Write On Con Recap

As I mentioned in my previous post, I, like many others in the blogosphere, participated in the awesome Write On Con, a free online conference for YA writers. And it was fantastic. Really and truly.

In addition to my desire to learn all I could to apply towards my YA project on the way for NaNoWriMo, I was curious to see how the whole “free online conference” thing would work from a communication perspective. (I have a masters in mass communication and am always a sucker for anything related to media and communication).

Organizers Jamie Harrington, Elana Johnson, Casey McCormick, Shannon Messenger, Lisa and Laura Roecker, and Jennifer Stayrook did a terrific job in getting a whole host of authors, agents, and editors together to address a wide spectrum of issues in kidlit – from meter in picture books to sex scenes in young adult novels.

Content was a mixture of standard blog posts, vlogs, and live chat and/or video sessions with industry professionals, which gave the illusion of attending a panel or Q&A session in person at a writing conference. I’ve never been a fan of vlogs – you never know what kind of content you’re going to get (and unlike blog posts, you can’t scan them and see if they’ll be worthwhile) and if you have a dicey internet connection, it’s usually not worth the hassle. But in the context of an online writing conference, the vlogs added a human dimension to the content. Although I will say some presenters were more effective than others in using the different medium to full advantage.

You can find links to all conference content here, but I’ve pointed out my favorites below. Please note that I didn’t really concentrate on any picture book-related stuff as it is not one of my writing interests.

And now, without further ado, here are my picks:

Day 1

Give Yourself Permission by editor Molly O’Neill – I found this to be a great inspirational post that came – appropriately enough – early on in the conference. It really resonated with me as an aspiring writer who’s still struggles sometimes with finding balance, figuring out the “right” way to do things, and measuring progress.

In Defense of a Less Than Huge Advance by literary agent Michelle Wolfson – I found this to be an informative practical piece on a topic that I at least haven’t seen addressed elsewhere. Wolfson does a good job of disentangling what the dollar signs really mean when an author is ready to sign with publisher.

Questions to Ask Yourself Before a Revision by editor Kendra Levin – Levin provides an overview of overarching questions you need to address with your manuscript as a whole. She also has a couple of revision tips towards the end of the article, including this (which is always good for me to remember):

Remember that no matter how much you revise your manuscript, it is never going to be perfect. Perfection is not your goal. Your goal is to tell this story as clearly, thrillingly, and beautifully as possible. So let go of the idea that you must get everything perfect, and instead have fun playing in this elaborately detailed playground you’ve created for your brain.

Panel of Professionals chat (Elana Roth, Kathleen Ortiz, Martha Mihalick, Paul Samuelson) – I found all the panels hugely illuminating of the submission process and how important first impressions are. This panel in particular focused on a writer’s online presence and how important that is in building a platform.

Day 2

Plot and Pacing by author/literary agent Weronika Janczuk, part one, two, and three – This series of posts is epic, yes, but worth a look. Parts one and two review different ways to structure a novel, and Part three brings it all together, with ways to strengthen your novel’s plot and overall intensity.

The Revision Process by author Cynthea Liu, part one, two, and three – Part one focuses on ways you can evaluate your own writing, Part two is how to evaluate your story, and Part three talks about how to revise. Lots of useful nuggets.

Queries with literary agent Natalie Fischer – This may be of more personal interest to me since I found out Fischer also reps Romance (yay!), but it was also valuable for those at the query stage. If you don’t want to scroll through the entire chat session, be sure to check out Adventures in Children’s Publishing’s overview of this session with all the useful bits highlighted.

Panel of Professionals chat (Anica Rissi, Joanna Volpe, Suzie Townsend, Mary Kole) – This panel focused on the ever-present enigma that is voice in writing. If you spend time with any of the panels, make it this one, as there were some great distinctions made about voice that are valuable beyond the YA genre.

Day 3

Writing Realistic, Captivating Dialog by author Tom Leveen – A useful overview of how to make your dialogue show characters’ motivations and other important elements of the scene. He also says that each line of dialogue should represent a win or a loss for each character – a fascinating way to think about characters’ conversations.

From Submission to Acquisition: An Editor’s Choose Your Own Adventure by editor Martha Mihalick – This was a playful but really informative way to show the routes a manuscript takes once it reaches an editor’s hands. Where would your novel end up?

Avoiding Character Stereotypes by literary agent Mary Kole – One of the few vlog posts that’s worth a second look – not necessarily a surprise from Kole who runs the popular and informative kidlit.com blog. Not just pointing out how stereotypes are bad, this post also show ways to create unique, interesting characters from the ground up.

Creating New Mythologies by author Aprilynne Pike - A clear overview of how to use the best bits from mythologies and make them yours in your story.

Looking forward to Write On Con next year. The bar is set very, very high!

Write On Con

Tuesday through Thursday this week, I’ll be participating in Write On Con, which, if you haven’t heard of it already, is an amazing online conference for YA writers founded by YA writers (go here to see the list of awesome organizers). When I heard about this free conference a couple of months ago, I was thrilled for the opportunity to learn more about YA. And this will truly be an Event with a capitol ‘E’ if the high-profile authors, agents, and editors who have volunteered to present are any indication.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: Bluestocking, don’t you write historical romance and science fiction? Yes, but I also dabble in other areas as well, and YA has been on my to do list for a while now. In fact, my participation in this conference is a precursor to my NaNoWriMo project goal this year. I already have an outline for a tentative contemporary YA story and thought NaNoWriMo would be a good way to jumpstart that particular project since I’m currently knee-deep in revising and submitting my romance novel and hard at work at the second draft of my spec fic novel.

Lofty goals, I know, but this is also an interesting case where I’ll be informing myself of the genre conventions before launching into the project full steam ahead (which I did not do with my past works). Granted, YA is the only genre I’ve read consistently since being a kid, so I feel confident in that respect. Plus craft is arguably craft, regardless of genre or style, so I know Write On Con will benefit me whether or not I complete a YA project in the future.

There’s another benefit too – the energy this conference has galvanized. On the blogs, on Twitter, on the Write On Con forums, the excitement, the support, the goodwill has been tremendous, and such inspiration can be hard to come by when your typing away in isolation.

So if you’re interested in getting involved, get signed-up, checkout the schedule, and park yourself in front of your computer for the next few days. That's what I'll be doing.

Happy writing!

Equilibrium

What is it about being human that makes us unsatisfied, regardless of what we have accomplished, what we have, who loves us and so on? We are always striving, always looking for something else, perpetually dissatisfied with our lot.

Or maybe that’s just me.

I have a good life. Supportive husband, new home, sunshine on most days, and a dog who loves me even when I’m ignoring her in favor of my laptop, notebook, or the latest novel I’m reading. But a vague sense of unease always seems to encroach upon my otherwise wonderful life, like a cloud on an otherwise sunny day.

I want to be doing more. With my life, with my writing. But right now, I feel off-balance. The scales are slipping, and I'm not sure how to fix it.

With the new home, my attention is diverted by home improvement projects. I’ve had to get used to the painfully irregular habits of contractors and try to fit my writing around their schedules. It’s been murder on my productivity. And I have to wonder how much of that is my fault.

As I write this Thursday afternoon, I am sitting at a table at my local coffee shop after nearly two weeks on lockdown at the new house to ensure the contractors could get access to the parts they needed to get to and so I could answer any questions they had as they did their work. But finally (finally!) I was able to get out of the house and ride my bike to the coffee shop. Sure, my route is at least twice as long now. And twice as hilly – my thighs are quaking with fear of the ride home even as I write this.

But it doesn’t matter, not if it means I get to write uninterrupted for a couple of hours. Away from the contractors, away from the dog, away from the books upon books I haven’t read, away from the home improvement projects each room needs. Now that I finally have the new home we’ve been saving up for years to own, I realize it is just one more enormous distraction in an already cluttered life.

I’ve been trying to come up with other means of reestablishing equilibrium in my life. Trying out different rooms of the new house to write in. Different times during the day (depending on contractors). Different WIPs. Slowly, slowly, I’m starting to find my rhythm in this new place, in my new set of circumstances.

But I’m still dissatisfied.

I guess I can only channel that energy into my writing to help me get words down on the page. I have to believe I will adapt. I will achieve. I will balance out.

I will find my bearings once more. Bear with me, and while you are at it, offer up your own tips for finding balance in an off-kilter world.

Planning for the Worst

Practical. Reliable. Organized. Together.

I’ve been called all these and any number of variations by bosses, coworkers, friends. And each time, some part of me cringed. Whenever I received such a comment, I’d mercilessly silence the internal voice saying, “You fool, I’m the craziest girl ever for hoping I’ll be able to write for a living one day. How’s that for being rational?”

Of course, the people in my life had no way of knowing my secret aspirations to write, or the flights of fancy I indulged or my rampant imagination that so often took over. No, they just saw what I allowed them to see and nothing more.

But even though I chafed at such descriptors, I took a certain measure of pride in them nonetheless. Here I was, nursing perhaps the most self-indulgent dream of all-time, but I was still singled out as someone people could count on. To keep my word. To do things right. To get things done.

Over time, I started to own the fact that I was good at staying on top of things. It was an asset and did not have any bearing on my creativity. And once I stopped dreaming and started writing, I realized my organization skills, my ability to plan, were invaluable.

Now, when I say I’m a planner, I don’t mean I strictly adhere to a detailed outline when I write. In fact, I’d say I’m neither a planner or a pantster but a hardcore reviser. My planning has less to do with my actual writing process than it does with how I think about my writing. I plan which projects I need to focus on at any given time, how I should approach revisions, and what I should be doing with my stories in the long run.

I said in an earlier post Submissions Blitz how important it is to have a contingency plan when you start sending out your work. The whole hope for the best but plan for the worst. And that’s where I’m at. Now that it’s August, I should be learning the fate of some of my recent (non-novel) submissions. The tiny throb of hope in my heart hasn’t been crushed yet – and it won’t be until I learn otherwise – but the oh-so-practical side of me knows I need to plan out my next steps.

With a contingency plan in place, I am less likely to wallow in a dejected state after a rejection since I know what needs to happen next. Remember, you must be the mastermind of your fate.

How to do this?

1. Search for possible venues. I find Duotrope's Digest, a free database of submission guidelines for literary magazines and journals, one of the best places to start. You can search publications by genre, length, and pay rates, to name a few. Poets & Writers has another database worth checking out as well. 
2. Assess potential venues for suitability. If they have a website, visit it. If recent acquisitions are posted, read them. If they are print-based, considered buying a copy or checking one out in the library (universities and major metro branches will be your best bet). Your goal is to see if your work would fit in with what they publish. You may even be able to determine from the art and styling of an online or print publication if you’re a good fit. If a magazine or journal comes across as too artsy or experimental or uses high-faluting words I don’t understand, I know I’m better off sending my work somewhere else.
3. List potential venues in order of preference. You want to start with the most prestigious ones and target them first. You may think you’re not worthy or what not, but it doesn’t hurt to aim high. The worst they can do is say no and you may get some useful feedback in the process. Check out BookFox's ranking of literary journals and Duotrope's response time statistics to help you decide.
4. Polish your work with an eye to the targeted venue. Sometimes you may have a sense of what hits the editorial staff’s buttons based on past stories they’ve published or an active call for submissions. Or not. In any case, you want to be sending out your best work. Also get your critique partners to look it over if they haven’t already.
5. Set a submission date. This can be based on a reading period (especially for academic publications that are tied to the school year) or a personal deadline so you have something to work towards.
6. Click send and repeat.

And regardless of what happens, always remember to hope for the best!

More to explore: Authors Marie Brennan and Amra Pajalic have a good overview of the short story submission process as well. If you are looking for a bit more inspiration, check out terriblemind's post Operation: Your First Motherfucking Sale.

Weeding Out the Crap

I spent the weekend weeding in my new yard. Because it rained recently, the softer ground made it easier to yank out all varieties of flora. The overcast skies were also ideal for working outside each morning. It didn’t get too hot, and the only thing I had to worry about was making sure I didn’t push my lower back too hard.

The previous owners had done a good job with the landscaping, but in the time it took for us to close and move in, Mother Nature was slowly but surely trying to reclaim the property for herself. Pruning the overgrown branches was easy enough, same with cleaning out the opportunistic weeds that popped up between the bushes.

But in a handful of planter beds, it was unclear which plants were weeds and which ones were actually supposed to be there. So I started by tackling the ones I thought were weeds. The path of least resistance, so to speak. This also happens when I’m revising my work. I’ll start with the easy stuff: breaking up compound sentences into two or smooshing two short sentences into one, adding in commas for readability or taking them out, simplifying prepositional phrases, refining adjectives, and eliminating adverbs.

These techniques are supposed to result in leaner, meaner prose. And it usually works. Once I clear away all the distracting verbiage, I am better able to see how the story works together as a whole. Then I can get my hands dirty dealing with more fundamental issues.

But sometimes, even after tackling all the easy stuff, I take a look at what I’m left with and it’s not good. Like when I was weeding. By the time I excavated the larger plants and looked them over, I decided many of them just weren’t worth saving. (It didn’t help that I couldn’t identify many of them either.) So I ended up chucking them, thinking it would just be easier to start over come spring.

And sometimes that is what we have to do with our WIPs. After we’ve made all the cuts we can, sometimes we will still be left with misshapen plots and stillborn characters. Nothing we can do but start all over again.

Except we don’t always have to start from scratch. I found a cluster of rosemary that had been nearly strangled by all the weeds in one of the planter beds. I was thrilled because I wanted to plant rosemary, and here it was, already with a tenuous foothold in my new yard. Now that rosemary will set the tone for my gardening plans for the rest of the property.

And to think I had almost missed it in my zeal of pulling every last bit of green out of the planters. I was so engrossed in what to eliminate, I forgot to examine the possibilities each plant could offer. I’ll be more careful when I tackle another section of the yard next weekend. But this also brings up a good point when you’re revising too. You want to tighten things up and cut the fat, but you don’t want to be so heavy-handed with your edits you destroy something useful.

Ready to revise your WIP? Check out Kim Blank’s Wordiness, Wordiness, Wordiness List  and ensure your work is as lean as possible. Then see if your prose passes the Waistline Test, which I originally found through India Drummond’s site. But be careful not to strip out everything... you still want to keep your work yours.

Happy weeding!

Submissions Blitz

If you told me six months ago I’d be in the midst of a submissions blitz, I would have laughed. But I’m not laughing now. Instead, I’m just trying to keep all my balls in the air while not losing my momentum.

In the past three days I’ve sent off:

• Two microfiction entries for my local alt weekly’s annual flash fiction contest
• A SciFi short story to a bona fide literary venue
• The first 50 pages of my historical romance for the Golden Rose contest

And just last month, I sent out a query to two agents and another short story.

So what gives? I’ve been doing more polishing and submitting than actual writing, and it’s a strange feeling. But, here’s what I’ve learned so far.

Apologies in advance for the epicness of this post, but I found it helpful for me to get all this stuff down.

Know when your work is ready.

This is so hard. So hard. And I still wonder every time I send something out if I’m deluding myself. Even though I know I’ve revised my work for hours, shared it with others, and have been actively working to improve my craft, I still doubt.

For a long time, that doubt was paralyzing. But I’ve made some head way and had enough small victories here and there to assure me that I’m not crazy for wanting to write and ultimately see my work published. So although I’m ready (and this blog is a testament to that), it’s harder for me to evaluate my different stories and novel-length projects to determine their readiness.

For some projects -- like the SciFi short story and the literary short I’ve submitted – I felt really good about them from inception to completion. Members of my critique groups responded to them positively. They’ve been pretty positive about most of my work, but there was something more encouraging, perhaps more genuine, about their reactions to these particular pieces. So I went with that feeling, found appropriate venues for the stories, and sent them off before I lost my nerve.

With my historical romance novel, I’ve been a bit more cautious about sending it off into the world (and I’ve addressed this before). Because it’s a much bigger project than a short story or piece of flash fiction, I figure I need to be a bit more strategic in how I handle it. A stalling tactic, a self-defense mechanism, perhaps, but I still think it’s reasonable to want to tread carefully with a work of this magnitude. Hence the contests, the constant revisions, and the postponement of a massive query flurry. But I’m getting closer. I just received my critique sheet back from one of the contests I entered and was encouraged by the evaluation. I'm getting there, slowly but surely.

And then there are stories that are as good as they’re gonna get before the deadline. Like my microfiction entries for the local alt weekly contest. I participated last year and found it to be a challenging exercise at a time when I was just buckling down with this whole writing seriously thing. I knew I wanted to enter this year, and of course the timing of my big move hampered that a bit. But I made the deadline and was satisfied with my work. The experience also gave me the chance to look over my entry from last year, and I felt there was a marked improvement in my writing since. So regardless of the outcome for this particular contest, I already feel validated.

The more you submit, the easier it gets.

Submitting is scary. Working up the nerve to get your stuff out there can take a while. And we as writers are guilty of filling up the blogosphere with all our self-doubts and the oft-repeated publishing myths of evil agents and frustrated editors who like nothing more than to crush our dreams.

Knowing the ins and outs of submission requirements is essential. But I’ve also made enough mistakes to know that it won’t be the end of the world if something goes wrong. Some venues are more forgiving than others. That’s the way of things. I recently had an agent contact me to let me know my attachment didn’t come through. I was thrilled she took the time to let me resend. Given all the mythology around editors and agents, I had no reason to expect this second chance. But I took it and moved on.

Sending out your work does get easier over time. I know that just in the short time I’ve been sending out my work, my process has become a little more formalized after each submission. My mental submission checklist grows longer each time I click send. The thought of a query no longer sends me running for the hills. I think it’s really owning the professional part of writing for publication that has done it for me. I want to be a professional writer; hence, the need for professionalism in all things. I am now better able to separate myself from my work by embracing the professional – not the personal – aspects of writing when submitting.

And I’ve had help getting past the me in my writing. Blogging, writing groups, open-mics… all these activities have helped me to not only practice writing, but have also helped me get used to getting my work out there. Putting myself on the line. I’ve learned about accountability and ways to settle my nerves. And the more you do it, the less terrifying it becomes.

Relish that period of time between clicking send and getting a rejection response.

It’s heady. Sending your writing off into the world. Once you’re sure you’ve attached the right file or included the proper salutation, that is. Then you’re full of optimism that maybe, just maybe, something good will come out of all this. After all, as of this moment, you work hasn’t been rejected yet. Anything is possible.

Sure it’s possible that the pieces I’ve sent out in the last few weeks can be accepted for publication or selected as Numero Uno in a contest. And until I get rejected, there’s no reason to think otherwise. Why? Because I need that positive thinking to propel me into a new project or to revisit a previously stalled WIP. I can’t be wallowing in self-doubt if I expect to be productive. It’s done. My work is out there. And all I can do is pick up the pen and move on.

The fallout will come. The odds tell me that much. Despite all that I’ve learned about craft, how attentive I’ve been to my work, I may get a form rejection tomorrow, a week from now, next month, who knows… but I’m just getting closer to yes, right?

Have a contingency plan.

With the exception of the microfiction, I know where I’m sending my different stories next if and when those pieces are rejected. I have a contingency plan for each one. I have to. I care too much about these stories to let them languish if they are not accepted on the first try.

There’s always another venue. Aim high, yes. I am certainly doing that. Targeting the best agents instead of defaulting to an e-publisher. The literary venue with the pro-rates instead of the online ‘zine run by frustrated MFA rejects. But what if you’re left with rejection after rejection, even after scraping the bottom of the barrel of possible outlets? That is what I fear the most.

I’m at the point with many of my stories where I’m just not sure what more I could be doing with them. I’ve polished them on my own, shared them with my critique group, entered contests, revised some more, and then what? The only way to move forward is to submit your stuff and see what happens. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once, make no mistake. But oh-so-necessary as well.

Rejections are fuzzy. A rejection could mean your work didn’t fit the venue. Or it just might mean your work sucks. And until you have a decent enough sample of rejections, it’s difficult to know whether you need to work harder at craft or just work harder at finding the right fit for your story. I won’t know where I’m at until I get some feedback, even the form rejection kind. But I like to think I’m ready for it.

The balls are in the air. Let’s see where they land.

Letting Go

Thankfully I survived what I’m affectionately calling the move from hell. Without internet for nearly a week, without time to think, let alone write, after carloads upon carloads of boxes, my husband and I are now officially moved into our new home. After getting the kitchen and computer set up, I immediately focused my efforts on the bedroom we’d be using as an office. Naturally.

I had boxed up all my books from the apartment and I had four Rubbermaid tubs full of books from my childhood home that I picked up on my road trip back in April. And now, with the new home, I had a dedicated space for everything. I sorted, stacked, and reminisced as I pulled out tomes ranging from Dr. Seuss to Claude Levi-Strauss.

In the bottom of one of the tubs from my dad’s house, I had stashed a bunch of notebooks from high school and college. I’ve already confessed to being a packrat, and in true form, I’ve kept all my school notes, reports, what-have-you from about eighth grade through college.

I’m not exactly sure where the compulsion to do so came from. Maybe I liked having tangible evidence of everything I learned in school. Or maybe it was just the reassurance of being able to refer to their contents later on. At some point I decided I was holding onto those materials just in case. In case I needed them as fodder for the stories I’d write one day. Last week as I leafed through the faded materials, tracked my handwriting across the years, I realized I didn’t need to hold onto these things any longer.

I pulled out a few handouts, kept a couple of sections of notes, but what I deemed worth keeping was only a fraction of what I’ve collected over the years. The rest of the stuff will be unceremoniously dumped in the trash. But I have to ask myself why now. Why was I able to let go of these materials now? A couple of years ago the mere thought of discarding these items would have sent me into conniptions. So what is it about this point in my life?

I think it’s because I’m writing now instead of just dreaming about it. For example, I’ve kept every book I’ve bought or been gifted. Now that I’m writing seriously, I’ve revisited old favorites and analyzed others with new, writerly eyes. I also collected notebooks for years, but never wrote in them. Once I started taking myself seriously, suddenly it was ok for me to write on the hallowed pages.

And I think the same thing has happened with my old school materials. They were my security blanket, my just in case. I kept everything because I didn’t know what would be useful to me in the future. Now, though I understand better what resources I do and don’t need.

I don’t need them to help me in research as I’m confident in my abilities to find the information I need without digging through decades of school materials. Thanks, internet.

I don’t need my old notes for inspiration. I have that in spades from other sources.

And I don’t need them to hold onto the past. Not anymore.

I’m moving on.

What kind of things have you been holding onto in anticipation of following your dreams? What's your just in case and the tools you need for it?