Rejected

Like the title says, Magnum Opus got the standard email rejection from WOTF. I wasn't surprised--it had no monsters or magic. I'm debating either putting those elements into it (they're in that world), or combining it with another story to create a larger tale--one that is undeniably speculative. I wanted to make a couple of minor changes anyway.

As for The Third Rule, I just got a critique back that knocks the legs from under it. He (the critiquer) did me a favor by being thorough. As always, the first taste of the critique is as bitter as baking chocolate--you know it will flavor the finished product intensely, and you can't wait to get into it, but it's not to be devoured raw. I'm dealing with the fact that I have to rewrite most of it around a more thought-out ending. My critquer asked valid questions that I have to consider the answers to before the rewrite. It's good because I'm learning something new.

My collaboration is suffering for it, though. I think my co-author and I have bitten off more than we had thought we did. I think we just jumped at the first idea proposed, with no more thought to it than that. And now, it's catching up with us.

To think: I used to write just because I loved to imagine different stories. Now I write because I'm not going to let it beat me. I guess sometimes I can just be a stubborn @$$.

On a positive note, I illustrated an H. P. Lovecraft piece--What the Moon Brings--for Flash Fiction Online. It's colored pencils, but not too bad for an hour-or-two sketch. (And that was broken up into two nights and three locations.) Now, I'm just waiting for conformation on the other two stories I'm going to do the illustrations for.

The Third Rule

After a week of floundering and inspiration, I've finished a new short story entitled The Third Rule. I break away from the norm here in two ways: I don't normally write in 1st person, and I don't usually focus on characters so young. At first, it was easy to slip into the early-teen character, but it was difficult to have the P.O.V. character not be the protagonist. And then, I had a sudden burst of inspiration. I don't know where it came from, but I knew it needed a early-teen girl to make my P.O.V. character miserable. So I asked my daughter what her favorite girls' name was, and created some tension.

That did it. The story became about the interaction between the boy and the girl. Simple, right? Well, not quite. But, I think this is some of my best work to date.

It all started at Hatrack. I was babbling in a thread called "Your Favorite Apocalypse" when I coined the phrase Apocalyptic Taco Mix. Another Hatracker-and-LHer, Deb, was inspired to write a short called Meatloaf of the Apocalypse. Another with dual-membership, KayTi, said it would make an interesting trigger for a writing challenge. Hatrack Writers Forum Administrator, Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (AKA: KDW and SWMBO, which is She Who Must Be Obeyed), asked me to make it an official challenge. Since we hadn't had a rewrite challenge in a while, I acquiesced. Initially, two other Hatrackers accepted the challenge--neither of them was KayTi. So, I posted the fact that we had a challenge on the discussion board and Wallah!, we had eleven more challengers.

While this was going on--or just slightly before--I joined a Writers of the Future group. Amazingly, no one else from that group (also at Hatrack) was in the Apocalyptic Taco Mix challenge. I realized, about the time I was fully consumed in Jackie-boy's P.O.V., that I wouldn't have time to come up with another story by the agreed upon due-date. Since my WOTF goal was 5-7000 words, my Apocalyptic Taco Mix challenge would fit nicely. When things work out like they are meant to be, it's awesome! Hopefully, I'll have 9 or 10 critiques before the WOTF group submission. If that's the case, I should have enough info to clean it up enough to have a second edit. Then I'll be way ahead of the game for the December deadline.

Right now my wife (God bless my harshest critic) has it. As soon as she digs into it, I really know I'll have some work to do.

A Little Bit of Everything

So, the kids didn't have school this morning--they're off Monday, too--and, as usual, that automatically makes the morning hectic. My daughter was the first one up. It's funny: when she dresses for the day, she almost always chooses something filthy first. She picked a baby-blue pair of gym pants and a once-was-white T-shirt. It looked as if she had slid into all four bases, and then did it again the other way to make it even. So, I point it out. She says "So?" Then the oldest boy gets up, at his parents' beck and scream, and fumbled around for twenty minutes finding pants and taking his morning whizz. My wife's going around like a shark that just knows it scented blood, trying to find the cubscouts manual--which I asked her a question about. (Foolish me, I should know better when her powers are not yet at full capacity.) Then I pry the oldest off of his @$$ and make him go outside and play catch with me for an hour. Now my shoulder's feeling it. I played catch with my wife the day before and she has an arm on her! Now, the daughter's gone off to Mass. for the weekend (Yayyy!), the little one's having a typical day (either screaming his head-off or laughing hysterically), and the oldest is back on his butt, watching Mythbusters. The wife's approaching maximum strength (and she's found the bloody handbook), probably playing Runescape.

I have sent a more characterized first chapter/prologue off to my collaborator, Nancy Greene (She says I can use her name), though I'm waiting to hear back. And she has yet to send me her first chapter. (Think I'm nudging her with the guilt-stick?)

I've got a challenge up at Hatrack: the "Apocalyptic Taco Mix" short-story-challenge, that I'm writing a story for. Rules are simple: come up with a story--inspired by said phrase--that has a word count between 500 and 7000 words. 14 of us are going at it. I only have about 700 words at the moment, but I've had an idea brewing. I might even polish it for my WOTF 1st-quarter entry. It has an interesting flavor.

Artistically, I've been working on a painting of a pheonix for the last couple of days. I think it's almost done. Of course, I could show my wife--maybe get another "What is it?"--before I claim I'm done. I always love that. As usual, it's been a love-hate process, and I'm not sure where I stand, yet. It's not signed yet, so it's not done.

Collaboration

Well, I have begun a collaboration with a fellow Hatracker. I will leave her unnamed, in case she doesn't want to admit it. For the better part of a week, we've been trading emails., plotting, defining the necessary boundaries, choosing names--generally whittling the details down to a clear image.

So far, so good.

I have managed a little over 2,500 words, so far. I've found myself delving into the research, and including a fair amount of it as the world-building portion of the story so far. I will probably end up going back into it and pouring more character into the mold. It's tentative because my cohort hasn't yet seen it. What started off as a prologue, though, is truly beginning to feel like the makings of an historic parallel to the original story. Maybe it's just me... Sometimes that happens.

In other news, there is a Hatrack conspiracy to create a flash fiction e-zine, led by Jake Freivald. Another collaborative effort, though it consists mainly of a group of aspiring writers. There are plans in the making, and hopefully the result will showcase the best new and established talents in speculative fiction. Hopefully the Hatrackers and Liberty Hall Members will unite to create an explosive e-zine that will spread short-short-fiction support to new corners of the world-wide-web.

Message Board Madness

One thing I can't stand about message boards is you cannot address someone's comments in real-time. Sometimes, it really boils my groin! I'm never a bully. Never. Though I am strongly opinionated, I am never deliberately condescending to -- or intentionally excluding of -- anyone. When I am critiquing something, I do it honestly. I make no effort to sugar-coat it because sugar-coating is lying. I find it hard to pretend, given the time I have. Most of the time, I try to mention what I like, as well as what I find wrong.

When I am critiqued, I never argue about anyone's opinion. If I think they a wrong about something, I say what and explain why. If I don't, they won't benefit from it. Likewise, if I'm wrong about something, I will admit it. Lord knows I've been wrong enough times. But, it's useless to argue. Right or wrong, neither you nor I can change anyone's first impression.

If the punctuation is wrong; if details are left out because you know what your characters are doing and where; if a typo really spells another word...then a reader has every right to misinterpret what you're saying.

How can they not? Every writer fumbles, from the award-winning/bestseller/Pulitzer Prize winner to the Kindergartner. That's what it means to be human and why they put erasers on pencils. But, to expect everyone one to say, "Well, I know what you meant..." or "Huh?" and just continue to read on -- and compliment your prose to boot -- well that's not only unrealistic, it's conceited. Hell, some people just aren't going to be your audience.

Now, I've had my exchanges. Good or bad, I hold no grudges. And I believe I can hold my own. (You can't tell me what I believe}=p) But, I've learned something from every encounter, and would even venture to say I've made a few friends along the way. A few posts ago, I expressed feeling like I wanted to drop out of these workshops completely, but a few friends (or co-posters if they'd prefer not associating too closely with me }=}) have asked me not to quit. And I thought no one reads this thing! So, I have decided not to.

Perhaps people like me are needed to cut through the thickly glazed turds that goody-two-shoe sycophants regularly cough up! Now, I'm not saying that I'm going to be mean, but I'm going to keep-on-keeping-on. @$$holes like me are what keep the integrity in the critique.

The Purple Nightmare

I've really got to start keeping this updated.

Started my day off with everyone rushing around like bumper cars. It's lucky that one of the little ones weren't crushed underfoot. (Sigh. All we can do is try.) Fortunately the abominable doofus was already out. I can imagine the pile-up that would have occurred in his wake! Anyway, the reason for all the chaos was a friend's wedding (one of the wife's best friends) was this morning. It was like the culmination of a dark prophecy.

Just the beginning of this week is when the wedding party decided to deliver the dress pattern. So, my wife (recall she's irritable in the daylight) has to make this dress -- be mom to three (9&1/2, 7, and a special-needs 4 year old) children, deal with the abominable doofus, care for her aging father (almost another child sometimes), prepare for a Boy Scouts shin-dig (of which she's the area leader), not to mention deal with me -- in less than a week. (Amazing, ain't she?) Kind of sounds like the biblical signs of apocalypse, right? The similarities are remarkable.

• Snag no. 1: The pattern is not the right size. No big deal. She makes a run to Wal Mart and remedies that.
• Snag no. 2: I had an emergency room visit (false alarm), but it kept us out until 4:00 am!
• Snag no. 3: She sees what it actually looks like! It looks like a big, shiny, purple, v-necked, BIB. It was like seeing her try on a shiny pillow case. No matter how she turned, tapered, pinched, shuffled, or belted it didn't change.

Now, my wife is a real trooper. As much as she hated the Purple Nightmare; as much as she knew it made her look like a pretty sack of potatoes; as much as every grain of her being wanted to set the offending object afire, she kept at it. She repaired an iron-burn (which I'm not entirely sure was an accident), bought the proper support for a strapless smock, and wore it to the wedding. When I saw the tears well up last night, I knew the size of the sacrifice that she was making, and admired her so much more for it. She not only kept a straight face (which I barely could), she pretended it was the most beautiful dress she'd ever had the privilege to touch. Smooth, baby.

Of course, when she had to leave to bring me to work, she did the quickest change I've seen her pull-off in a while. The slip gave her a little trouble though. As I write this, I wonder -- now that her powers are at full capacity -- if she is dancing around a shiny purple fire.

So, hats off to Missus Babbler, she kicks @$$!

Writers of the Future (Quarter 4)

Well. After writing a 10,000 short story, having the first draft critiqued at Hatrack, editing it, editing it again, having my wife go over it (And people think I'm brutal with a critique!), and editing it a third time, I finally typed those two words at its bottom: The End. Pantroth has had his first adventure.

Though it probably doesn't show, I have developed this realm for years. Everything you could want is there, except for guns and peace -- the former is long extinct, the latter is keeping it real. Since finishing the story, Magnum Opus, Pantroth has decided to expand his tale. Since he's not the type to settle for a "maybe", I've started his expanded tale.

While I'm committing Pantroth's story to print, Magnum Opus has been sent off to the Writers of the Future Contest (WOTF). The day I sent it out, I learned that they may not consider it fantasy. They may reject it based on the lack of magic or mythical beasts -- more's the pity. It's certainly not historical. Fortunately, Magnum Opus was not written for them. If it makes the grade, awesome; if not, it has a home. I would not have changed it to fit them, even if I had the chance to. There are other stories and other quarters. But, I'm hoping they take it. I'm hoping it goes all the way. I'm hoping...just like every other author.

I'm already planning on which of my short stories could be expanded and polished for the next quarter...