Steampunk!

I saw this girl and had to ask to take her photograph. She made her outfit herself. She’s beautiful.

I can’t do anything as grand, but one goal for this year (and I set this goal back in October when got to see several brilliant steampunk outfits in one day) is to make my own steampunk ensemble, and wear it to Comic Con 2013.

Years ago, I started noticing a certain style in a few films that made me say, “Oh, that’s cool. I like that.” But I didn’t have a name for it. Ten years ago, maybe? I’m not sure.

I’ve always liked a bit of Victorian. Not all of it, mind you. Then somewhere I came across an image of steam industry crossed with something Victorian. I don’t remember what it was, but it stayed in my consciousness, until finally my brain started connecting one image to another.

As a kid I loved gears and clockworks and wire. I wanted to keep little bits of machinery and metal. In the 8th grade I made a book cover for a textbook that was made of wire mesh. I liked carrying my silver, shiny, slightly dangerous (it gave my arm many tiny cuts and snagged a few threads in my clothes) and wear a dress with high heeled boots. Boots were ridiculous in Florida because the weather was almost never right for them, but I wore them anyway. Just like I didn’t care that other kids thought I was weird for my homemade metal book cover.

Anyway, the first time I came across the term steampunk, my mind went, a-ha! That’s it. That’s what I’ve been seeing.

What sort of style do you especially love or feel drawn to?

So, this year I’m putting together my own steampunk outfit. Suggestions welcome–though I have a limited budget. I’ve got so many writing and art projects, a different kind of project is necessary.

I’ll post photos of pieces as I go! Here’s hoping I don’t look too ridiculous.

Just Give Me My Poisoned Apple Already

I wouldn’t literally eat a poisoned apple, but metaphorically I think I already have.

The evil queen in disguise is my own psyche, and the apple is seeds of doubt fleshed out with insecurity, neurosis, and fear. Hard to believe anyone takes a bite of that.

How long has it been since an agent asked me to write a book jacket synopsis?

Feels like a hundred years. Unfortunately time hasn’t cleared my head or given me any good ideas. To explore another fairy tale, it’s more like the brambles around my thinking have grown thicker and stronger, and I’m going to need a helluva sword to cut through it all.

In this scenario, I’ve got to be my own prince. Good heavens, what part of my personality is that?

Throwing away an opportunity to get an agent because I can’t get myself to write that book jacket copy is about as dumb and passive as any Disney princess has ever been. I’ve written thousands upon thousands of words, and yet these few feel impossible. I start and start and start, and I get angrier and angrier with myself. Don’t I know better?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
who’s the best writer of them all?

The one who writes instead of worries.

What is my novel about?

A girl. And her best friend. One has been hurt and everyone knows. Well, almost everyone. The other has been hurt, but it’s a secret. …

That’s rubbish.

She accepts a ride from her best friend’s brother. She refuses to talk about what happened, but she’ll try anything to forget. …

No, no, no.

Two girls go into the woods at midnight for magic and revenge. …

Well, that’s silly.

Maybe this means my novel should be shut away in a drawer and forgotten.

Do I really want my dream to die because I can’t write one page of explaining my own novel? What is the worst thing that could happen if my writing fails? Well, whatever it is, worse things have happened. Life doesn’t depend on publication. I can keep writing anyway. That’s the main thing.

I look though at published novels and then I look at my own unpublished work… I’m reminded of a professor I had in grad school who said my work lacked a certain…coherence. Now, this was the head of the department who had also called me–in front of an entire class–an idiot, but this professor told me he liked my writing. He said it was original. I had unique ideas. That I looked at things from interesting angles. Honestly, I don’t know what he meant. But he also said that I seemed incapable of putting my work together in a sensible form. That my work suffered from incoherence.

Writing this synopsis/book jacket shouldn’t be this hard.

Now. Where’s my apple?

A Book Straight Jacket

Okay. Huge thanks to everyone who commented on that last post (or sent a very helpful email). So, I’ve been trying and retrying to come up with the flap copy for a book that is written but not published.

I was using the word synopsis, but it seems to be accurate, I should’ve just called it a book jacket or flap copy. Something like that. You know, that little bit in the book jacket that makes you want to take the jacket off and see what’s there.

Of course, a dozen details come to mind–as in, this will be an interesting part to mention. Sigh. But as one commenter said, “Less is more.”

If this is a book jacket, would this be enough?

What happened on that one drive home to change the fate of sixteen-year-old Fran? She wants nothing more than to forget the drive and the boy who took her home. But when her best friend, Chesnie, plots revenge on her behalf, neither girl expects the dark places they will go.

That leaves out a lot. But I’ve struggled with how to get more details in without sounding like, then, then, and then…

What happened that one late night drive home to change the fate of sixteen-year-old Fran? She wants nothing more than to forget the drive and the boy who took her home. Her best friend, Chesnie, has other plans, but revenge leads to unexpected places. The girls find themselves in the local brothel, but only one girl is free to leave.

What, if anything, of the previous effort should be here?

What is this so bloody difficult?