Today I managed the United Way bake sale for my location. For the first three hours or so, only one volunteer worked with me, but she was great and we took care of everything fine. Sales were good, and we had a pretty huge variety of goodies to sell. By the end, we had sold all but a very few items, and the tally of donations was nothing I was ashamed to report for the event.
Cute Shoes helped out, too, and that was great. She would make a great carnival barker - hee. A hard sell, but friendly - and that's the way a charity bake sale should be run. She's also just good company, so during a lull or two we poked away on our laptops and were able to spend a little time organizing, being encouraging about the progress, and getting along.
My back's been low-grade irritating me for a couple of weeks now, but at the end of the sale I was putting a chair away and heard the meat-grinding sound of a bad twist. I couldn't stand back up straight for a few seconds, and was slow for the rest of the day (one of our security guards told me later she had seen me on the security cameras looking pretty bad - haha, thanks for the help!). The idea to leave somewhat early to go ice the injury didn't work out quite as planned, between a massive traffic pileup (source for which was impossible to perceive by the time I passed through at last) and an unfortunate necessity to stop for something for dinner (pineapple upside-down cake wasn't on, heh). But I'm here now, working on using up side 2 of the second large icepack in the freezer. Bedtime, I expect, will be early tonight - and tonight is the night I don't have to end at 6:00 a.m. either. So tomorrow, it's back to the office at last, for a normal Friday not to be spent waiting on a car, working from home. It'll be pretty nice to get back to an ordinary Friday's work.
In the meantime, having had a proper supper - that pineapple upside-down cake is not half bad.
Showing posts with label SUCCESS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label SUCCESS. Show all posts
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Wow II - You Can Boogaloo if You Want To
I got a detailed, thoughtful, engaging request for a full within about twelve hours after the query.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Plug-ins
There's a conversation going on right now at Historical Fiction Online, about how we organize research. Most writers have some form of "process" - the way we manage information and work it into creativity, the way we take inspiration and apply learning to it, and turn the two into writing. My own MO is not one I suspect many authors, editors, or agents would use, much less endorse, but it works with the way my mind works, and so if I break others' rules I am unconcerned, based on results.
When I began writing, I set up a one-page timeline of major events I wanted to cover. Very early on, I realized that what I wanted to cover was much more than my initial idea for a novel; and so the timeline became a single-shot view of Clovis' lifetime. Born here, battled here, ascended ... first son ... marriage ... conversion ... some larger events in his world, but not specific to himself. It is as high-level a look at the story as is possible. From there, I began to formulate what I needed to reasearch, and I made a quick study of how to follow tangents within research, to build my world (primary sources on Clovis - particularly for a non-French- and non-Latin-speaker - are not exactly exhaustively thick on the ground; so research by context was necessarily called for), and what tangents not to follow. I learned how to gauge, very quickly, when to stop following the often interesting threads tangents had to offer. I learned, too, how to heft something once I had chosen to use it - and, sometimes, how to discard it after all.
For me, writing and research are much less segregated a pair of activities than, as far as I can tell, most other authors (especially in histfic) feel is acceptable. The writers I hear talk about it all speak of "when to quit researching and start writing" ... but, for me, to withhold the act of writing just isn't an option. And so, I am writing as I am researching.
Typically blasphemous of me, but I still stand by my finished work.
From the high-altitude view of the timeline, I begin to organize the information by where it fits into the story. For those things specific to Clovis, it was easy enough to spot what positions certain anecdotes and events should occupy. In some cases, I had to make a choice, out of theoretical discussions of his life, between one timeline and another. For instance, much tradition points to Clovis' conversion and baptism being concurrent events, the latter being an observation of the former, and a commemoration of the victory on the field which yielded the conversion in the first place. There are other possibilities, however; that baptism was viewed, then, in a different way than conversion - and that certain prominent figures actually put it off significantly ... figures on whom Clovis conscientiously may have modeled his own life. There is also the dynamic of its being a consecration - and a king is concsecreted, already, when he takes his throne. Finally, there is the fact that Clovis, by necessity of the charisma of his power and of his *lineage* claimed divine descent.
The contradiction between Clovis' expectation of his vital heritage - and his faith in a G-d not content with polytheism outside a certain trinity - presents both an irresistible dramatic opportunity for an author and a persuasive (to me - and I'm the writer, which puts me in the driver's seat) case for delayed baptism. The thematic idea, brought to us perhaps courtesy of Gregory of Tours, perhaps out of the reality of Clovis' progress in life, that he modeled himself after Constantine allowed me to use that modeling in a literate way to make certain points.
It would have been impossible for me to write The Ax and the Vase without some delay in the baptism, after conversion. At root, essentially, I didn't buy the legend - I didn't accept that these two events occurred together. And so, I placed the baptism well beyond the conversion - and used it to create a scene in which this man, this indomitable power in a crown, actually makes the choice to renounce the tenet of his divine descent ... and accepts that of divine right.
More than a moment's scene, this action is one which informs much of the ensuing history of Europe. First, Clovis lends his considerable power to an alliance with the Catholic Church - then not the leading light in Christianity, nor in Gaul. Finally, he accepts a role, as monarch, which in its essence sets that church in an unmached role of supremacy in the world. This is a tension which played itself out from Becket and beyond, through Henry VIII and the Reformation. This is a dynamic royals managed in capitulation, or cooperation, or confrontation, for a thousand years after Clovis' death.
This was a scene I needed to see in Ax. It was one of the choices research gave me.
***
The other choices I had to make, using my research, was where to use such information as had little to do with particular actions by or times in Clovis' life. I was building a basilica, I studied bricks and ancient church decoration and design. Clovis needed a beautiful sword; I studied pattern welding. There was a particular breed of horse popular in northern Europe, a unique animal - and Clovis' army was the first generation of cavalry in a Frankish tradition of infantry warfare. Clovis' first prince by Clotilde dies ... and I knew the types of grave goods used for royal children. I knew the relics found in his father's tomb. I knew the symbolism attached to certain artifacts of burial - for adults; for children.
Some of the study placed itself almost as easily as actions and events; there seemed to be a place for much of it. I also learned what to set myself to study; introducing a queen into a world, and a story, previously focused only on men, I put time not only into studying the textiles of women's graves - but also to working on the history of costume itself; did lace exist in fourth and fifth century Gaul? (Answer: of course not; though fiber-tied textiles have existed for thousands of years, it was not in place in this *time* and place.) Embroidery. Material. Wine. Crockery. Jewelry - and its figural design and symbolism. Carved gems. Cloisonne'. The articles of hygeine - sandalwood and ivory; combs and hairdressing; leg wear and dyeing techniques.
The archaeology of graves fascinated me significantly; and it offered the wealth it has a tendency to provide - yet, archaeology being what it is, how much of its knowledge reflected LIFE, as much as death? Choices had to be made even in what indicated what - about death, or daily existence. Delineations began to create themselves, even if only in my unprofessional mind. I know I talked with the archaeologist nearest and dearest to me - yet I don't know that I ever asked for actual advice. I'm arrogant that way. But - again - stand by the product.
All the while - a scene here, a piece of dialogue there. I wrote the blue away - taking the fact of that rare breed of horses, and providing Clovis with a timely, peculiar gift from an ally. I turned plugs black as I went along, and even worked on flow and knitting them overall. The tentpoles I put up didn't stand stark and alone; I clothed them with the canvas as I went along.
Utterly unacceptable.
Impossible for me to avoid.
Nothing I would, nor even could, ever apologize for. Over time, I made this method of work serve me so very well that now I cannot conceive any other way.
Some of my research will stand, too, as tentpoles for the second novel, the work in progress *now*. I coded, in my texts, as I went along. Yellow highligher was Clovis'. Pink for the other work. Some passages I plugged into Clovis - and also bookmarked in the nascent document set aside for II. Even some of the pre-edited text first worked for Ax was set down as reminders and context for II. The two works are different. But the work on each one went on at the same time.
I work in a way not allowed by any professional expectation in publishing. Per usual, I refuse to repent this rebelliousness. Because, for me, it yields such excellent storytelling.
Because I was aborbed in the method of creating my story concurrent to its telling, the research process remained, for me, fresh and engaging. And because the writing took place in such proximity to the study I had put in to manage its raw materials, that too, for me, remained compelling as I went along.
***
If you are a writer - read, first of all. Not "for" any reason - only for yourself. Read second to educate yourself - on the process of writing, sure; and on the process of publishing, whether traditional or otherwise. Read finally for your readers - and find those you trust, let them read you too.
And through it ALL - write. All the time, through everything. Segregate it from research, if that is the way for YOU. But never actually stop it. Never let it go.
When I began writing, I set up a one-page timeline of major events I wanted to cover. Very early on, I realized that what I wanted to cover was much more than my initial idea for a novel; and so the timeline became a single-shot view of Clovis' lifetime. Born here, battled here, ascended ... first son ... marriage ... conversion ... some larger events in his world, but not specific to himself. It is as high-level a look at the story as is possible. From there, I began to formulate what I needed to reasearch, and I made a quick study of how to follow tangents within research, to build my world (primary sources on Clovis - particularly for a non-French- and non-Latin-speaker - are not exactly exhaustively thick on the ground; so research by context was necessarily called for), and what tangents not to follow. I learned how to gauge, very quickly, when to stop following the often interesting threads tangents had to offer. I learned, too, how to heft something once I had chosen to use it - and, sometimes, how to discard it after all.
For me, writing and research are much less segregated a pair of activities than, as far as I can tell, most other authors (especially in histfic) feel is acceptable. The writers I hear talk about it all speak of "when to quit researching and start writing" ... but, for me, to withhold the act of writing just isn't an option. And so, I am writing as I am researching.
Typically blasphemous of me, but I still stand by my finished work.
From the high-altitude view of the timeline, I begin to organize the information by where it fits into the story. For those things specific to Clovis, it was easy enough to spot what positions certain anecdotes and events should occupy. In some cases, I had to make a choice, out of theoretical discussions of his life, between one timeline and another. For instance, much tradition points to Clovis' conversion and baptism being concurrent events, the latter being an observation of the former, and a commemoration of the victory on the field which yielded the conversion in the first place. There are other possibilities, however; that baptism was viewed, then, in a different way than conversion - and that certain prominent figures actually put it off significantly ... figures on whom Clovis conscientiously may have modeled his own life. There is also the dynamic of its being a consecration - and a king is concsecreted, already, when he takes his throne. Finally, there is the fact that Clovis, by necessity of the charisma of his power and of his *lineage* claimed divine descent.
The contradiction between Clovis' expectation of his vital heritage - and his faith in a G-d not content with polytheism outside a certain trinity - presents both an irresistible dramatic opportunity for an author and a persuasive (to me - and I'm the writer, which puts me in the driver's seat) case for delayed baptism. The thematic idea, brought to us perhaps courtesy of Gregory of Tours, perhaps out of the reality of Clovis' progress in life, that he modeled himself after Constantine allowed me to use that modeling in a literate way to make certain points.
It would have been impossible for me to write The Ax and the Vase without some delay in the baptism, after conversion. At root, essentially, I didn't buy the legend - I didn't accept that these two events occurred together. And so, I placed the baptism well beyond the conversion - and used it to create a scene in which this man, this indomitable power in a crown, actually makes the choice to renounce the tenet of his divine descent ... and accepts that of divine right.
More than a moment's scene, this action is one which informs much of the ensuing history of Europe. First, Clovis lends his considerable power to an alliance with the Catholic Church - then not the leading light in Christianity, nor in Gaul. Finally, he accepts a role, as monarch, which in its essence sets that church in an unmached role of supremacy in the world. This is a tension which played itself out from Becket and beyond, through Henry VIII and the Reformation. This is a dynamic royals managed in capitulation, or cooperation, or confrontation, for a thousand years after Clovis' death.
This was a scene I needed to see in Ax. It was one of the choices research gave me.
***
The other choices I had to make, using my research, was where to use such information as had little to do with particular actions by or times in Clovis' life. I was building a basilica, I studied bricks and ancient church decoration and design. Clovis needed a beautiful sword; I studied pattern welding. There was a particular breed of horse popular in northern Europe, a unique animal - and Clovis' army was the first generation of cavalry in a Frankish tradition of infantry warfare. Clovis' first prince by Clotilde dies ... and I knew the types of grave goods used for royal children. I knew the relics found in his father's tomb. I knew the symbolism attached to certain artifacts of burial - for adults; for children.
Some of the study placed itself almost as easily as actions and events; there seemed to be a place for much of it. I also learned what to set myself to study; introducing a queen into a world, and a story, previously focused only on men, I put time not only into studying the textiles of women's graves - but also to working on the history of costume itself; did lace exist in fourth and fifth century Gaul? (Answer: of course not; though fiber-tied textiles have existed for thousands of years, it was not in place in this *time* and place.) Embroidery. Material. Wine. Crockery. Jewelry - and its figural design and symbolism. Carved gems. Cloisonne'. The articles of hygeine - sandalwood and ivory; combs and hairdressing; leg wear and dyeing techniques.
The archaeology of graves fascinated me significantly; and it offered the wealth it has a tendency to provide - yet, archaeology being what it is, how much of its knowledge reflected LIFE, as much as death? Choices had to be made even in what indicated what - about death, or daily existence. Delineations began to create themselves, even if only in my unprofessional mind. I know I talked with the archaeologist nearest and dearest to me - yet I don't know that I ever asked for actual advice. I'm arrogant that way. But - again - stand by the product.
All the while - a scene here, a piece of dialogue there. I wrote the blue away - taking the fact of that rare breed of horses, and providing Clovis with a timely, peculiar gift from an ally. I turned plugs black as I went along, and even worked on flow and knitting them overall. The tentpoles I put up didn't stand stark and alone; I clothed them with the canvas as I went along.
Utterly unacceptable.
Impossible for me to avoid.
Nothing I would, nor even could, ever apologize for. Over time, I made this method of work serve me so very well that now I cannot conceive any other way.
Some of my research will stand, too, as tentpoles for the second novel, the work in progress *now*. I coded, in my texts, as I went along. Yellow highligher was Clovis'. Pink for the other work. Some passages I plugged into Clovis - and also bookmarked in the nascent document set aside for II. Even some of the pre-edited text first worked for Ax was set down as reminders and context for II. The two works are different. But the work on each one went on at the same time.
I work in a way not allowed by any professional expectation in publishing. Per usual, I refuse to repent this rebelliousness. Because, for me, it yields such excellent storytelling.
Because I was aborbed in the method of creating my story concurrent to its telling, the research process remained, for me, fresh and engaging. And because the writing took place in such proximity to the study I had put in to manage its raw materials, that too, for me, remained compelling as I went along.
***
If you are a writer - read, first of all. Not "for" any reason - only for yourself. Read second to educate yourself - on the process of writing, sure; and on the process of publishing, whether traditional or otherwise. Read finally for your readers - and find those you trust, let them read you too.
And through it ALL - write. All the time, through everything. Segregate it from research, if that is the way for YOU. But never actually stop it. Never let it go.
Friday, February 18, 2011
This Post Has Been Hijacked
Can I Just Say, I HATE What Blogger Does to Return-Spacing In Photo-Inclusive Posts?
Seriously. With the technology available now, Blogger can't manage "Enter" in HTML ... ???
Some of the closest relationships are the hardest to gauge, which is of course a key reason so many human beings become writers - but, oddly enough, that's not so much my raison d'etre. I'm more interested in pure storytelling; though my first novel concerns the pivotal choice of an early Frankish king to ally with the Catholic Church, its nature isn't theological. Though his queen is a massive influence, his relationship with her plays more on the level of a teleplay than a piece of art with emotional allegory. I think my writing has a great deal of power, but it's not in fact thematic; it is entertainment, not art. I write to communicate a plot, not to address personal issues, nor fantasize, nor even Make a Statement about those things I find important. I write because characters' lives compel me, and because I hope they will compel many, many tens of thousands of others. Ahem.
(Funny, this post was all set to be one thing, and it's gone and hijacked itself. I'll be interested to see how this turns out, because I was all ready to be a passive-aggressive coward and talk about something in my life, and here I am nattering on about writing. Funny thing, the way writing can do that to an author.)
So.
Okay, so relationships are weird things. Given (she says, dragging intention back toward a track she doesn't even really want to be on).
(And then gives up, because blogging personal stuff is a rotten way to get anything "done".)
And writing is weird too.
***
I should be posting this at the Sarcastic Broads Club, now that I'm irrevocably committed (i.e. capitulating to my "muse"), because now this post is all about Process, and we SBs have said we'd each be posting about our process.
I see I can still be cowardly, in this post, though - because now I can point to Kristi A's incredible piece, and say, "No. Really. You're not expecting me to coherently follow THIS act. Are you?" And *nobody's* going to get a load of that organization and find me wanting for being, well, wanting, in terms of my own writing process!
She does, however, inspire me to photography. To wit:
The second photo includes texts which will serve me for the not-exactly-a-sequel work in progress. Not pictured: the thousands of web pages' worth of dead ends, the dozens of searches' worth of branching link-to-link meticulous threads followed, to learn about horses - about ancient pattern-welding techniques and technology - about bricks, about ancient particulars of the Church, and of Christianities once thriving, now dismissed to history as heretical sects. About contemporary culture. Politics. Historical figures. Husbandry. Butter. Flax. Leggings. Jewelry. Hygeine, sandalwood, decoration in loom-weaving, the history of lace (which doesn't stretch far enough back, in my region, to have yielded me useful information: beware, kids, the fascination of detours from your point!). Naming conventions. Wedding ceremonies. Coronation, and Germanic royal election ceremonies. Law. Law. Law. Society. Gravesites. Archaeology.
I learned what I neeeded, in some cases, as I went along. Authors will tell aspiring ones - first research, then write. Heck with that. I wrote to discover the research I would need. My research guided my writing in real time. I did reach a point when I was no longer researching - but I had no period when I was working purely in research, and then transitioned to pure writing.
This isn't a metaphorical statement. This is the simple truth. I found plugs to put in where power was needed. I put them in their places in text that was blue, and slowly, slowly, blue text became black work. Writing. My writing. Slowly, slowly, I plugged enough energy into the piece for it to reach 168,000 words.
I could not have done that. I could not have synthesized half so much, story alone, research or no research, by any othe method. I had to be shown what I needed, and I had to find where it needed to be. And then put it all in place.
My process was unformed - it was my first "real" novel. My process would be considered undisciplined by many publishing professionals' standards. My process was contumacious. Stubborn. Resistant.
My process refused the "rules" of other writers, the advice one "must" follow. The supposedly-necessary path by which, alone, one can manage success in the literary world.
I am a writer. Apparently, I don't take well to rules.
The thing is, though: I am also a secretary. I know from Process. And I know that it's necessary to work in your own way. Other "rules" might be wonderfully effective: for other writers. There is no dead-cert recipe for success in what, after all, is a *creative* field.
As research led content, so education maintained my pace. The understanding I gained from increasing understanding of the process and business of writing yielded confidence which impelled me to completion. Working with my creative output as product, rather than art, I am perhaps too pragmatic about the extent to which my emotions - and that ineffable thing, my talent - were engaged in the work. My instinct and my ambition push me perhaps too hard away from the subjective aspects of this creation. I am pragmatic. I seek guidance, critique, and the WORK of ... the work. I resist my own emotional involvement. I resist seeing myself as more than the skillful conduit of something which is more the result of my effort than the fruit of anything deep, about myself.
And then I read it.
And, frankly, I am moved. I am capable of being completely swept up. Recognizing how I formed some parts. Completely surprised by others - unfamiliar - stunned, in the revelation of words I can't remember. Reading the end, I am capable of weeping. Reading even the battle scenes, I am engaged and immersed.
This work, this creation, is both commodity and offspring. I will be proud to sell it, and professional all the way.
Yet I see enormous beauty in this story I told without thematics, without "art" in it. The story alone is magnificent, and I like its rhythm, its tone and texture, its language above all. I *like* it so much - even if I am willing to allow surgery on it; even if I refuse to see every phrase as a precious infant. I'm loath to claim it as art, or something somehow transcending its practical parts. But it's craft enough that I can see it tempered in fire, polished with cutting and grinding. If I don't see it as magic, I see it as the evocation, at least, of something above the concrete.
I can't wait for everyone else to read it.
Seriously. With the technology available now, Blogger can't manage "Enter" in HTML ... ???
Some of the closest relationships are the hardest to gauge, which is of course a key reason so many human beings become writers - but, oddly enough, that's not so much my raison d'etre. I'm more interested in pure storytelling; though my first novel concerns the pivotal choice of an early Frankish king to ally with the Catholic Church, its nature isn't theological. Though his queen is a massive influence, his relationship with her plays more on the level of a teleplay than a piece of art with emotional allegory. I think my writing has a great deal of power, but it's not in fact thematic; it is entertainment, not art. I write to communicate a plot, not to address personal issues, nor fantasize, nor even Make a Statement about those things I find important. I write because characters' lives compel me, and because I hope they will compel many, many tens of thousands of others. Ahem.
(Funny, this post was all set to be one thing, and it's gone and hijacked itself. I'll be interested to see how this turns out, because I was all ready to be a passive-aggressive coward and talk about something in my life, and here I am nattering on about writing. Funny thing, the way writing can do that to an author.)
So.
Okay, so relationships are weird things. Given (she says, dragging intention back toward a track she doesn't even really want to be on).
(And then gives up, because blogging personal stuff is a rotten way to get anything "done".)
And writing is weird too.
***
I should be posting this at the Sarcastic Broads Club, now that I'm irrevocably committed (i.e. capitulating to my "muse"), because now this post is all about Process, and we SBs have said we'd each be posting about our process.
I see I can still be cowardly, in this post, though - because now I can point to Kristi A's incredible piece, and say, "No. Really. You're not expecting me to coherently follow THIS act. Are you?" And *nobody's* going to get a load of that organization and find me wanting for being, well, wanting, in terms of my own writing process!
She does, however, inspire me to photography. To wit:
What you are looking at is pretty much the sum total of research I could find, in hard copy, which had enough to do with my period and my place to be of use to me. I had to forgo the $163 texts, and the French (a pity, that, as they actually write about my subject), and several books I still wish I could find, which are out of print or, again, wildly expensive for my purposes.
The second photo includes texts which will serve me for the not-exactly-a-sequel work in progress. Not pictured: the thousands of web pages' worth of dead ends, the dozens of searches' worth of branching link-to-link meticulous threads followed, to learn about horses - about ancient pattern-welding techniques and technology - about bricks, about ancient particulars of the Church, and of Christianities once thriving, now dismissed to history as heretical sects. About contemporary culture. Politics. Historical figures. Husbandry. Butter. Flax. Leggings. Jewelry. Hygeine, sandalwood, decoration in loom-weaving, the history of lace (which doesn't stretch far enough back, in my region, to have yielded me useful information: beware, kids, the fascination of detours from your point!). Naming conventions. Wedding ceremonies. Coronation, and Germanic royal election ceremonies. Law. Law. Law. Society. Gravesites. Archaeology.
I learned what I neeeded, in some cases, as I went along. Authors will tell aspiring ones - first research, then write. Heck with that. I wrote to discover the research I would need. My research guided my writing in real time. I did reach a point when I was no longer researching - but I had no period when I was working purely in research, and then transitioned to pure writing.
For me, the process was one of working a puzzle. When I found gaps, I knew I had to fill them. I learned that task very early. And taking the path to filling one gap, I found information which then nosed its way in and filled spaces I hadn't known were open. Research FORMED my work in a very real way. It guided me. It followed a timeline, and dictated my progress. Research was my box of pieces, and finding bits and bobs all of the right shading, and colors, I found what fit together and put it all in place. The puzzle wasn't static, it was made of mood rings, of randomizing LED screens, of mutable images which told *me* where they needed to be, which found their way. I led where I knew I needed to - but if my own instincts had been the order of the day, I could not have written as much as 100 pages.
This isn't a metaphorical statement. This is the simple truth. I found plugs to put in where power was needed. I put them in their places in text that was blue, and slowly, slowly, blue text became black work. Writing. My writing. Slowly, slowly, I plugged enough energy into the piece for it to reach 168,000 words.
I could not have done that. I could not have synthesized half so much, story alone, research or no research, by any othe method. I had to be shown what I needed, and I had to find where it needed to be. And then put it all in place.
My process was unformed - it was my first "real" novel. My process would be considered undisciplined by many publishing professionals' standards. My process was contumacious. Stubborn. Resistant.
Effective.
My process refused the "rules" of other writers, the advice one "must" follow. The supposedly-necessary path by which, alone, one can manage success in the literary world.
I am a writer. Apparently, I don't take well to rules.
The thing is, though: I am also a secretary. I know from Process. And I know that it's necessary to work in your own way. Other "rules" might be wonderfully effective: for other writers. There is no dead-cert recipe for success in what, after all, is a *creative* field.
***
As research led content, so education maintained my pace. The understanding I gained from increasing understanding of the process and business of writing yielded confidence which impelled me to completion. Working with my creative output as product, rather than art, I am perhaps too pragmatic about the extent to which my emotions - and that ineffable thing, my talent - were engaged in the work. My instinct and my ambition push me perhaps too hard away from the subjective aspects of this creation. I am pragmatic. I seek guidance, critique, and the WORK of ... the work. I resist my own emotional involvement. I resist seeing myself as more than the skillful conduit of something which is more the result of my effort than the fruit of anything deep, about myself.
And then I read it.
And, frankly, I am moved. I am capable of being completely swept up. Recognizing how I formed some parts. Completely surprised by others - unfamiliar - stunned, in the revelation of words I can't remember. Reading the end, I am capable of weeping. Reading even the battle scenes, I am engaged and immersed.
This work, this creation, is both commodity and offspring. I will be proud to sell it, and professional all the way.
Yet I see enormous beauty in this story I told without thematics, without "art" in it. The story alone is magnificent, and I like its rhythm, its tone and texture, its language above all. I *like* it so much - even if I am willing to allow surgery on it; even if I refuse to see every phrase as a precious infant. I'm loath to claim it as art, or something somehow transcending its practical parts. But it's craft enough that I can see it tempered in fire, polished with cutting and grinding. If I don't see it as magic, I see it as the evocation, at least, of something above the concrete.
And I see it as a hell of a good story.
I can't wait for everyone else to read it.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Oh, HAPPY Valentine's or WhatEVER Day!!!!
I just submitted the payment which, tomorrow morning bright and early, will pay off my car!!!!!!!!
Bloody WOO!
WOO-HOO!!!!
Bloody WOO!
WOO-HOO!!!!
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Take the Con
The Conference was this weekend, and it has done its usual job of generally firing me up (and, more immediately, wearing me out). Love it.
I met with an agent who doesn't do histfic, but who seemed to take to my ideas. I got my first request for a full manuscript.
Kids, this: is big. I might even go so far as to say, it is Major. And them as knows, know I don't use THAT joke lightly.
I also spoke with an agent from the same agency, actually, as she who, in my meeting last year, gave me my first request for a partial. I told her, of all the conferences I've attended, she had some of the clearest, simplest, best, and most insightful words of advice I have heard. And the JRW Conference gets GREAT people - so this is saying a very great deal of this agent. I told her she was so good it made me sorry she doesn't do historical fiction, and about my experience with her colleague, and she said I should query her anyway.
So that was pretty great as well.
Did I mention that I had my first request for a full?
From an agent who usually doesn't DO histfic? Did I mention that? Because if I am that good at selling the concept - and if the concept itself is good enough for TWO agents who don't do histfic to open their doors to me - my instincts about this work, and my confidence in its positive fate, are supremely well gratified in this.
With the cast available at this Conference, I expected there was no chance of interest - never mind fruitful meetings, nor opportunities to actually share my work itself. So this result is extraordinary.
***
Let this be understood, my fella babies. The thing is, these introductions STILL aren't likely to turn into offers of representation. The endpoint here isn't an expectation of getting agented. The endpoint here is just what *today* had to offer. That my work does open doors. That it is not so obscure, not so inacessible, that nobody will even listen, nobody will try it.
TODAY is the endpoint of today, and it is genuinely incredible in itself. I am canny and professional enough to present myself in such a way as to invite - well, invitations. My personal impression doesn't elicit closed doors. And the work I have to offer isn't SO out of the main that it alienates, even by virtue of its genre, which definitely *can* close doors for an author. I write in a form that makes some in publishing skittish. Histfic is sometimes as ghettoized as fantasy and sci fi sometimes have been. So being able to present it as something attractive to a pretty wide audience is important - being able to offer the "why" for an agent, "why someone would read this."
I know why, and can say so - and I am also respectful, engaging, and clearly committed.
These things matter. My writing friends (and you know I know who you are): be able to demonstrate them.
Putting words down well is not entirely enough. This is a JOB. You can't skip over the parts you don't like as much, in the name of only wooing your creative muse because you love her Just So Very Much. Make yourself a product almost as good as your work is. Because, in the end, you've got to sell 'em both.
I met with an agent who doesn't do histfic, but who seemed to take to my ideas. I got my first request for a full manuscript.
Kids, this: is big. I might even go so far as to say, it is Major. And them as knows, know I don't use THAT joke lightly.
I also spoke with an agent from the same agency, actually, as she who, in my meeting last year, gave me my first request for a partial. I told her, of all the conferences I've attended, she had some of the clearest, simplest, best, and most insightful words of advice I have heard. And the JRW Conference gets GREAT people - so this is saying a very great deal of this agent. I told her she was so good it made me sorry she doesn't do historical fiction, and about my experience with her colleague, and she said I should query her anyway.
So that was pretty great as well.
Did I mention that I had my first request for a full?
From an agent who usually doesn't DO histfic? Did I mention that? Because if I am that good at selling the concept - and if the concept itself is good enough for TWO agents who don't do histfic to open their doors to me - my instincts about this work, and my confidence in its positive fate, are supremely well gratified in this.
With the cast available at this Conference, I expected there was no chance of interest - never mind fruitful meetings, nor opportunities to actually share my work itself. So this result is extraordinary.
***
Let this be understood, my fella babies. The thing is, these introductions STILL aren't likely to turn into offers of representation. The endpoint here isn't an expectation of getting agented. The endpoint here is just what *today* had to offer. That my work does open doors. That it is not so obscure, not so inacessible, that nobody will even listen, nobody will try it.
TODAY is the endpoint of today, and it is genuinely incredible in itself. I am canny and professional enough to present myself in such a way as to invite - well, invitations. My personal impression doesn't elicit closed doors. And the work I have to offer isn't SO out of the main that it alienates, even by virtue of its genre, which definitely *can* close doors for an author. I write in a form that makes some in publishing skittish. Histfic is sometimes as ghettoized as fantasy and sci fi sometimes have been. So being able to present it as something attractive to a pretty wide audience is important - being able to offer the "why" for an agent, "why someone would read this."
I know why, and can say so - and I am also respectful, engaging, and clearly committed.
These things matter. My writing friends (and you know I know who you are): be able to demonstrate them.
Putting words down well is not entirely enough. This is a JOB. You can't skip over the parts you don't like as much, in the name of only wooing your creative muse because you love her Just So Very Much. Make yourself a product almost as good as your work is. Because, in the end, you've got to sell 'em both.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Special Project
Today I got called onto my first priority project for the boss. He asked me to work with one of the managers, who recruited another one from one of the other regions, and she set us to work compiling a massive store of emails and documents into a central, coherent piece.
In truth, it was tedious work best not charged to people whose time, you know, costs significantly more than mine does. But I was glad of the opportunity to demonstrate both alacrity and ability (tedium doesn't mean you don't have to pay attention, kids; that's an important secret of any job, not just secretarial work), and also to work with this manager. She's the first person who gave me a resource, before I had a computer, and she's also the first person who asked me to DO anything for her, also before I had a computer. I was grateful for that, too, because even if it was "just making labels" it was work, and there was no sense in these people having me around if I was only memorizing the supply catalogue. Give me labels, it's not something I feel a need to get snobby about, given the lack of resources!
Thing is, since getting said computer, my continued issues with certain access have led me to disappoint this manager a couple times, and it is frustrating. She doesn't get snippy about it, but it's definitely no more irksome to me to be unable to do my job than it is to her to be unable to depend on someone for things they ought to be empowered to do. Any (lack of) complaint about my onboarding aside, again - it's not as if this woman has overstepped some sort of bounds. She's asked for room reservations (it took me two days to manage) and stuff like that. You'd better believe it felt GOOD to have her ask me to step up on a deadline, and to deliver for her. Even if what I delivered was 241 pages of cutting-and-pasting. I was cutting and pasting on the way to a document my own boss is going to need. The manager wanted us to put together the makings of a rock star presentation.
Give me a the chance to be part of that, and dadgum skippy I will be your tedious cut-and-paster. Of COURSE I will. And demonstrably grateful for the opportunity.
I actually finished the collection of pieces before 3:00 this afternoon, which amazed me, because before the midpoint of the pile I had to go through it was looking like overtime. I expected to bring my laptop home tonight and work off network on this for much of the evening. So finishing at midafternoon felt pretty d*mned good. I was partying, and by the time she asked me for a cover with timelines to illustrate deliverables, that was just FUN - and steps two (culling/deleting/streamlining) and three (cosmetics/formatting) are the easier ones, too. Step one is often the worst of the lot, with special projects, particularly deadlined ones. I know my best way to work, I lit into this pile, and I managed to get THROUGH it. It felt simply amazing.
***
I said to E last night, the truth is, I really don't know how I could have gotten this job. He asked me if I had prayed, given myself to whatever would be the best thing for me. And of course I did do that. But whatever it was in my resume - in my AWKWARD interview on the phone, or the blase' one I gave in person, having come to the conclusion there was no way I was getting this gig, period - that got me in this gig, I sincerely cannot imagine. It is beyond me to understand what I could have ever done to deserve this fortune.
Mind you, I know my strengths, and they're formidable.
But this market ... I seriously do not know what made this happen. The possible "connection" I thought I had swears he wouldn't even have been in a position to say anything even if he had had the time to. The couple-hundred resumes I know must have joined mine in consideration absolutely contained some strong contenders; this town isn't big enough I don't LITERALLY know my own competition - and it's fierce. I was a dink on the telephone, and short of breath in person. I didn't come off idiotically, nor smell bad, but I was NOT stellar in my presentation nor even my person, and I know that very clearly.
So I'm feeling the need to make up for whatever my LUCK has been, and to do it justice.
***
I have been fortunate and blessed to have some unbelievably good jobs. My last position in insurance, I worked for one of the greatest bosses I've ever had - and I've had a number of good ones, lucky stinker that I am. My last position in the mainstream financial services industry - people HATED me, because I had the best boss. He'd walk out of the office at 2:00 on a Friday, look at me bewildered, and say, "what are you still doing here?" And he wasn't any pushover - he expected only the best. But he gave his team all he could, and "collegial" wasn't just some sort of cute corporate conceit coming from his mouth. He was one of the finest people I've ever worked with, and watching others around me, at all levels, coming to realize that too was incredibly gratifying, as he became a known quantity at that firm.
He also gave the most elegant, generous gifts. Just today I wore my Movado glass locket with the #1 in it he gave me as a parting present. As always happens, someone complimented it in the elevator. I have seen well to do women eyeing that and peering at me over it. I love that gift probably more for its giver even than its refinement and style. It is the very emblem of generosity.
***
So. Yeah. I've had some good jobs in my day. I've had high caliber, highly visible positions; my references are likely more powerful than my resume itself ... SVPs, CROs, Directors, Vice Presidents who worked with me in above-and-beyond capacities. I'm extremely fortunate in the people who somehow have found reason to give me their humbling, much esteemed respect. Apparently, I have a gift in my total lack of fear to network - even though I'm "just a secretary". I know my assets - ambition, confidence, and creativity in communication - and I use the devil out of them.
But this job ... It's either been so long since I felt so fully challenged, or I really am on a wholly different level in this place than I've ever been before (not stratospherically executive per se - but the nature of my employer is so absolutely unlike the mainstream profit-and-growth financial sector I spent so many years supporting) that my commitment is engaged in a whole new way.
Yes, that is it.
I forge very real commitments to, and loyalties to, my employers, if I possibly can. I find ways and reasons to invest myself in my living.
But ... this new employer ...
I am part of something literally bigger and more important than I have ever been part of before. I may be "just a secretary" - but I'm one whale of just a secretary when I want to be ... and, fella babies.
I want to be.
I am wowed by my own opportunity here - and I mean "here" - in my very own job. Not the opportunity to grow out of it, not the "possibility for advancement" - I work in a project, in a place, the like of which I've never been part of. And I have the chance to offer a level of support either satisfyingly adequate and charming, or genuinely value-added.
Guess which of those I find myself urging to go for.
I want to wow these people.
I want to give them the BEST, and accustom them completely to seamless support. I want them, actually, to become almost unaware of my work, because it is done unfailingly.
I'm reaching the point where my access is approaching the level I require to be able to do this. I've worked very hard not to whinge about what has gone slowly, and to fill in the gaps as much as I can where I still require others' help.
I've bought chocolate, and greased all the wheels I could with very real gratitude for all the help I have gotten.
I've begun to build the network of relationships I'll need to manage my work.
And even a person who may have some reason herself not to appreciate my presence says I am a fast learner, and doing very well.
Learning, interestingly, has been the very smallest part of my transition so far. (This was not the case at my previous position ...) I find my concentration at peak levels, because I am so fully ENGAGED, and I care so much about this job. This work.
Today, I had my first special project.
I'll sleep knowing I gave it a hell of a good go.
And hoping that this is how it looks to those who needed to put me on it.
In truth, it was tedious work best not charged to people whose time, you know, costs significantly more than mine does. But I was glad of the opportunity to demonstrate both alacrity and ability (tedium doesn't mean you don't have to pay attention, kids; that's an important secret of any job, not just secretarial work), and also to work with this manager. She's the first person who gave me a resource, before I had a computer, and she's also the first person who asked me to DO anything for her, also before I had a computer. I was grateful for that, too, because even if it was "just making labels" it was work, and there was no sense in these people having me around if I was only memorizing the supply catalogue. Give me labels, it's not something I feel a need to get snobby about, given the lack of resources!
Thing is, since getting said computer, my continued issues with certain access have led me to disappoint this manager a couple times, and it is frustrating. She doesn't get snippy about it, but it's definitely no more irksome to me to be unable to do my job than it is to her to be unable to depend on someone for things they ought to be empowered to do. Any (lack of) complaint about my onboarding aside, again - it's not as if this woman has overstepped some sort of bounds. She's asked for room reservations (it took me two days to manage) and stuff like that. You'd better believe it felt GOOD to have her ask me to step up on a deadline, and to deliver for her. Even if what I delivered was 241 pages of cutting-and-pasting. I was cutting and pasting on the way to a document my own boss is going to need. The manager wanted us to put together the makings of a rock star presentation.
Give me a the chance to be part of that, and dadgum skippy I will be your tedious cut-and-paster. Of COURSE I will. And demonstrably grateful for the opportunity.
I actually finished the collection of pieces before 3:00 this afternoon, which amazed me, because before the midpoint of the pile I had to go through it was looking like overtime. I expected to bring my laptop home tonight and work off network on this for much of the evening. So finishing at midafternoon felt pretty d*mned good. I was partying, and by the time she asked me for a cover with timelines to illustrate deliverables, that was just FUN - and steps two (culling/deleting/streamlining) and three (cosmetics/formatting) are the easier ones, too. Step one is often the worst of the lot, with special projects, particularly deadlined ones. I know my best way to work, I lit into this pile, and I managed to get THROUGH it. It felt simply amazing.
***
I said to E last night, the truth is, I really don't know how I could have gotten this job. He asked me if I had prayed, given myself to whatever would be the best thing for me. And of course I did do that. But whatever it was in my resume - in my AWKWARD interview on the phone, or the blase' one I gave in person, having come to the conclusion there was no way I was getting this gig, period - that got me in this gig, I sincerely cannot imagine. It is beyond me to understand what I could have ever done to deserve this fortune.
Mind you, I know my strengths, and they're formidable.
But this market ... I seriously do not know what made this happen. The possible "connection" I thought I had swears he wouldn't even have been in a position to say anything even if he had had the time to. The couple-hundred resumes I know must have joined mine in consideration absolutely contained some strong contenders; this town isn't big enough I don't LITERALLY know my own competition - and it's fierce. I was a dink on the telephone, and short of breath in person. I didn't come off idiotically, nor smell bad, but I was NOT stellar in my presentation nor even my person, and I know that very clearly.
So I'm feeling the need to make up for whatever my LUCK has been, and to do it justice.
***
I have been fortunate and blessed to have some unbelievably good jobs. My last position in insurance, I worked for one of the greatest bosses I've ever had - and I've had a number of good ones, lucky stinker that I am. My last position in the mainstream financial services industry - people HATED me, because I had the best boss. He'd walk out of the office at 2:00 on a Friday, look at me bewildered, and say, "what are you still doing here?" And he wasn't any pushover - he expected only the best. But he gave his team all he could, and "collegial" wasn't just some sort of cute corporate conceit coming from his mouth. He was one of the finest people I've ever worked with, and watching others around me, at all levels, coming to realize that too was incredibly gratifying, as he became a known quantity at that firm.
He also gave the most elegant, generous gifts. Just today I wore my Movado glass locket with the #1 in it he gave me as a parting present. As always happens, someone complimented it in the elevator. I have seen well to do women eyeing that and peering at me over it. I love that gift probably more for its giver even than its refinement and style. It is the very emblem of generosity.
***
So. Yeah. I've had some good jobs in my day. I've had high caliber, highly visible positions; my references are likely more powerful than my resume itself ... SVPs, CROs, Directors, Vice Presidents who worked with me in above-and-beyond capacities. I'm extremely fortunate in the people who somehow have found reason to give me their humbling, much esteemed respect. Apparently, I have a gift in my total lack of fear to network - even though I'm "just a secretary". I know my assets - ambition, confidence, and creativity in communication - and I use the devil out of them.
But this job ... It's either been so long since I felt so fully challenged, or I really am on a wholly different level in this place than I've ever been before (not stratospherically executive per se - but the nature of my employer is so absolutely unlike the mainstream profit-and-growth financial sector I spent so many years supporting) that my commitment is engaged in a whole new way.
Yes, that is it.
I forge very real commitments to, and loyalties to, my employers, if I possibly can. I find ways and reasons to invest myself in my living.
But ... this new employer ...
I am part of something literally bigger and more important than I have ever been part of before. I may be "just a secretary" - but I'm one whale of just a secretary when I want to be ... and, fella babies.
I want to be.
I am wowed by my own opportunity here - and I mean "here" - in my very own job. Not the opportunity to grow out of it, not the "possibility for advancement" - I work in a project, in a place, the like of which I've never been part of. And I have the chance to offer a level of support either satisfyingly adequate and charming, or genuinely value-added.
Guess which of those I find myself urging to go for.
I want to wow these people.
I want to give them the BEST, and accustom them completely to seamless support. I want them, actually, to become almost unaware of my work, because it is done unfailingly.
I'm reaching the point where my access is approaching the level I require to be able to do this. I've worked very hard not to whinge about what has gone slowly, and to fill in the gaps as much as I can where I still require others' help.
I've bought chocolate, and greased all the wheels I could with very real gratitude for all the help I have gotten.
I've begun to build the network of relationships I'll need to manage my work.
And even a person who may have some reason herself not to appreciate my presence says I am a fast learner, and doing very well.
Learning, interestingly, has been the very smallest part of my transition so far. (This was not the case at my previous position ...) I find my concentration at peak levels, because I am so fully ENGAGED, and I care so much about this job. This work.
Today, I had my first special project.
I'll sleep knowing I gave it a hell of a good go.
And hoping that this is how it looks to those who needed to put me on it.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Job
I still can't believe I got the offer, and the fact that I haven't got the offer letter in hand (well, in electronig inbox, anyway) doesn't dispel the sensation. But it seems to me like they called me today. It seems to me they made a nice offer - and then discussed some specific things about me the managers are specifically and particularly excited about. It seems to me that means I can start work with a confidence in the direction I need to take, and the apparent implication that I was actually the runaway favorite candidate for this.
It seems all very true, and all very good, and like a huge piece of good news on a gloriously beautiful day, on a holiday weekend.
It seems wonderful.
I still can't believe it, though.
It seems all very true, and all very good, and like a huge piece of good news on a gloriously beautiful day, on a holiday weekend.
It seems wonderful.
I still can't believe it, though.
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