Dancing With the Dwende

The End

2011-06-02T20:29:00.003-06:00

It probably comes as no surprise, given the lack of posting lately, but I've decided to end the blog. I feel like I've written about as much as I can on this blog, so I'm shutting it down and moving on. Thanks to everyone who's been reading. Love you lots and best wishes.

It's Fa-bu!

2011-03-03T18:23:00.002-07:00

Hello all, I've got brilliant news. A groovy friend and CWC alum, has officially gotten a book deal! You can read about it over at Fleur's blog in today's post. It's so exciting that I'll be able to say, "I knew her when." Super congratulations to Fleur.

For those of you who don't know her, an important thing to know about Fleur is that she is one of the hardest working authors I've known. She has written, revised, and submitted like a fiend. I can't even begin to describe the amount of hard work she's put into her craft, and her good news just goes to show that hard work pays off.

Yay Fleur!

Curiosity Killed the Cat Sitter - Finale

2011-03-02T21:37:00.002-07:00

I finished my homework.

I found I liked it a lot better once I got into it. The beginning was a bit scattered, but a few chapters in and the flow smoothed out. I liked the occassional snark, and I warmed up to Dixie, the protagonist.

Things I didn't get into so much included the fairly shallow cast of characters and the way Dixie basically Forrest Gumped her way through the mystery. Practically every time she stepped out of the house she stumbled on a clue or someone who had information about the murder.

I will say that I think the mystery came together pretty well. A decent collection of suspects and motives. In the end, I liked the journey of finding out who the murderer was. The clues were fun and I enjoyed trying to connect the dots.

My overall impression is that while I don't think it was excellent, it was a decent read. Not brilliant, but not bad either.

Ghost Story

2011-02-28T21:29:00.002-07:00

Publication: Strange Horizons

Why I chose it: I really like the feel of the magazine. They've got a variety of genres, including cool art like Zach McCain's, and groovy fiction like "The Yew's Embrace," a fairy tale by Francesca Forrest.

Submission process: Very user-friendly. They have a submission form that automatically formats your submission to their preferences. Neat, huh?

Submitted: "Charlie's Ghost" a story about a haunted ranch.

Go Ahead

2011-02-19T17:22:00.002-07:00

Yesterday I went to the director's meeting at work and told them my idea to bring Tom Pomeranz to the center. After I told them who he is, what he does, and why I think it'd be fantastic to get him, the unanimous response was, "Make it happen."

Now I'm working on sorting out some logistics, like finding an off-site venue where we can have him speak, then comes the advertising and arranging the event.

I'm very, very excited.

Cozy Homework

2011-02-15T18:53:00.002-07:00

This month, I have CWC homework. D.B. brought some books in so we could get a feel for cozies. The one she picked out for me is Curiosity Killed the Cat Sitter by Blaize Clement.

"Let me know what you think," D.B. said. "Think about what you see as conventions of the genre, what you like, what you don't. Tell me if something makes you just chuck the book across the room."

I think those are pretty fair guidelines. I'm not usually much of a mystery reader, but I cracked that sucker open and got to it. First thing that hit me? Loads, and loads of cat information. Yeah, I know, it's a cat book. But still. It's a little silly when it gets to the point of, "Hey look, a dead body! By the way, let me tell you this thing about cats." I mean, honestly, it's irritating.

Then I asked myself, "Why is she doing it?" and "Why is it bugging me?"

My best guess on the first one is that her intention was to prolong scenes. If the same scenes had less cat stuff, they'd all be super short. When you're doing the big reveal of the dead body, a super short scene doesn't work so well. Then it'd read more like, "She walked into the kitchen and saw the dead body." End chapter. That'd be lame. So, we get encyclopedic info on cats.

It bugs me because it's a total tension breaker. The timing of the "cozy" part tends to wreck the flow of the scene. Just as she gets building up to something interesting, she breaks away for pet related information. It's bad rhythm.

There are some redeeming qualities, like some snark and some fair character development. Overall, I've got some definite concerns, but I haven't tossed it across the room yet. I'm thinking I'm perhaps not the ideal reader for cozies.

Apropos

2011-02-09T19:53:00.003-07:00

A couple of weeks ago I found myself in an Office Depot during a sale. I walked out of there with two 20-packs of pens plus two loners. Around the same time I bought a new spiral-bound notebook. It made me feel nostalgic. I used to do all my writings with lots of different colored pens in spiral-bound notebooks.

I spent last weekend in Denver, goofing around and eating at restaurants that aren't connected to gas stations. Last weekend, the mousepad on my laptop crapped out on me.

Sometimes, the universe tries to tell you something. Usually, you're wise to pay attention. I think it's time to do some words long hand.

Heroes

2011-02-07T19:13:00.002-07:00

I've had a lot of heroes so far in my life. Many of them are writers. A few of them are even people I know.

I found my latest hero through doing some research for work. The cool folks in my trainer network recommended a video series by a guy named Tom Pomeranz. The ultra-quick summary of the series is that it's a set of videos that focus on principles of how staff providing services to individuals with DD should interact with their clients. It seems like a simple enough idea, but as with many "simple enough" ideas, there are some complex sub-layers. Pomeranz explains them beautifully.

This past week and a half, I've been getting information about what it'd take to have Pomeranz come out to our agency. Last week, I even talked to him on the phone, which, obviously, was way cool. Today, I talked with the executive director of the agency about getting Pomeranz out here. There are still some logistical and budgetary details to work out, but it's looking like it's going to work out. I'm way excited.

Two for the Money

2011-02-02T12:14:00.002-07:00

Publication: The Drabblecast

Why I chose it: Drabblecast publishes in audio format, which is fun. I like the editor/host's tone in the podcast I listened to, and the feature story was a zombie story. What's not to like?

Submission process: Very easy. Subs are taken in the body of your e-mail. No formatting, font, etc. requirements.

Submitted: "An Ocean Kind of Blue" a painterly ghost story of sorts.

In the Nick of Time

2011-02-01T09:50:00.002-07:00

Last night I submitted my first piece, a poem titled "Postage." It wasn't my plan to submit poetry, but then I realized I had at least one or two poems gathering dust that I considered good enough to give a swipe with a duster and send off.

Anyhow, on to the vital stats:

Publication: The Shine Journal

Why I chose it: I liked the blurb in duotrope, and the tagline about all the authors who'd gotten their start through the journal. Also, when I looked at some of the pieces in the journal, I liked them. Like this triptych from Shannon Deep.

Submission process: Pretty easy. They have a submission form that's pretty straight-forward.

Submitted: "Postage" a poem about the post office.

Research

2011-01-26T19:59:00.003-07:00

I'm going to submit something this month. That's step one of the process. Sometimes it's, "I'm going to submit X," that starts things out, but this go around, it's more of a time thing than a specific piece thing.

Step 2: Research. My favorite place to look for writing markets is www.duotrope.com which has an added bonus where you can make a free account and track your submissions right on the site. Cool, huh?

I'm working on step 2 right now, looking for markets that strike my fancy. I'm a lover of the technological age, so I'm limiting my search criteria to places that take online submissions. I mean, come on, it's 2011 already, who's still accepting snail-mail only subs? Get with the times, people!

Finally, A New Year's Resolution

2011-01-12T19:25:00.003-07:00

I was talking to a gal at work the other day. Her son is 13 and he wants to be a writer. Cool, right? He writes and he even had a teacher a few years ago who read one of his stories and totally cheered him on. But, it seems her son is reluctant to show his writing to anyone. The only reason she gets to read any of his writing is because he picked her as a proofreader.

We got to talking about writing and writing groups and getting your stuff out there because that's what writers do. All the while I'm talking about her son and I realize I'm talking about me, too.

I've been published, but it's been a long while since I sent any submissions out. And here I was, being something of a hypocrite. Oops. This year, in the desire to not be a hypocrite, I'm making it my belated New Year's Resolution to submit at least one piece to at least one publication each month. For the blog, I'm going to track my submissions. I'm going to talk about what I'm submitting, where I'm submitting, what kind of responses I get (or don't get), and go through the whole process in a very transparent way. I'm looking forward to having the extra accountability to hold me to my resolution. I always work better when there's some pressure involved.

So, how about you? Have you made any resolutions? Are you blogging about them?

Changing, Momentum, and Thaw

2011-01-05T18:09:00.003-07:00

I've been having a difficult time with momentum recently. Maybe it's the freezing temperatures (or, rather, the sub-zero temperatures, brrr), or maybe it's a whole load of other things I've got going on, but I'm having a hard time getting moving with anything writing-related. My recent lack of blog posts will attest to that.

At work, there's a position called "Quality Enhancement Professional" which was open for a number of months due to lack of a qualified person to fill it. The jist of the job is that QE is the person responsible for monitoring the programs to help the agency make sure it's adhering to state standards. A few weeks ago, my supervisors asked me if I'd be up for taking on the QE responsibilities in addition to the training coordinator job they hired me for. I said yes. I spent the past couple of weeks crunching data to create a trend analysis report for the last quarter. It's been a fair amount of stuff to wrap my head around since I've never done any kind of QE work before. The challenge is fun, but it's a fair amount of work to get a bearing on it.

Oh yeah, and the holidays, and my brother coming out for a visit, and I'm trying to buy a house for the first time ever, and I'm dealing with a dog issue, and I've been getting back in to a routine of working out, and I made some jewelry, and I've been trying to research and plan my house-fixing-up plan for when I close on the house, and... well, I've got a fair amount going on right now that doesn't have to do with writing fiction.

I haven't even had much time to watch TV, and you know how much I love my shows.

All of this brings me to the new year. Really. It makes sense in my head, I promise. With everything that's going on, and a few things that may be coming up, I feel like 2011 is going to hold a lot of change for me. If I'm in the midst of all of this change - new job, new town, new house... Perhaps it's time for a change in the blog. Not sure what, yet. But an adjustment in direction is warranted, I think. When I get stuck, it often works best to step back, refocus, and come at it another way.

Any good ideas?

A Zombie Memoir

2011-01-01T13:10:00.006-07:00

This Christmas was a minimalist Christmas for me. I didn't get many gifts because my family and I decided that instead of getting big presents for each other, we'd donate to charity. We went through Kiva and made loans to people. I was cool.

One of the presents I did get was from my friend Amanda. She got me a book titled Brains: A Zombie Memoir. It is very much what it sounds like. Amanda knows the author, Robin Becker, and that means that not only do I have a copy of the book, I have an autographed copy.

Now, as a zombie afficionado, I've seen a lot of zombie movies and read a lot of zombie stories. This is the first time, however, that I've ever come across one that is based in the POV of the zombie. It's a fun experience. I like the way she's approached zombie lore - a lot of the classic trends are there, but then the twist is that some of the zombies aren't entirely the shuffling undead. The POV character is a former English professor who's retained his ability to think and to write. As the plot goes on, he meets other special zombies who have retained some of their human abilities. It's a cool concept and I like the balance between the classic and her unique twist.

I'm about half way through the book so far and there are some interesting complications. I'm really curious to see what she does with them.

Lost and Found

2010-11-23T12:46:00.003-07:00

I'm relieved to report that I found my missing pages. I had them saved, but for some reason I hadn't added them to my main manuscript file. Lesson learned - scavenger hunts are way overrated.

So, not only did I actually write what I remembered writing, I found it again. Hoorah! And, since the chunk was around 30 pages long, it's an extra relief to have it back. The next CWC meeting is just around the corner, and I'm up for submitting.

In other news, I'll be doing the Thanksgiving thing over the next few days and have decided to officially bail out on NaBloPoMo. It figures that I'd decide to do a blog post challenge during a month when I have no internet hookup at home. Hopefully, that's a second lesson learned.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

What I Learned From Harry Potter

2010-11-21T14:43:00.001-07:00

One of my biggest problems in writing is going too fast. I speed through scenes I should take my time on and my readers always give me grief for it, as well they should.

One thing Rowling definitely doesn't do is write things too fast. I mean, we're talking about a seven-book series filled with thick, chunky books. And, aside from a spot or two, I didn't really notice the length. Nor, obviously, have hordes and hordes of kids, adolescents, and adults.

It's reassuring and a good example of why I need to slow the heck down. Now, knowing it and doing it are two different things.

Deathly Hallows

2010-11-20T14:07:00.003-07:00

I finished reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows this morning. I have to say, it was well done. I won't go into it much, 'cause Harry's been plenty talked about already.

I will say I think Rowling did a beautiful job of bringing the series to a close and I really enjoyed seeing all of the characters & plot threads come together. I also liked her overall tone and emotion.

As a writer, it all makes me wonder about which parts Rowling always had planned and which parts she came up with as the series went on. It also makes me wonder what Rowling will do next. How do you follow up a seven-part series that's been so gigantically successful? There's no way to top it, so how can it be matched? She's got a tough job ahead of her. I'll be very interested in seeing what she does next. I know she's already got the Beedle the Bard book out, but I dunno how much I count that as a force of itself.

Any bets on how well Rowling will (or won't) live up to herself?

Lost Marbles

2010-11-18T17:29:00.002-07:00

I think I'm losing my mind. For the second time, I seem to have lost a chunk of Oracle. There are two chapters, the two most recent chapters, that I know for a fact I wrote and now I can't find. What the heck?

Have I been saving pages in a weird place, or accidentally deleting them? Ugh. It's exceedingly frustrating to have spent the time to write two full chapters and now be unable to locate them. I mean, seriously, how did I manage to do this not once but twice?

Riffing on Goodbye

2010-11-17T16:57:00.002-07:00

"Gwyn," Sedge started. Her name came out of his mouth as clumsily as a pile of rocks.
All of the years he had spent knowing her, all the nights of lying beside her, breathing in the smell of her skin, they slipped away from him. He felt like a stranger in front of her, trying to hold on when he was already letting go. Only for a time, yes, but letting go nonetheless.

"Don't," Gwyn said. Her arms went straight down from her shoulders, straight and stiff. That, more than anything, hurt him. More than anything else in that moment, he wanted to soften her. "Don't say you're sorry. Don't say any of the rest of it. I don't want to hear it."

He reached out to her and felt like his hand traveled a hundred miles before it found the warm curve of her waist. The insults and hurts of the past that had spurred him to take up the sword seemed blurred and faded. What did it matter what had happened so long ago? Here, in front of him, stood everything he wanted in the world.

Gwyn yielded to his touch. She wrapped her arms around him and tucked her face into the crook where his neck met his shoulders. Her breath made her chest push against his with gentle, insistent pressure with each inhalation.

"I'll stay," he whispered.

"You won't," Gwyn replied. "You can't."

Even as she said it, he knew it was true. Even now, he felt the tug. If he stayed here, he would always be that little boy who ran away. A flash of anger heated his face. Rellin would win if Sedge stayed. Involuntarily, Sedge's hand went to the hilt of the sword on his belt. He had to leave and confront what was ahead of him so he could face his step-father as a man.

He had unfinished business and in a week, in a month, he'd feel the need leave again. Just as he'd felt it so often in the past years. It had grown stronger the nearer he got to the moment of taking the sword and he knew it would never let him rest until he heeded it. When he got back, he would tell her everything. Every last secret he had been keeping from her for the past seven years.

"I love you," he said.

Her hold on him tightened as if she were trying to keep him firm to the spot. "I know," she murmured. After a minute that felt like a year, she loosened her grip. Gwyn lifted her head from his shoulder and kissed him. At the touch of her lips, he felt his eyes grow hot and wet. He blinked the tears back furiously.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he said.

Gwyn put her hand against his cheek and he turned into the caress. Without saying a word, she nodded and turned away.

He climbed in the saddle and looked back over his shoulder as he left the yard. Just before he was out of sight, Gwyn looked up one last time. Their eyes met. She smiled sadly at him and raised her hand in a wave. Then he rounded a turn in the road and the branches of a pine tree slid across his view and hid her from him.

Riffing

2010-11-16T17:04:00.004-07:00

In Lyon's book, she discusses a trend that she's seen of under-writing. One exercise she puts forth is riffing. It's a pretty simple concept:

You take a passage that you've written where you move through a scene or image really quickly. Then you take out a fresh piece of paper or do a hard return and you just start writing. You write on that passage and instead of having a paragraph, you go write a page, two pages...

The exercise especially caught my attention because I'm someone who's often heard my readers say, "Slow down. Where's the fire?"

With Oracle, one scene where the CWC crew were especially displeased with me was the scene where two major characters, lovers, say goodbye to each other. Yeah, they're totally right, I went way too fast. So, it seems a good spot to use for an expansion exercise.

First, the scene as it is now (and yes, this is the whole scene between the two characters). Next post, the riff.

“Gwyn,” Sedge started.

“Don't say you're sorry, or any of the rest of it, 'cause I don't want to hear it.”

“I love you.” He kissed her. She kissed back. Now was his last chance to call it off. He held her tight for a moment, then released. “I'll be back as soon as I can.”

“You'd better be.”

He climbed into the saddle, gave her one last wave, and headed south. A few days ride south was Selm, his destination. It was the nearest Nyman temple with an oracle. He hoped to get answers there about what he was being called to do. When he got back, he would tell Gwyn everything. All the secrets he had kept for the past seven years.

Manuscript Makeover

2010-11-14T15:36:00.002-07:00

I'm not much of a one for writing books most of the time, but in light of my search for writing exercises, I've been digging through a few. So far, I've found one I really like, Manuscript Makeover: Revision Techniques No Fiction Writer Can Afford to Ignore by Elizabeth Lyon.

If you're in the mood for checking out a writing book, take a look at this one. She's got really strong, practical suggestions and she uses a lot of examples from both classic writers and contemporary folks. She totally got bonus points for using a passage from one of Sherman Alexie's stories as an example.

Lots of good stuff, and I'll be coming back to her in the next few days as I do a couple of the revision exercises she suggests.

What's a writing book you'd recommend? Why do you like it?

Glitches

2010-11-13T14:57:00.002-07:00

You know what the problem of doing NaBloPoMo is? Not having an internet hook up at home.

I've been able to do the writing part okay, but it's the putting it together with the posting part that's problematic.

Right now, I'm wrestling with a technology issue. What issues do you have to wrestle with when you're working on a writing project?

Oracle Prologue, Part 3

2010-11-12T16:52:00.002-07:00

For a moment, all thought of the pain from her injuries was eclipsed by surprise. Pink, mica-flecked quartz swarmed together to form a rough oval. Two large cabochons of labradorite crawled in toward the center and Jalena was struck with the impression of eyes. Carnelian lips added to the impression and shadows made by the shifting tiles completed the image of a face. Azurite hair streamed back from the head, twitching as if blown by a breeze.

Jalena shook her head. Was she still in a dream? The lapis lazuli eyes met hers. Stone lips curled up in a welcoming smile. Using her good hand, Jalena pushed herself to her feet. This time she did not slip. More tiles cascaded across the wall, this time coalescing into a hand. It gestured for Jalena to approach.

After a moment's hesitation, she did as the mosaic bade. If this was really happening, as the pain of her injuries testified, it could be no less than a miracle. If she was dreaming this, and the pain with it, then she had no reason not to. She looked down at the stream in the floor. Everything she believed told her that to cross the stream was sacrilegious. Decades of respecting the goddess' sacred space were difficult to overcome.

On the wall, the mosaic beckoned again. Jalena closed her right hand into a fist. The cut burned, spurring her to raise her foot and jump across the gap. She landed roughly on the other side, heart speeding at the thrill of being somewhere she was not supposed to be.

Jalena walked slowly toward the wall. She closed the distance with just a few steps and stood almost nose to nose with the face. She stood mesmerized, holding the goddess' gaze. Tiles scraped against each other as the mosaic hand raised with the palm facing Jalena. She raised her right hand. Blood dripped off it to splatter on the floor. Acting on instinct, Jalena pressed her own palm against the wall. Despite the chill of the morning, the stone felt warm. A jolt like electricity ran through her. Carnelian lips parted. The goddess spoke.

Oracle Prologue, Part 2

2010-11-11T16:47:00.000-07:00

The pre-dawn gloom lightened to a hazy shade of blue. Soon, the other clergy would begin stirring. Jalena should prepare for morning prayers. No more at peace than she had been when she woke, Jalena rose. As she did, her foot caught on the hem of her robe and she fell to the floor, slamming her knees on the stone with a shock of fierce pain. Her right hand struck the corner of the stone stream, breaking her skin across the edge. Jalena bit back a cry of pain. A rivulet of blood ran down the stone to mingle with the water. The blood darkened the water in a cloud that looked black in the low light.

Knees and hand stinging, Jalena struggled to rise. Blood slickened the stone. Her hand slipped as she tried to gain purchase. Her knees hit the stone again. Agony rushed through her legs. Frustrated and hurt, Jalena felt tears force themselves into her eyes.

In front of her, something scraped. Jalena blinked back tears. Another scrape. The noise came from the other side of the stream. Scrape. It was the sound of stone on stone. Jalena took a deep breath and rocked back on her heels. She held her injured hand in front of her. Blood streaked down the front of her robe. The scrape came again.

Sight blurred, she looked ahead, trying to find the source of the noise. Something was moving on the wall. The scraping grew quicker, like the shuffle of a card deck. She blinked to clear her vision and saw that the sound came from the mosaic. Tiles of blue, green, black, and every other color on the wall squirmed against each other, struggling to go in different directions.

Honey, Part 2

2010-11-09T07:35:00.000-07:00

In the sun, his eyes saw a brighter color than the one inside, a hue more yellow and white instead of gray. That was another reason he liked the bright summer, when the light was this bright, he could see dim blurry shapes. He craned his head up to look above him. A wobble in the solid color told him he must be looking at her face. He touched a finger to her face and felt the curve of her smile before she put him into the van.

S-A-N-D-Y was one of the people who looked after him. The others were mostly fine, though sometimes they came and went so quickly that he never had a chance to really get to know the texture of their hair. Hair had such nuance, sometimes. The complexity of how it felt near the scalp, still warm from its closeness to skin, then cooled as it reached out from the head, and the butterfly wing edges of where it was cut. Three separate and distinct stages that told him more about a person than the letters they clumsily finger spelled into his palm.

The van slowed to a stop, pulling him away from his thoughts on hair. He felt the shift as she got out. Hot air whooshed in when she opened the door beside him. The smells were different here. More overtones of brick and sickness. He began to feel uneasy. Breezes brushed his cheeks as people hurried by, walking to either side of them. He put his hands to the wheels of his chair, skidding to a halt. He signed, “No, no, no, no, no, no,” over and over again. He remembered now what the sign earlier meant. It had meant this place. “Home,” he signed.

S-A-N-D-Y took his hand and held it in her warm palm. It was what she did when she wanted him to know that it was okay. “Doctor,” she signed into his hand.