... can I do an audio post? Seriously, my control panel has vid, but no audio attachment option ... is that weird?
Actually, I should do it as a page, like the excerpts. Because what I want to read is my synopsis.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Silly Tresses
It's a good thing that I am not religious about the style, position, or continuity of my hair.
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.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Cutting
Yesterday at Ten Thousand Villages, among the many retail items to admire, I saw the most intriguingly beautiful plant. Admiring it, I asked one of the women working there what it was, and she said she likes to call it a Dinosaur Begonia, because it reminded her of a dinosaur. She gave me and mom two cuttings.
I think it looks like a tiger, or even a tarantula, with hairs on its stems, and coloration so dark running through its leaves, the purple is as dark as black.
Beautiful.
Mom forgot her leaf, but I have them both in a vase right now. She'll come get it soon.
And then we'll both have beautiful plants.
I think it looks like a tiger, or even a tarantula, with hairs on its stems, and coloration so dark running through its leaves, the purple is as dark as black.
Beautiful.
Mom forgot her leaf, but I have them both in a vase right now. She'll come get it soon.
And then we'll both have beautiful plants.
Another Part of My Spirit
The day began bright and beautiful, a phrase chosen very much with a winking smile and a finger tapping the side of the bridge of my nose. Today was the blessing of the animals at church.
I've never gone to one of these, but always found it a charming idea. I realize, too, there is more than one way to skin a cat (har) spiritually - and this does have an importance to it. The service was held outside, and the thing I noticed was that the presence of our animals provided ways and reasons for our fellowship to speak with one *another* in ways which ordinarily we do not. Even as welcoming and loving as this congregation has always been to me, today had something special about it.
I love my dear dog, and consider her a blessing. But in blessing her, once again, I was the receiver.
I had the priest speak to her, not as Sidney, but as Lolly. The name I use with her the most. The softer one. The one which came as a song, the one which rose like mist from HER - not the name once given to her by people who gave her up. My sweet little La.
And, bless her all over again, she was such a good - and HAPPY - girl.
***
Dad loved her. She is a great sitting-at-your-feet-and-sighing-quietly dog, and she is also an archetypally DOG-gy dog. She's not too small, but she's terribly cute. She's not too barky, but when she does speak she has the power of an animal. She's playful, but content. She's aristocratic looking, but a perfect mutt. Mixed and made, she's absolutely excellent.
***
So today I blessed my dog, and found (I hope) rest for my father.
A good day.
I'm going to finish cleaning. Then, I think, oatmeal with cinnamon for dinner. Just the nice, warm thing to enjoy.
I've never gone to one of these, but always found it a charming idea. I realize, too, there is more than one way to skin a cat (har) spiritually - and this does have an importance to it. The service was held outside, and the thing I noticed was that the presence of our animals provided ways and reasons for our fellowship to speak with one *another* in ways which ordinarily we do not. Even as welcoming and loving as this congregation has always been to me, today had something special about it.
I love my dear dog, and consider her a blessing. But in blessing her, once again, I was the receiver.
I had the priest speak to her, not as Sidney, but as Lolly. The name I use with her the most. The softer one. The one which came as a song, the one which rose like mist from HER - not the name once given to her by people who gave her up. My sweet little La.
And, bless her all over again, she was such a good - and HAPPY - girl.
***
Dad loved her. She is a great sitting-at-your-feet-and-sighing-quietly dog, and she is also an archetypally DOG-gy dog. She's not too small, but she's terribly cute. She's not too barky, but when she does speak she has the power of an animal. She's playful, but content. She's aristocratic looking, but a perfect mutt. Mixed and made, she's absolutely excellent.
***
So today I blessed my dog, and found (I hope) rest for my father.
A good day.
I'm going to finish cleaning. Then, I think, oatmeal with cinnamon for dinner. Just the nice, warm thing to enjoy.
Rest
I forgot one thing.
When dad was fighting to be able to breathe ...
... he said he was fighting the dragon.
***
Either I have made a horrible mistake, or the dragon is honoring the hero.
I put his ashes in the box today. It was an exact perfect fit. When I put the lid on, pushed its crease into the rim of the little clay bowl, a tiny grey puff arose. Breath of the dragon.
I wonder whether I have done a terribly wrong thing. Only one person who reads here can tell me. And I'm listening.
***
I miss you, dad.
It's hard, and it is harder without you. I'm sorry I made it harder for you, too.
All I could say. No prayer for this one.
When dad was fighting to be able to breathe ...
... he said he was fighting the dragon.
***
Either I have made a horrible mistake, or the dragon is honoring the hero.
I put his ashes in the box today. It was an exact perfect fit. When I put the lid on, pushed its crease into the rim of the little clay bowl, a tiny grey puff arose. Breath of the dragon.
I wonder whether I have done a terribly wrong thing. Only one person who reads here can tell me. And I'm listening.
***
I miss you, dad.
It's hard, and it is harder without you. I'm sorry I made it harder for you, too.
All I could say. No prayer for this one.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
The Vault That Made Me Be
My father has been dead almost eight years, and in that time he has been in a box.
Ordinarily, this would be appropriate; except that we cremated his body. And it is a small portion of his cremains I am talking about. My part of dad's ashes. And the box they are in is a jewelry box.
In a baggie.
Ziploc - though I'm not sure it isn't an off brand bag. I don't think it's even got the yellow-and-blue-make-green closing seam. It definitely doesn't have one of those newfangled hard plastic zippy-closey-handle things they do now.
So off and on, over the years, I have looked in different places to find a good place to put my piece...s, of my father.
I never liked the idea of a glass bottle. He didn't want his body viewed - though a few did go to say goodbye to him. After they had removed his eyes. His bandaged face was the last some saw of dad.
The last I saw of him was his still-warm hand, his bright wedding band, in his hospital bed. The way his hand infinitessimally contracted on mine.
***
I have looked at soapstone keepsake boxes ... carved wooden ones ... many kinds. I've talked with my brother about his carving one. I've had one friend, TT, who warmed to the idea of helping me find something. T is so lovely.
Today was simply a glorious day. This is the season my father loved best - classes underway, crisp days coming to cleanse the heat and sweat of summer - the time of year, through history, so many of us who live with seasons have chosen for reflection and renewal. Mom happened to call me, and I was excited when she wanted to go to Carytown. And in Carytown is Ten Thousand Villages. Exactly the sort of place one might find a small, lovely place ... to put one's father's ashes.
***
When I was little (... and isn't that a funny phrase, out of a middle-aged woman? I realize, those words are ones you usually hear from people under the age of ten ...), my dad used to tell us the story of how mama made him marry her.
Mama worked at a bank.
She kept a dragon in the vault.
***
The box is small and clay. The dragon is wonderful. It happens, too, that of course dragons are magic, as was my father. That dragons are often joyous, and sometimes even amusing. Sometimes quite dear.
And dragons are auspicious. They are good - and *great* - symbols.
My dad will rest guarded by a dragon. Seems right.
And now I want to dig out the book my brother gave me once. "An Instinct for Dragons."
Ordinarily, this would be appropriate; except that we cremated his body. And it is a small portion of his cremains I am talking about. My part of dad's ashes. And the box they are in is a jewelry box.
In a baggie.
Ziploc - though I'm not sure it isn't an off brand bag. I don't think it's even got the yellow-and-blue-make-green closing seam. It definitely doesn't have one of those newfangled hard plastic zippy-closey-handle things they do now.
So off and on, over the years, I have looked in different places to find a good place to put my piece...s, of my father.
I never liked the idea of a glass bottle. He didn't want his body viewed - though a few did go to say goodbye to him. After they had removed his eyes. His bandaged face was the last some saw of dad.
The last I saw of him was his still-warm hand, his bright wedding band, in his hospital bed. The way his hand infinitessimally contracted on mine.
***
I have looked at soapstone keepsake boxes ... carved wooden ones ... many kinds. I've talked with my brother about his carving one. I've had one friend, TT, who warmed to the idea of helping me find something. T is so lovely.
Today was simply a glorious day. This is the season my father loved best - classes underway, crisp days coming to cleanse the heat and sweat of summer - the time of year, through history, so many of us who live with seasons have chosen for reflection and renewal. Mom happened to call me, and I was excited when she wanted to go to Carytown. And in Carytown is Ten Thousand Villages. Exactly the sort of place one might find a small, lovely place ... to put one's father's ashes.
***
When I was little (... and isn't that a funny phrase, out of a middle-aged woman? I realize, those words are ones you usually hear from people under the age of ten ...), my dad used to tell us the story of how mama made him marry her.
Mama worked at a bank.
She kept a dragon in the vault.
***
The box is small and clay. The dragon is wonderful. It happens, too, that of course dragons are magic, as was my father. That dragons are often joyous, and sometimes even amusing. Sometimes quite dear.
And dragons are auspicious. They are good - and *great* - symbols.
My dad will rest guarded by a dragon. Seems right.
And now I want to dig out the book my brother gave me once. "An Instinct for Dragons."
Friday, October 1, 2010
Curvatus en Se Some More
Since someone got stuck on THIS site thanks to a search string asking the question: curvatus en se is Latin for curved in on oneself, like an embryo. It's from St. Augustine's "Confessions", and it refers basically to the sin of self-absorption (yes, kids: I *do* know how apropos that is), of infantile concern for oneself above all.
Now ya know. Now go have fun with some ancient Catholic reading. Or make some jokes about Hippo, if you like. I won't judge. I'm far more concerned with myself.
Now ya know. Now go have fun with some ancient Catholic reading. Or make some jokes about Hippo, if you like. I won't judge. I'm far more concerned with myself.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Con Time
My Conference is in a week, and last night came the news that the editor I had a meeting with has had to cancel her participation. It's a bit of a blow, though I know that must sound pretty overdramatic.
Registration time this year came right in my period of unemployment. I had finished the novel, was (much more actively) querying, and was excited for this event, my annual fire-starter, fun time, and opportunity. Last year, I got a request for a partial out of my agent meeting, and this year an agent from the agency which handles Sharon Kay Penman was on the list.
I queried this particular woman, with mention of SKP and another histfic writer on their roster, and noted the upcoming Conference, where I'd like to meet her. She couldn't have been nicer when she told me SKP was in fact one of the owner's first clients ever, and the other one had been her ASSISTANT for eight years - and that, actually, other than those two, they really don't do histfic. But please say hi at the Conference.
Will do.
Agh, but - *sigh*
I hike up my boots and look at the Conference list, and find that the EDITOR appearing as well lists historical fiction first in her area of expertise, go "WHEEEEEE" and sign up for her. You know, really, I said to myself, this is better than an agent - because with an agent, the conversation is black or white (give me a partial, or flat rejection), whereas maybe an editor will say, "Okay have you queried X, Y, or Z yet?" or "you know, for your kind of non-romance historical writing, being a woman, I know an agent who could sell you just right."
I mean, sure, that's the realm of fantasy in some ways. But my writing is good, my story has such a hook, and frankly I am, as a property myself, not without some interesting aspects. And, again, an editor might have a wider scope to offer, if she were interested enough to do so. An agent - even if interested, the only option at a Con is "maybe".
Maybe was wildly exciting last year. But I think it is off the table now. As is anything else.
***
So when the editor canceled, I have to say, I was thinking, "well of course." So now I have a Conference to go to with nobody who handles my genre. In some ways, this is freeing. But it's a little disappointing.
The agent I have chosen to meet with now, I would say almost certainly has no interest in histfic. Her house is the only one of those entities appearing which even MENTIONS histfic at all - so the outside chance here is that someone else at that venue might be a referral. I can't say my hopes are high for this, but it is still another pitch opportunity, and I prefer that to the querying process. Living eyes - even if they are not really looking to see what I'm showing - is STILL more fulfilling than blindly wondering, "Do I look like a complete moron here?"
I am bummed out.
But I'm also still excited.
And not because, accidentally, it turns out next weekend will be a four-day-er. (Hey, thanks, Columbus!)
Registration time this year came right in my period of unemployment. I had finished the novel, was (much more actively) querying, and was excited for this event, my annual fire-starter, fun time, and opportunity. Last year, I got a request for a partial out of my agent meeting, and this year an agent from the agency which handles Sharon Kay Penman was on the list.
I queried this particular woman, with mention of SKP and another histfic writer on their roster, and noted the upcoming Conference, where I'd like to meet her. She couldn't have been nicer when she told me SKP was in fact one of the owner's first clients ever, and the other one had been her ASSISTANT for eight years - and that, actually, other than those two, they really don't do histfic. But please say hi at the Conference.
Will do.
Agh, but - *sigh*
I hike up my boots and look at the Conference list, and find that the EDITOR appearing as well lists historical fiction first in her area of expertise, go "WHEEEEEE" and sign up for her. You know, really, I said to myself, this is better than an agent - because with an agent, the conversation is black or white (give me a partial, or flat rejection), whereas maybe an editor will say, "Okay have you queried X, Y, or Z yet?" or "you know, for your kind of non-romance historical writing, being a woman, I know an agent who could sell you just right."
I mean, sure, that's the realm of fantasy in some ways. But my writing is good, my story has such a hook, and frankly I am, as a property myself, not without some interesting aspects. And, again, an editor might have a wider scope to offer, if she were interested enough to do so. An agent - even if interested, the only option at a Con is "maybe".
Maybe was wildly exciting last year. But I think it is off the table now. As is anything else.
***
So when the editor canceled, I have to say, I was thinking, "well of course." So now I have a Conference to go to with nobody who handles my genre. In some ways, this is freeing. But it's a little disappointing.
The agent I have chosen to meet with now, I would say almost certainly has no interest in histfic. Her house is the only one of those entities appearing which even MENTIONS histfic at all - so the outside chance here is that someone else at that venue might be a referral. I can't say my hopes are high for this, but it is still another pitch opportunity, and I prefer that to the querying process. Living eyes - even if they are not really looking to see what I'm showing - is STILL more fulfilling than blindly wondering, "Do I look like a complete moron here?"
I am bummed out.
But I'm also still excited.
And not because, accidentally, it turns out next weekend will be a four-day-er. (Hey, thanks, Columbus!)
It's Amazing ...
... how much time you an spend on a job on cleanup work which should never become necessary to begin with. Backlogs built by technology, glitches in systems which cause data loss and rework - or just inquiring and having to re-inqure multiple times on items which require someone else's follow through.
The people both on my team and in my world, at work, are generally fairly amazing. But ALL of us, I think, find holdups and backtracks a significant part of every day.
I'm not musing about this in annoyance. It just almost ... impresses me, if you get the sense of the term. I'm interested how much of a modern workday consists of reworks.
The people both on my team and in my world, at work, are generally fairly amazing. But ALL of us, I think, find holdups and backtracks a significant part of every day.
I'm not musing about this in annoyance. It just almost ... impresses me, if you get the sense of the term. I'm interested how much of a modern workday consists of reworks.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
At Last
The sky is growing grey and cool ... it's raining already at my mom's house ... and I am waiting for it to arrive here.
What a beautiful day it is!
What a beautiful day it is!
Morning Delivery
Fifth morning in the past week - I woke up with a headache again.
Certain things about autumn allergy season, I would not mind living without.
Certain things about autumn allergy season, I would not mind living without.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
News to Me
James Spader is in Wall Street, the movie which gave us "greed is good" - what I never knew was that he plays the ETHICAL guy in this movie swimming in smarm, deceit, and arrogance.
I had no idea he'd ever done that. At least not in the eighties!
I had no idea he'd ever done that. At least not in the eighties!
Lathe of Heaven
I discovered by accident that Ursula K. LeGuin's "Lathe of Heaven" has been adapted twice.
The PBS version from 1980 was what I thought I had put on my Netflix qeue; imagine my surprise when I put it in the player and found Lukas Haas, Jimmy Caan, and Lisa Bonet. Huh.
So now the 1980 version is on the qeue next, and popped up to the top of the list. I have suspicions it is the better show.
LeGuin sits deep in my heart, most thanks to her novel, "The Left Hand of Darkness", which, in addition to being a fantastic story, happens to be an extremely well-written one too. LeGuin has a deftness I can't claim for myself (Left Hand is a couple-day read, fast-moving and intensely engaging ... my own first novel clocks in at 530 pages, with an extensive author's note to boot), but what she does in the space she uses is potent, thorough, exciting, fascinating. I'm not sure there is a better world-builder out there. Certainly there are few storytellers of her rank.
My ancient, much-thumbed "Darkness" is no longer in my hands; it made a deeply-felt gift in recent years. It's time I refreshed my library for this particular author. She is amazing. And "Birthday of the World" has been on my Wish List for too long without my purchasing it.
The PBS version from 1980 was what I thought I had put on my Netflix qeue; imagine my surprise when I put it in the player and found Lukas Haas, Jimmy Caan, and Lisa Bonet. Huh.
So now the 1980 version is on the qeue next, and popped up to the top of the list. I have suspicions it is the better show.
LeGuin sits deep in my heart, most thanks to her novel, "The Left Hand of Darkness", which, in addition to being a fantastic story, happens to be an extremely well-written one too. LeGuin has a deftness I can't claim for myself (Left Hand is a couple-day read, fast-moving and intensely engaging ... my own first novel clocks in at 530 pages, with an extensive author's note to boot), but what she does in the space she uses is potent, thorough, exciting, fascinating. I'm not sure there is a better world-builder out there. Certainly there are few storytellers of her rank.
My ancient, much-thumbed "Darkness" is no longer in my hands; it made a deeply-felt gift in recent years. It's time I refreshed my library for this particular author. She is amazing. And "Birthday of the World" has been on my Wish List for too long without my purchasing it.
My Geek-ery Contains Multitudes
Have I been planning what to wear for my editor meeting on Friday, the 8th?
Yes.
Yes, I have.
Yes.
Yes, I have.
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