Phyllis Anne Duncan (P. A. Duncan)'s Blog, page 52

A Festival of Friday Fictioneers!

This weekend is the Virginia Festival of the Book–five days of books and their writers in the great Virginia town of Charlottesville. This is my third year to attend and my first to participate. I’ll be doing a reading from a story of mine, which appears in the Blue Ridge Writers 2013 anthology, on Sunday, and Rita Mae Brown will be in attendance. Gulp.

So, first time reading before an A-list author? Check.

Nerves? Check. Big time.

But the story, “Mourning,” is one of my favorites, and I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ll keep telling myself that, and perhaps I’ll believe it by 1300 this Sunday.

Anyway, if you’re within driving distance of Charlottesville, VA, check out the remaining three days of the Virginia Festival of the Book here. I’ll wager you’ll find something you must see.

Today’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt features one of my favorite things–a horse. I was a typical horse geek in my teens. On summer days I’d pack a lunch–for me and the horse–and ride as far as I could, eat lunch, then come back home. Some Sundays, my dad would saddle his horse, and he and I would “ride fence” to check where repairs needed to me made. Those times (and baseball games) made for some great father-daughter talks.

The first book I ever owned was Black Beauty–and it still makes me tear up. I almost had to walk out of War Horse until I figured out it would end happily. There was a time I preferred the company of my horse over any person. Sometimes I wish I still had a horse because they can still be better company than a lot of humans.

Though horses are not the smartest of mammals, they have excellent instinct, and today’s story, “Oh, the Humanity!,” captures how I always thought a horse would sound if they spoke human. As usual, if you can’t see the link on the title, scroll to the top of this page and click on the Friday Fictioneers tab. Then, you can select the story from the drop-down list.

The Title’s The Thing

If you’re someone who struggles with a title for a story or novel–as I do on occasion–you relish the moments when just the right title comes to you. I have two WIPs, which have undergone numerous title changes until, finally, the right one “showed” up.

One of them started life in the rough draft as Who is Killing the Friends of Slobodan Milosevic? Yeah, a mouthful, and borrowed from the title of a wire-service story exploring the fact that by the year 2000 a long list of Milosevic’s political cronies and associates had been murdered. The novel idea arose then as well, but the long and unwieldy title was problematic. So, it became Tumbling Pigeons, after a species of bird in the Balkans, which responds to stress from a predator by ceasing flight and falling from the skies. Quite often, they don’t pull up in time and end up smashing themselves on the ground. This self-destructive behavior exemplified the latter part of Milosevic’s rule, but the connection was difficult to make. The next, and hopefully final title, came from a comment made by a local Balkan journalist, to the effect that the problems plaguing Milosevic after the invasion of Kosova were “self-inflicted wounds.” Self-Inflicted Wounds, then, became the title. 

It works on several levels and not just for the political situation in Serbia in 2000, but as well for characters in the work. The two main characters’ partnership–and marriage–is rocky because of issues of their own making. Other characters have made choices that will ultimately come back to slap them in the face. In fact, every hurt in this novel has been self-inflicted by a character. So, perfect title.

Another draft novel started out as The Game, as in the game of espionage, which is often portrayed as a chess match with global implications. It, too, is loosely based on actual events–to a mole in the FBI, selling secrets to the Russians is a game so he can prove how well he plays it. One main character is tired of the game and doesn’t want to play anymore, but his partner, and wife, keeps finding excuses to play on and on. Another character plays a game with another’s life, so perfect title, right?

Except that’s it been used before, which is nothing new. Titles aren’t copyrighted and so can be reused. The Game is a TV show, a rapper, at least three other novels, and a Michael Douglas movie, a very popular Michael Douglas movie. The Game, then, wouldn’t stand out, but a replacement title didn’t present itself. Then, as I re-read The Art of War, as I often do, I came across a line I know I’ve read before, but because I had re-titling on my mind it jumped out at me: “All warfare is based on deception.” Just like that I had A War of Deception.

These were both situations where the novels had already been drafted, so finding a title to fit the plot and characters–a little easier. What about when a title pops into your head and you have nothing to attach it to? Writers should be so lucky, right?

Yesterday, because it was St. Patrick’s Day, I re-indulged in some Yeats, specifically his poem, “Easter, 1916.” I’d read the words before, though quite some time ago, and for some reason, one line stayed with me this time: “A terrible beauty is born.” In the context of the poem the beauty is the rebellion of the Irish against English rule; the “terrible” is the loss of life in the process.

It hit me as well that line needed to be the title of something I will write. Will write because I have nothing yet it fits. But I will.

The lesson from all this? Inspiration for a story or a novel can come from watching people, reading a book or a news story, or just about anything. Titles can come from inspiration, too, and when you least expect it.

Beware the Ides of Friday Fictioneers!

Actually, every month has “ides,” but the Ides of March William Shakespeare made famous when a soothsayer warns Caesar to beware them. In addition to March, the ides fall on the fifteenth of May, July, and October. The rest of the months, the ides fall on the thirteenth. I don’t know why; ask the Romans, who’d probably respond that the ides denote the approximate middle of a month. But, Gregorian or Julian calendar?

The photo prompts for Friday Fictioneers have featured incredible landscapes and beautiful examples of still life. Occasionally, the one picture will juxtapose two oddities, and those are sometimes the most thought-provoking. I think you’ll see that from today’s picture, which could be both a landscape and a still life. Those odd juxtapositions often send my brain into magical realism or speculative fiction mode. Today it went to an historical event (Yes, my parents were British, so for me it’s “an historical.”) and the paranormal, which should make for a great genre mash-up.

The story is “September Morning Forever,” and you can read it by clicking the link on the title. If you don’t see the link, then scroll to the top of the page, click on the Friday Fictioneers tab, then select the story from the drop-down menu.

And La Fheile Padraig Sona!

AWP13 – Day Three

I didn’t read the description for the first session I chose for Saturday, “A Room of Their Own: How to Make the Most of (or Create) a Writer’s Workspace.” I thought it would be about how to organize your home office or writing area, but it was far more interesting than that. The unfortunate part about it was half the panel didn’t show up and hadn’t advised the moderator. She didn’t say it outright, but she hinted they were at AWP and just hadn’t bothered to show up. She was embarrassed and apologetic, but she filled in quite ably. I’m omitting the names of all the panel so I don’t further anyone’s embarrassment, but really?

The session was about establishing a space for writers to come have a place to write in peace. The two panelists discussed the virtues of doing this as a business (profit or non-profit), as a profession, or just as a community offering. One thing is for sure, I’ll never question my $52/year membership in Charlottesville’s WriterHouse again. Writer spaces in Boston and New York rent for $300 or more per quarter. Wow!

The “Women in Crime” panel was raucous and entertaining. Moderated by St. Martin’s Press editor Toni Margarita Plummer, the panel of Sophie Littlefield, Linda Rodriguez, and Nicole Peeler explained how they each came up with their unique, “kick-ass” female protagonists. For Littlefield it was divorce and the issue of how aging women are ignored by a society fixated on youth; for Rodriguez it was to highlight the issues of mixed-race native Americans fitting in the caucasian world; and for Peeler urban fantasy was a way to write powerful statements about gender inequality and sexuality using fiction. Very thought-provoking, and the Q&A about gender equality issues in publishing topped off a good session.

Again, I needed to read the session descriptions better because a few minutes into “Career Suicide,” I realized it was about switching teaching jobs, tenure vs. non-tenure, so I opted for lunch instead.

The week before the AWP Conference, VIDA–Women in Literary Arts–had released their analysis of work published in major literary and news magazines, an analysis which showed not only were the numbers worse for women this year than last year. Then, there was buzz at the conference that twenty-three of nearly 500 panels focused on women’s literary issues, while only one focused on men’s. One man tweeted, “Don’t we have issues, too?” (Yeah, don’t get me started.)

The VIDA panel offered a detailed breakdown of the statistics from its news release. For example, the numbers of men and women submitting are almost equal, with men having a one-percent advantage. The panel members were from two literary journals and a well-known, left-leaning political magazine that also has a literary section, mostly reviews and poetry. This is another situation where I’m not listing the names of the panel because one of the literary journal editors–a man–stood up and tried to justify that it was all right to pick more men than women because of quality. That got a bit of an uproar, and the gentleman opted to sit down without finishing. He proceeded to sit at the table and not participate in any further discussion. I rest my case.

However, VIDA showed that where the disparity is minor statistically and as an amalgam, specific publications have significant problems with gender equity in submissions and acceptances. One panel member told the women in the audience, “When an editor calls an wants an op-ed piece, don’t make an excuse, e.g., kids, making dinner, etc.; find a way to do it.”

“Master of None: Surviving and Thriving Without an MFA” featured a moderator and a panel of four successful, young authors (Rebecca Makkai, Samuel Park, Ru Freeman, Marie Myung-Ok Lee, and Ida Hattermer-Higgins, respectively) who had not gone the MFA route. In truth, though, all accept one did have a higher degree, usually in English or literature, but not writing. Because I’ve been going back and forth on whether to get an MFA–I’m pretty certain I don’t want to teach Freshman Comp–I opted to attend this session. All five on the panel had leveraged attendance at writer conferences and workshops, and the networking done there, into procuring agents and traditional publishing contracts.

A good panel, a practical discussion, but it didn’t really help me with my decision. That is all up to me.

I decided to skip the panel on Ray Bradbury, mainly because it was another situation where the convention center security had to control how many people could be in the room. That gave me time for a final walk-through of the Bookfair, where deals could be had.

And then it was over. The Bookfair closed, people started saying goodbye, and the convention center grew quiet. A few people began to speak of AWP14 in Seattle, WA. Yes, it’s that positive an experience–you start talking about next year as this year’s conference draws to a close.

Later this week, an interview with me about my AWP experience will appear on writer Jan Bowman’s blog. I’ll post a link to it under the About Me tab at the top of the page.

Look for AWP13 – Day 3 on Monday!

I’m traveling home tomorrow, so I’m packing tonight, but is AWP over already? How can that be? When time flies when you’re having fun.

I’ll post the close-out day three sum-up here come Monday.

AWP13 – Day Two

Boston’s snow today (eight to ten inches) was beautiful–from the inside looking out. I was ever so grateful that AWP is all in one building and I can walk to Hynes convention center, about a block and a half away from my hotel, entirely on sky-walks and through shopping malls. There’s something efficient about the states in the northern latitudes–by the time the snow stopped this afternoon, the roads and sidewalks were clear.

I started the morning off with “Purpose and the Practical in Historical Writing,” something of interest to me because I write the historical thriller, or so genre assigning says. The planned moderator Anne Keesey got held up by the bad weather, so Marshall Klimasewiski (Tyrants: Stories) managed the panel of Peter Ho Davies (The Welsh Girl), Emily Barton (Brookland), and Zachary Lazar (Sway). A great discussion of how they became interested in historical fiction, how to define it, and when to stop researching and write.

I slipped from the first session during the audience Q&A to head to a craft panel called “Art of the Ending,” or bringing your work to a successful conclusion. The room was already so full, the fire marshal once again wouldn’t allow anyone inside until some people left. That wasn’t happening, so I moved on to “This is Your Brain on Fiction.” This was an excellent discussion of how the human brain processes fiction. It turns out when a writer has done a good job, the brain reacts as if it’s seen something real. The moderator and panelists (Susan Hubbard, Brock Adams, Hillary Casavant, John Henry Fleming, and John King) gave their opinions on this, and where it was more for the neurologists in the room, it was food for thought. The brain just skips over cliches, for example, but describe something texturally, and it lights up.

As I walked to meet some writer friends for lunch, I passed Seamus Heaney in a hallway. He gave me a nod and a great Irish smile, and I think I kept my composure. I’m sure he nods politely to every middle-aged woman who gawps at him, but I’d like to think he saw the Irish in me. Still, it was the highlight of the day.

After lunch I dropped some things (translation–went shopping in the mall) off in my room and fully intended to head back for “Story Autopsy: How I Wrote a Novel in Three Days and Adapted It into a Movie,” but, well, I fell asleep. I did make it to “Style and Story: Balancing Form and Content in the Short Story.” The planned moderator, Jessica King, was also absent because of weather, but her replacement moderator never introduced himself. However, he did introduce the panel, Ted Sanders, Josh Cohen, and Susan Steinberg, all authors of short story collections and whose style has been deemed “experimental” by critiques. The discussion of which comes first–form (chicken) or style (egg)–was lively and provocative, and each author read a bit from their work.

A little more shopping and it was back to the room to prep for tomorrow’s sessions:

0900 – 1015     A Room of Our Own: How to Make the Most of (or Create) a Writer’s Workspace

1030 – 1145     Women in Crime

1200 – 1315     Career Suicide

1330 – 1445     Numbers Trouble: Editors and Writers Speak to VIDA’s Count

1500 – 1615     Master of None: Surviving and Thriving without an MFA

1630 – 1745     Shadow Show: Writers and Teachers on the Influence of Ray Bradbury

 

 

A Quick Friday Fictioneers

Just a quick post to point you toward this week’s Friday Fictioneers offering, hastily written while attending AWP.

Click on the title, “Procrastination,” to read the story inspired by a truly unique photograph. If you don’t see the link on the title, scroll to the top of the page, click on the Friday Fictioneers tab, then select the story from the drop down list.

AWP13 – Day One

I’m not eccentric enough to be a writer, I’ve decided. I have red hair, but not a bright enough red or magenta or maroon. I no longer have the legs to wear a multi-layered, tulle just-below-the-butt skirt accessorized with the tiger-stripe fish-net stockings and the unlaced combat boots. (Though I will say I’m wearing patterned knee-highs and crocs with my Lee jeans, and I did touch up my roots with a new shade of red with AWP in mind.)

Of course, there are plenty of conventional-looking writers around my age or older. So, I don’t know which is more dismaying–that I’m too old to be the writer who dresses in a way that makes avant-garde seem conventional or too young for the tweed jacket with elbow patches, corduroy slacks, and sensible shoes set.

But, it’s great to be surrounded by writers, to talk writer stuff, and even continuously answer the ubiquitous question, “What do you write?”

The first session of the day, “The Ten-Minute Play: The Essential Ingredients,” was the perfect follow-up to the play-writing workshop a couple of weekends ago put on by SWAG Writers. Panelists Gregory Fletcher, Jean Klein, and L. Elizabeth Powers gave us a lot of dos and don’ts, and I was happy to see that I didn’t commit many of the don’ts on the first draft of my ten-minute play I wrote last week. A sample of ten-minute play formatting and a list of places to submit ten-plays, and AWP13 kicked off perfectly.

And then it went south. The next panel was one of two must-sees on my carefully planned schedule: “Small Worlds–Flash, Sudden, and Other Very Short Fiction Internationally and at Home.” Even though all the sessions take place in the same building, I’ve discovered fifteen minutes to get from the end of one session to the beginning of another is only doable if you don’t have to pee. Even then, it’s touch and go, so when I arrived at the appointed room for “Small Worlds,” not only was every seat taken, but the SRO space was full. However, in the room next door, three times the size of the first, there were plenty of seats for “Being a Good Literary Citizen.”

Rob Spillman moderated authors Alan Heathcock and Matthew Specktor, bookseller Emma Stoub, and agent Julie Barer as they discussed how to get your greater community involved with your writing community and how to be a “mannerly” author during book events and with your agent. Frankly, I found this a little preachy on the book event and agent side, and I was far more interested in how Heathcock got people in Boise, ID, to pay $35 a person to come to his writer group’s readings.

I decided to opt out of “The First Five Pages: Literary Agents and Editors Talk” because I’ve been to many versions of this in the past couple of years. I had lunch instead then went to “Launching the Literary Journal: New Editors Confess.” The editors (Graham Hilliard, John Gosslee, Jarrett Haley, and Patrick Sugrue) of four relatively new literary magazines (Cumberland River Review, Fjords Review, Bull Men’s Fiction, and Bellow, respectively) talked about how their publications got started. Two of the four had nothing better to do (their words), one wanted to showcase his college, and one wanted a publication for a niche market. A very interesting discussion about submissions, and of the four I liked the editor and the concept of Bellow, which is produced through CreateSpace, a highly unique production process for a literary magazine.

“Women Writers in the Contemporary Literary Landscape” was a wonderful discussion among three writers (two prose, one poetry) who don’t write “typical” women’s fiction or poetry. Susan Steinberg, Fiona Maazel, and Mary Jo Bang all discussed the stereotypes women authors encounter even today. A great Q&A session, and for the men at AWP who’ve been complaining on Twitter that there are twenty-three panels on women’s literary issues and only one on men’s issues, let me just remind you you’ve dominated literature for, oh, the past two millennia, so hush.

I wanted to close the regular day with “Bending Genres,” my other “must see” panel, but it was another SRO event, so I prowled the AWP Bookfair and talked to a couple of MFA programs because that still comes to the forefront of my brain on occasion; then, dinner and a bit of a rest before the keynote speakers, not one but two Nobel Laureates.

I’m aware of the poet Derek Walcott, who won the Nobel in Literature in 1992, but not to the extent that I know Seamus Heaney, a Nobelist in 1995. Both read two of their poems, which was a delight, but to see Heaney in person, to hear his voice in person, transported me. All too soon it was over. Walcott and Heaney wanted to take questions, but the moderator pointed out, with 12,000 of us, there were “too many people.”

Tomorrow the plan is this:

0900 – 1015     Purpose and the Practical in Historical Writing

1030 – 1145      Art of the Ending

Lunch with some writer friends, plus attending a friend’s book signing

1500 – 1615      Story Autopsy: How I Wrote a Novel in Three Days and Then Adapted It into a Movie

1630 – 1545     Style and Story: Balancing Form and Content in the Short Story

Let’s hope the best laid plans of mice and writers don’t gang awry.

AWP – Arrival

My arrival at AWP began about 1400 yesterday afternoon when I pointed my trusty Jeep northeastward and headed for Washington, DC’s Union Station. I made a brief detour into my old neighborhood to “my” Barnes and Noble for a chai and a snack. And to get in practice for AWP’s Bookfair, I bought two books. Around six I discovered I can still deal with DC’s rush hour traffic and made it to Union Station in about a half-hour.

Which meant a three and a half hour wait for the train to depart, but Union Station is primo for people watching. And apparently I must look like a nice person. Every beggar in the place asked me for money.

The snow-apocalypse hadn’t yet started when the train pulled out at 2210, and I had already finished one of the books I bought at B&N. I settled in to catch a nap–not so easy when the conductor announces every stop along the way–but I managed to get about five hours of sleep overnight in a series of naps. I woke to a beautiful sunrise near Mystic, CT, and I got a little artistic with the photo I snapped in Instagram (below, left).

Sunrise east of Mystic, CT.

Boston, MA

The train arrived in Boston a bit early, there was a cab waiting right away, and, lo and behold, there was actually a room ready for me with a great view of Boston (right).

 

My regular Politics Wednesday blog post, lunch (chowdah, my absolute fave!), and a nap later, and I was ready to pick up my registration materials for the conference. Just me and a couple hundred others.

Now, the good news is a sky-walk connects the hotel and the Hynes Convention Center, the location of the AWP Conference–no treks through Boston’s notoriously chilly and windy weather. The bad news? You go through a really, really great shopping mall to get there. (I have my eye on a set of Russian matryoshka dolls, and there’s a Vera Bradley store.) Very tempting.

I’d already looked at the conference schedule on-line, and, as usual, AWP offers a bounty of panels and reading, and I spent at least an hour figuring out my schedule for the next three days, only to discover I’d left no time for lunch. Oh, well.

Here’s what’s up for tomorrow:

0900 – 1015     The Ten-Minute Play: The Essential Ingredients

1030 – 1145      Small Worlds–Flash, Sudden, & Other Very Short Fiction Internationally and at Home

1200 – 1315     The First Five Pages: Literary Agents & Editors Talk

1330 – 1445     Launching the Literary Journal: New Editors Confess

1500 – 1615     Women Writers in the Contemporary Literary Landscape

1630 – 1745     Bending Genre

2030 – 2200   Keynote Presentation: A Conversation Between Seamus Heaney and Derek Walcott

A full day–but I can’t wait.

Like a Lion, After All

It’s snowmageddon time on the east coast again. Starting Tuesday night through Wednesday night, we should expect five-plus inches, twelve inches, or “substantial accumulation” of snow, depending upon which weather prognosticator you hear. Normally, I’d just hunker down with my DVDs and books and MacBook and shelter-in-place until it’s all over. And frankly, we’ve had these predictions several times this winter, and in my section of the Shenandoah Valley we’ve had a total of maybe two inches of snow.

Which could mean we’ll get walloped on Tuesday night.

Here’s the rub. I’m due to hop on a train Wednesday night to go to Boston for AWP (the Association of Writers and Writing Programs annual conference). The “snow event” should be over by the time my train leaves, but getting to Union Station in Washington, DC, on Wednesday, during the day’s snowpacalypse, could be the issue. I have a four-wheel drive vehicle, but when VADOT urges you three days before the storm to stay off the roads, you get a little worried.

I already know of several writer friends who have moved up their arrival to Boston–traveling on Tuesday instead of Wednesday–and that’s probably what I’ll do.

The non-writer might ask, why go to all the trouble? Stay home. Hunker down. Watch the pretty snowfall. Don’t risk it. Don’t disrupt your schedule.

In my previous blog posts after attending a writers conference or workshop, I’ve tried to convey just how motivating they can be. You learn something (a lot, actually), you network with other writers, you get exposed to publications and publishers, and you’re immersed twenty-four hours a day in all things literary. Writers conferences are like a Star Trek convention for book nerds, minus the filk sing and the costumes of your favorite Klingon. (Oh, yes, that collective, horrified gasp you heard was the literati expressing dismay at a pop-culture comparison.)

So, pardon me for the shortness of this post. I need to go stop the newspapers, change reservations, pay bills, and pack–and probably several other things I’ll forget until I’m in Boston. But then, the fun begins.