Why did newsletters became the default way for people to stay in touch, rather than a feed reader. Sad.
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Attending conferences and conventions is nothing new to me, but when I signed up as a participant of Chicon8, my self-described “semi-benevolent” editor, Steven Radecki rubbed his hands saying, “I can’t wait to read the blog post you’re going to write after your first Worldcon.” Here ya go.
I’m a new author. At least, with respect to speculative fiction in English. I’ve written scientific publications, self-published books of haiku in Esperanto, and even won awards for haibun and speculative fiction in Esperanto. But getting my work published for the English market in speculative fiction is new. My first work, Revin’s Heart, a steampunky fantasy adventure with airships and pirates and a trans protagonist, was serialized by Water Dragon Publishing as seven novelettes and the fourth, Crossing the Streams, will be coming out soon. But I digress.
I signed up to participate in Worldcon and filled out an interest survey in Planorama—the online tool they used to identify panelists and moderators. I didn’t know exactly what to expect, but when I looked at my proposed schedule, they had put me in eight (8) separate program elements: I was the moderator of three panels, a participant in two, I had a “table talk” and a “reading”, plus I volunteered to help a fellow Water Dragon author run a workshop in manuscript formatting. I was floored. My first Worldcon? Eight things? What a debut!
As the convention approached, the attending authors lamented that our publisher wasn’t planning to have a dealer table at the convention to allow us to sell and sign books. So, wily devil that he is, our editor indicated that had a super-secret long-range plan to have the Small Publishing in a Big Universe podcast set up a “Marketplace” table where small-press and indie authors could, for a nominal fee, get space to display two or three books, and, for agreeing to help staff the table, arrange times to meet with readers and sign books. He had been planning to do this next year. But faced with multiple authors jumping up and down with excitement, did the eight months of work in three weeks to pull it off for us to do it this year.
Being unsure about expectations, I contacted the panels for which I was moderator very early to introduce myself and to ask for names (and pronunciations), brief biographies to use to introduce people, and ideas for questions or topics that they would like the opportunity to discuss. This was perhaps atypical (neither of the moderators of the panels I was in contacted me much before Worldcon and one only shortly before the panel.) But I was happy to be over-prepared, rather than trying to do it cold.
One thing that can’t be exaggerated is how terrifying it was to head to my first public event after the pandemic. I had not flown since the pandemic. So literally every step felt like a new and dangerous thing. I had decided to purchase first class tickets (which was not as much more expensive than I had feared), but it made flying almost like flying used to be: instead of having to deal with robots to check in, I got to talk to a person! They accepted my baggage (at least in O’Hare) without my having to drag it to some distant location to leave with the airport security-theatre fascists. My trip through security had a much shorter line than typical. My seat was wide enough for my seat. And right at the front, where I thought I was less likely to be exposed to plague-rats. They brought me beer for free — even before flight! And I got to get off the airplane first. And, finally, since I was carrying the majority of the books for the marketplace table, I could carry a whole suitcase with 45lbs of books for free (since you don’t have to pay extra for the first two checked bags).
Arriving at the hotel, I hooked up with Philip Brewer and we went down immediately to the registration table and got credentialed. Then we began exploring the vast space where events were scheduled. Since I was on the program for eight different things (plus the vendor table) my head was swimming trying to figure out where stuff was and how to get there. It was like one of those mechanical aptitude tests where you have to rotate things to figure out how they fit together. There were escalators going this way and that way, two different buildings on different sides of the street with both a tunnel and a skywalk connecting them.
We went to the Dealer Room and met the awesome and amazing Angela Jones-Parker who accepted the profuse thanks my publisher had asked me to express and promptly handed over Dealer ribbons to us to place immediately below my Airship Pirate ribbon. We found our table and coordinated with the legendary Vanessa MacLaren-Wray regarding the following morning: I said I would bring down the books and then rush back upstairs to meet my first panel.
The first full day of the convention, I moderated a virtual panel, a face-to-face panel, and then helped run a workshop. I’m not new to running meetings, but I wasn’t certain about expectations and norms for the Worldcon community. As soon as I had known who my panelists were, I reached out to them via email to coordinate and learn how to pronounce their names, to get a brief bio to introduce them, and to ask whether there were particular questions or topics they wanted to be sure to include. (The moderators of the panels I was on did not do that, but those panels turned out fine, as I’ll describe later.) The panelists were all very gentle with me and made the experience a genuine pleasure. The topic were all of intense interest to me and I learned a lot — but also felt like I had useful things to contribute.
The second day, I only had one face-to-face panel to moderate, but it was one I was most concerned about due to the topic area: “LGBTQIA+ Characters Done Right”. As someone who only recently came out as bisexual — and is aware that some parts of “the community” view bisexuals with suspicion — I was a bit worried. I’m relatively confident about the work I’m writing, but I’m still experiencing some imposter syndrome about it. And I was concerned, given the current tenor in the country, that we might even end up with hecklers. Finally, one of our panelists was a no-show and so there were only three of us trying to carry the whole panel. Happily, our other Water Dragon author in attendance, Jay Hartlove sat in the front row, maintained eye-contact with me, and would smile broadly, which helped sustain me while I struggled with the difficult subject. Once again, I felt like I learned a vast amount from my panelists who were very supportive and helpful.
On Saturday, I also only had a single scheduled event — my “table talk”. But earlier in the day, I attended the one panel discussion I wasn’t scheduled for: We Are Not a Metaphor: LGBTQIA+ Representation.” This overlapped quite a bit with the panel I had moderated, but brought a bunch interesting and different viewpoints. In the afternoon, Phil had wanted to introduce me to two of his Clarion instructors who were in attendance and we went to a biergarten on the Riverwalk. Finally, I attended my table talk but found no-one had signed up for it. I was getting ready to sit alone for 10 or 15 minutes to make sure no-one was planning to come without having signed up, but met Vanessa and her husband coming out of a nearby event and they sat with me to chat and keep me company while I waited.
There were some people doing cosplay the whole time which added greatly to the character of the convention. It was wonderful spending time in the Dealer Room because nearly everyone wandered by our table at some point. As the Masquerade Ball approached, the costumes got more elaborate. I liked the Tom Baker Dr. Who costume. And a guy dressed in a Gandalf costume was particularly convincing. An author wore a spectacular mermaid costume that had iridescent scales and was revealing in all the wrong places. I was so tired by 8pm, that I nearly skipped the Masquerade Ball, but managed to drag myself down there and was glad I did. But I was also glad to get back to my room and sleep because I was exhausted.
On my last full day, I had three events again: I served as a panelist on two panels and then participated in a joint reading for the Truck Stop at the Center of the Galaxy. One moderator had reached out a couple of days before Worldcon to touch base. The other reached out the morning of, but with good news: there was no need to meet in the dreaded Green Room which was on the other side of the planet from the room. In both cases, I was worried that I would struggle to find things to say or contribute, but I needn’t have worried. I think I was able to offer some useful and amusing bits without making anyone angry or upset. And the reading was a blast: I enjoyed reading from Better Angels and getting to see Vanessa perform reading Coke Machine in character was a joy.
It was amazing to attend the Hugo Award Ceremony. I was particularly pleased to see my former colleague (and neighbor) Suzanne Palmer receive the Hugo for best novelette. Hearing the eloquent acceptance speeches that authors write is always a pleasure.
I had to leave midway through Monday in order to be back in time to teach the following day. It was sad to say goodbye to Jay and Vanessa. Vanessa indicating she was pleased to meet Phil, the imaginary person I had talked about who I “pretended to speak Esperanto to.” She said who she really wanted to meet was my wife, to see this mythical woman who could supposedly put up with me. It’s nice to have friends, though with friends like that…
It was an amazing opportunity to debut for a new author like me and I’m endlessly grateful to the Chicon organizers. I got an opportunity to share my books in the Dealer Room (I made a decent number of sales and got to sign copies for people). I got to meet a lot of people and was introduced to people in a whole variety of contexts. (I even ran into a colleague from Comparative Literature at UMass who had no idea I was published author in speculative fiction — that was fun.) In trying to describe the experience to others, the best analogy I’ve come up with my doctoral defense. It was stressful and terrifying and overwhelming and intense, but an unforgettable experience that I hope augurs well for my ongoing success as an author.
I wrote this piece of flash fiction during the winter. It didn’t get accepted, but I was pleased with it as I felt like it hit pretty close to what I was aiming for.
I snuck a glance at him, longingly. Michael, my childhood friend, had returned from university for the New Year. He walked beside me, our hands almost brushing. We passed under the torii, the red gate that marked the entrance, and climbed the stone steps to the tiny, countryside shrine. Light snow overnight had given way to clear skies. The sun had melted nearly all of the snow except where it lingered in the shadows.
We passed the komainu, the guardian lion dogs, and approached the offertory box. After we deposited our coins, we bowed, prayed, and clapped twice.
“What did you pray for?” I asked, as we started back down the path toward the stairs.
“I prayed that I could be more honest with myself this year.”
“Ah,” I said, looking down. “I prayed for courage: that I might be brave enough to share my feelings with the one I like.”
“I’m sure you’ll find the courage, William,” he said.
I swallowed hard.
“Michael,” I said, turning, but looking at his shoes, afraid to look at his face. “I… I have feelings for you.”
He reached down and took my hand. I looked up and my heart skipped a beat. His smile was like the sun, shining deep into the darkest places of my spirit and thawing what had long been frozen.
“I know,” he said. “I’ve always known. I just couldn’t admit it to myself.”
We descended the stairs, hand-in-hand.
I’ve been using the #vss365 and #flexvss hashtags to write fragments of a new Revin story that happens after the events of Revin’s Heart. These parts are set on Devishire.
Revin spent days exploring to draw up a #plan of the sewer. Returning, he was ambushed by the girls armed with sponges & buckets. While Tiny held his arms, they stripped him naked and — over vociferous protests — thoroughly washed him.
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 15, 2022
“No More Stinky Boy!” they chanted.#flexvss
“The closest entrance to the #address is here,” Revin said, indicating the plan he’d painstakingly mapped out. “But it requires traversing this open plaza.”
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 16, 2022
“What about this one?” Tiny asked.
“That one,” Revin replied, consulting his notes, “Is inside the guard barracks.”#vss365
Revin stood at the discharge point of the sewer overlooking the sea at sunrise. He #scanned the sky until he spotted the airship standing off-and-on just over the horizon. Using his signaling mirror, he flashed until acknowledged & then he flashed a short message.#flexvss #scan
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 16, 2022
As Revin returned to the book repository, he saw a small #animal struggling in the effluent. Then he heard it whimper.
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 17, 2022
“You’re not a rat!” he said, springing into the flow. He scooped it up, held it to his chest, and struggled back out.
The puppy tried to lick his mouth.#vss365
Revin emerged from the sewer and, after one whiff, a cry went up from the girls.
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 17, 2022
“We #Hate Stinky Boy!” they chanted going back for buckets & sponges.
“It’s not my fault!” Revin pleaded, holding up the puppy. “Look!”
“Wash first!” they said gagging & holding their noses.#flexvss
“You plan to #arm the girls?” Tiny asked.
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 18, 2022
“As a precaution, yes,” Revin said. “Just in case. They should be prepared. And it will give them something to do.”
“But who is going to train them?” she demanded.
“Me?”
“Bullshit! I was the infantryman. I’ll train them on spear.”#vss365
“Well met, #Master‘s Mate,” Grip said. Revin embraced him & made room for the elite marines that followed.
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 18, 2022
“Just warning,” Revin said. “If you so much as crack a smile when you see the girls drilling, their sergeant will kick your ass.”
Smiling did not seem to be a risk.#flexvss
Someone pounded on the door of the book repository.
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 19, 2022
“Throw down your weapons and come out, and no #harm will come to you!”
“Quickly!” Revin whispered. “Just like we trained!”
The girls ran to the manhole and slid down, then ran along the ledge, deeper into the sewer.#flexvss
Revin couldn’t reliably make strong towlines, but he had found he could just keep trying. After four tries, he made one to the manhole cover so strong that nobody would be able to lift it. But it would only last while he maintained it. He settled down with Stinky to wait.#vss365
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 19, 2022
“The girls are away. When #do you want to make a run for it?” Grip said emerging from out of the gloom.
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 20, 2022
Revin had noticed a couple of attempts to open the manhole cover and knew that, sooner or later, they’d come down another way to investigate. He stood up.
“Let’s go!” #flexvss
After they emerged, Revin tapped on a door while Grip replaced the manhole cover. He then turned & was brought face-to-face with Rachel, his former fiancee.
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 20, 2022
There was silence, but for the buzzing of #flies.
“Sorry,” Revin said. “I didn’t get a chance to warn you both.”#vss365
There was a long, awkward silence, then Grip bowed low.
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 21, 2022
“I’m #very pleased see you again, Milady,” he said.
“No, Milord,” she replied, with a curtsy. “It is I who am pleased to see you.”
“This is all very nice,” Revin said. “But if the guards see us, we’re screwed.”#flexvss
“We need to prepare enough #food for twenty,” Rachel said, rubbing her hands briskly.
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 21, 2022
“I can help,” Grip said. “I’m used to preparing meals for a whole crew.”
Rachel looked at Grip with surprise.
Tiny nudged Revin.
“Are the pyrotechnics cancelled? Or just postponed?”#vss365
Grip found potatoes, onions, carrots, and a big ham in the root cellar. Using these, he prepared a giant pot of potato stew. Emma and Dexy helped out, serving and carrying bowls and cups around. Revin was relegated to a corner to keep Stinky from getting under #foot.#vss365
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 22, 2022
As dinner was served, Grip brought a bowl for Revin & held Stinky while he ate.
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 22, 2022
“How is #Will?” Revin asked around a mouthful of stew.
Grip smiled. “He’s glad to be back aboard the Queen,” he said, scritching Stinky’s ears. “Politics is hard. Dirty. He needed a break.”#flexvss
Rachel approached and offered Revin something.
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 23, 2022
“A collar & #lead? For Stinky? Thank you, Milady!”
“Why did you name him that?” she asked, as he fastened the collar.
“When I rescued him from the sewer, the girls said someone had to be named Stinky. It was him or me!”#vss365
I’ve been using the #vss365 and #flexvss hashtags to write fragments of a new Revin story that happens after the events of Revin’s Heart. These parts are set on Devishire.
Revin spent hours writing a detailed report for the Baron summarizing what they’d learned from questioning his brother. Then, while munching on a sandwich that Melody brought him, he did the laborious encryption, using the book they’d borrowed from Bess. #vss365 #munch
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 10, 2022
Revin rolled the pages up, tied threads around to hold them shut, and tucked them into his sock.#OK. Now to drop this off,” he told the girls.
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 10, 2022
In the darkness, Revin approached the park where the dead drop was supposed to be.
“Wait!” someone said. “Come inside! Quick!”#flexvss
“We weren’t supposed to meet,” said the unfamiliar woman. “But they know about the dead-drop.”
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 11, 2022
“Dead drop?” Revin said, playing dumb.
“Oh. #Let me offer my bona fides…” she said. “What does Griphon keep on the mantel in his office?”
“Rachel!” Revin said, remembering.#flexvss
“I was given no choice,” Rachel said, acidly. “Married off to a yokel in this backwater. And now I’ve become a virtual prisoner in my home.”
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 12, 2022
“But you’re running a terrible risk. These people are dangerous.”
“Things can’t get worse.”
“Oh, but they can,” Revin said.#vss365 #acid
Revin, well-concealed, watched while the guard grabbed Rachel’s face. He ran his thumb across her lips, while he smirked. She twisted her face angrily out of his grasp, leaving a smear of #powder on his gloves. He backhanded her, knocking her to the floor, stunned. #vss365
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 12, 2022
After they left, Revin emerged from the hidden room. He found Rachel at her vanity – the one thing not smashed and upended among the devastation – calmly restoring her make-up.
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 12, 2022
“You’ve got to be #more careful,” Revin said.
“Never let them see you sweat,” she replied.#flex_vss
Revin took another shift in the sewer. With a sledge hammer, he attacked the iron grate in the passage. After martial law was imposed, they could #no longer move openly & needed another egress. And there was little else to do. He cursed & swung again, kicking up sparks.#flexvss
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 13, 2022
“You’ve been down here in this stinking rathole for days, Revin,” Tiny said. “Have you made any progress?”
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 13, 2022
“It’s starting to get loose.”
“You’ve got a #screw loose,” she growled. “Here, let me.”
Three deft swings with her powerful shoulders and the grate screeched free.#vss365
“You got to #speak with the Queen?” Margaret asked Tiny with wonder.
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 14, 2022
“She was with Revin when I tracked him down,” she said. “She asked how many girlfriends he has.”
“Well, he has a few,” said Emma and Dexy, holding his arms.
Revin’s #mouth worked but no words came out.#flexvss
“But did you know he’s married now?” Tiny asked. “To a girl named Lidja.”
— Steven D. BREWER (@author_sdbrewer) July 14, 2022
Emma and Dexy looked at Revin reproachfully.
“And then there’s his #polyandry with the Queen too.”
Now Revin looked truly scandalized, but Tiny was unrepentant: “I saw how she looks at you.”#vss365
For the Favor of a Lady is available for purchase today. It is the second installment of Revin’s Heart which has been serialized by Water Dragon Publishing.
The next installment, Storm Clouds Gather, is being released on March 25, 2022.
When the fall semester ended, I decided to immerse myself in writing fiction. I had a number of ideas that I was interested in pursuing. But I couldn’t get Revin out of my head. Basically, even before The Third Time’s the Charm had been published, I had already started working on the sequel.
During the Thanksgiving holiday, I wrote most of For the Favor of a Lady and, although it was still pretty rough, I already knew what I wanted to have happen next. And so, as soon as I got my fall grades posted in December, I started outlining the next installment, Storm Clouds Gather, while I finished making revisions to Favor.
Early in January, I met with the editor of Water Dragon Publishing to talk about where the stories were going. We had a productive conversation. I wondered if he was going to suggest that I should just write the book already. Most publishers are reluctant to consider serialized fiction these days. But Water Dragon is a special place and treats our relationship as a partnership. So, when I said I wanted to write serialized fiction, he just said, “How often?” And we identified a schedule for releases. We also came up with a title for the series: Revin’s Heart.
By January 2, once I was sure I knew where Storm Clouds ended, I started sketching out the ideas for the next, tentatively entitled Crossing the Streams. And, two weeks later, when it was done, I was ready to start outlining the next and — with a couple of marathon writing days — I finished The End of His Rope. I hadn’t imagined I would get it finished by the end of the intersession. But I did.
They’re still rough. But they’ve been making their way through my early readers.
Since I started writing Revin’s Heart, I’ve noticed a change in the kinds of comments I get from my early readers. Up to now I’ve mostly been having people read stand alone manuscripts. But now, people are reading multiple sequels about the same characters. And the comments I get are qualitatively different.
Part of the difference may be simply that my writing is changing — i.e. getting better. And I do think my writing has gotten better. But I don’t think that’s the whole explanation.
The comments I was getting on my short fiction frequently identified problems with the premise or world building. But I think that because these stories are a series, readers have already suspended belief, so those questions don’t arise so much anymore.
One surprise to me is how little I’ve felt the need to go back and change things in the earlier chapters. Oh, I’m made minor tweaks here and there. One example: I had wondered whether or not there should be a moon. I hadn’t mentioned it one way or another. As I understand it, moons like “the moon” are actually pretty rare, cosmologically — common enough around gas giants, but much less common around rocky, earth-like planets. And Revin’s Heart is pretty clearly not any historical earth, although I consciously decided to use the names of Terran flora and fauna (that is I don’t call rabbits “smeerps”). But then I realized that in Favor I had mentioned tides. Oops. So there was a moon. But then Phil pointed out that perhaps there were just solar tides. Ooh! So there wasn’t a moon after all. But I did adjust the timing just a bit in order to be more conformant with the idea that the tides were solar, rather than lunar.
So I’m now working on the next installment — that’s number six, if you’re still counting — tentatively entitled Then They Fight You. With the beginning of the spring semester, I’m expecting only slow progress. But that’s not really a problem, as this one won’t be due to the publisher until around this time next year.
There will need to be at least one more after this one. Probably two, to wrap up the arc fully. And I’ve also committed to writing two side stories. These will be stories about characters other than Revin.
There are certainly other things I want to write but, for the moment, I’m having a wonderful time with these stories. And I look forward to sharing them with all of you.
When I wrote The Third Time’s the Charm (available via Water Dragon Publishing), I didn’t think too much about genre. That is, it was “just” a fantasy story. But when the story came out, my editor asked me whether or not it was “young adult” (YA). And I honestly didn’t know.
I’ve read about a number of authors, particularly women, who are angry that their work gets pigeonholed as YA. I admitted I didn’t really know, but that I was fine with whatever he wanted to go with. So it got marked as YA and I didn’t think too much about it at at the time.
I’m now working on sequels, some that have darker elements, and so I was a bit concerned that perhaps there are limits that I should stay clear of. So I followed up with my editor who said, “Personally, I think the boundaries are pretty wide.” And sent me a link to a SFWA post. I found a statement by Stacy Whitman about “Edgier YA” to be particularly helpful:
Some break down YA further into two fuzzy categories, young YA and edgy/older YA. […] Edgier YA won’t shy away from more graphic depiction of sex, won’t shy away from using strong language, and will sometimes be gory in violence. Edgier YA characters will often be older teens, but not necessarily.
Under “Further Reading” there was a link to an article by Cheryl Klein: Theory: A Definition of YA Literature which has a helpful list of characteristics to situate YA:
- A YA novel is centrally interested in the experience and growth of
- its teenage protagonist(s),
- whose dramatized choices, actions, and concerns drive the
- story,
- and it is narrated with relative immediacy to that teenage perspective.
Now that’s the stuff.
I’m not quite sure why “story” is on a line by itself. I guess to exclude some literary fiction — or maybe slice-of-life stuff?
But the key takeaway for me is the focus of the story: is the arc primarily about how the character changes? Or is it primarily about other events in the world changing in which the character is a player? It’s the role of personal transformation that seems key.
This really brought into focus some choices I had made (unknowingly) but that make the stories fit better in YA than other alternatives. This will help me situate the sequels so that they stay in the genre and don’t wander off.
As far as I can tell, I’ve never written a proper year-end wrap-up of my fiction writing. But I haven’t really done enough fiction writing previously to warrant it. My first fiction publication was in 2006 (Milos kaj Donos) and my first speculative fiction publication was in 2010 (Kion dio farus?). My 2016 story, Krespusko sub Fago, won an honorable mention in the Belartaj Konkursoj. But this year was basically the first year, I made a serious effort to submit fiction in English.
In 2021, beginning on June 12, I made 49 submissions of 10 manuscripts to 25 different markets. Four of the manuscripts were older (the oldest manuscript was started in 2004) though much revised. Six of the manuscripts were newly written in 2021 (including a 22,000 word novella, which was begun in fall 2020).
I received 39 rejections. Eight submissions are still outstanding, not including one “revise and resubmit.” And I received one acceptance.
Most of the rejections were variations on “Unfortunately, this story didn’t work as well for me as I’d hoped” or “Unfortunately, your story isn’t quite what we’re looking for right now.” One wrote, “There were things we enjoyed about it, but overall it didn’t quite work for us.”
I got two rejections that included actual, actionable feedback:
I loved the cooking details and craft details, and that the [MC] tried to think his way out of his fate, but the fable overall felt a bit more simple to me than I needed in order for it to feel satisfying, and the frame narrative to me didn’t have as much of an inextricable role in the story as I was hoping.
While I liked [the MC]’s curiosity, especially as it serves to move the story along, I found I did want to see more of his thoughts on what was happening around him, and to see his world through his own eyes, to see what he would think when he saw the sheep on the surrounding hills, etc.
My one acceptance, for The Third Time’s the Charm was by Water Dragon Publishing which I’ve already written extensively about.
I’ve learned a lot about writing this year — most of all from my interactions with Paper Angel Press (Water Dragon Publishing is an imprint of Paper Angel Press), the managing editor Steven Radecki, and the lively community of associated writers (aka The Island of Misfit Toys). The feedback I got from the reader panel was very helpful to identify and correct a number of small but significant issues with the manuscript. I learned several really useful things from the editorial process. The most important of these was to report facts via the character’s observations in preference to reporting them as the narrator — this corresponds directly to the comment I got above from one of my rejections, but which I couldn’t really understand until I saw what the editor was doing with my manuscript. Now I can watch for that myself.
I’ve also learned a lot about publishing — and about promoting myself. I’ve never felt comfortable engaging in self-promotion, but it’s clearly become an increasing important part of the publishing process. To paraphrase the demotivator: “The only consistent feature of all your unprofitable books is you.” I’m even using Facebook (Ugh). But I’ve drawn the line at Instagram.
I learned from various other experiences as well. I attended two writing conferences, Readercon 31 and Discon III. In both cases, due to the pandemic, I was a virtual attendee. Readercon did a fantastic job of creating opportunities to meet and interact with people, perhaps because it was virtual only. (And also due to a particularly talented organizer who managed the technical landscape like a virtuoso.) It was at Readercon where I met the friendly folks from Water Dragon. I didn’t feel like I really met anyone at Discon III which was split between a face-to-face environment and a virtual environment. The virtual part of the conference felt like a balkanized afterthought.
I also investigated two local writing-support organizations: Straw Dog Writers and Amherst Writers. I attended one writing workshop (by Straw Dog) “Darling, You’re Making a Scene.” It was well organized and I learned some stuff. I haven’t joined either organization yet, but I probably should — for self-promotion reasons, if for no other.
In the new year, I’ve identified several things I want to work on. I recognize I need to get better at story structure. This is hard because I like my stories the way they are and I don’t necessarily want to write stories where the stakes are higher or the main character has to “risk everything”. That may be a hill I’m willing to die on. (Or maybe not, thinking about my most recent writing.)
I also want to get better at titles for my stories. I was fascinated when I learned that the author wrote I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter, in part, because it was a meme and they wanted to co-opt and subvert the meme. Note: I’m not saying I want to have my titles embroiled in the same kind of controversy (or any kind of controversy, honestly) — but that watching these events unfold that brought home to me how important titles are and that I need to put more thought and effort into choosing titles because I suck at it.
I would also like to join a writing group. Unfortunately, I’ve not had good experiences with most of the writing groups I’ve joined previously. Many of them were organized by, and primarily peopled with, women and felt unwelcoming to me. I do have a small circle of readers who have graciously read my manuscripts and provide excellent, thoughtful feedback, but I think I need more in-depth critiques. Maybe I should consider taking a class. Or I would love to attend Viable Paradise. But those are hard to do while I’m employed full time. And when I do have time, I want to spend it writing.
I’m also hoping to attend several writing conferences in 2022. I’ve already signed up for Arisia and Chicon. And I’ve agreed to attend the Rhode Island ComicCon to help table for Paper Angel Press in November (though I’ve not yet registered). But the Omicron variant of COVID may prevent me from attending Arisia. And we’ll have to see what conditions are like next fall.
Mostly, though, I’m just going to keep writing because, for the first time in a long time, I’m finding that I’m happy. In no small part, this is the result of working with Paper Angel Press and Steven Radecki. I’m constantly impressed by their energy, professionalism, and support. I’d been unhappy for so long that this year has been a revelation to me. For the first time in almost as long as I can remember, I’m genuinely looking forward to what the next year will bring.
Someone asked me recently how I would measure success as a writer. After a brief digression on the futility of “measuring” dimensionless variables with no units, I decided to reflect on what success might look like.
A few years ago, Wayne Chang was invited to speak several times by my employer. He had recently sold his start-up to Twitter for $100 million and was being extensively courted to donate. His talks were interesting, focused on encouraging students to be introspective about their goals and values and pursue their interests:
“Real founders are driven by purpose. All the other [motives], including the money itself, are byproducts of this purpose.”
After his talk, he was surrounded by students who kept asking him about how to make a lot of money and who almost seemed to be trying to brush up against him, as though some magic pixie dust might rub off on them. It was pretty embarrassing, to be honest: the guy already answered that.
That said, money isn’t irrelevant to success either.
meeting your art heroes pic.twitter.com/fMPQFDT7dU
— Alex Norris (@dorrismccomics) December 13, 2021
But it’s not the most important thing either, like the classic joke:
A farmer wins the lottery and a reporter asks him: “What are you going to do with all that money?” The farmer answers, “I’m just gonna keep on farming ’til the money runs out.”
Around the time John Hodgman wrote Vacationland, he did a show in Northampton that was wonderful. One of the questions he was struggling with (in the book and the show) was the ineffable quality of success. Because people kept asking the secret to his success and he was stumped. He’d been working on stuff right along and, at some point, some things got traction and he became a celebrity. But what was different about those things and all the other stuff he’d been doing? He couldn’t tell. He was utterly unable to guess why these five things got traction, while 10 before/during and the 10 during/after did not. And so his best answer was to just keep putting stuff out there. Because although you can’t predict which thing might become successful, if you’re not putting anything out there, you can’t be successful.
For me, success has always been about being able to pursue my own work and do what I think is right. And, in that regard, I’ve been pretty successful. My occupation has allowed me great latitude to choose the projects I want to work on. Or, at least, it did. Recently, I’ve become quite unhappy at work. All of public higher education has been distorted because the oligarchs would like to see it destroyed. And it was crushing to realize, after 25 years, that my work was being used as a come-on by the rentier class to get young people to indenture themselves at high interest rates to the money economy. So what now?
I started writing more seriously only quite recently primarily as a displacement activity. It was a way to get my thoughts away from topics that were making me panicked and sad and onto something safe. And, with my satisfying career not quite so satisfying lately, I was looking for something more.
Jane McGonigal, in her book Reality is Broken, identified four qualities that make for a happy life: (1) Satisfying work to do, (2) The experience of being good at something, (3) Time spent with people we like, and (4) The chance to be a part of something bigger. She was talking in the context of gamification: using games to give people a more satisfactory life experience. To me — someone who despises gamification — it was always about trying to fix the world so it would provide more satisfactory life experiences, rather than just pasting a band aid over the sucking chest wound of life. But I digress.
Those principles are a good guide to what I’m looking for from my writing career. Writing is very satisfying. I love going back and reading what what I’ve written — and feeling like I’m getting better at it. And especially since getting involved with Water Dragon Publishing, I love the small, quirky community I’ve become immersed in: I joke that it’s like the Island of Misfit Toys, but nobody belongs there more than I. And especially treasure the opportunity to feel like we’re a community working together on satisfying projects. Like writing this blog post.
So, that’s what I’m looking for. The money isn’t nothing. But it’s certainly not everything — and not even the most important thing for me. I’m very lucky in that regard. Finding a way to channel my activity toward something fulfilling is my reason for writing. And I think I’ve been pretty successful already.