Woo hoo! Got a notification that I was shortlisted from a great magazine today. First time, feels great! Hopefully my next post will be an acceptance!
::swoon::
Woo hoo! Got a notification that I was shortlisted from a great magazine today. First time, feels great! Hopefully my next post will be an acceptance!
::swoon::
This year:
Stories Written: 7
Number of [Submission-Ready] Words: 20,500
Number of Story Submissions: 47
Number of Rejections: 35
Number of Acceptances: 0
Postage Costs: $26.28
Total:
Stories Written: 15
Number of [Submission-Ready] Words: 73,300
Number of Story Submissions: 114
Number of Rejections: 102
Number of Acceptances: 0
Postage Costs: $114.19
Just as a housekeeping note, this year I’m adding the running total of money spent on postage (i.e. not counting ink, paper, etc.). You’d think postage wouldn’t be all that much, especially with most everybody switching over to e-submissions these days, but you’ll notice that I’m now over $100. I think it will be an interesting milestone once I pass the break-even point of having made more money than I’ve spent (to put the cart before the horse, so to speak, since I haven’t made a dime yet!)
Speaking of milestones, I just crossed my 100th rejection. Whoo hoo? I’m not at all surprised to have reached 100 rejections before getting any acceptances, and hitting my 100th does feel like progress. Why? Well, I hung in there through all that, first off, and second off because it hasn’t dissuaded me in the slightest. So I must have outlasted some people there, right?
On the positive side, I beat my goal of 4 stories, even if three of my 7 this year were pretty short. Nonetheless, 4 was a goal set based on what I thought I could accomplish, and I beat it. Overall, I wrote a lot more words than last year, even if it was still a lot less words than year 1. I think year 1 was a little more than average, since it was new and exciting, and year 2 was a little less than average, due to Oliver arriving on the scene. This year feels a little more sustainable. I also credit some of the production with Oliver learning to go to bed by himself, leaving my evenings a lot more free.
I’m still considering retiring a few stories. I always think I’m going to, but then I find *one more venue* to send them to. It will probably be sooner rather than later.
I definitely feel like my writing continues to improve. I think I like my stories better overall (although sometimes I go back and read an old story and I think, “Huh, this better than I remember it being!”), but sometimes I feel like they are missing just a little something: that extra oompf that really puts them over the top.
This year I snagged my 2nd honorable mention from Writers of the Future, as well as generally feeling like my rejections have gotten better. I’ve recently gotten a “the quality of writing is excellent”, “the story was interesting and well written”, and even a “nicely written and I enjoyed reading it” from an editor I really admire. In fact, the rejections have really been inspiring me lately.
Sometimes it feels like I am so close!
When I am working on a story, there are always a few little problems I need to solve. Maybe I need to invent some way for the hero to escape, or I know two necessarily scenes, but not how to connect them, or I need a scene to make a character more sympathetic, or maybe even just trying to think of a good title or place name. So while I’m thinking of more immediate things, my subconscious is always worrying away at these little bones. My mind likes to feel busy, and so I like to have a go to problem to think about when I have extra clock cycles (especially in the 30 seconds between when I go to bed and when I fall asleep).
Normally this is no problem, because I always have some story going. Even if I don’t work on it for a couple of weeks, my subconscious is still solving problems or coming up with useful additions without me really noticing that it’s doing it. In fact, sometimes I can’t work on a story until my mind turns it over long enough to get a couple of major issues resolved. Even when I am close to finishing up a story, I usually start mulling over the next story, in preparation for writing it.
However, after I finished my last story a couple of days ago, I haven’t really hit on an idea that I’d like to write next. I think this really might be the first time since I’ve started writing (just under 3 years, would you believe it!) that I didn’t have a story that I was actively thinking about. It turns out, not having something churning around back there gives me a vague feeling of unease. Just one of those things you don’t realize is missing until it’s gone.
Several times a day, when I’m not really thinking of anything else, my mind will just go totally blank for a second. You probably assume that having a totally blank mind is my default state, and thus I would be very comfortable, but it’s as if my mind just gives me a nudge every now and again, like, “Hey, we’ve got nothing to do in here!” It’s like being in neutral: the engine’s running, but it’s got nothing to do. The drive-shaft is not engaged.
Probably by the end of the day, I will have settled on a new story idea. I’m looking forward to it! I didn’t realize how fulfilled my mind has been since I started writing, and how thoroughly the itch has become accustomed to being scratched!
One of easy mistakes people make when they’re first starting off writing, is to try to replace the word “said” with something more colorful. This is a mistake. In fact, it’s such an obvious mistake that I don’t know how anybody could ever do it. But a quick google search returns hundreds of pages telling you to substitute other dialog tags, and usually include a list of synonyms you could use. The fact is, the word “said” just disappears into the page, and you don’t notice it. Synonyms stand out, which is exactly why they should be used sparingly.
Pull any book off your book shelf and take a look at what tags they use in the dialog. For the most part, you’re going to see a lot of “said”s on the page. So why do people try to eliminate said? I’m guessing it comes from over-thinking things; after you’ve read your manuscript for the thousandth time and it’s still not selling, you just have to find the *one*magical*thing* that will fix it and make it publishable. You’re just in your head too much at that point (and an unpublishable story probably can’t be fixed up anyway, without starting over).
Anyway, the reason I’m thinking about this is because I started reading Pollyanna with Evie the other day. If there was ever a better example of the “you should have used ‘said'” principal, I don’t know it. Holy cow. Every sentence ends with a synonym for said, and it is so awful I can hardly read it. Absolutely painful.
You know things are getting bad, when someone “ejaculates” every other page or so. “You are the most extraordinary girl!” ejaculated Aunt Polly. Come on, ejaculated?? Do you know how hard it is to read that with a straight face? ::shudder:: No, some words should not be used in children’s literature.
So if you feel the need to substitute for the word said, just read a couple of pages of Pollyanna. If that doesn’t snap you out of it, nothing will!
One of the most common pieces of writing advice you will hear is:
“In writing, you must kill your darlings” – William Faulkner
Knowing this is one thing, and doing it is another. This is something I have really been working on lately, since it’s come up repeatedly in my current story.
To me, what this is talking about are those scenes or little turns of phrase you try to fit into the story, but they just don’t quite fit. Maybe they were the inspiration of the entire piece; often an entire story springs out of a single line of dialog or a scene that just sort of springs into your head, fully formed. However, once you start working on the story, things change. As you are working on getting the characters to that scene or line of dialog, things happen and evolve. And when you get to that pivotal moment you realize, “This isn’t going to work anymore.” Maybe the character doesn’t seem like he would perform the action you imagined in the scene. Maybe the character ended up somewhere else, and isn’t in the scene at all. Maybe your concept of the character changed as you realized them more fully.
This is also true for outlines. Usually, when I’m starting a story, I’ll jot down some notes as a series of loosely connected scenes. But connecting those scenes is the hard part, and often times they don’t connect. It is surprisingly hard to not put in a scene that is envisioned so perfectly in your head. You can’t help but cling to these “darlings”. So you try to force them in, and if you’re not careful, you’ll end up having somebody do something they wouldn’t otherwise do, just to get a certain thing into the story.
For me personally, I tend to think very broadly about a story. So when I start writing the story and filling in the gaps, I realize I would need to write a novel to be able to connect up all the ideas. So my darlings are usually cut, not because they don’t fit motive-wise, but because they’re outside of the scope of the story I’m trying to tell. In order to have a punchy short story, you have to narrow your focus onto the important events (even if it means cutting out some really great scenes).
Sometimes it’s not about cutting, but just about changing. But again, if you’ve imagined a scene so perfectly, your first instinct is to avoid changing it. For example, in my current story, I imagined the protagonist reading a letter to discover an important piece of information. But when I got there, I realized it was too boring! Instead, I needed the character to go out and interrogate someone to get that information. Along the same lines, I had imagined the very denouement taking place with the protagonist recovering in a hospital room. Given what has happened to him up to that point, it is very realistic to imagine it that way. However, who wants the whole story wrapped up while the protagonist is somewhere else? He needed to be there, in the heart of the action! So both of these scenes had to be completely rewritten.
So that’s it. It’s hard, but I’m getting better. (And by better, I mean more ruthless!)