R.C. Mulhare's Blog: Notes from a Grocery Clerk With a Too-Big Imagination, page 6
April 4, 2016
Learning to Listen to that Still, Small Voice
I'm a bit of a people-pleaser, I'd readily admit: I can't quite put a finger on the root of this, and I probably should limit my psychoanalyzing to the process of developing my characters, but as I said, I try and please as many folks as I can. This includes the Internal Editor, that little voice that gets overly critical during the writing process and if not held in check, can derail a story and leave you in a bout of writer's block.
But once in a while, the Internal Editor gets it right. Once in a while, you do need to heed its voice, and I just emerged from a situation of that very type.
I'd started working on a story some months back and kept poking and prodding at it, trying to get it into a submitable shape for one anthology in particular. And yet, try as I might, I couldn't get it to a shape that I liked. Cue the Internal Editor telling me to set it aside and save it for another anthology, if a similar call ever arose (hey, at least the Internal Editor wasn't telling me I'd just wasted two months of writing on a steaming heap of rotten garbage, so small mercies, it seemed). I kept ignoring the Internal Editor and trying to use every available moment of my Writing Time to get the thing to cooperate. No luck, proverbial flagellation of the defunct equine. Finally, my day job plus a weird chest-cough 24 hour bug-thing, plus news of a personal tragedy knocked whatever wind I had out of my writing streak and I had to shelve the story since the window for submissions had now closed. Which meant I started beating on myself for not getting the work done on time. Somehow, perhaps due to simply running out of the spoons to deal with all of this, I suddenly realized just why the work in progress hadn't, well, worked. I'd missed raising a convincing tent pole for the second act, and shelving the idea might not be such a bad thing after all. Returning to it some day to look it over with fresh eyes might reveal what I need to do to fix it, or I might finally have a brain storm and come up with something to fill that void. Also, I learned that if the Internal Editor is acting kindly and concerned, I really need to listen to it.
But once in a while, the Internal Editor gets it right. Once in a while, you do need to heed its voice, and I just emerged from a situation of that very type.
I'd started working on a story some months back and kept poking and prodding at it, trying to get it into a submitable shape for one anthology in particular. And yet, try as I might, I couldn't get it to a shape that I liked. Cue the Internal Editor telling me to set it aside and save it for another anthology, if a similar call ever arose (hey, at least the Internal Editor wasn't telling me I'd just wasted two months of writing on a steaming heap of rotten garbage, so small mercies, it seemed). I kept ignoring the Internal Editor and trying to use every available moment of my Writing Time to get the thing to cooperate. No luck, proverbial flagellation of the defunct equine. Finally, my day job plus a weird chest-cough 24 hour bug-thing, plus news of a personal tragedy knocked whatever wind I had out of my writing streak and I had to shelve the story since the window for submissions had now closed. Which meant I started beating on myself for not getting the work done on time. Somehow, perhaps due to simply running out of the spoons to deal with all of this, I suddenly realized just why the work in progress hadn't, well, worked. I'd missed raising a convincing tent pole for the second act, and shelving the idea might not be such a bad thing after all. Returning to it some day to look it over with fresh eyes might reveal what I need to do to fix it, or I might finally have a brain storm and come up with something to fill that void. Also, I learned that if the Internal Editor is acting kindly and concerned, I really need to listen to it.
March 23, 2016
When One Door Closes...
I'd sent a story out back in September, a short tale inspired by Robert W. Chambers's The King in Yellow (especially the fictitious book within these loosely connected stories), to an anthology of stories inspired by its themes... and the anthology more or less vanished. No reply from the editor in over six months, and when I went looking for the site that had hosted the call for submissions, I found it had closed (I'd give further details but I feel shy about that, lest it give too much that might identify it). I even tried sending a query but the email sent back and automatic daemon message saying that the address no longer existed. That left me a bit disheartened, but it opened a door: I'd run across another King In Yellow-inspired anthology seeking submissions, and the silencing of the one call left me clear to heed the other.
It's like the proverbial saying, that when one door closes, another one opens; it's just a matter of finding that other door. How do I find these calls for submissions? Networking. Some come via the Facebook page of the New England Horror Writers, some via a lovely pair of blogs that I follow: http://horrortree.com/ and https://coffintreehill.wordpress.com/. I've found a lot of inspiration this way, maybe not a lot in the way of sales, but I'm told the success rate I've experienced is a typical rate, which gives me hope. On that luck, as always, wish me luck on the stories I've submitted recently, and on the ones currently in the pipeline to be submitted.
It's like the proverbial saying, that when one door closes, another one opens; it's just a matter of finding that other door. How do I find these calls for submissions? Networking. Some come via the Facebook page of the New England Horror Writers, some via a lovely pair of blogs that I follow: http://horrortree.com/ and https://coffintreehill.wordpress.com/. I've found a lot of inspiration this way, maybe not a lot in the way of sales, but I'm told the success rate I've experienced is a typical rate, which gives me hope. On that luck, as always, wish me luck on the stories I've submitted recently, and on the ones currently in the pipeline to be submitted.
March 5, 2016
First Library Eventt - Nesmith Library in Windham, NH
Note to self: be a bit more on the ball in promoting events that you're taking part in (I blame this on my at times crippling self-doubt and my fear of turning into the Tooting Your Own Horn type, having endured Very Pushy Self-Promoting from some people).
That said: Today marked my first ever library event with the New England Horror Writers, at the Nesmith Library in Windham, NH. Tiny event, six of us and a local author of children's books. Sadly, I did not take any orders for the one book in which I have a story published, Lovecraft ME, but I got the chance to chat with some local readers, find some new and useful resources for self-publishing, and answer some questions during a teeny panel discussion.
Also, while waiting for my drive home, I chilled at a Dunkin Donuts a few doors down from the library, working on another new story, this time for an anthology of tales set in Salem, MA, featuring some college kids who see some strange things in the old burying ground behind the Peabody Essex Museum (a plot idea which I nicked from Aitch Pi El's commonplace books of unwritten ideas. In a twist of irony, the story is due on the anniversary of the passing of the old gent from Providence).
My display, in one corner of a table shared with two folks:
That said: Today marked my first ever library event with the New England Horror Writers, at the Nesmith Library in Windham, NH. Tiny event, six of us and a local author of children's books. Sadly, I did not take any orders for the one book in which I have a story published, Lovecraft ME, but I got the chance to chat with some local readers, find some new and useful resources for self-publishing, and answer some questions during a teeny panel discussion.
Also, while waiting for my drive home, I chilled at a Dunkin Donuts a few doors down from the library, working on another new story, this time for an anthology of tales set in Salem, MA, featuring some college kids who see some strange things in the old burying ground behind the Peabody Essex Museum (a plot idea which I nicked from Aitch Pi El's commonplace books of unwritten ideas. In a twist of irony, the story is due on the anniversary of the passing of the old gent from Providence).
My display, in one corner of a table shared with two folks:
February 17, 2016
Coming up for Air - Where I've Been Lately
Life took a turn for the hectic: work at the day job got busy and then a wave of single-digits temperatures with sub-zero wind chills hit the Miskatonic Valley, which laid me out with a nasty head cold that is yielding, thank heavens, to me resting with some good books, green tea and the odd Odwalla smoothie. I've still managed to clatter out another story, this one a faery tale sequel based on a confluence of the Irish folk tale "The Children of Lir" and the Brothers' Grimm "The Six Swans". This happened when my brain somehow tacked the ending of "The Six Swans" onto "The Children of Lir", and in that ending, rather than being turned back only to resume the forms of older men because Time Works Differently in the realm of Faery, they turned back into themselves through the power of some magical shirts crafted by their sister, except for the youngest, whose shirt lacked a sleeve, and so he came back with a swan's wing in place of one arm. So! I decided to write a tale of what happens to that youngest brother and how he struggles to adjust to his new life. Admittedly, some of the inspiration came from my own struggles to live with my diagnoses, the support (or lack of support) I've known as I adjust to them, and just how much one can feel like a freak of nature in doing so. I'm quite proud of this one, and I hope that it starts a good life soon.
Also I've started work on a story inspired by (yep!) HPL's "Herbert West: Reanimator", writing, in a manner of speaking, a chapter from between the chapters, showing the unnamed narrator and the icy-blooded Doctor West in love with pair of young ladies (very fitting for the month of romance!) and how all that goes horribly wrong.... and how Doctor West thinks he can fix it, which of course only compounds things. I've actually got the last lines of the story written out which I felt I needed to do, considering how Aitch Pi El ends every chapter of the story on a Wham Line of some sort (some of them quite funny in a morbid way - one of my favourite chapter endings of all time comes, after a failed test subject trashes the lab and beats West and the narrator senseless, West comes to in an Arkham hospital muttering "Dammit... it wasn't fresh enough."); the ending line I came up with for this story of mine pleases me thoroughly, and I hope, when the tale sees the printed page beyond the screen of my laptop, it pleases you.
Also I've started work on a story inspired by (yep!) HPL's "Herbert West: Reanimator", writing, in a manner of speaking, a chapter from between the chapters, showing the unnamed narrator and the icy-blooded Doctor West in love with pair of young ladies (very fitting for the month of romance!) and how all that goes horribly wrong.... and how Doctor West thinks he can fix it, which of course only compounds things. I've actually got the last lines of the story written out which I felt I needed to do, considering how Aitch Pi El ends every chapter of the story on a Wham Line of some sort (some of them quite funny in a morbid way - one of my favourite chapter endings of all time comes, after a failed test subject trashes the lab and beats West and the narrator senseless, West comes to in an Arkham hospital muttering "Dammit... it wasn't fresh enough."); the ending line I came up with for this story of mine pleases me thoroughly, and I hope, when the tale sees the printed page beyond the screen of my laptop, it pleases you.
January 14, 2016
First Story of 2016
Back to the tricky job of typing up a manuscript: I tend to edit while typing, making the first round of fixes and changes. The afternoon of January 13th, I finished the handwritten rough draft of "Wiggle-Wobble", my first story of 2016; it's the very definition of a cruddy rough draft, but I'll be fixing that as I commit it to pixels. I'm quite proud of it, especially the ending, which included some tricky action writing, which I'm never at ease with, but count this as an example of challenging ones boundaries and comfort zone. Also a woman going Mama Wolf on something that has endangered her family, and a male scream queen (though his cowering is also a means of covering and protecting a helpless person). I gave myself the challenge to write a new story every other week, as my energy and inspiration hold out and barring any unexpected mishaps (illness, work getting busy, other things otherwise defined).
Unfortunately, due to the level of tiredness that seems to have come as a side effect to this wretched cough I picked up last week, I missed one deadline for a quarterly magazine. But! I can try for the next quarter, or for one of several publications with continuously open submissions. As with life, so with writing, one must learn to forgive oneself when you've fallen short of the marks you set for yourself. Keep me in your thoughts and prayers as I get this little one ready to go out into the big scary world of publishing. As I tell people, the actual writing might bring me joy as I craft a tale to share with the world and thus, it doesn't feel much like world; the real work, what really feels like work, comes when you try and get published. But while the rejection letters might sometimes get to me, and it sometimes seems like I'm tossing things at markets without much sticking, I wouldn't trade this in for the world.
Unfortunately, due to the level of tiredness that seems to have come as a side effect to this wretched cough I picked up last week, I missed one deadline for a quarterly magazine. But! I can try for the next quarter, or for one of several publications with continuously open submissions. As with life, so with writing, one must learn to forgive oneself when you've fallen short of the marks you set for yourself. Keep me in your thoughts and prayers as I get this little one ready to go out into the big scary world of publishing. As I tell people, the actual writing might bring me joy as I craft a tale to share with the world and thus, it doesn't feel much like world; the real work, what really feels like work, comes when you try and get published. But while the rejection letters might sometimes get to me, and it sometimes seems like I'm tossing things at markets without much sticking, I wouldn't trade this in for the world.
January 11, 2016
New Writing in the New Year
I've been getting over a wracking cough in my chest for the past few days, but as of Saturday night (January 9th), I started writing anew, and a new piece of fiction. And yep, it's a bit of Lovecraftiana: this time, I'm taking my cue from "From Beyond", mixed with a strange thing I'd overheard a kidlet say.
One evening during this past summer, my folks and I were having dinner at a nearby Cracker Barrel; while we waiting for our meal to arrive, we did a little people-watching, especially my mum, who likes to see families with small children. Sure enough, a young family came in, and while they waited for their order to arrive to their table, the mom started drawing pictures on the kid menu to keep her three year old little one entertained. Little one asks, "Draw a wiggle-wobble!" Says the mom, "I don't know what a wiggle-wobble is." Little one kept begging for the mom to draw "a wiggle-wobble", without getting the desired result from an increasingly bemused parent, till the little one started bouncing up and down in their high chair calling out "Wiggle-wobble! Wiggle-wobble! Wiggle-wobble!" My dad looked to my mum and with a smirk, asked, "What is a wiggle-wobble?" Said my mum, "Sounds like something the kid made up." My mind started wondering what a wiggle-wobble could be? Of course my brain thought of the flying polyps that turn up in (yep!) H.P. Lovecraft's From Beyond.
Which got me thinking of a story in which a young child starts babbling about creatures they alone can see... except these aren't the usual quirky imaginary friends. I've given myself a homework assignment, if you will (and another good excuse to read this book), and started reading Scott Jones's Resonator: New Lovecraftian Tales From Beyond, to reacquaint myself with the original story by the old Gent, and to see what other authors have done when a person's pineal gland is awakened somehow. I imagine, in some kids, the pineal gland might have yet to go dormant.
One evening during this past summer, my folks and I were having dinner at a nearby Cracker Barrel; while we waiting for our meal to arrive, we did a little people-watching, especially my mum, who likes to see families with small children. Sure enough, a young family came in, and while they waited for their order to arrive to their table, the mom started drawing pictures on the kid menu to keep her three year old little one entertained. Little one asks, "Draw a wiggle-wobble!" Says the mom, "I don't know what a wiggle-wobble is." Little one kept begging for the mom to draw "a wiggle-wobble", without getting the desired result from an increasingly bemused parent, till the little one started bouncing up and down in their high chair calling out "Wiggle-wobble! Wiggle-wobble! Wiggle-wobble!" My dad looked to my mum and with a smirk, asked, "What is a wiggle-wobble?" Said my mum, "Sounds like something the kid made up." My mind started wondering what a wiggle-wobble could be? Of course my brain thought of the flying polyps that turn up in (yep!) H.P. Lovecraft's From Beyond.
Which got me thinking of a story in which a young child starts babbling about creatures they alone can see... except these aren't the usual quirky imaginary friends. I've given myself a homework assignment, if you will (and another good excuse to read this book), and started reading Scott Jones's Resonator: New Lovecraftian Tales From Beyond, to reacquaint myself with the original story by the old Gent, and to see what other authors have done when a person's pineal gland is awakened somehow. I imagine, in some kids, the pineal gland might have yet to go dormant.
January 7, 2016
New Year Means New Blog - Meet the Author!
I'd created this blog almost the moment I was approved for this page, but life got a bit away from me - translation: I was working a lot at my day job, as well as finishing a story with a deadline looming up ready to eat me - but! With a new year come resolutions to do better at posting here and in my personal journal, and so, without further ado, please allow me to introduce myself.
I'm R. C. Mulhare, emerging horror/dark fantasy/paranormal author and sometime grocery retail worker, living in the North East U. S. of A. I'm currently in between seriously active projects at the moment, due to winding down from the madness that is retail at Christmas/the December holidays, and from the last rush to get the aforementioned story down the pipes to an editor, and also due to the mild chest cold that I'm now shaking off (three things that are good for colds besides vitamin C and chicken soup: green tea, dark chocolate and marshmallows. Really!). From time to time, I'll post here, talking about works in progress, books I've read, events I'm taking part in or the odd ramble on the writing life (which I admit, is a different beast than my romantical young self anticipated). Hope to have you along for the journey, because it's going to be an interesting ride...
I'm R. C. Mulhare, emerging horror/dark fantasy/paranormal author and sometime grocery retail worker, living in the North East U. S. of A. I'm currently in between seriously active projects at the moment, due to winding down from the madness that is retail at Christmas/the December holidays, and from the last rush to get the aforementioned story down the pipes to an editor, and also due to the mild chest cold that I'm now shaking off (three things that are good for colds besides vitamin C and chicken soup: green tea, dark chocolate and marshmallows. Really!). From time to time, I'll post here, talking about works in progress, books I've read, events I'm taking part in or the odd ramble on the writing life (which I admit, is a different beast than my romantical young self anticipated). Hope to have you along for the journey, because it's going to be an interesting ride...
