Hear Me

Tags

direction, editing, literary journals, motivation, writing

So, this started as a Facebook status, then morphed into a note, which I’m re-posting as a blog….and eventually, I think it’ll be an essay. But for now, this is what it is. 

 

Hear Me

 

As you all know, I really love literature and am committed to the written word. For those of you who’ve known me since high school, you remember how devoted I was and defined by my work with the high school literary magazine. Who was I at Nova High School without From Worlds Apart? (Don’t say “Dr. Marini’s daughter,” because I will punch you in the face.) From those years, I keep many of you as friends–whether you’re writers or not, or writers who are only writing in their heads now, or the redhead who could have (and has been, on occasion) my archnemesis, who’s actually been one of the best editors, second opinion-givers, and cheerleaders of my life over the past 20 years. (Yeah. That long. Jesus.) 

 

At New College, I worked on New CollAge in a lesser capacity than I had on From Worlds Apart, but I loved it, and every creative writing class I took in college taught me how to take what was then raw talent, strong instincts and the drive to make you hear me into better stories and poems, how to see other people’s writing for what it was and could be, and how to help others fine-tune their work into the best version of itself that it could be–which in turn, taught me how to apply that to my own writing. Here also, I connected with many other talented writers–some of whom stayed with it, others who may also only be writing in their heads, and some who are so far out of my league that I hope that they pick it back up again–to the salty Jersey girl whose momma is gonna CRACK YOUR ASS that I’m going to be going to AWP with next month–and all those voices and classes and shitty booze-fueled college poems twined together to make a quilt of experience that would end up being a liferaft for me not too long after I graduated. 

 

For the ten years I was out of school, not involved in a real literary community and struggling to keep writing, get better, and figure out how to get published, it was really a long, dark haul where I felt alone, questioned my ability, doubted that I had talent, almost gave up, and then realized that I’m competent at other things but notGOOD at them the way I’m GOOD at reading, writing, editing, understanding, explaining, and teaching the beautiful mysteries and complexities of the stories and poems that I write, and that so many other authors write. I tried to trick myself into doing something else, settled for things that weren’t what I wanted, and along the way met some people that ended up jolting me back to where I needed to be.

 

I met a writer who loves smelling pretty and writing urban fantasy who read me tarot cards that told me to shut the fuck up and get back to my life. I met an absolutely insane painter who is one of the most fearless, reckless, honest and soulful artists I’ve ever known, who encouraged me to keep writing, send it out, and live the life I wanted and needed to live–because as she said, “You’re dying by degrees.” I met girl friends who would love me and move away and stay close, who read my work and spent late nights and early mornings drinking coffee and reminding me that being a writer wasn’t something I could choose to be or not to be (because like dumb old Hamlet, I thought that was the question)–it was something I just was, and I could either follow it and see where it took me, or I could ignore it, and hate where ever my life took me anyway, because where ever that was, it would mean never knowing what I could have been if I’d trusted myself to try. 

 

Finally, I sent a piece out–and it won 3rd place in a competition where I didn’t think I stood a chance of even registering on the editor’s radar. I got a rejection and asked the editor if they would help me make the piece better by telling me what worked, what didn’t, why, and what they thought would help me. I listened, considered, revised, and re-submitted. It was accepted, and I was able to see that with their help, a decent piece with good instincts became a memorable piece that was done correctly. I left the life where I’d never know what I would have been if I’d tried. I promised myself that if I failed, it’d be okay, because I’d know, and that another life would start, and it’d be better even if I’d failed–because I’d know, and I’d know that I’d tried, instead of knowing that I’d settled for okay, when I might have been extraordinary. I applied to schools. I got into some longshots that I never actually thought would accept me–I called those my “$100 lottery tickets”– explaining to people, “Well, someone’s got to win [get in]–it might be me–I won’t know if I don’t buy the ticket.” So I bought those tickets. And for more of them than not–I won.

 

During that time I started a new life. That new life had hard choices and death and regrets. I deferred enrollments and met a writer by accident– I’ve actually only ever seen her twice–who casually suggested a low-residency MFA program, said the name, Antioch, and I promised her that by August, I’d put the application in the mail if she did. On the way to Dragon*Con, where I was presenting a panel on graphic novel adaptations of Victorian novels, I got a call from Steve Heller. At a rest stop outside of Albany, Georgia, I jumped up and down screaming, because it was finally happening. (Luckily, Steve was unperturbed by this. I chalk this up to either patience in proportions that might put him in line for sainthood, or a well-controlled facade of professionalism that masks the heart of a lunatic. If you’ve seen the shirts, you know which way I lean.) 

 

In the three months between being accepted to Antioch and starting my first residency, I started having my work accepted and published at a rate that astonished me–I was getting more yeses than I’d ever gotten nos in my ten years of either not trying, or only half-assing it. I had a decade’s worth of stories and poems flooding out of me and even if it all wasn’t brilliant, most of it at least had potential. 

 

So now, I feel incredibly blessed to be involved in a real, literary community–I know writers from all these different stages of my life, and we’ve grown and changed together and celebrate our successes and bitch about our failures, because we know in 20 more years, we’ll be even more on top of our game than we are now. I’ve met writers because we kept seeing each other’s names in the same publications and wanted to interact with each other on a personal and professional level. I know people who edit journals, who make those tough calls, who spend long thankless nights reading and deciding and sending out acceptance letters that might change that one writer’s life and rejections that might, too. I know that for most of these editors, saying no to another writer is as awful for them as the sender as it is for the writer whose work is rejected, because they know. 

 

I’ve used Facebook to stalk down the writers published in the same journals as I’ve been published, who wrote the stories or poems that I wish I’d written. I’ve been to three residencies at Antioch and have been humbled by the caliber of authors who I am lucky enough to call my peers, have learned so much from editors and authors more talented than I am, and am making the connections that are going to be that liferaft when the magic time of school is over again. Every time I receive a workshop packet in the mail I am quite literally blown away by these people, and I wonder why I waited so long, I think about what my life would have been if I hadn’t decided to just try, and I’m thankful that so many of you who knew me at 15, 16, 17–when it wasn’t just a talent and a fondness, it was the call of the siren, making me sail into the cliffs and rocks because DAMMIT THAT SONG IS FUCKING BEAUTIFUL–and reminded me that I was still that girl who needed to be heard–more so at 30 than I did at 15–because now I actually had a real message to bring and the experience to deliver it in a way that would make them listen. 

 

I am lucky enough to not only be in school surrounded by authors, but interacting professionally with authors and editors and book lovers and a host of people who like me, are dedicated to the power of writing as a means to understanding each other as humans by hearing each others stories. I am working for the third project period as the business manager of AULA’s Lunch Ticket–I’m proud to be one of the behind-the-scenes wheels that keep submissions flowing in, so that the magazine has an amazing array of choice when it comes to publishing an issue. I write book reviews for The Bookshelf Bombshells–where I am lucky enough to promote the books that change me and be honest about the ones that didn’t, and say why. And for the next few months, I’m honored to have been invited to be a reader for a journal who published my work and thought I was pretty rad–Spry Literary Journal–and let me tell you, being a reader, a decider–it’s harder than being a necessary cog in the wheel that keeps the journal in motion. Because I know. 

 

 

Every piece that’s written–ever–is an act of courage and an expression of the writer’s sense of self and their place in and relation to the world around them–and whether or not it’s right for a certain journal at a certain time for a certain issue, I respect the author for having been brave and introspective enough to sit down and try to pin their thoughts, emotions, experiences, triumphs or tragedies onto the page.

 

Every submission that makes its way to a journal’s editors and readers is an act of courage and a show of trust, and is not to be taken lightly. Even things that I read and hate (or worse, that make me think, “Meh,” because at least hate is a vigorous reaction), I try to make sure to be respectful, tactful, and to try to point out as many strengths as I do weaknesses. And I’ve learned from the best editor I’ve ever seen at work how to workshop pieces that are difficult because they’re offensive or misguided–she taught me how to delicately tweeze the writing from the writer, and the editor/reader from the Allie to talk about what’s really important–the writing. 

 

I hope that the writers that are only writing in their heads will scratch something down on the back of a receipt, maybe tomorrow, a napkin, and maybe next week or next month, a piece of paper. I hope the writers that gave up go to a tent revival and get their souls saved, find religion, and start preaching. I hope I catch up to the friends and peers who are more talented than I am. I hope that those writers run towards their stories and never stop, and God help whoever gets in their way, because they’re going to get plowed (and I don’t feel a bit sorry for them either, because in the words of Kele, “Get out of the way, or get fucked up.”) 

 

I hope that someday soon, you read something that raises the bar so high for you that you sit down to write a Facebook status, and it becomes a note, and then a blog entry, and that before you know it, two hours have passed, and you’re pretty sure you just wrote a piece of creative non-fiction, and because you had something to say, and dammit, they’re going to hear you. 

 

 

Mid-Autumn Check-In, Insert Witty Title Here

 This week has been pretty good, finally. Work’s still work and stressful, but I have some applications pending at Tallahassee Community college for open positions that I’m qualified for, and my creative writing professor from the classes I took there between New College and Antioch gave me a letter of reference, so I’m crossing my fingers and hoping that I’ll get a call back for at least one of the jobs. It’s one of the things that’s hardest about living in a college town of moderate size–the opportunities are limited, and a lot of them come down to “knowing someone”, which is frustrating, because I’ve always held that employment should be completely unconcerned with who you know and based on qualification for the job, but you know about how the gap between “should” and “is” goes. 

Yesterday I went to see the film adaptation of The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I wasn’t as worried as I thought I’d be about my favorite book (and the topic of my critical paper this term) being adapted to a movie. I was curious to see how the epistolary format of the novel was translated into a movie, and whether it changed my experience of the narrative. Usually I’m very skeptical of book-to-movie adaptations. The author, Stephen Chbosky, wrote the screen adaptation and directed the movie, so I knew that whatever got cut was cut by the author for a reason, and whatever changed was also his call, and it helps when you know that the person who wrote the novel you love so well is the one making these decisions, it helps you look at what’s different in a new light. It was as perfect an adaptation as I could have asked for. There were only a couple scenes that were obviously missing, and given the time constraint of a movie, these omissions were understandable. I wasn’t disappointed in the least, and spent a good part of the movie sobbing my eyes out as Charlie came to life. That’s an amazing feeling that is incredibly rare.

With my own work, I’ve been learning the importance of “pick a title you like”. I sent out the story that I mentioned in my last post, fully expecting it to be rejected, because it’s still fresh–usually I end up sending work out over a period of months, getting a bunch of rejections, editing and tweaking here and there with each time I send it out. But this piece–nope–accepted the first place I sent it…..with a title I thought I had time to fix. Well, fuck. I mean, on one hand, not complaining, the story got picked up and I got paid for it–on the other hand, I’m just not that thrilled about the title (“Nancy Loves Sid”). But hopefully this week, it’ll be appearing in Punchnel’s, which is a magazine I’ve been published in before and I really like, so I’m glad it’s going to be with them (title I don’t care for and all). I wish someone would teach a lecture on “How To Title Your Work”, because for me, titling it is harder than actually writing it, and almost every title I actually *like* I’ve swiped from a song lyric.

I also have had another piece accepted that I’d started from a writing prompt in one of last residency’s lectures, the “emotional negative space” lecture, so that made me happy too, it was a good week for newer work returning with positive answers. That piece is called, “The Coffee Date”, and it’s forthcoming in The Dying Goose, under the “Shotgun Fiction” group. I also got a nod from Fiction Fix in the form of their Gypsy Sachet Award in Biography, meaning my author bio was one of the most unique they’d come across, and though my story, “She Went on Strike” didn’t make the final cut for the issue, the editor did send me a kind note letting me know that it was a tough call (they’d been considering the piece for 5 months), and that they really liked my work, hoped I’d submit more in the future, and wanted to give me the Gypsy Sachet Award in the meantime. While a little bit of a bummer that the story didn’t make the final cut, it’s encouraging, and hey, my bio is meant to be fun and interesting and I’m appreciative that the Fiction Fix editorial staff agreed.

This week was wonderful in me feeling like my decision to genre-jump into poetry next month is well-timed. I had four poems accepted for publication in three different magazines: “Chronograph” will be in the next issue (the first pint issue, as well!) of Mixed Fruit Magazine, “24-Hour Safeway, Cooper Point Road” and “Tallahassee Summer” will be in Mountain Tales Press’s Whisperings Magazine, and “Dealer’s Choice” will be in the Fall issue of Siren, which is exciting because I’ll again share a publication credit with my friend Kevin Ridgeway, and for the first time, one with my friend Larissa Nash, so this issue of Siren’s chock full-o-Allie-peers!

 The poems were a 50/50 split of older poems, that I’d been sending out without success for a while, and newer pieces that had only been submitted a few times, so it felt like an affirmation of the choice to spend a project period focusing on poetry. I’m wrapping up my application for the Room of One’s Own grant, and hopefully, all these acceptances and publications will help me out with that. If nothing else, it’ll be the first time I’ve followed through on finishing and sending out the application, so that it itself will be sort of an extraordinary achievement. 

I’m rolling an idea around and I have no idea how to actually start writing something, which for me, is sort of unusual, and therefore intimidating. At the residency, there was a lecture about writing characters, and one of the suggestions was to write down things that scare you on little slips of paper, and then pick one out of a jar and do it, so you’d have the first-hand experience of how it felt to write from. Of all the things I could think of that scared me and I didn’t want to do, the first thing I could think of was “Leave the house without make-up”. Silly, I know, but if you’ve met me at least once, you’ve seen my “face”. Even when I leave the house in what I call “no makeup”–that actually means I’ve ONLY put on foundation and mascara. I sleep in my makeup, wash my face in the morning, and immediately put it back on. The net time of my face actually looking as God intended is roughly 3-5 minutes daily. I want to write about this, but I have no idea whether I want it to be poetry, fiction, or creative non-fiction, if I want to write in someone else’s voice or if (horrors), I actually want to write as me. I keep re-visiting the idea that one of the scariest things for a woman might actually be *what she really looks like*, and what a sad commentary that is on how our culture views women, and sadder still, how we allow that to influence how we view ourselves. I’ll let you know how that goes, and if I actually screw up the courage to let myself and other see what my real face actually looks like. I’d welcome any ideas on how to go about writing when you have an idea, but not a title, genre, line or anything else to “jump off” from, because I don’t usually start writing with a solid “concept” and nothing else.

 

 

Busy, But That’s a Good Thing…I Think.

Tags

acceptances, editing, nominations, peer editing, publications, revisions, scholarships, school, workshop, writing

So look at that—a new update, and a month didn’t even have to pass! Wow, let’s mark that one on the calendars, shall we?

I’ll also start off with the good stuff: New work that’s been published since my last post: “His Boots”, in Issue #9 of Composite {Arts Magazine}, “You Might Curse Before You Bless” in Volume 14, Issue #3 of The First Line, and “Who We Are”, at Misfits Miscellany.

I now have THREE nominations for Sundress Publications “Best of the Net” Award—two in poetry, “koi ponds and cathedrals” (Emerge Literary Journal) and “dead ophelia society” (Rose Red Review—which incidentally, just launched Issue #2 to coincide with the autumn equinox, so definitely go check that out!) and one nod in creative non-fiction, “My Life as a Cactus”, from Referential Magazine. Incredibly humbled and honored to have my work selected by not just one but three editors and work that they feel represents their publications and their overall aesthetic. I wish good luck to each and every author whose work has been nominated, but hey—let’s face it—I hope that my work takes it home for one of these fine publications, too.

My piece, “The History of Dirt”, has also been selected as one of the pieces being published in Vine Leaves Literary Journal’s annual “Best Of” print collection—along with the work of my friend and fellow poet Kevin Ridgeway—we now have well over 20 overlapping publication credits, so this is definitely one that we’re both looking forward to seeing. If you haven’t read Kevin’s work—go find him on Good Reads and be sure to check out his chapbook, Burn Through Today—it’s just great writing, pure and simple.

Nothing new accepted since last post, several rejections, but overall not feeling too bad about things. 

Feedback from mentor who I’m not doing that well with came on Saturday, with new packet of work due on Thursday—thanks for giving me adequate time to incorporate it, >insert sarcasm<. Just trying to get through the term with that, and not really that enthused for what I’m writing, but I figure, I will have time to properly work on that later, when it’s not deadlined, and hopefully, I’ll be able to pull some good experience from the whole situation.

I recently found a piece of writing that I originally drafted in 2001 on an old, now-defunct blog. Basically, since about 2003, I had given this particular piece of writing up as “lost forever”, and never even made the attempt to re-create it. While going through some old boxes, I discovered a print-out I’d made of the piece and tucked away. I spent a solid night (5+ hours) re-working it from that first, nearly 12 year old draft into a functional 2^nd draft. Knowing this wasn’t something I really wanted to work on with my mentor (and that she wouldn’t be open to working on, as it falls outside of the contract agreement), I then sent this 2^nd draft to 3 of my trusted Antioch peers, who collectively helped me work it into a piece that I feel is ready to send out—maybe as time progresses I’ll tweak it a little bit more, but the third draft is one that I feel confident sending out. The first draft didn’t have a title, the second draft was called “Shauna’s Secret” (because I’m shit at titling my work), and the third draft has a title that I love (lowercase on purpose), “like steam escaping from a pipe”, which is a line I pulled out of Nicole Blackman’s poem, “Holy”.

I also finished a new piece called “Nancy Loves Sid” (I told you I was shit at titling my work), but have only sent it one place so far because I’m really just unsure about the piece as a whole, it’s bleak, even compared to some of the stuff that I usually write, which isn’t ever really what you’d call an easy, feel-good read. I haven’t called upon my writer buddies to look at yet either because a) they’re all very busy with their own work and I don’t want to monopolize them and b) I’m still not even sure how *I* feel about it yet.

I’ve edited a few more poems and have sent the new drafts out, no responses on those yet. There’s a few chapbook contests that I’m weighing, probably going to enter at least one, possibly two of those, and basically taking the “With This Ring” chapbook and altering it to fit the parameters of the new contests—we’ll see if that one can get past the finals, maybe.

Getting my workshop submission for the December residency ready, I think I’m going to use “First, Make a Roux”, provided I can get it to the 20-page cutoff. If not, I have no idea what I’m going to be submitting, maybe the first chapter of my other manuscript-in-progress, “Belleweather”, which I really haven’t touched at all since I wrote the initial chapter and did 20+ pages of research for it.

I have about 4 scholarship applications I still need to turn in to both Antioch and other places, so there’s more and more on my to-do list…but I guess, as things go, it’s better to have a long list of deadlines to make, and a long list of submissions pending, than to have none of either, so there you have it. We’ll see what the next few weeks bring, and whether or not I can maintain the momentum I need to keep this little blog current and fresh. 

When Editors Give You Lemons….Make an Ugly Face.

Tags

discouragement, publishing, rejections, school, submitting, writing

So…..how about that “I’ve got to be better about updating my author blog” thing? Yeah. Well. About that.

August was a month of obstacles for me. To begin with, I’m not having the greatest experience with my mentor at school this project period. There’s a personality conflict and it’s been hard for me to really feel in sync with my writing, because I feel like my mentor doesn’t really like me personally and doesn’t “get” what I’m doing with my manuscript. I’ve written two new chapters and I’m still only thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis close from having a finished first draft of the completed manuscript, but writing it has been nothing short of pulling teeth. The project is called There is A Light That Never Goes Out, and every chapter of the novel follows the last year of high school for an insomniac teenager named Maggi who’s obsessed with The Smiths. I started writing this novel in 2009, during NaNoWriMo, and the first seven chapters just burst out of me in less than two months…and then deadlines, responsibilities, divorce and well, life got in the way, I disrupted the flow, and it’s been hard for me to slip back into Maggi’s head. I want to finish it, though, which is why I made it be my primary project for the semester, but with a mentor that I don’t feel is engaged, proactive and supportive, it feels like pulling teeth. I hate sitting down to write it, and I feel like Maggi’s a stranger now, and that makes me sadder than I could ever express. So that was one big thing that I had looming over me all through August.

August was also a big month for rejections, which normally I’m able to take in stride. September marked my first full calendar year of submitting my work regularly, not sporadically, so I’m trying to sort of chart how the highs and lows play out. I started submitting regularly right after I was accepted to Antioch, which was Labor Day weekend last year. The first acceptance I got was just before Halloween, 2011, meaning that most of September and October were rejections, or just waiting. November and December were good months, January-February were sporadic, March and April were fruitful. May was VERY slow, June and July picked up a bit and were sporadic, but August was awful. So far, September’s been a little slow, but fairly steady. My worst months were May and August, which makes me think that there’s a pattern to the places I’m submitting that coincides with their publication cycles and if I can just figure it out I can play the statistics in my favor. Because I try to keep in perspective that submitting is really just a big lottery, a game of chance that you can sometimes gauge but most of the time you can’t. So at the tail-end of July /beginning of August, I had the 100^th acceptance from Seedpod Publishing and was notified that I’d made it to the quarter finals for the Mary Ballard Poetry Chapbook award. And then…nothing. Except, well, rejections, some of which were actually sort of hostile—I mean, for the most part, I can take a rejection in stride because I’m able to look at my body of published work and realize I don’t suck, but the frequency and volume of the rejections that poured in daily throughout August really shook me to my core, because I was already feeling fragile from the mentor situation at school. For nearly the whole month, until August 27 to be exact, I got nothing but 3-9 rejections PER DAY, everyday…and that was tough because I started to feel like all my “good stuff” was already published and that everything was getting rejected because it’s only the crap I have left to send out, and worse—because I’ve got the manuscript as my main project for the term, I wasn’t really writing very much new stuff, and what I was writing that was new, I didn’t want to send out OR to my mentor, so….yeah. And as I mentioned before, usually I can take a rejection in stride. But so many of them are just impersonal form rejections—which I get, it’s a necessity—but even on a form rejection, Jesus editors, take a second to say something encouraging, it’s not hard. I know. I wrote the form rejection letter that Lunch Ticket uses, and you know what? It’s kind, encouraging, stresses that the rejection isn’t a reflection of the work or the writer’s abilities with their craft, it’s just one editorial board’s opinion on how the piece fit or didn’t fit the vision they had for the issue. It only takes a little bit of effort to be kind, and for many writers, the confidence is frail—and yes—you do have to have a thick skin to be a working writer, there’s no question about that—but at the same time, editors—many of whom are working writers themselves—don’t need to test the thickness of that skin by cutting the writers who submit their work, either—because after all, without writers brave enough to send their shit to you, you wouldn’t have anything to publish, now would you? I think I reached my meltdown point when I got a personal rejection from an editor who was outright hostile with me—the editor actually specifically pulled a line from one of the poems I’d submitted and said, “This is bullshit”. And wow…never had that happen before. The worst I’d ever gotten before that rejection was the editor who said my work was “too smart” for her readers, that they’d lose interest if they felt like they had to look up words or references to mythology. But “bullshit”? Believe me, if there were a place to record THAT kind of response on Duotrope….I’d put *that* magazine on blast. Needless to say, all that achieved was me deciding that not only would I never submit there again, but I wouldn’t read the magazine, either, which sucks, because I DO read the lit magazines, even (especially, sometimes) the ones who reject me. So that was my August, for the most part.

Now the good stuff and new reports. As I braced myself for it, my chapbook did not make it to the next round of finals for the Mary Ballard Chapbook Award. But I’d prepared myself for that, and I’m still happy and honored that I ever made it to the finals, period. Next. My short story, “Two Pounds, Two Ounces” did not win or place in the E.M. Koppel Short Fiction Award, but it WAS recognized as a Story of Distinction, which I guess means runner up, no monetary prize, and again…I’d have loved to win it, but I’ve never gotten even that far before, so it’s a big honor. My only complaint is that I feel the winner was sort of at an unfair advantage. The winner is a writing professor at a major college, who’s already making a living as a writer and has multiple books published. It’s like J.K. Rowling entering a contest that’s intended for writers who aren’t established yet. But the rules didn’t exclude him from entering, so it just sucks that he won in place of writers who are still struggling to get where he already is, and the $500 scholarship that would have benefited a student entrant who won or placed is going unused. I mean, yeah, who doesn’t want to win $1,000? But there should also be a sense of fair play, too—if you’re already making a living as a writer, it’s my belief that you should leave things like that open for writers who are still trying to get established. But, I guess writing, like everything, is law of the jungle, and I’m probably just bitter that my story wasn’t better than his, so what do I know? Last week, I was also nominated for the Sundress Press “Best of the Net Award” by the editor of Emerge Literary Journal, for “koi ponds and cathedrals”, which was published in April’s Issue 2. Again, I’m preparing myself for the idea that I am not going to win or place—but again, I’ve never been nominated, so that’s a big deal in itself. All three of these things are farther than I’ve ever gone with my writing before and they’re indicators that my work is slowly getting to the place I want it to be. I’m trying to tell myself that most people don’t just hit it out of the ballpark on their first time up to bat, so just knowing that I made it allllllllllllllllllllmost there is a big step from sitting in front of my computer saying, “I want to be a writer.”

New work accepted by Fabula Argentea’s Silver Pen, Misfits Miscellany, Composite {Arts Magazine}, Commas and Colons Literary Journal, the upcoming Steady Moon Press Anthology, The Poets Word (Poems About Writing), as well as a new piece coming up in the winter issue of Emerge.

New work that’s been released: “Husband Work” in Misfit’s Miscellany, “Twinned” in The Tidal Basin Review, “High Art” and “sixteen, summer and the south” in shuf poetry review.

So far, September’s been all right. Not too many acceptances, but not too many rejections, either. I’ve finished some new pieces that I feel pretty good about, a few that I’ve sent to trusted peers for feedback on, and I’m trying to make the best of the remainder of this project period. Next term, I hope to get into the Advanced Art of Translation course, and I’ll be “genre jumping” into poetry. I have some scholarship applications to work on, and I’m applying for the Room of Her Own grant, so we’ll see how all that goes. I’d love to say, I won’t take another month and a half between posts, but maybe if I aim low I’ll surprise myself. Here’s hoping.

Oh, and one more thing—AULA’s Lunch Ticket is open for submissions for the winter issue, so you should probably stop reading my blog and go send your work to them, right? Right. You should.

Mary Ballard Poetry Chapbook Competition

Tags

chapbook, competition, finalist, poetry

I’m thrilled to share that my themed collection of divorce poems, “With This Ring”, has made it as a quarter-finalist in the Mary Ballard Poetry Chapbook Competition, held annually by Casey Shay Press. I’d love to win, of course, but even having made it to the quarter-finals is a huge honor. I’m in company with an incredibly talented roster of writers, and am encouraged by the fact that this collection performed as well as it has. Even if this is as far as it goes in this competition, I’m happy to know that this set has the potential to go out and do something more. 

#100

Tags

Antioch University Los Angeles, publishing, success, writing

There it is. #100: “By the Dark Light of Mermaid Scales” is going to be in Seedpod Publishing‘s 2012-2013 Enhanced Anthology.

 

Sweeter still, Seedpod Publishing is founded and operated by two Antioch University Los Angeles alums. Not only did I hit 100, but the cosmos showed me that I’m exactly where I need to be, doing exactly what I need to be doing. 

 

Thank you for that, cosmos. I can’t wait to see what comes next. 

Writing and Publishing and Reprints, Oh My!

Tags

Bookshelf Bombshells, publishing, reprints, school, writing

Ok, trying not to let a whole month pass again without updating. I’m basically bastardizing my weekly Antioch check-in and putting it in blog format, because I’m required to do that one anyway, so this is just on extra step that keeps everything up-to-date.

This week has been really exciting for me, mostly with regards to the different “writer’s hats” I wear. The book review website I write for—Bookshelf Bombshells—recently reviewed Elizabeth Hand’s Available Dark, a sequel to Generation Loss. Well, my best friend Laura wrote the review, and Elizabeth Hand herself somehow stumbled over Laura’s review, praised it for its “sharpness” and re-posted the review to her Facebook site, bringing thousands of new, unique hits to the Bookshelf Bombshells website. About a month ago, the Bombshells got a galley of Erica Jong’s new book of essays and fiction, Sugar in My Bowl, which we were all really excited about. After our review of it, we managed to get an interview with Erica Jong herself. The editor (Dawn) and I came up with a list of 10 questions for Erica and Dawn led the interview, with me writing the intro to the interview. This week, not only did Erica Jong post a link to our interview on her own Facebook site, (again, bringing thousands of new hits to the website), but she also quoted from my intro with the link. She also re-Tweeted the interview link today, which is doubly awesome.

Both of the pieces of my double-accept went live this week: “The History of Dirt” (the piece that was accepted both places) is in the July Issue of Vine Leaves (page 37). “Whisper, Whisper Beneath the Leaves” is in Dark Matter #1, on page 19.  This week, I also had two new pieces go live in Circa Literary Review (“bank books” and “Summers End”).  This week was also a little interesting with regards to something that I’m new to in the world of publishing, reprints. Earlier this year, I had a piece called “From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea” published in Danse Macabre. When the piece was archived, all rights to it reverted back to me, meaning that if a publisher accepts reprints with acknowledgement, the piece is eligible to send out again. So, once “From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea” was mine again, I had the ability to do with it whatever I wished, so long as I acknowledged that Danse Macabre had published it first.  Next month, the goth lifestyle magazine Carpe Nocturne is going to have an author profile of me as one of its monthly features, and I sent the piece to the journalist interviewing me, to be featured along with the profile.  “From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea” was also accepted into a forthcoming anthology of horror fiction called “Modern Lovecraft”, that’s going to be published by Static Movement Press this fall. So basically, this one piece of flash fiction has gone to work for me three separate times.  CARNIVAL Literary Journal, contacted me about a piece of poetry I had previously withdrawn, (“rachel’s doc martens”), due to its acceptance in another collection (to be published by Diversion Press this fall in their TBA titled 3^rd poetry anthology)—and now the piece will be published as a reprint in the June 2013 issue of CARNIVAL—wow! My poetry is booked out a year in advance! What a great feeling! This week I also had new work accepted into Generations Literary Journal (“Midnight Tide, Stockton Springs”) and the Hot Summer Nights Poetry Anthology, (“he, beneath me”) being published by Inner Child Press next month.

In other news, this week I turned in my 1^st packet of work and first half of my critical paper. It felt sort of weird to return to a novel-in-progress that I had not touched in literally 2 years; the last time I worked on this manuscript was when my father-in-law was diagnosed with brain cancer, which was exactly 2 years ago last week. So I take that as a serendipitous sign, and hopefully I have his blessing with me on this as I continue the manuscript.

I’ve written a few new pieces of poetry, which I’ve already gone ahead and sent out, have been submitting back on the more rigorous schedule again (clearly, it’s paying off), and have more than a few half-finished short stories I’m sort of puttering with but not really devoting the time and attention they need. Yet. First priority is the critical paper, weekly translation work for school, and finishing the first draft manuscript of the novel-in-progress (There Is A Light That Never Goes Out). Once that’s all dealt with, then finishing half-baked stories. That’s the theory, anyway. I guess we’ll see how well it works out in practice.

July, July!

Tags

publishing, school, writing

Well, there goes June. Shit, we’re almost midway through July. Time is sliding by so fast. My second residency period at Antioch has come and gone. This time around it was tough. I’m not sure why, maybe it was the “June Gloom” (which I was completely unprepared for, both clothing and spirit-wise). I felt very alienated and for some reason, demoralized the entire residency. Though I ended up attending literally TWICE the amount of classes required of me, there were times where I just felt like everything was skating in one ear and sliding out the other, with nothing getting caught in the webbing between. I’m working with a new mentor this term, and I am not really sure how I feel about her yet, I guess I’ll reserve judgement until I turn in my first packet and get some feedback. This project period, in addition to the book reviews for Bookshelf Bombshells, I’m focusing my efforts on finishing a first draft of my novel-in-progress, “There is a Light That Never Goes Out”, which I started for NaNoWriMo in 2009. I met the word count goal of NaNoWriMo, but never finished the novel, I’ve just sort of tinkered and edited and revised what I’d written but not taken the time to complete the last 3-4 chapters. So that’s the end-goal for this project period, along with 10 weeks of The Art of Translation and a 5 page critical paper (where I’m writing about the epistolary form and Stephen Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower).

Getting home from the residency was an adventure. A few times I felt like I was trapped in a lost Kafka story, “In the Airport”: After checking my luggage into LAX at 9 am, trying to make a 9:45 flight home, finally, at 2:30 am Sunday/Monday morning, I was back in Tallahassee. The adventure included, but was not limited to: 3 delayed flights out of LAX, a seven-hour stint in Nashville, an unexpected overnight in Phoenix, and driving into, not away from, Tropical Storm Debby after arriving in Jacksonville. Fun times, y’all. Needless to say, despite my best intentions I called out of work on Monday, but it hardly mattered, because there were downed power lines everywhere, the two counties adjacent to mine had been evacuated due to flooding, and there were felled trees everywhere, so Monday was pretty much a wash everywhere in the Panhandle that was even remotely near a coast. However, I was greeted by chorus upon chorus of happy treefrogs singing in praise of the rain, which I had missed horribly, even for only 10 days in LA. It was nice to fall asleep to the sound of something that wasn’t a car.

I’m in the first Jacaranda group that’s taking The Art of Translation, and this is our 3^rd week in. I must say that I am really enjoying this class a whole lot, not only is it very different from being in a language class where you’re translating for precision and accuracy, but it’s a neat peek into global literature I’m not familiar with. So far, we’ve had two pieces in Spanish and one in Turkish, and the Turkish one was really fun to work with, because knowing nothing of the language at all, it somehow felt freer to work with.

I spent the weekend reading Breath, Eyes Memory and am now caught up/ahead on my reading. I also finished my independent choice book, Skippy Dies, which had been recommended by my workshop professor to me during the residency. That was a really interesting book to read that took many dark and unexpected twists (yes, I realize it’s called “Skippy Dies” and that the dark twists shouldn’t have been all that unexpected)—but if you ever happen to pick it up, you’ll see what I mean. The novel was also really interesting to read strictly in terms of its POV, because it’s told from no less than a half-dozen characters’ POVs, and the characters are both male and female, ranging from 14 years old right up to 60-ish, so this one incident unfolds and resonates from character to character, with each one shedding a little more light onto whatever the “truth” of it might be. I was happy that the professor had said, “I’m not sure why I think you’d like this book, but I think you would”, and that my reaction to it was, “Sure, that’s good enough a reason for me!” because I don’t know that I’d have ever stumbled across this title on my own.

With regards to my own work, I’ve been pretty lucky over the past month. Right before the residency started, I had four poems and a piece of flash fiction accepted into three different journals, three of which have already gone live (“hunter”, Diverse Voices Quarterly; “magic tricks”, in em:me magazine; “Dead Ophelia Society” and “Plath cut her finger” in The Rose Red Review). The other pieces are set to be published either later this month or in August, which I’ll link on my “Publications” page when they’re available to read. Since being home, I’ve had four poems accepted into two different small press poetry anthologies (being published by Diversion Press and Chuffed Buff Books) which are paying markets, so those two were remarkable for me, and five more poems accepted into two other journals (shuf poetry and The Eunoia Review), to be published in the summer or fall issues. Finally, I had a writer’s faux pas that could have been embarrassing and bad turn into something positive: While trapped in airport hell, I received an acceptance on a piece of flash fiction. I’ve got a pretty good system for tracking where I sent out, when, and when it came back to me accepted or rejected (thanks Duotrope!) But because I was relying on hinky airport wi-fi, was exhausted and frustrated and generally not on top of things, I missed a crucial step in withdrawing the accepted piece from other markets, and last week, got a duplicate acceptance from a different publication, who were also interested in the now-unavailable piece. Whoops. I sent the editor a mea culpa e-mail, and rather than being upset with me, he said that he had enjoyed my style and had already slated a page in the issue for me, so if I had a similar piece of commensurate size, he’d like me to submit that instead. Thus, my error turned into two different publications, and I finished a piece that had been hanging around for months, ¾ done, because I just never felt like getting back to it. So look for “The History of Dirt” (the double-accept) in the new issue of Vine Leaves Literary Journal, and “Whisper, Whisper, Beneath the Leaves” in the debut issue of Dark Matter, published by the University of Houston Downtown.

Other than a heat index of 102 and what feels like 9 million percent humidity, that’s all the fun stuff from Florida for this week. Hope you’re all enjoying cooler weather and less mosquitoes—but I know that you also have less frogs to sing you to sleep, so that makes my sweatiness and mosquito-bit bottom worth it.

Hot & Cold Summer Start

Tags

cold streaks, publishing, school, writing

So, where exactly did May go? It was a weird month for me. I hit a “cold streak”, where I had a glut of rejections cluttering up my inbox and chipping away at my confidence—not so much, in the grand scheme of things, but enough of an abrupt departure from my “hot streak” to really shake me—after all, when everything comes in moderation, both success and failure, it’s far easier to swallow down either. Feast or famine’s harder—you love it when you’re feasting but it makes famine that much more difficult because you remember what the feast tasted like. However, despite that, it wasn’t as though I was doing nothing—I was still submitting (though admittedly, not on as rigorous a schedule as I generally keep), and I was trying to wrap up the remainder of my semester’s work for Antioch. When all was said and done, my annotated bibliography for the semester numbered over 25 books in a 5 month study period. I walked away with 160+ pages of new work and 53 publications collected in that same 5-month period, so it’s not like May was a wash. I also began doing book reviews and literary blogging for Bookshelf Bombshells, which is fun because 1) yay, free books 2) yay, give my opinion about said books and 3) it builds my skills as a journalist and adds something new to my resume. All of which are huge pluses. This week, the “cold streak” officially ended: “hunter” was accepted by Diverse Voices Quarterly, “magic tricks” was accepted by em:me magazine, and the Eunoia Review picked up “Gravewatchers” and “junk love” for their October issue. Each of which helped me remember that it all happens in waves sometimes, and that no, all of my “good work” hadn’t already been published (which, as any neurotic writer knows, is exactly what you start thinking when you get a push of rejections—“Crap! All I have left is my mediocre work, all the ‘good stuff’ I’ve already sent out and gotten published! What do I do now?”)

Gearing up for residency #2, which by this time next week, I’ll be at and dealing with both jet lag and overstimulation (read: scrambling of) the brain. But hopefully, it’ll be just the rejuvenator I need. I found that in January, following the first residency, I came back not only feeling overwhelmed by the sense of community I found in my peers and the attitude of the teachers, but quite literally bursting with ideas and drive to make it all happen and keep happening. I think that May made me sluggish with the weather, the semester wrapping up, and the distance I felt from the previous residency. Now I’ll be seeing all my friends again, will be immersing myself in studies for a little over a week, I’ll be leaving my 9-to-5 behind for a bit, and I’ll be set to focus on writing and only writing for a stretch of days that will, with luck, carry me over the next 5 months.

Onward, as Mac says. Deep breath.

New Publications, Progress, and More Work

Tags

publishing, revising, submitting, writing

So, still been on the quieter side….there haven’t been a whole lot of calls for submissions of late, but there’s a few contests that I’m throwing my hat in the ring (and my money out the window) for—Glimmer Train, Crab Orchard Review, the Write Corner E.M. Koeppel Short Fiction Award and Prairie Schooner. I’ve thrown in a few submissions here and there, got a few articles in to the Capital City Villager, and have had only a few rejections, most of which are months old, from before I was even using Duotrope. Found out that I didn’t make the cut for a Ploughshares and Upstreet submission from months ago; however, the pieces made the short list and allllllmost made it—which is encouraging, and also, actually good, because each of the submitted pieces were accepted (and have been published) elsewhere, so that would have been a MAJOR faux pas on my part (thank you Duotrope, for helping me keep that kind of shit at a minimum). I did have all 5 poems of a submission accepted by Quarter After Poetry Review—so in the coming month, “deep”, “our last night”, “promises, promises”, “Disappearing Act” and “breeding, trumpet flowers out of the dead ash” will be showcased all together—which is very cool. I’ve never had ALL the pieces in a multi-piece submission accepted (though I have had all pieces rejected, but then again, who hasn’t?)—so to have all of them accepted in one fell swoop was sort of staggering. I read the e-mail about 4 times to make sure that my pre-coffee brain hadn’t scrambled up the words.  And once again, those are all pieces that I’d almost given up on sending out—they’re pieces I love, but that I’d sent out so many times I’d nearly gotten discouraged. So I just left them alone for a few months, and when I submitted to Quarter After, I was deciding what to send, and thought, “You know what? I haven’t sent this one out in almost a year, and I like it, so fuck it, here goes.” Sometimes, I guess, it’s just about getting the right pieces in front of the editor whose taste synchs up with the way you write. So, serendipity.

I finally finished “First, Make a Roux” and sent it out, as well as re-writing two other short pieces, one fiction (“Bonfire at Gretchen’s”) and one non-fiction (“Building My Wings on the Way Down”).  I also completed one of the (TOO!) many works-in-progress, a story called, “Two Pounds, Two Ounces”, which I sent out as one of my contest submissions this week. I’ve still got a heavy load of revisions to tackle and numerous in-progress pieces to complete, but so far, I’m incredibly pleased with this week’s progress. My goal for next week is to finish at least one of the following “in-progress” pieces: “Turquoise” (CNF, half done), “Boxing the Devil” (half-done) or “Walls” (horror, ¼ started, research half-done).  I want to send out “The Equalizer”, now that it’s finished, but I’m nervous about where, exactly, I should send it. That’s something I’ll have to think on.

 Lean Out Your Window and Red Flannel In Whitechapel were both published by Euphemism Magazine, the literary publication of Illinois State University and went live on the site, so that’s another bit of happy news, because I wrote those two pieces as a 4-part set—2 of the companion pieces are with The First Line and two are with Euphemism, so all 4 pieces have been published, and they all got to stay with one of their companions, and that made me happy. After the 1^st North American publishing rights expire, I hope to try and send them all out together as a unified set. With luck, they’ll do as well as a 4-part story as they have done as vignettes. In another fun twist of happy luck, my dear friends MANDEM ended up being published in the same issue. Twice now, our work has ended up featured in the same publications. And, I got my copy of Torn Realities in the mail last week, and finally read the intro my piece had gotten from the editor—I actually cried, because I couldn’t believe how kind and flattering his words about my work were.  Two of my all-time favorite pieces, “Drive” and Quilted in Black” were accepted into The Oklahoma Review and will be published in the summer issue, so that’s yet another pending publication I’m looking forward to. My final bit of happy news is that for my birthday last week, my husband paid for my membership to the Horror Writers Association, and my application for affiliate membership was approved—so even though I work across many genres, I’m a totally legit horror writer!

Onward, as Mac Miller used to tell us at New College!