Dear Author,

Dear Author:

Thank you for your submission. It was kind of you to think of us, but we are sorry we are unable to offer to see more of your work.

We thank you for the opportunity to consider your materials and we wish you the best of luck elsewhere.

Sincerely,

—-Inc.

I’ve been in a snit trying to find my Microsoft Word disk, tearing apart my work space, and finding scads of unfinished projects, failed projects, materials for imagined projects… and what I finish, isn’t enough.

My novel went to a literary agency and all I got was this lousy rejection.

My Book-shaped Heart Wants to Live in a Publishing House.

my handmade book

I published by book–by hand. A handmade book takes hours to put together, and it isn’t cheap. I love making them though. I made three, but I can’t make any more. I can’t afford it because who is going to pay that kind of money for a book by an unknown writer when they don’t want to (and can’t afford to) buy a hardcover book in a bookstore?

I’ve read a number of blogs on the self-e-publishing phenomenon. Adrienne Kress touched on a few points that resonated with me. And if you’ve read my last few post, you’ve read about Amanda Hocking and her e-success.

In my book-shaped heart, I know I do not want to self-publish in any format. I don’t have it in me. I’m not a buck-the-system woman. I’m not a pitch-it-myself soul. I want a publisher.

There. Said it.

Call me a sucker. Call me a coward. Call me a pleaser who needs approval of power.

Sure.

Writing the stories I want to write take enough of my guts and hutzpah.

Kress touches a nerve when she suggests that some of the self-pub crowd want to see traditionally published authors fail. Is she right?

Have I showed up too late?

Oh well. The thing is to keep writing.

Cut what scares you.

The music is posted because it captures the mood of the story I’m working on…

But for the novel I’ve finished (sort of finished), an agent asked to see the first 155 pages. Well, I proofread those pages again and fussed with the formatting. On page 155 I looked for the place to stop, and conveniently enough, there was scene break on the page–and the scene ended with a short paragraph that had bothered me since I wrote it.

The scene came to me like any scene comes to any writer–inexplicably and with certainty that’s how it happened–but those few lines made me uneasy. Too bold? Too over the top? Did they make the young man too creepy and the young woman–the protagonist–too passive?

Writing books tell us to tell the truth, cut to the core, be fearless, and other such things to give us courage in the face of the blank page. Writing books warn us of being exploitive, over-the-top, sensational, and other sins. How to tell the difference?

I’ve been accused to the latter. Maybe “accused” is too strong a word, but such a possible sin was brought to my attention.

With that paragraph at the end of 155 pages I couldn’t (can’t) decide if my unease was caused by anxiety or by a subconscious understanding that it was too much.

I’ve been watching Twin Peaks, and David Lynch never seems caught in this way–which is hardly roundly admired for.

Of course, I don’t want the agent to think I’m a creep. I do want the agent to want to read more. Too far? Powerful? Icky? Honest? Then again, aren’t they nothing compared to a thousand other stories in the world? But those requested pages end there. End! The last image in her head.

Maybe this is a bit like asking if a picture of a woman without her clothes is art or porn. You know it when you see it?

After tapping my fingers on my desk for a while and feeling my stomach do loops, I cut the lines.

Still tapping my fingers…

*

Do you know when you’ve gone too far or when you’re afraid to go far enough?

Shred everything!

shredded paper fight

Sometimes I have destructive impulses. You?

Often when I share my writing with others, I want to yank the work from their hands screaming a loud melodramatic No! I take it back.

This is silly, but knowing it is silly doesn’t make my stomach settle.

And still, I offer to share.

Here’s the idea. Come May I will write a short story a day. This challenge is easier with a theme, and a few months ago a theme came to mind. A month ago another theme followed.

31 days are a lot of short stories.

So, I’ve decided to do both. I’ve got notes and titles for a few stories, and depending on my constructive mood, I’ll run with whichever theme captures me that day.

Here’s where the destruction comes in.

I’m considering letting people subscribe to these short stories. Instead of posting them on a blog, I’ll let people subscribe in something of a newsletter format. But I won’t be able to rush up to you and snatch the stories from your hands.

Anyone have experience with this sort of project? Advice and ideas welcome.

Far Away from Disaster

My school is now on spring break, and I won’t see my students for a week. Some of my students are from Japan.

a well-loved student

What words do you use for tragedy? Shouldn’t a writer know? And what do you say to someone who is so very far away from home and family?

Why should anyone though imagine they have the magic words to make anyone feel better?

My students are from all over the world–from countries with uprisings, terrorist attacks, earthquakes, and their own personal tragedies.

Writing seems to make sense of things from a distance, but not necessarily things sitting next to you.

Not for me anyway.

One student from Japan is young, skinny, and always has a very cool camera. His hair never looks brushed and his clothes sag and look like after thoughts. He waits an extra minute to leave, often causing you to say, “Um, did you have another question?”

“No.”

He makes funny comments in class and odd grammar mistakes.

I hope his family is okay.

Another Japanese student is an older man, close to retirement, here for a year while his wife is back home. He has no fear of going anywhere alone. Recently he went on his own to a dude ranch, and supposedly he is going to Cancun for spring break. In class he moves a hand in the rhythm of whatever I am explaining and when I’m done he nods sharply and says, “Yes.”

I hope his family okay.

Another student from Japan (though not my student now) was demur and sweet, and yet would write stories of being drunk and passing out on stairs. “Like a dream!” she wrote. In her story, friends carried her to the roof and she woke up under stars and blood in her hair. “It was very fun!”

with one of my classes a couple years ago

P.S. One Halloween a student from Japan dressed up as Darth Vader. Coincidentally another teacher dress as Obi Wan Kenobi. In the middle of my writing class, the doors flung open and Obi Wan dashed into the room, Darth on his heels. They stopped, spun, clashed light sabers, ran on and out the doors on the opposite side of the room. Our Darth went on to marry a Korean girl and take her back with him to Japan. I don’t know where they are now.

All hopes to Japan.

*

NHK World News channel isn’t loud, it doesn’t fill the screen with nonsense, it doesn’t have everything you expect from FOX or CNN.

Late and Fantastic

Today this message from a student appeared in my inbox.

Am very sorry to disturb you on this beautiful wednesday .well just wanted to let you now that am really sorry , I ll be late because I overslept my dream was magic, I mean fantastic.

This may well be my favorite excuse ever.

And what’s your favorite excuse?

The Money in the Book

I read Nathan Bransford’s blog. He’s a literary agent, and what he writes about the publishing industry is useful and enlightening. Today, I read his post about Amanda Hocking, whose story I posted about a few days ago. His post taught me a few things about the reality of publishing and money, and it has put the choices out there into perspective.

And your take on the e versus the paper?

Like I was saying…

I’m going to do Story-a-Day-May. Last year, I wrote a series of stories under the title The Fairy Tale Asylum. The working title this year–Graveyard Girls and The Enchanted Dead: Their Stories. We shall see where it goes.

Why even do such a thing? I’ve done NaNoWriMo too, and these challenges beg the question-why?

Why indeed.

A thousand good reasons exist not to do them. If you can write without one, then go write. If you think these things are a silly waste of time, then they probably are. What matters is the writing, not whether that writing comes in the month of November or May.

This year, I may not participate in NaNo. Hard for me to imagine because I’ve done it every year since November 2004. I wrote a lot. Met great people. Had fun. And the main reason I love NaNo is that it changed my commitment to writing. It changed my thinking about my writing. Before Nano, I’d taken five years to write one novel, and it didn’t seem like a life I could seriously pursue. I may not be published, but still, I consider myself a writer, and NaNo is to thank.

Besides, NaNo also introduced me to someone who has become a fantastic friend–the friend who convinced me I could sell my art.

But I may have gone as far with NaNo as I can. Story-a-Day is different. It is still new and a real challenge. With NaNo, if you skipped a day, you just wrote more the next day. This Story-a-Day challenge means writing every single day.

It helps that I have an idea.

If you are happy with your writing life, then keep doing what you’re doing. Write. Otherwise, join me.

Something to think about…

but yet something that seems impossible. Like winning the lottery or finding the magic wardrobe, it happens to other people.

And her follow-up blog post is a must read: My Blood Approves.

Stories upon Stories

towers my son built--he's 8

I like stories that build on other stories. Lat year, for Story-a-Day-May I wrote a series of fairy tales I called The Fairy Tale Asylum. Not every fairy tale worked, but I liked the challenge and the series–and maybe one of them will be published (maybe not–see previous post–but let’s be optimist!). This year another series is taking shape in my mind, and it involves a graveyard. Damn Neil Gaiman for already using the title The Graveyard Book.

Anyone else up to writing a story a day in May?