Renee Miller's Blog, page 37

Are You Controversial?

Controversy:



An arguement, debate or dispute between sides holding opposing views. The act of engaging in such disputes.



Fiction writing holds great potential for controversy. Have a look at any banned books list, read the arguements presented by each side, take a gander at reviews for writers who toe the line in terms of acceptable subject matter and you'll see what I mean. Sometimes the writer's pen (or keyboard) is equal to holding a loaded gun. What we put on paper is there forever once published. People read, form opinions and thanks to the internet, can broadcast those opinions to millions. One 'offensive' remark becomes fodder for long, explosive debates nationwide. How lucky are we?

 

For those of you who visit the Edge often, and those that know me well, my views regarding taboo subjects are probably very clear. For the rest of you, the newbs, the lurkers, and the ones who accidentally stumbled across this blog in the search for something meaningful and important, I'll elaborate.



I recently read a manuscript for a friend. This story is very...disturbing on many levels. The writer was brave, forthright, and pulled no punches. It's the first story I've read in a long while that had me asking, "Oh, why would he write this?" After finishing, I reflected on the story and thought, "Damn! He's brilliant, even if the idea of sitting down to coffee with such a twisted mind is rather unsettling. Kudos to him for daring to touch such murky waters."



I don't find many subjects to be taboo in fiction writing. I think that when a story needs to be told, the writer should have the balls to tell it the right way, not the popular way. By that I mean, glossing over events, or grotesquely describing them for shock value, is the mark of a lazy writer in my opinion. But wait, that's contradictory. No, it isn't. Skimming over events because either you're uncomfortable writing them, or because you're worried about offending someone reading them, is lazy. It's cowardly in fact. Describing a scene that could be handled tactfully by relating every gory detail is also lazy. A good writer looks at the scene in terms of how it contributes to the entire story, not just as a "hmm, how can I shock the reader down to her boots?"



Let's take child abuse as an example of what I mean here. I have a novel that is a very uncomfortable read on many levels. One, it's dark. Some don't like dark. Two, it looks at domestic violence from both victim and abuser's perspective and at times, the abuser is portrayed sympathetically. Not a very popular angle to take. Three, child abuse plays a huge role. Sure way to lose half your readers right there. This issue is sensitive and delicate and must be treated as such. Does that mean we as writers avoid it? No. It doesn't. Our job is not only to entertain, but to enlighten and educate where possible. There are several scenes in this book where sexual abuse occurs. Now, as I wrote each scene, the inner dialogue in my head warned against it. "Just say she was abused and move on." It said. "But wait, how can we possibly expect the reader to understand the damage if we don't show this?" the other voice said. "People will slam the book down in disgust. You'll have nasty emails and no publisher will touch it." The first voice argued. The first voice is a spoilsport, but often the first voice forces me to examine my motives before plunging forward, so he has his place in the grand scheme of things.



Anyway, these scenes took the longest to write and endured many more rewrites than any other section of this novel. Why? I'm not lazy. I didn't want to shock. I wanted to enlighten. I wanted the reader to feel what the characters felt in each, but I didn't want to ruin the reading experience either. The scenes are crucial to choices the characters make later, and one in particular opens the entire book. So you see, they are scenes I couldn't ignore.



But, Renee, honestly, you could have avoided all of that work by not writing about a subject that rubs so many people the wrong way. Yes, I could have. And the story would be weaker because of it. If I left them out to avoid upsetting people, then why am I writing? Why bother imagining, creating, and questioning everything the way I do? What would be the point if I played it safe?



Does controversy sell books? Once I believed it did. Now, after trying to publish two novels that explore controversial issues for months and months and receiving rejection after rejection, I wonder if this is true. I think given the chance, yes it would sell books. But how does a writer get a publisher or agent to see that? How does the writer convince the Powers That Be, that she will stand behind what she's written, firmly plant her feet in place and not apologize for the content of that story? How does she convince them that she's got the balls to sell it? Good question. When I figure that out, I'll let you all know.



Now back to the subject of taboos. While I feel there isn't anything too controversial to write about, I do feel that there are limitations to how we should portray taboo subjects. Glamorizing rape, incest, child abuse or domestic violence is not okay in my books. Some writers are okay with that. For me, this is a personal choice and I will not do that in my writing. I will write about it. I will show it for what it is and hopefully force the reader to think about it from a different perpective. But I will not make it seem like it is okay. Not ever. There's a fine line there and some might feel that in I Do and Other Lies We Tell, I've crossed it in my portrayal of Ronny or even Garrett. But I disagree. We can debate that once it is published.



My question for you is, do you have boundaries, limitations that you've set for yourself in terms of what you will or will not write about? What about as a reader? Are there subjects that will cause you to leave that book on the shelf? If you're comfortable elaborating, why won't you touch these topics?

In Honor of my Birthday

Because those of you with weak stomachs aren't enjoying my little man at the keyboard, bloodying himself with a tantrum, I'll post something new. Personally, I like the angry guy. He reminds me of myself.



Tomorrow is my birthday, and I was going to post then because, well I don't know. Seemed like a good time to post. Yes, my birthday; the day the world was given the gift of me. Personally, I think it should be a national holiday but the powers that be disagree. No matter, it's a holiday in my mind.



The first Open Book Toronto challenge ran in January and it produced slightly less entries than expected. That's our fault in part because we didn't get the link out as well as we could. Before I go on, let me congratulate Wendy Swore on her awesome story Stroke, which won the challenge for January. I had a really hard time choosing between Stroke and another entry from another great writer. In the end it was appeal that won out. Wendy used an old technique that is really hard to pull off, the old leading the reader to believe one thing so that at the end they feel like a giant perv for misreading the words so totally. Good job Wendy.



It's really early and my brain is not quite into the awake zone that I try to function in, so if I seem a bit mixedup, forgive me. The caffeine is not circulating through my veins as it should today. I decided that in honor of my birthday, I'd entertain you all with a story similar to the writing challenge in Open Book last month. Well, it's funny in my book anyway. I was reminded of it when my daughter came home from her first 'semi formal' dance with a boyfriend. Yeah, polishing the pruning shears right now. Like I need my perfect child becoming a hormone crazed teen. She wasn't supposed to be interested in dating yet. That wasn't the plan.



Damn it, why can't they just do things the way that makes me happy? Okay, on with the story. *sigh*



Some of you have seen this one before so, if you don't want to read, well Clive has cookies and margaritas over there. Go join him.



Love Story





Patience lay in the grass staring up at the sun as it slowly faded. Soon she'd have to go home.



"You've got an ant on your leg." Tobias placed a dirty finger on her thigh and flicked the offending insect away.



"Thank you,"



"When do you have to go?"



"Soon,"



He grunted in reply. Tobias always grunted when he didn't like something. He leaned over her legs and running a hand along her ankle he let out a low whistle. "That's gonna hurt tomorrow something fierce. You should be more careful, Pat."



"It hurts already."



Tobias's hand roamed until he came up to her seat. She frowned as he smacked it before bringing his arm down.



"It's not a toy. Stop that."



"Bet your chain needs grease." He turned his green eyes on her and grinned.



"Grease it then."



"Really?"



"Sure, why not?" she smiled back.



Tobias had a beautiful smile. Filthy from wrestling by the creek, his chin had a streak of mud running across it. Patience longed to wipe it off.



His fingers moved along her seat again and she shifted to her side to watch him.



"Your mom's gonna know what you were doing. She's gonna tell you we can't see each other anymore. Didn't she tell you to stay away from the creek?"



"How's she going to know?"



"Well, your ankle for one." He looked pointedly to the offending appendage, now purple and twice the size it had been.



"I can make something up."



"What about your hands? She'll take one look and know you were touching my rod."



Patience felt her cheeks warm. How would her mother know that? Well, she didn't care. She was nearly a woman. "She isn't going to know I did that."



"I can tell. It always makes your hands pink. Look."



Patience looked at her palms and sat up. Definitely pink. "Well, I'll tell her something. You worry too much."



"It's gonna be you that's mad when we can't see each other anymore. I don't care one way or the other really." He withdrew his hand and toyed with a blade of grass near his knee.



"Thought you were going to grease my chain." Patience murmured.



"I want to, but I don't think there's enough grease in the world for it. It's pretty rusty."



"It's not that bad. No rustier than your rod, silly."



"Underuse, that's what makes things rusty. You gotta use them or they get stiff and then you gotta work them in real hard to get them back to what they used to be."



"Really? I thought if you didn't use something it stayed just like new. I think if you didn't use your rod so much, it wouldn't make my hands pink."



"I only use it at one hole, Pat. It's not like I take it out every day and fish all the holes in town."



"I know, but you use it a lot. Every time we're together you have to use it. Why do we always have to meet at the creek? You afraid of your friends?"



"No." his cheeks reddened. "Hey, Pat?"



"What?"



"Maybe some day we should get married."



Pat's heart fluttered in her chest. Married? "We're too young."



"Sure, now we are but hell, we've known each other forever. I don't let just anyone touch my stuff, you know?"



"You're silly. People get married because they love each other, not because they play with each other."



Tobias shifted to that their faces nearly touched. Patience bit her lip. He smelled like fish. "You mean you don't love me?"



"Well, I like you, sure. But I don't know about love. That's pretty serious."



His gaze dropped to her mouth and she fought the urge to shove him away. Tobias liked to make her nervous and he knew she didn't like it when he put his face close like this.



"You'll marry me. I know it." He grinned at her.



"You're cocky."



"Filthy mouth."



"Cocky isn't filthy."



"Shouldn't be coming out of your mouth."



"What should then?"



"Tell me you love me." Tobias sat back.



"No. I have to go home."



"You do. I can tell you do."



"Do what?"



"Love me. Why else would you always be asking to play with my rod?"



"I don't ask." Patience stood, careful not to put weight on her ankle.



"Right." Tobias stood as well, gathering his lures and his rod.



"Why do you always have to bug me?" Patience hated being teased.



"Dunno. Why are you so easy to bug?"



"Am not."



"Sure. Hey, let me take your bike, you hold my rod. You can't push the bike with your ankle like that. Tell your dad to grease the chain and you won't fall again."



"Don't forget your fish." She reminded him.



Tobias turned back and picked up the bass they'd wrestled in from his favourite hole. The creek had tons of bass, but he hadn't told anyone but Patience about it. He didn't know why, just that he didn't want to.



"What are you gonna tell your mom?"



"That I fell off my bike and you helped me home."



Tobias nodded and they walked toward the road. Patience thought her ankle didn't hurt so bad now.



"School starts next week." He said.



"I know. We can still come here on Sundays though. Hey, Tobias?"



She felt his eyes on her, but Patience kept her gaze on the road, a little embarrassed. "Maybe some day if we haven't met anyone else …we could get married."



"Pat?" his voice sounded strange, tight, and Patience raised her head to look at him. Tobias lunged, planting a big wet kiss on her mouth. She gasped.



He jumped away. "I knew you loved me. Hey, Mr. Thompson's teaching sixth grade this year. I hope we get him."



"Me too."

I Think I Have a Diamond.

My very first ever novel was titled Happiness Hills. I completed that bad boy in 6 months and promptly submittted to publishers. You can imagine the results. I edited, edited, then edited some more. That's me editing this manuscript. I just did not understand what was wrong with it. One con-artist agent and two less than legitimate publishers later, I still hold the unpublished and completely unpublishable Happiness Hills in a little file on my hard drive. Well, it's hand written in about five notebooks too, because I didn't have a laptop then so I wrote it by hand first, and then typed it.



Happiness Hills is the story of a demon who holds a small town hostage. No one can get in or out each winter as he picks them off one by one. He always leaves a few alive by spring because he doesn't want to cut off his power supply. He lives off their souls. Anyway, Audrina comes along and he's found that she is the key to him breaking free and entering the world beyond Happiness Hills. Chaos ensues. At the end, all but four are dead and Audrina and Caleb fall in love. Oh, and she's pregnant. Too bad the child isn't Caleb's. Hint: Its eyes glow in the ultrasound.



Yeah, it's not only a very stretched plot (as in unbelievable to the extreme) but the writing is...oh my, it's just not very good. The thing is, this manuscript is like one of my children. I'm attached to everything I've written, but Happiness Hills was the first I'd sat down and seriously written. The first novel I completed. The characters were the first I'd developed carefully and the plot I'd researched and even made a family tree for the town. Insane. It breaks my heart that these characters are just collecting dust in their improbable little story.



So...I had an epiphany the other day. The characters are good. I'm not being arrogant. They really are. The basic concept of the town and how it operates is good. Small town, no outside contact because of the location, the way inbreeding can...slow things down, it's all good. All elements that could turn into something great. I overhauled the plot, just about finished the new Happiness Hills outline, and I've tackled rewriting the first 50 pages. Know what? I'm excited about the rebirth of my baby.



The new plot? A small town way out in the sticks. Suicide rate is sky high. Town is convinced they're cursed. Audrina comes in to investigate, she's a paranormal writer and investigative journalist. Caleb is a hot carpenter/lawyer, his father Tom is on the local police force. Cliff is a 40-something attractive man who wouldn't mind catching Audrina's eye. Caleb is not impressed. Christophe is the entity they know is causing the deaths. But is he man or myth? The police chief has given up on investigating any of the deaths seriously. One of them is a murderer. But who?



Okay, sucks as a summary. I'm working on it.



What's my point? I know, it's always so hard to see. I'm so rambly and round-about with everything. I'm saying don't 'write off' your old writing. The ideas are probably worth looking at again. You never know where a diamond might be hiding in the rough.

You Learn Something New....

I've been writing some articles on writing recently (imagine that) and realized how to resolve a major issue in my own writing in the process. One that I didn't quite 'get' before. Ever heard of the whole 'show vs tell' thing? Yeah, well I could edit the hell out of other people's writing but somehow I missed the tell in my own writing. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't seem to see what my beta readers were seeing. Let me explain.



Everyone know what exposition and narrative is? No? Phew, I thought I'd been the only one in the dark. Well, you know how sometimes writers go off on little side trips to tell the reader about something that happened way back in the character's past or they explain a fear, action, or whatever with lengthy amounts of internal dialogue? Well this is usually done through exposition and narrative. Two entirely different things, by the way. I won't get into the bits and pieces of why it's bad or good and all that, because well, I've bored myself enough. I'm sure I don't need to bore you all as well.



For the past year I've been trying to edit the tell out of my writing. First drafts of my work contain a lot of telling. It's like a telling-palooza and although I know I'm doing it, I just can't seem to stop. I need this information in the story, so how could I get rid of it? I just didn't see how I could remove it without confusing the reader. I know! How could I be so dense? The answer is so simple, I'm a little embarrassed that I just competely ignored it. I figured if there was information that needed to be told, then obviously I should do that. As long as something is happening, what's the big freaking deal? That's the problem; nothing was happening. Not a damn thing. Exposition and narrative tend to slow the pace, and most times each reminds the reader that he is reading. We don't want that. I know I don't want that.



Am I making any sense? I know I rarely do. It was like a lightbulb went off in my brain as I was researching the difference between the two. Yes, I thought I knew what they were and I thought that both were pretty much the same thing just given different names because we all know how those writing rule makers like their terms and jargon. But when I started reading to understand why these should be two separate articles, I had an 'Aha!' moment. The voice that often annoys me in my sleep as it nags me about all the things I didn't get done that day said, "Ohhh, girl, you've got so much editing to do." I do, but I'm excited. I learned something that I didn't realize I had no clue about. Imagine that.



What's my point? I'm not sure I really have one that anyone will care about. I guess it's simply that no matter how long you're at this game and no matter how much reading, practicing, crying, screaming, etc. you do, there is always something new to learn. Open up your mind to your beta readers' suggestions. Take note when everyone seems to point to the same issue. Take note when they don't seem to agree at all, because chances are if you look beneath the surface, the 'different' issues your readers are pointing out are linked to a single common problem. I missed this point because I didn't realize that my readers were pointing to the exposition (which is my tendency over narrative) in different ways. I received comments like "This is really slow here" well it can't all be fast. Jeesh. and "Do you really need this?" The reader has to know this. It's crucial. and the always pleasing "Booorrrrriiinnnnggg" Prepare the dart board.



Each of these comments was made on a single manuscript in exactly the same spot - a full page of exposition. Yikes. A full page!! I've rewritten it though to 'show' and mixed the information needed into dialogue and action over two chapters, and wow, what a difference. Yes, I said two chapters. This information didn't have to be conveyed in a big chunk like I first thought. It's much more interesting in bits. The reader is getting just enough to keep him in the information loop, but still leaving him hanging a bit so he wants to keep reading.



So, I've overcome a major obstacle and now...editing. Now, just so I don't feel like such a big moron for not seeing the obvious, tell me you've had writing epiphanies too. Please.

Why Are You Here?

What draws you to a blog? Is it the content, the blogger, or the layout? Is it all of that and more? I'm curious because I'm finding that my blog list has expanded and I try to keep up with all of them, but lately I'm wondering why I follow certain ones that haven't posted anything interesting in months. (interesting to me, I mean) I think this is the first post I've ever done about blogging and reading/following blogs. I don't recall writing one anyway.

I've started examining why I have this blog and what my ultimate goals are in writing it. First, it's an outlet. Anyone who has visited the Edge knows I tend to rant now and then. This is an excellent place to do that and to also gain perspective. Not long ago I ranted about the whole agent situation and received feedback that made me realize I'd been looking at it all wrong and had no reason to be upset. Sometimes it's good to know you've overreacted. The other major reason is platform. I don't have a website, and I have to have some kind of platform other than the nonfiction writing that I do as a "day job". So this is part of that. I also enjoy connecting with other people in the writing/publishing industry I'd never have known otherwise.



My goals? This was tough to answer. Ultimately, my goal is for the Edge to be informative, entertaining, somewhat professional and it has to feel like "Me". I want my writing style and voice to come through, but I also want everyone to have a good feel for me as an individual too. The design plays a big part in that. I love dark. I love simple. Oddly enough, I also love eye candy. So I hope that the Edge is all of those things...is that possible? Don't know.



When I follow other blogs I do so for several reasons too. Sometimes I find one that is packed full of information. Agent blogs are in this category. Others I follow because I love the voice of the blogger. Maria Zannini, Vegetarian Cannibal, and The Backwoods Betty are examples of some of the blogs I've followed because I love the style and voice of the blog writers. I have several that I follow because they're friends. Now, I still find them interesting, but I didn't go through the same process of discovery as I did for the previous examples. I knew they had a blog, I followed it, and I lucked out. I have interesting friends.



Last are blogs that I am a little ashamed to say I followed because they followed me. I'm all for supporting others, and I do read these blogs. Most of them are great, but some of these are the ones I'm wondering about. For example, there is one blog that I've followed for a short time now and I've dutifully read every single post. I like this particular blogger, who is a nice person and a decent writer. But then I commented on a post that discussed the pros of self publishing and why one would opt for this route. My comment was nice, intelligent and I asked questions that I was really curious to know the answer to because the post made some pretty strong statements about agents and the publishing industry. Now, some might have felt defensive at my questions, but that's not my problem. You want to go around boasting about a certain thing being the best and making negative comments about another thing you know little or nothing about, well you're gonna get some feedback. Anyway, the blogger deleted my post. Now, my finger hovers over the button to 'unfollow' this blog. Why? I don't like being censored, especially when I take care to be unoffensive and friendly. These things aren't easy for me, folks. So when I try to be nonconfrontational and open minded, someone better damn well appreciate it.



This brings me to what I don't like and don't plan to do with my blog. I don't like censoring comments that are legitimate and relating to the blog posts. I do, however delete ads. If you're selling, the Edge ain't buying and I sure as hell won't clutter my comments with such nonsense. I don't like blogs that post daily. I cannot keep up. I couldn't do that if I wanted to anyway. I don't like whiny ranty blogs that basically just bitch and moan about life and all of life's jokes. Come on, be happy now and then. Jeeze. I try not to do that. Do I whine? Tell me if I whine.



I don't like blogs that have nothing to say. If I've followed a blog for a few months and cannot figure out what the heck it's about, then I'm through with it. I like the idea of a link exchange, but I hate blogs that have the rule that you have to follow back or contests where you have to follow this blog, that blog, post on a million sites, and then stand on your head and drink a milkshake while tapping out Twinkle Twinkle Little Star with your toes on a piano just to win a stinking book. Sorry, not doing it. Oh, and I'm not fond of reading blog novels or whatever they're called. Why? I don't really know exactly. I don't mind reading writing samples, actually I like that. But these blogs that post chapters of novels week after week, eventually posting the whole thing, they just bug me. Honestly, I'm not sure why. Just one of the many things that annoy Renee. Like the McDonald's kissy sound commercial. Ugh.



Wow, long post. What do I like? Humor, information, fun, writing, and I want to feel as though I'm getting the 'real' person behind the blog, not some personality they've created. If it feels fake, it's not as fun to read. Maybe that's just another 'annoys Renee but no one else' thing. Probably half my blog list has me completely fooled. Maria is probably a 45 year old German transvestite who huffs paint to pass the time, and Michael is probably that stalker chick that I banned from my home, so she created an identity online in order to be close to my awesomeness. Creepy "Michael"....very creepy.



So tell me, what makes you love or hate a blog? Why do you keep coming to the Edge? What do you wish I'd stop doing? Don't worry, I can take it, be honest.

Awesomeness

Well folks, who among you is up for a challenge? I mentioned this writing challenge thing I'd be writing for Open Book in my last post, well here it is. I dare you to give it a shot.



I'm very honored that the Open Book folks are allowing me to contribute to their very fine publication. And I'm being totally serious here. I hope I can make each month's challenge fun and interesting enough to hold readers' attention. Goodness, if I don't, well that's...that's unthinkable.



Now for some bragging:



My 6 year old won a Terrific Kid award today. We've been suffering a bit of a drought in terms of this award. Both of my girls desperately wanted to receive one. Court is 12 now though, and has given up on that. She says she still would like one, but when she wins the Nobel Prize, Terrific Kid will be peanuts. I say, awesome outlook. Aim high.



Now, Kennedy, who did win, has cried since JK (almost 3 yrs) every time she didn't get one.(they're given out monthly) "I try to be nice to people and it isn't easy." (see, I have taught her something. She actually tries to be nice.) This award was for integrity: having a sense of self worth and self awareness and recognizing that there are choices out there to be made and making the right ones for her and others around her. It was awarded to her in particular because she tries to be kind and makes decisions based on what's best for her classmates putting their needs ahead of her own.



Now, I say if ever there was an award or recognition of a quality I'd like to see for my kids, integrity is top of the list. I'm very proud. Can you tell? I didn't tell them how she kicks random strangers in the shins. Sometimes, I secretly cheer her on, depending on the stranger.



Okay, enough bragging about my darling daughters, this is a blog about writing and publishing. So, let's chat about writing and publishing.



I thought I'd share my editing process with you all. Not in terms of what I do, but how I think while editing. Another blogger did this in a different and hilarious way so I thought it might be an interesting experiment. Probably not hilarious, but hey, I made the effort. I made notes of my thoughts as I went through an edit on a WIP that is giving me trouble.



- Okay, I'm totally going to edit a full chapter today. No matter how long it takes, I'm doing this. I will NOT get distracted. So, let's see what we have. Chapter 5. (scrolls down to see how long the chapter is. Bad idea, btw) Shit, this is a long chapter.



- What the hell is this? How can he be staring out the damn window when he's already out of the car? You're so dumb, Renee.



- Ugh, I hate this. How long has it been? (looks at the clock) Darn. Ten minutes. I want cookies. (Leaves to get cookies, stops to check the cat's food, picks up some socks, stares at the dishes in the sink...goes back to garage)



- Okay, fix the car thing. Good stuff. Ooh, that's good. Renee you are a genius. Must remember that line for later. When I'm dumb again.



- Hmm. This is really wordy. But I like wordy. What the hell is wrong with wordy? (deletes offendng paragraph) Fuckers and their damn 'sparse' narratives. Who made them King of right and wrong? (thinks for a minute. Answers an email...okay, three emails.) Let's see, If I include the street description, shorten his internal dialogue. I mean who cares that his balls itch? I don't. That's for sure. If I move this...oh this is much better. Sparse is definitely the way to go.



- (reads, fixes typos, growls) So-and-so said this part read wonky. They don't feel Ryan's personality. What makes them an expert on Ryan is beyond me. Maybe they don't understand personality. Why should I listen to them? Where's the dartboard? (throws darts at so-and-so's picture but misses because hand-eye coordination is worse than an infant's) Sigh. I shouldn't be throwing darts at so-and-so, no matter how thick they might be.



- Well, Ryan is kind of blah, here. I mean, he's a writer, wouldn't he have more interesting thoughts than this? Maybe not, I mean we see how interesting my thoughts are and --oh shit, there's a mole. Look at him, staring right at me. Fuck, he's coming over.



- Should go get the cat (Stands on chair, balances on tiny table Logan built with the crooked leg, hops on one foot to the step, checks the mole location, too close, opened door fast, goes inside, down to the basement, and into the laundry room.) Cat is shitting. Ew. Have to clean the litter box. Stinking animals. (Goes upstairs to get a bag to clean the litter box.) Why do I have to change the damn litter? All the frigging time it's me or the stuff just festers, marinating in its own stench. Why can't he pick up the damn scoop once in a while? Well I suppose if he hadn't taken a shovel to the nose, he might actually smell it and do something about it.



- Oh, I was editing. (turns from the kitchen and goes back into the garage) Let's see, Ryan should be thinking about maniacal, devious plots, letting his imagination run away from him. maybe he could be sarcastic, a dry wit. That's better. So-and-so was right. I like so-and-so. He/she is an awesome beta reader. (changes photo on dart board back to Kurt)



- (gets to the bottom of page two and looks at the clock) Look at that. I've been editing for more than an hour. I need a break. Should make some coffee--oh, Twitter follower. A virtual sex toy store? How does one use a virtual sex toy? (checks website) Ah, that's how. Maybe I should tweet something. But I have nothing to say...fuck it, I'll just make something up.



- (Phone rings) I should check that. I hate when people call because then I'm reminded that I'm a hermit starved for meaningful conversation and I'm always disappointed because the conversation that ensues is anything but meaningful. But what if it's important? (goes inside to check the phone. Telemarketer. Growls. Goes to kitchen to make coffee)



- Well that was a long day. I should get ready to pick up the kids. Maybe I'll edit later...or have  bubble bath. Ooh, I love bubble baths. I'll have to lock the door though. Never have any privacy around here. Boy, I'm glad I have all day to get things done without the kids here. I'm so distracted when they're around.



That is my editing process. This is a typical day. Once every couple of weeks I do manage to get a huge chunk of editing done. Serious editing. But most days, two pages. Two. No more. No less. And I also eat very large quantities of cookies and Doritos and drink gallons of coffee. No the litter box did not get cleaned.

This Post is Boring.

Shh...he's reading and he gets really pissed when you interrupt because that is a tiny little book. The font is ridiculously small. Oh no, he heard us. I love it when he looks annoyed.





I'm in my garage/office watching as Plow Asshole covers the end of my driveway for the fourth time today. Know what? I am not shoveling the damn thing again. I don't care if we get ten feet of snow, Kurt can find his own way out of the driveway. Four times is too many. Of course, if I'd paid attention to the weather forecast, I'd have known that shovels two and three were pointless.



Anyway, you don't want to hear about my battles with the Municipality of Tweed public works department. If  you do, let me know. I've got a lot to say about Mr. Recycling Jerk.



In a couple of days my first monthly article will run in Open Book Toronto. They're having some technical difficulties at the moment, but expect everything to be figured out in the next couple of days. Go check it out when it is up. I'm running a monthly writing challenge open to all writers, no matter what country you call home. You'll have two weeks to write a flash fiction piece that adheres to the challenge guidelines. The winner is published in Open Book Toronto with the next month's challenge. Okay so you won't get tons of money, but I will offer a solid pat on the back, virtual martinis and lots of people will get to read your story. Come on, that's a good deal.



I received three rejections today for some short stories I submitted a few months ago. Okay, one was sent in May so it didn't really bother me since I already assumed rejection. The other two, meh, I see now after reading more of their 'accepted' stories, that dark isn't their thing. They don't seem to like twist endings either. It's not nice to fool the reader. Pffft. The good news is that they weren't rejected based on my writing ability, and I'm happy with that. Style and voice, not much you can do. If it doesn't fit, it doesn't fit. Where's my martini...oh, thanks Clive.



My fingers are numb. It's a bit cold in my garage. Maybe if I took the heater out of my pants I could warm up my hands. Kurt says it doesn't belong there anyway; fire hazard.



Actually, I'm just rambling. What I really wanted to bore you with today is something entirely different. Have you ever stumbled across an agent/publisher/publication that seemed tailor made for you? The guidelines, publications, etc. just feel...right? I found a very small Canadian press that I instantly felt a strange, "Oh my goodness, I WANT them to publish THIS book." kind of feeling. No, they aren't right for all of my writing, at least not from what I've seen so far, but remember Jack? You know, the manuscript I feared couldn't be placed because it just wasn't something publishers would like? That one. As soon as I read the 'About Us' page, Jack began waving his arms like a maniac. "Pick me! Pick me, bitch!" he kept saying. I ignored him and went through their catalogue of books, blog posts, and their Twitter page. Jack was all like, "If you ignore me any longer..." then I read their submissions guidelines. I giggled, many times. I felt as though I was reading guidelines I had written. Seriously. So I said, "Okay Jack. I pick you." He offered an obscene method of repayment for my generosity and I declined. I'm a nice girl from Tweed. I don't do the things Jack likes to do, thank you very much.



So I went about writing the most ridiculous query ever. Strange, funny, and probably including every 'don't' ever written on those agent blogs. Now we wait. If they say no? So be it. You never know either way if you don't even try. I'm picking up a box of wine in case they're accepting bribes.

Keep on Truckin, Little Buddy...and Other Bullshit

This is not a blog post. I know it looks like one, but it is not. This is a tantrum. It's a 'why the hell can't my life just go the way I planned for once' rant. An immature, annoying, whiny tirade that screams 'it's not fair'. It's also slightly on the 'why do you insist on doing the things that annoy me most' sort of article...but it's not an article either.



Why? You ask. Things are going well for you. Didn't you post the 'what I accomplished in 2010' thing the other day? I swear you were happy and all proud and shit then. WTF?



Here, have a cookie. Clive's waving, you better say hello. Now sit back. It's going to be a lengthy...thing. We call this place The Edge for a reason folks. It's the EDGE of (IN)SANITY. Please don't expect anything here to make sense. The cornerstone of insanity is the stubborn refusal to see logic and reason.



I am proud of what I've done in the past year. Hell, I'm damn proud of what I've done in the past three years. My problem is that now that I've gotten here, where do I go? I'm getting paid to write, but not what I want to write. That's okay, it will come. (my mother's voice of reason) I'm home, with my kids as I always wanted to be, doing what I love to do. But my kids don't seem to differentiate 'work time' and 'mom time'. Actually...Kurt can't do that either. That's okay too, they'll adjust in time. (my mothers voice again) I've got three really awesome manuscripts polished and making the rounds, but damn it, they just keep making the fucking rounds. I swear one more rejection with "Loved the writing and the concept...but just not right for us right now. Keep on trucking, buddy" I might add names to The List. That's okay, it only takes one 'yes'. (every optimistic author I've ever heard's voice of reason)



I'm out of ideas folks. I'm out of motivation. I tried to make my list of goals for the year and I crapped out. Nothing. Nada. Zip. I've gotten to the bottom of the barrel and there isn't even a lick of can-do attitude left.



I can't see anywhere else I can branch out in order to move forward. That is my problem. What the hell do I do now? Keep doing what you're doing. Yeah, thanks Einstein.



I know life isn't fair. I know that. I say it all the time. "Suck it up," is my favourite line. But sometimes, we're full to the top and sucking anymore might cause us to explode. Sometimes it seems the universe is out to hand you one rotten pile of crap after another. I've been the cliche 'writer type' lately. Moody, grumpy, quick to anger, and then, just when I don't need to read it, I find blog after blog, article after article, on self publishing and I want to strangle their happy "we're so awesome and shit" little necks. Really. I do. Why so harsh on the self-pubbies? I don't know. Probably because I'm partly resentful, partly tempted, and a lot sick of hearing how great it is when really, it's not any more or less great than traditional publishing. Sure, I keep up to 90% of the profits, but 90% of the time, that's 90% of nothing. I already have that. I don't want to just hold my book in my hands. Shit, if that were the case I'd be done writing. There's no real motivation behind such a desire. I want to publish, and then I want to publish again, and again. I want people to actually read my books. I want them to love it, hate it, call me a crazy bitch, a hack, I don't care as long as they're reading. 



(FYI: That was the 'why do you insist on annoying me' part of the tantrum)



Oh, don't drink that it's-never mind. It won't kill you. In the future, don't drink anything without a label here.



So, I feel better. You? The point of this whole bunch of nonsense? This is my state of mind about every three or four months. Each time the queries start resulting in rejections. I get angry, insulted, frustrated and just a little depressed. I examine all that I'm doing and try to figure out what I'm doing wrong. Then, everything turns back to happy when I realize how much I'm doing right. I'm not really this dramatic. That was for effect. I like to act. Did you enjoy it? Believe it? Good.



I thought it would be nice to show everyone that it's lonely trying to get published. For all of us. We're not perfect, and sometimes we're allowed to act like whiny children and vent to get rid of the stress. It gets tough, it gets frustrating and it's not fair. Do we quit? Never. I may not be able to move forward, but that won't stop me from pushing. It shouldn't stop you either.

The Perfect Book...for Me.

I've got about twenty minutes before I have to venture into the frozen tundra, uphill, to get my kids from school. So, today's post will be relatively short. I say relatively because I can type pretty darn fast.



On the querying front: Another rejection. Boo! Hiss! Thanks for your support. I'll keep begging for abuse. It's starting to grow on me anyway.



Now, for the fun stuff. I've been reading the Sookie Stackhouse novels recently and something strange is happening. I am NOT a huge fan of the writing in terms of her technique. I think that's what it is. Sometimes parts are extremely clunky and I'm actually cringing at the awfulness of it, others times I'm impressed. Now, most times when I've noticed so many...failings, in a book, I put it down. I might give the author another chance and read the next book, but if I'm still not impressed after two, forget it. I. Can't. Stop. Reading. These. Books. Why? It's very disturbing for me. I don't know. I can't wait to get my hands on the fifth installment either. What is happening to me?



I'll tell you what I think it is. I think there are many elements that make a book worth reading. Sometimes the writer gets things wrong, sometimes they get just enough right to keep you reading. This author has blended enough "something" to keep me hooked. I love brilliant characters and yes, I'll overlook shitty writing if the characters spark something in me. Now, let me clarify for all of you, I don't think Ms. Harris's writing is shitty. It's inconsistent. Very good at times, horrible at others. She's obviously got skill, but there are a lot of visible problems with what she writes. Her plots are...a stretch, resolutions are improbable and sometimes lazy, and sometimes the passive voice is so loud my ears hurt. But when she gets it right, and she does, it's magic.



I'm also a sucker for good dialogue. Natural dialogue that makes me forget I'm reading a book. These novels have some great dialogue. (yes some sucky dialogue too, but mostly great) Dialogue will make or break a novel for me. It's one of the most important factors for me. I don't care if everything else is right, if the dialogue sucks, I'm done.



POV doesn't matter to me. I can read any POV and enjoy it. I know people who refuse to read first person, some hate omniscient; if it's done right, I love any POV.



Plot is the other thing that I place great importance on. By this I mean the action, the pace and the resolution. Nothing can piss me off more than a bullshit ending. If it's wrapped up so fast you aren't sure what happened I get hives. (by the way, I get hives when I'm angry. Your interesting fact for the day) A cliffhanger makes me break things. Not my things, other people's things. An ending that is so cliched it makes me nauseous will put me off an author too.



What's my point? I find it interesting how a million people can buy a book and rave about it and I pick it up and hate it, or they hate it and I love it. Tell me, what 5 things does a book have to have for you to love it?

2010...I Need a Nap.

I've learned recently that recapping where you were and how far you've come in a year does great things for one's state of mind. Doesn't hurt the ego either. Unless of course you didn't progress or slipped a little, then it's just called wallowing in your misery. Stop it.



So, as of January 1, 2010 I had no finished manuscripts. I wasn't querying agents. I was trying to decide where to go and how to get there. I had four manuscripts that were done, but only in rough draft. I had two short stories published in Menage-a-20, and I was tearing my hair out trying to balance writing with the daycare I was running, my kids, and just life in general.



In March I said enough of this shit and stopped the daycare after accepting a job freelancing for a local newspaper. However, I kept a couple of part time kids because I'm a cautious sort. The newspaper was shortlived due to changes in management or some bullshit like that and I quickly used the experience to land a page on Examiner.com. During that time I finished a manuscript and began querying and started a new novel and finished that rough draft in about May-ish. Aaaand I started another.



Now, money was tight so I kept my eyes open for other writing opportunities. And in July, while editing my second manuscript and preparing it for the world, I began working for Demand Studios. It's a paycheck and they do pay fairly well compared to what else is out there. I'll leave it there. It's great writing experience even if a tad on the frustrating side at times.



In September I had my short story "Yet he's Here" accepted into an anthology with Author Mike Ink, publication date is still undetermined, sorry. Examiner also gave me a national page during this time, which I was really excited to have. I have met the most amazing and talented authors because of these two pages. I can tell you, no matter how little they pay (and in my experience they don't pay much at all) these two pages have been well worth the work I've put into them in other ways. I even got to interview two of my favorite authors, Virginia Henley and Robert Munsch. Plus, I met other Canadian authors I may not have discovered otherwise.



Anyway, October was a time to kill myself trying to build this damn platform. I pulled out an old manuscript and another writer (thank you, Carlos) was kind enough to read it for me and shocked me by saying it wasn't crap. Seriously, you could have knocked me over with a feather, that's how shocked I was. So, with that great encouragement I was able to get Once Bitten ready for agents and publishers. Have to change that title though. Ideas?



I also began writing for Suite101 in late October. This was my turning point. I wasn't able to work on new projects because I was just trying to keep up with these sites which were a) a way to pay the bills and b) to help build my platform. The problem was the platform was getting so damn heavy I couldn't hold it up anymore. So, Suite101 went to the back burner. I still write for them, but not as often. Examiner went down to two articles a week (sometimes less) and I made Demand Studios my full time job. Of course, I still have daycare kids before and after school. Just in case.



Recently I was given a feature or column, (not really sure what to call it) in Open Book Toronto, based on the challenges that I do each month in OFW. This was really exciting. I love this magazine and its content is alway fresh, interesting and fun to read. So when I submitted my idea (without the intention of writing it, but sort of hoping they'd offer) and received the email that they loved it and would like to see what I come up with, well I almost danced. Almost.



January 15th the first challenge will run. I'll post a link for everyone. And the writing challenges are for everyone, by the way. Not just Canadian writers.



Among scores of short stories, and a failed attempt by myself and other members of OFW to launch another anthology, I also collaborated with Henry Lara on a novella (is that right Henry?) based on a Puerto Rican Legend and written backward, titled Por Amour, which we submitted to Writers of the Future. Our fingers are crossed. That was probably the most difficult writing experience I've had yet. Sharing  your voice with someone else is NOT easy and if Henry weren't such an easy going sort, I don't know that we'd have finished. I tend to get...irritable.



So, as of today, I have three manuscripts currently making the rounds and three in various stages of editing. I have way too many projects outlined and three in various stages of first draft. Three must be my magic number or something. There are other manuscripts floating around, but I don't know if they'll ever see the light of day. I began the year with about 20 or so short stories and now have more than 60. Of course, some of these are crap, but damn, I was on a roll.



I am extremely proud at how hard I've worked to get to this point and this year has been an extremely productive year for me. The best part is that I've finally (mostly) balanced my writing (dare I call it a career?) with family and regular life. I've worked to improve my writing and the improvement is definitely evident when I look over rough drafts from last year and compare them to drafts I've just finished. I've also busted my ass to improve this platform thing that agents and publishers keep talking about. Now, how big does this bastard have to be to get their attention?



A long time ago in a discussion I can't remember very well, my grandmother said something that has stayed with me. "Make your own opportunity." she said. "You've got enough backbone to go wherever you want. Laziness is what keeps you spinning your wheels." Wait...now I remember the conversation. No, never mind. I was whining about this and that and she quite effectively shut me up. She was right.

Before I did this, I was kind of in the dumps about not having anything remotely close to being published yet. But you know, I have come a long way. So screw self pity. Make your list, pat yourself on the back. Don't worry about what hasn't happened yet, be happy for what has.