After Midnight, We're Gonna Let It All Hang Out...

         Well, I sent off the second story (see the previous post) with oodles of time to spare. The deadline was today, and it was 11:46 p.m. when I sent it off.  Fourteen minutes before the deadline; I'm impressed!

photo by PrincessFroglips

          I've been wondering all day---off and on---about the writing process. Two nights ago, I was stuck.  No inspiration.  Trapped in a tar pit, I gave up, and (not on purpose) fell asleep on the couch. (All sorts of parts and things were hanging out as I lay in a puddle of my own drool, face-down on the futon.)

         The next morning, magically, I was able to make some progress. I don't ever remember my dreams, so if I dreamed about the writing piece, I didn't recall it.

         Maybe writing pieces are like spaghetti sauce or homemade chili or vegetable soup. You let them simmer as long as you can, and then put them in the refrigerator overnight. Something happens once the door is closed. The flavors marry. The spices step forward. What was once loose and liquid-y becomes solidified.

        Who knows if my sauce was any good...Who knows if I put in enough green pepper or too much oregano...All I know is I had 14 minutes to spare.  (And that means I can procrastinate even more next time!)

Keeping the Pressure On

         This past week I was working on a story to submit. I'd work on it a bit in the evening, let it marinade until the next day, and write some more.  There was a 1200 word limit, and I'm not sure how many evenings it took to "cook" the piece, but more than a couple.

        Yesterday evening I sent it off.  Since today is the deadline, I was way ahead, compared to the way I usually operate. (The deadline is Friday? That means I have until 11:59 pm on Friday, right?)

photo by sue-tarr
(This is what I look like as I compose a piece. Hey!  Why did you just snort milk out of your nose?)

       However, as I was tinkering on the story, I had another idea for a different story. The same theme. The same anthology. But while my other story was serious, and a story that spanned more than 10 years, this new idea was lighter, and it was a story that covered only an hour or so in my life.

      I began working on it the night before last, when I would take a momentary break and put "aside" the other story.  Yesterday evening, after submitting the other piece, I worked on it some more.

      Hey, twice the submissions. Twice the chance of getting published. But what was more important in my mind was the fact that I'm thinking more like a writer. I'm keeping my eyes open to story ideas.  The writing I'm doing is leading to more writing. And some day, perhaps, I will have countless pieces out there simultaneously, like Linda O'Connell or Janel Gradowski.  And the more stories that are floating around on editors' desks, the greater the chance I have of being published. 

       And if you want to check out some submission possibilities, ask Donna Volkenannt or Lisa Ricard Claro.  Donna regularly (and generously) shares calls for submissions, and Lisa has a heading at the top of her blog...all you have to do is click on the button, and various paying markets will appear.

      So tonight, I'll be back. Right around midnight. Pushing the limit.  And if you're up late tonight, writing, have a cup of coffee. For me...

If You Open Your Mouth, It Will Go

             Okay, so I failed to pull off a smooth connection to movie Field of Dreams. Sorry. I'm just recovering from a late night (see the later note from the Procrastination Princess) of writing and revising, followed by an evening school event where I had to--please take an anti-anxiety pill now--sing (along with my students).

            ( The stray dogs that were running, full-speed, through your neighborhood, a frantic expression on their faces, their ears looking like they had been torched just a bit...Yes, all the dogs in the St. Louis area have been suffering tonight because of my caterwauling!)

photo by brendan adamson

                A week or so ago, I had lunch with a writer friend. During the conversation, I mentioned I was mentally doing some prewriting on a couple of patriotic submissions for Silver Boomer Books. One was about my dad's experience in the Marines. The other was going to be more difficult. A distant but dear cousin of mine is Ukranian; he spent part of his childhood in a concentration camp. There is no one who loves America more than Serhij. Unfortunately, he never talks about that part of his life...  

               The deadline was yesterday.  Since I put everything off until the last possible minute, I was writing earlier this week, but the story was slow in coming. Serhij was unwilling to answer any questions, and although that meant I was only writing one story,  my dad's tale did not feel as "inspired."  I was tempted to just chuck it. 

               However, I had opened my mouth and said I was doing some prewriting in my head.  If I didn't even bother to follow through, if I simply let the submission opportunity fall by the wayside, would I feel very writerly?

                  I found that as I continued to push through, I discovered a connecting thread that could hold my story together. I crafted a beginning that I was satisfied with, along with a decent ending. 

                   So, when you're on the fence, open your mouth. Bring it into the realm of reality by saying it aloud. And sendyour story where it needs to go...

If You're a Frequent Submitter, Do Not Read This

          I am one of those people who think of themselves as a writer, but I only talk the talk.  I don't walk the walk.  Actually, I guess that's not quite accurate because it is definitely not the case that I don't yearn to live the writer's life. I do.  With a great deal of my heart. However, the rest of my heart is taken up with my kids (24 right now), and since they clamor more and yell louder than my laptop does, my students win just about every time... 

         A little over a month ago I sent off a manuscript.  It's one I have sat on for several years.  (And it's not a novel. It's a picture book.) Did I think it was going to hatch if I let it sit long enough?  Who knows? 

           Since this is--more or less--my first foray into the world of submitting-getting rejected-retinkering-submitting to different venues, I am a bit excited that on some desk (perhaps gathering dust) is my piece. It may take four more months to hear from them (and it probably won't be a thin envelope when their response arrives) but I have a plan when I do hear from them.

         I'm also working on a short story for a contest the Saturday Writers are having, and a story for a Chicken Soup for the Soul collection.  Also, the writing I read on other writers' blogs inspires me.  I am in awe of what others are able to do with their writing craft.

          If you're a writer who submits all the time, you won't be able to relate to someone who is getting excited about their "first" serious attempt at getting published. It was probably so long ago, you've forgotten it.  However, they say you never forget your first...

Tearing Out Hair and Gnashing Teeth...

         Many years ago, I  went to a workshop that focused on the social consciousness of kids.  Two of the books they used to prod us into writing had a permanent impact on me.

          One is Faithful Elephants.  It is a picture book, a true story, and is reportedly read aloud over Japanese airwaves every year, in the hopes there will never be another war like it.  Every time I read it aloud to a class, I am sure that--this time--I won't cry, because I am so familiar with it.  Yet every year I sob...

        The other book that made an indelible mark on my 
     life is Go Home!  The True Story of James the Cat.  I can 
     still remember the anguish as I listened to that story, 
     the first time, wondering how it would end. (It's the
     story of  a stray cat, and chronicles all the dangers a
     stray has to endure, in a very realistic manner.)
                                        

         Several years ago, having thought all along
   that there should be a companion-book for
   Go Home!, one about a stray dog, I worked
   for a year or two on a picture book.  I took it to
   a writing retreat and had a response group
   help me with it.  I met with a friend at a local
   book store---our own little writers' group---and
   got her to critique it.  I had my #1 editing
   friend give me her take on it. Then it sat for a
   couple of years, gathering dust.

           This summer I bragged in my blog that I was
finally ready to send it off.  I even stupidly said I'd do it by the end of the month (August). Someone I had recently met, Donna , made sure I followed through when she commented on my post, "So that means August 31, right?"  That meant there was no way I could back down...

        According to the post office, it should have arrived on September 3rd.  When I did not hear anything the next week, I was surprised.  But I gave them a little leeway.

        Now, since they have had it for almost a month, I am sure there is some incredible battle going on.  Probably, other publishing houses heard about my story, and have tried to snag it from Albert Whitman & Company. They probably have hired professional cat burglars who will rappel down the walls of the building at night, so they can break into the office where my manuscript is... 

       Or,  perhaps all of their editors are arguing.  Which one is going to get the privilege of working with such a gifted author?  Each one is vying for the prestigious position, and there is tearing of hair and gnashing of teeth over the prospect.

        If you are a writer, how do you wait patiently for a response? Do you let your imagination run wild (as I obviously do)? What do you do to keep your hope and faith from flickering into nothingness? 

A Writing Ephiphany

         Well, perhaps the term "ephiphany" is a bit strong.  And curiously, this thought has occurred to me before, but only in fleeting glimpses, and then it vanishes, as if never having appeared at all...all memory of it gone. Last night it reappeared as part of a stupid sitcom.

       One of the characters was speaking of a crush.  The reason why they did not act on their feelings was so they could "keep on dreaming, instead of dealing with the reality as a failure."

        That is why I don't submit things.  As long as I don't send anything out and risk receiving rejection letters, I can hold onto my dream of being published. I can continue to fantasize what life would like if...

          However, thanks to making my plans public (to send out my manuscript by the end of August) and thanks to some gentle prodding (thank you, Donna ) my manuscript has been delivered and is probably in a pile with other hopeful pieces. In 3-5 months, I will hear, and will then go from there...

          Two days after I sent off my manuscript, I went to a book reading at the Boom Boom Room in St. Charles (right above The Lounge).  W.E. Mueller was reading from his book Peaches and Cream.  There was a 2nd author there as well:  the son of the man highlighted in the book Confessions of a Mob Hitman.


         Both readings were moving, in different ways.  One of the
   stories that Mueller read was "Uncle Albert."  It had an O. Henry
   twist at the end that really smacked the reader in the head in a
   good way.  I have purchased the book; it's a mixture of detective
   stories and humor and poignancy. I have not finished the book,
   but I will say that although detective stories are not my normal 
   fare, I enjoy Mueller's...

          Flynn's reading was engaging because it was apparent how
   emotional this journey has been for him.  His father died before
   the book could be published. It was easy to see how moved he was
   as he wrote the preface and did the research to validate his
   father's stories.  Both father and son had been incarcerated, yet
here was the son, perhaps learning from his own as well as his father's frailities, reading stories for a captive audience.  (I couldn't resist the bad pun!)

        We write for various reasons.  What do you most want to accomplish when you write?  Who is your audience?