Being Human

Unlike me, my husband has always been a writer; whether it was fanciful role playing, high school projects, or short stories, Gary has always woven words into compelling charters and beautiful prose.

He’s also always wanted to publish a novel.

Imagine then, how he felt when his wife just decided one day she also wanted to write. The first book she ever wrote was published. And the next. And the next. Along with many short stories. Sure, she had setbacks. Disappointments. But while he toiled away on his first book, his wife seemingly zoomed ahead. Publishing more and more. Collecting quarterly checks. Continuing to write books.

Saying that, Gary has never been anything but supportive and happy for me. He’s rejoiced when I’ve published. Taken me out to dinner. Listen to me blather on. But there was a note of sadness there too. Not jealousy or envy; those words denote wanting to take something someone has. He was never that. What I perceived was wistfulness. I understood. But understanding is not quite like experiencing it yourself.

Remember in a post or so ago I said how much I wanted an upfront payment for a book? How that would allow me to feel as if I had really made it? Gary received that this week. It’s not the money. I’m fine with royalties. It’s what it represents. And the universe took that longing and spoke through someone (who shall remain nameless) saying: “wow, Gary did with his first book what you’ve never done.” Ouch.

So now I understand. I’m so happy for him I could burst. But I’m also…wistful.

Writers can live on the edge of joy and sadness depending on many factors; a sale, representation, rejection, kind words, cruel statements. It sometimes feels as if my soul is at the whim of the wind, blowing his way and that, happiness dependent on someone who has all the power.

But that is false. And psychically dangerous. When you place your soul in someone else’s hands it is inevitable at some point a knife will enter. An important lesson for everyone, but perhaps more so for writers. Being published hangs on so many things. Skill of course, but also relevance and dare I say, luck. If you want to be a published author and keep your sanity, you must continue to believe in yourself no matter how many setbacks you have or how long you have to wait.

And let's talk about something else. Writers usually know other writers. Sometimes we even marry one. :-) Being published feels wonderful. But it is fleeting. Because even if you are Stephen King, you are only as good as your last book as far as society goes. Friends, family, and your mate will love you no matter how many books you have published. Or not published. This is especially important if a writer shares his or her life with another writer.

You will never have identical success. There will always be wistfulness when the other achieves a milestone you want. You might even have an evening of self doubt like I did when Gary told me his good news.

But he understood, perhaps in a way only another writer can understand. I gave myself a day of wallowing. Then I packed up my latest novel and sent it off.

When he gets home we will celebrate like there’s no tomorrow. Because it’s the right thing to do. Because he’d do it for me. Because I’m proud of him.

But mostly because I love him.

Creativity

I have found that most creative people have more than one outlet. (And I would argue that everyone has a creative talent, although that is for another post.) For example, I write, but I also draw, play a couple of instruments, and dance.

My niece Ruthie also writes, she sings, plays an instrument, and participates in the theatre. I say "participate" because she doesn't just act, she directs, does the lighting, and helps with the sets.

At this point you may be waiting for my usual reason for the post. Am I encouraging writers to have different creative outlets? Am I supporting multiple creative endeavours? Yeah. Let's say that.

Or as a good friend often says, who am I kidding? I'm proud of my niece. Here she is. (Bottom, second from right.) Visit the website. See the play if you're in the area. It's a great little playhouse, and of course, Ruthie is star quality.

I'm NOT biased. Well, maybe a little. But she IS fab. Go. You'll see.

http://www.buckcreekplayers.com/

My Favorite Things

Feel free to sing along:

Me in my pjs awaiting an answer
Could it be I have word smithing cancer
Waiting around for a note from afar
Maybe I should be alone in a bar…
When “dear author” comes
Or “not right for them”
When I’m feeling bad,
I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don’t feeeeeel…so bad.

Sigh. Did I say getting an agent was hard? So here’s how it goes. You first get a quick slew of heartfelt notes titled “Dear Author.” The good part is it’s obvious no one read the query, so at least you know they don't think your story sucks. The bad part is… no one read the query. Then you get some “this sounds cool but not right for me.” Maybe they are lying about the cool part, but at least a human read it. But still, no agent.

Then you sit patiently for a couple of weeks before sending out another batch. That’s what I’m doing, in the hopes someone will want to read chapters. Most agents don’t write back if they don’t want it. So I’m waiting. But I don’t like it.

But back to my favorite things. Tomorrow is my birthday. I love my special day, which hasn’t diminished over the years. If anything I’m worse now than I ever was, claiming the entire month to myself. I call it Kelly’s Birthday Season.

So even though finding an agent is depressing, I still love my life. I have many things I look forward too, even though I’m at that age I imagined was near death as a kid.

I think a happy attitude is good for everyone, maybe especially for writers. It’s hard. It’s frustrating. But you can’t put your life on hold just because an agent has put your book on hold.

Yeha!!! I can’t wait for tomorrow!!!

And to anyone who's not yet gotten me a gift, a boat trip would be nice. I want the swans though.

To Agent Or Not To Agent

And that most certainly is the question most writers face at some point in their careers. There are many benefits to having an agent: access to publishers who only allow agented submissions, marketing of your work, inside knowledge of the publishing world, helpful improvement advice, and of course if you’re lucky, a sale somewhere that actually gives authors upfront cash. Something I’ve never had, sigh. Not that I’m complaining. I’m grateful for my checks every quarter. Very grateful.

But somehow an upfront wad o’ cash means I’ve really made it…a publisher is giving me money based on what he or she thinks my book could produce. Heady stuff. Not to mention helpful in bill paying.

But back to the agent question before my pitcher of milk becomes spilt and curdled. Is there a down side to having an agent? Well, agents do have to make a living just like writers. They will take a percentage of your earnings, but only AFTER they have made a sale. This is an important point. Any agent who offers representation in exchange for cash, RUN. They will and rightly should pass along some expenses incurred while they were marketing your work such as long distance phone calls, postage, etcetera, but no agent worth his or her salt should bill you BEFORE a sale.

Taking a percentage of your sale is not a bad thing. Consider this: if someone is going to make money off a sale of your book, that person is going to work really really hard to sell it. And that leads to the second bad thing about obtaining an agent…it’s hard.

I like to think of it as the old Star Trek episode, Mudd’s Women. Remember poor Norman? Mr. Spock caught him in a logic loop so heinous Norman, an android, exploded. That’s sorta like getting an agent. Most times they won’t take you unless you have a proven track record, yet without an agent it’s hard to get that long list of publishing credits.

I tried to get an agent with my very first book. After hundreds of rejections which are just as painful as publisher ones I might add, a kind soul told me that he only represented (in his literary speak not my words) really famous people. He also added that I wrote well, “now go get some experience and creds.” He meant go get myself published.

So I did. I’ve learned what is popular. I’ve improved my writing technically. My skin is hard and callused from all the rejections, ha ha. Now I’m ready to try again.

The internet makes it harder and easier to find an agent. Harder because unscrupulous agencies thrive behind slick looking sites. Easier because you can usually submit electronically.
The Writer’s Market, who I have posted about before, has lists of agents. This is a great place to start, but they do charge a fee. Editors and Predators is a fabulous free site. Many agents…and publishers…do not like this site because they have, gasp, the audacity to state Bad Things about bad people and agencies. They are rather like the You Tube of the literary world, displaying rude and dishonest behavior for the world to see. So I started there and found a useful site they recommended called Agent Query.

http://www.agentquery.com/

I’m going to start at the top and work my way down. Usually with agents you can simultaneously query, but once you send in a manuscript it’s just like a publisher…they have exclusive rights while they decide if they want it or not. That sucks for writers, but looking at it from their viewpoint I do understand. They are taking precious resources and time to read…your stuff.

Saying that, even though you may simultaneously query is NOT a good idea to write a blanket letter, cc everyone, and push send. Why? First, what kind of impression will you make if you do not even use the person’s name? People, even agents, want to feel special. Like you picked their agency over all the hundreds of others. We all know writers look at multiple agents just like agents look at multiple writers, but at least keep the semblance of politeness. Second, make sure the agency represents what you are selling. Don’t send a romance to someone who only represents mysteries. Third, every agency, like each publisher, has specific submission guidelines. Follow them. They get thousands of queries. If yours doesn’t look like what they stated, they won’t even read it. You can start with a draft and then tailor to fit.

Here I go.

Wish me luck.

The Coming Year

The coming of the new year, more than any other holiday, brings both joy and sadness. There is an inherent melancholy; what didn't you do that you hoped to do, what actions or thoughts would you wish away, what have you lost over the last twelve months. No matter how you slice it, another year is gone forever.

But the coming of a new year also brings joy, anticipation, and excitement. What wonders will we experience this year? What will we do? Who will we meet? The road is stretched out before us. And no matter how carefully we plan, surprises are awaiting around every corner. And I think those unexpected occurrences are the underpinnings of some of our most treasured and ancient traditions at this time of year.

And wonderful story fodder.

In times past, more people sent New Year's greetings than at Yuletide. Why? Christmas is a fairly recent tradition in the grand scheme of things, and holiday greeting cards even younger. People of yesteryear were also perhaps more polite; one never knew what beliefs another had and a New Year's wish was considered "safer" than a holiday card. Nice, huh? But then they also sent blatantly Christian spring cards...we humans are a massive stew of inconsistencies. Part of what makes writing so interesting.

I have to start with the most traditional of New Year's symbols: the baby for the coming year and the old man for the passing year. They are a reminder that we too are getting older. The clock in the second card is another reminder, just in case you didn't get it.

New Year's Eve is a magical time...when the clock climes midnight one stands at the moment between what was and what will be. These next two represent that for me: a moon child and star kids.

And then there's the silly. This cat had one too many, I'm thinking.

This one cracks me up. Not sure what's going on...it looks like the dogs are throwing their kibble at the train.

Happy New Year's flight on a dirigible??? One that blows bubbles? Weird.

A popular New Year's pastime was having your fortune read.

There were all sorts of things you could do to ward off evil and bring good fortune for the next year. Below are some examples of luck inducing objects and actions: seeing spring birds, hanging a horse shoe over your threshold, bringing grapes to a neighbor, seeing winter fairies, and ringing bells to scare away evil spirits. There's lots more customs...these are only a few.

Once you've had your fortune told and done all the luck inducing actives, there is also the tradition of making New Year's wishes for oneself or others. I like wishes much better than resolutions.

Here are adults and children wishing for many nice things: toys, vacations, a sweetheart (one wistful one hopeful), not to die during the coming year (that one is creepy...check out the scythe), and of course the overwhelming favorite, gold.

There are also wishes for good behavior, a precursor to our modern resolutions, perhaps. Below we see a hope for an unblemished year, a wish for plenty but only if the receiver is sincere, and a warning not to let go of the past. That one is scary. I'll remember the past. I will. Just don't pipe me away with the rats...

The next two I chose because they are just so pretty. The first is an elegant deco woman...or is she? Maybe she's really a goddess out for a little New Year's fun. And the last one is a wonderful New Year's party outdoors... humans and fairy folk are gathering to revel in the cold night air.

You don't see the fairies? Look closer. There. I knew you could. :-)

Review and a Kindle

Just finished Legends, edited by Robert Silverberg. The term “short novel” is an interesting one; longer stories hovering between the short story and the novel. At least he didn’t call them “novelettes”, which sounds to me like an unholy amalgamation of a biscuit and young socialite.

Anyway. All of the chosen authors are consummate world builders. Each have created and written often within in their lush fantasy environments: Anne Mccattery’s Pern, Ursula Leguin’s Earthsea, and Orson Scott Card’s alternate pioneer America are three of many in this giant volume. I especially loved The Hedge Knight by George Martin, and I will read any story with Granny Weatherwax (Terry Pratchett), one of the BEST literary witches, in my opinion.

Robert Silverberg did a fabulous job filling the reader in on the vast amount of information either proceeding, accompanying, or trailing the selected story, although every tale could stand on its own. I very much enjoyed dropping myself back into trilogies that I loved, such as Earthsea.

The one downside was this book is huge; much too big to cart around with me and the volume would also take a great deal of room on my bookshelf. That got me thinking. Like an armed bandit of old, I like having a book on me. At all times. You never know when you will have to wait in a line. Or fritter away time in a doctor’s office. I also live in a small space. And while my hard backed copies of The Lord of The Rings will never leave my office, the vast amounts of paperbacks were slowly crowding me out of house and home.

I don’t like to get rid of books. What if I might like to read it again? What if late one night I need a book and I have none? A fate worse than death. And then my husband got a Kindle. Next my sister. They loved the thing. I was not convinced. Even though I have sold books to electronic publishers. Why, I don’t know. Maybe I like the feel of the pages. Or the cover art. But as I kept thinking about it, I realized a Kindle had everything I needed; small, portable, and most importantly, containing an electronic archive of books I had purchased. So I bought one. In the long run it will save me money. Many older books you can download for free, and even new books are much cheaper.

The only downside is tub reading, but then, I normally devour fashion magazines under a comforting blanket of bubbles. I know, you can get those on a Kindle too. But I want those big glossy pictures to gaze at. Maybe someday I can beam Vogue on the back wall of my bathroom. Ahhhhhh…

Breaking The Mold

For those of you who read the dance blog my husband and I write together, you will know we’ve faced the consequences of being a shade different. Maybe not a shade. More like the opposite side of the color wheel. The conflict has caused me to think about my motivations, desires, and goals, which is never a bad thing, dancing or no.

I’ve always been different. Partly this is environmental; I was born (thankfully) into a family that appreciates, inspires, and celebrates the off beat, the odd, the unique, and most importantly, being unashamedly yourself. I fortunately married a man who is very much his own man, and loves that I am my own woman. My tastes, therefore, are not bound by anyone or any institution as to what I “should” like, do, or be.

I also believe I thrive on going against the grain. I enjoy being perceived as different. Creative. Experimental. Weird is a compliment to me, as my friends well know.

There are consequences to this outlook. You can’t expect those in charge of the old guard , if you will, to always appreciate wild flights of fancy. In fact, they may fight you. Change, for most people, is something to avoid, even if the end results may be better. If you are different, your life will never be dull, but neither will it always be smooth.

How does this influence my writing? Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, my writing often does not fall into an easily applied slot. This is especially hard for new writers. Publishers are reluctant enough to back an unknown writer, let alone an unknown writer who is…different.

I write in a wide varieties of styles and subject matters. I mix genres. I have sold to multiple corporations. This has confused some fans. And publishers. For example, my latest novel is a young adult fantasy with adult themes…child abuse, death, and the afterlife.

I probably would have more money in the bank if I stuck to tried and true genre rules and fences. But that wouldn’t be true to me, and ultimately wouldn’t ring true to those who read my books. Do I believe I will eventually have great success? Yes. I believe in me. I believe in my work. Do I get frustrated sometimes? You bet. But I’m not giving up. It may take me longer, but that is the consequences of being sideways in a sometimes straight ahead world.

And oh, the magic I can see when I’m facing the wrong way.

PS. Whenever a rejection letter gets me down I think of one of my favorite authors, Ursula LeGuin. To say that she broke the mold is a huge understatement; it could be argued she was one of the first to successfully blend science fiction and fantasy. Below is a rejection letter her agent received for The Left Hand of Darkness, one of the best sci-fi works with fantasy overtones ever written in my opinion, and is considered by many a timeless classic. She posted the letter (without the name of the editor…she was kind) in hopes that it would console new writers. The letter has indeed helped me out of many a funk. Maybe it will have the same effect on you.

**********************************************

Dear Miss Kidd,
Ursula K. Le Guin writes extremely well, but I'm sorry to have to say that on the basis of that one highly distinguishing quality alone I cannot make you an offer for the novel. The book is so endlessly complicated by details of reference and information, the interim legends become so much of a nuisance despite their relevance, that the very action of the story seems to be to become hopelessly bogged down and the book, eventually, unreadable. The whole is so dry and airless, so lacking in pace, that whatever drama and excitement the novel might have had is entirely dissipated by what does seem, a great deal of the time, to be extraneous material. My thanks nonetheless for having thought of us. The manuscript of The Left Hand of Darkness is returned herewith. Yours sincerely,
The Editor
21 June, 1968