumping at the chance.

The weekend and early part of this week were kind of sedate. I kept hoping that I would get more good news which I could share...that "Never Mind The Nonsense, Here's The Sex Truncheons" would be picked up by Pill Hill Press (alas, it was rejected) or that an agent would ask to see Nightmares (alas, none did).

And, like before, I feel good about this coming week. More good stuff is on the way. I know it. Yes, maybe I'm just an optimistic fool. (OK, so there's no "maybe.")

The point to all of this is, I got one solid "victory" ("Worm Herding"), one unexpected win (the Disaster Resource GUIDE article), and one possible lead (the possibility of work with Jack's company). 

So I really can't complain about these past two weeks. Stay tuned...

A Race Against Time

In several previous posts, I've made reference to "bug" stories I have written: "Tarantulas On Leashes" and, fairly recently, "Running With The Beetles."

I've been wondering what to do with them. Submit them to a magazine? Compile several and make a $0.99 e-book to sell on Amazon?

Then, the other day, I came across the Pill Hill Press call for submission BUGS.

They populate our world. There are over a million known species and they represent over half of all living organisms alive today. If you include both bug and bug-like species, they can be found in every environment from the bottom of the sea to the high stratosphere. They populate our nightmares. Bugs literally get under our skin, they invade our bodies, have poisonous bites and carry disease. The most common phobia in the world is the fear of spiders. 

I'm looking for stories between the 4,000 to 10,000 word range that involves bugs in some form or another for an anthology of imaginative tales.

The only problem is the word count. (My obsession.) "Tarantulas" is 2,600. "Beetles" is not complete, but I know it will come nowhere near that.

But in my back pocket, I have "Worm Herding."

    It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it. That's just a little joke between me and the boys, though Beanpole thinks I say it too much, that it's getting old. I don't care. I think it's funny. And out here, when you're not working, there's not much else to do, other than crack jokes, talk about long-lost loves, sing old cowboy songs off key, and look at the stars. I don't mind Beanpole giving me some lip. He's a good man. I'm lucky. All my boys, my crew, are solid fellows. Besides Beanpole, there's Skinny Pete, Lean Gene, and Tiny. We used to have a guy named Honest Abe. But he took a job splitting rails, or something like that.
    I rely on these fellas to help me do a tough job. It takes a special kind of man to do this work. You need stamina. You need to be quick and accurate with your six shooter. And you need really good eyesight. These critters depend on us to keep them safe. And if we slip up and lose our focus for just one second, then ZOOM! Out of the sky comes a robin, and one of them is gone.
    We're worm herders.

I started it around the same time as the other ones. But I didn't know where to "take it." However, thanks to this latest opportunity, I found inspiration.

The submission deadline is 1/31...next Tuesday. I'm up to 5,000 words, and the words are still coming. In fact, much like the experience I related in the post that can be accessed by clicking on "My obsession" (above), yesterday I sat down to work on a conversation, and 1,200 words came out of nowhere.

Will I make it? Stay tuned.

Double Bummer

Well, the month is not shaping up as I had hoped. I got two rejection letters this week. Main Street Rag said "no" to Udopia, and Allegory Magazine turned down my short story "Tarantulas On Leashes." 

The former offered no feedback, which they are not obligated to do. But the folks at Allegory said: "First exchange of dialogue with Sybil may have been a way of showing social ineptness but it didn’t add much to the story." That was the purpose of that bit of dialog, so I think I want to keep it. But I'll take their comment into consideration. Perhaps I can make it more relevant. They also said, "Some adverbs could’ve been eliminated or replaced with descriptive phrases." I definitely will heed that advice.

On the bright side, I just finished Nightmares. 65,000 words, which is perfect for YA fiction. It's the first run-through, of course, so I have some editing to do. If I had to guess, I'd say I'll probably add 5,000 words. Not that I'm trying; it's just what I think. We'll see how close I come. But I believe I'll be able to wrap it up by December.

Of course, to put it in perspective, a very good friend of mine just lost her Dad. So in the grand scheme of things, I really can't complain about my week.

Write on!

Castle: "Kick The Ballistics"

I could get used to writing something about "Castle" each week.

I enjoyed this week's episode. Of course. I liked that this show built upon a previous one, and that the story arc is still not finished, one would assume. I'm not saying a show should be a complete serial, like "Twin Peaks" or "Lost." But having one or two continuing threads keeps the viewer on his toes.

It was nice to see the focus on Ryan. Too many shows devolve into The Star(s), and the spare parts.

At one point, Ryan tells Beckett about the dumbest thing he ever had done as a cop: he had called out the name of a narc informant in the middle of the squad room, which at the time was full of busted drug dealers. Five minutes later, Beckett reveals the name of the undercover cop (he went by "Seth;" I forget the detective's real name) to Mr. Lee, head of a crime family. What's up with that? Careless mistake? Or was she setting him up?

On the downside, they did something that I had seen on several episodes of "Law & Order," which always made me shake my head way back when. In the L&O episode I'm thinking of, the police find a woman who has been tortured to within an inch of death. She's alive, but she's not yet able to talk to them. So they question her ex-husband. His alibi is that he was with a buddy at some high-society fundraiser. The next scene shows (we assume, then learn) the buddy walking out of his swank tennis club, talking back over his shoulder to the police officers. "Yeah, he was with me that night until around 2:00 a.m. Blah, blah, blah." As he gets into his car, one of the officers asks, "Do you know who could have done this?" "No," he says. "And I hope I never meet him. He sounds like one sick bastard." And then he drives off. And I remember thinking, "Well, I see you have decided that the police are done. I hope they feel the same way." The same thing happened on "Castle." At some point, the bar owner says, "You can wait for Seth. I've got to get to work." And then he walks away.

Finally, I liked the surprise ending. If I can some day convince someone that it's worth it to publish "Tarantulas On Leashes," "Swarm Summer Nights," Udopia,"and especially No Strings Attached, you'll see what I mean.

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.

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.

Another Bug Story...

I'm building quite a collection of "buggy" short stories. In a previous post, I offered a glimpse of "Tarantulas On Leashes." And now, "Night Lights."

    “I’d like to call to order this emergency session of the town council,” drawled Mayor Beemer. “We can all see that everyone is here, so I’ll dispense with the roll call and get right to business. As we all are well aware, the town has been taken over. And we need help. I’ve talked to our local representatives in Jackson. I’ve talked to our reps in Congress. I’ve talked to the governor. And they all say the same thing: we’re on our own.”
    That pronouncement met with a chorus of groans, followed by a cacophony of 100 voices shouting, “oh-my-ing,” and in some cases, praying. He estimated that half the town was
crammed into the tiny chamber. The mayor eyed the gavel sitting in front of him, but decided against using it. He thought he should let the townsfolk vent for a minute.
    “How could this have happened?” asked Buzz Wix, whose livelihood, the “Wix House Of Wax,” was especially imperiled.
    “To answer that question, I’ve invited Jack Pollan from the Humphreys County nature preserve. “Jack, could you shed some light on the subject?”
    After the groans of a different nature died down, the entomologist spoke. “Well, as you know, they’re usually quite docile. But it appears as though a swarm of Africanized ones have made their way up here, perhaps across the Gulf Of Mexico. They appear to have bred with some local bugs, which has produced an exceptionally aggressive strain.”
    “Damn those Mexicans,” said Buzz.
    “Now, now,” said Mayor Beemer.
    “It’s true!” Buzz continued. “Those ten-gallon hats in Texas start patrolling the Rio Grande and shoving the illegals back across. And this is how they get even.”
    “Do you really think the government of Mexico is protesting U.S. policy by launching a retaliatory bug strike?” said Mike Honeycutt, the town liberal.
    “Of course they would!”
    “You’re a dimwit!” Even though Buzz was a dimwit, whenever Honeycutt spoke out it automatically was 99 to one....

We were at a friend's house for a party this weekend. And being that he's somewhat in the boondocks, there were a lot of insects around. (In fact, the invitation included a reminder to bring Off.) So I guess that inspired me.

And, at just over 700 words, it will be short enough for Uncle John's Flush Fiction.

Good Resource For Writers; My First Sample

A few weeks back, I learned of a great website for aspiring writers: Poets & Writers. One of the most intriguing sub-headers, to me, is the "Call for Manuscripts: Anthologies." Writing a novel--or even a full book of poetry--takes a lot of time. But if you've got a single short story you want published, these are some folks looking for one. Immediately catching my attention was UNCLE JOHN'S FLUSH FICTION, which is looking for fiction of most any genre, as long as it's under 1,000 words.

I'm always coming up with new ideas that I simply don't have time to flesh out. But 1,000 words...I can do that in my sleep, as mentioned in my second post to this blog. In fact, I intend to submit my ghost story, and more, before the August 31 deadline.

As I was contemplating other ideas, a title came to me: "Tarantulas On Leashes." So I started writing. (If bugs creep you out, don't read this.)

     It was a nice day, so I decided to take “Harry” for a walk. “Want to go out, boy?” I called. He scooted across the floor and over to the door, jumping up and down (as best as he could) in anticipation. He was so excited. Harry loves to get out of the apartment, even though to him, it’s quite spacious. He immediately complied when I said, “sit.” Those obedience lessons really paid off. I then stooped down to put on his harness, no mean feat when you take into account all the legs. Suitably leashed, I opened the door and he dashed down the hall, pulling me along as he ran. When we reached the elevator his excited demeanor immediately changed. I’ll never understand how, but his grain-of-salt-sized brain just knew that the elevator somehow was related to the fact that we live on the 12th floor. And he was deathly afraid of heights, something I found odd because many of his brothers in order Araneae live quite high up in trees, or even on the window ledges of skyscrapers. But Harry won’t even go near the windows. Of course any tarantula owner worth his salt knows that most members of the family Theraphosidae reside near the ground. So I suppose it really isn’t that surprising.
     Aside from heights, the only other thing Harry fears are wasps. As well he should. As any caring Tarantula owner knows (or should know), you constantly have to be on the lookout for a Pompilidae, or hawk wasps, which have a particular gruesome evolutionary need to sting, paralyze, and lay eggs on helpless pets like Harry. So naturally I sprayed him with some Off before we stepped outside. My vet has suggested a pill which offers season-long protection. But Harry hates pills. I can’t even sneak one past him by hiding it in a fly...

There's more, of course. In fact, it's about 2,400 words, which makes it too long for the "Flush Fiction." So I'm weighing my options.

1. Find a publisher / anthology which publishes slightly longer pieces.  I have found quite a few on the Writer's Market.
2. Make it an e-book and sell it for $0.99 on Amazon. A nice idea, but a buck for 2,400 words seems a little bit undervalued, from the customer's perspective. 5-6,000 words, maybe. Or...
3. Write a few more related stories, bundle them, and then either do #1 or #2.

We'll see what happens.

Actually, I think some version of #3 will happen, since I've already started a few other "bug stories." I'll post some snippets in the coming weeks.