Email back from the Touched by Wonder anthology, to which I subbed A SHADE OF YELLOW:
"After careful review of your work, I have decided to decline. Though you are a talented writer with a gift for startling imagery, I feel the story is not a good fit for the anthology as it is shaping up to be."
Once again with the "this story has its merits, but it's not right for our anthology." Most annoying.
This is my sixth rejection for this story, and I wouldn't be overly surprised if it netted a few more before finally finding a home. Why? When the wonderful Katie of Buns read through it for me, she commented on the fact that there's no particular resolution to the story -- and this is something I'm aware of with no intention to change. To me, the story is a window, both for the character Mari and for the reader; it's a window into a much larger world (of politics etc) that Mari is granted for a few days before it's taken away and her life reverts to normal. That's all there is to the story. The only kind of resolution is that Mari realises she's been used, and her perception of the city's current situation has been changed a little.
So it doesn't particularly surprise me when this story gets a rejection. It's not a standard storytelling format, and I can understand it not working for plenty of editors (or editors feeling it won't work for their readers). But I like it. I really like it. And I have no intention to change it, to give it a resolution, because that would mean making it a completely different story and (a) I like it, and (b) I'm lazy. But mostly it's (a).
Just means I need to accept that it's going to be a particularly tough
story to find a home for. Oh well. All a girl can do is
keep trying!
So I just got told that I need to find a WW1 propaganda poster to print off and bring to my class tomorrow. I ran to google images, and unearthed the following comedy gold:
Oh man. Americans were hilarious back then too!
6,674 /
30,000
(22.2%)
I am loving this story.
I've stopped for the night now, as I've hit a less-interesting point (traversing the rest of the desert where nowt happens, and reaching Fall) that I'm too tired now to figure out how to tell, but the ideas are still swirling in the back of my sleepy mind.
Bizarre-o happenings in China are story-licious. I may work that into "beth", or make it something else. We'll see.
Added: Oh yes, forgot to mention. I got my stitches out today, from my little surgery wounds, and some of stitches had grown into my skin. Which was so much fun when the nurse had to remove them. It was like a joke about changing lightbulbs, only different - How many nurses does it take to remove one of Alex's stiches? 3! Stupid knot had disappeared into my skin, and had to be tugged out with a needle. And two of the other stitches had cut into my skin, leaving two thin lines of scab across the surgery wound.
Actually it hurt less than it sounds - stung, really, and only once badly enough to have me crying out. One of the nurses was distracting me by talking about uni stuff. She was really sweet - called me "Poor darling" and then got really embarrassed at having called me that.
And now I have even more scabs to not pick. *twitch* This ain't easy, y'know.
Finally got my letter back from the Sails and Sorcery anthology, which I'd subbed EMPIRES AND GLASS to:
"An exciting, yet painful tale - it's just not quite a fit for this book."
They're not saying it's a bad story, in fact their reaction (the fact they had one, even, rather than just saying "it doesn't fit") suggests that it's a good story, only that it's not a story they want for the anthology. Which is bloody annoying, though it could be worse.
Not sure where to send it next. I'm thinking the Writers of the Future Contest again, to see if I can do even better this time with a story that, I think, is much tighter and stronger than STATUES, but I've not entirely made up my mind. I suppose my problem with the WotF Contest is that I wouldn't hear back about the story til June, and I'd hate to have it tied up for so long. But at the same time, the gain I could get from doing well in the contest would far outstrip the happy feeling I'd get from having the story appear in a much lesser place much sooner. And really, I do have to be a bit pragmatic about this.
In happier news, I get to read Gilgamesh for my dissertation. Dude. I've wanted to read it for a while, and now I have to read it. Okay, so I don't have to, but as part of my dissertation I'll be considering how Alexander's foray into India fits into a greater ancient tradition of conquest/adventure narratives, and my supervisor mentioned reading Gilgamesh as one of the things in the tradition to compare it to.
So today:
Writerly World = 1, Alex = 0
Rest of the World = 0, Alex = 1
Karma, people. She breathes...
Coming in right at the top of the wtf-randomness-meter: I got appendicitis.
Wednesday evening I started getting killer stomach pains, but thought it would pass. After a couple hours of curling up on my bed, crying, my flatmates told me I should call a doctor. The doctor said I should go to a hospital, said it was probably a stomach bug or something but because of my age they had to rule out appendicitis. I went to the hospital and got given something for stomach problems. It didn't work. The pain subsided briefly, then kicked in like a bitch just as we went to a different hospital for a more thorough check-up. Which featured me staggering past some wards, sobbing from the pain, and the nurse saying "Do you mind not waking up all the other patients?"
Um. In agony here?
I threw up the oral painkillers so they stuck a thingywhatsit in my arm and gave me morphine. Which was sooooooo good. Killed the pain in minutes. Then, after much poking and prodding and the same questions asked over and over, I got to go to a ward and lie down (this at about 5.30am, now Thursday). At about 7am a bunch of doctors came round, said they reckoned it was appendicitis and I'd be put on the emergency op list.
Didn't get the op till 4pm Thursday. Was a bit scary, going under general anaesthetic, and when I woke up apparently I freaked out at having an oxygen mask on or the tubey thing, so my oxygen saturation dropped quite low. But when I'd calmed down I put the mask on, so I was okay. Turned out it was appendicitis (rather than an ovarian cyst, their other consideration). I spent Friday in a different ward, and my parents brought me home to theirs Friday night for several days R&R.
I have three little cuts - I got "keyhole surgery" rather than one big cut. One cut just under my belly button, one further down, and one off to the left.
I still can't quite get over the randomness of this all. One day I'm fine, next day I'm in agony and my appendix is going batshit on me. The surgeon said it hadn't burst or anything, was just inflamed, so it was a clean op and I should be fine. Just gotta take it easy for the next week or so.
Fucking random.
My wiki-fu has unearthed books about young Captain Jack Sparrow. Only the fact that they're young adult, which generally is too simplistic and infodumpy in style for my taste, is putting me off ordering them. Oh, and not forgetting that my book shelf is already full of novels I need to read and I have several things already lined up for my next amazon.co.uk order. *is so not a book-buying addict*
Finished the second chapter of my "beth" story, posted here under friends-lock. At the moment I'm aiming to get it to 30,000 words, and I have enough vague ideas floating round my head about the story that I think I'll manage it. What I'll do with it then... not entirely sure. Oh well! I've having fun writing it; that's the important thing right now.
|
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"beth" 4,102 / 30,000 (13.7%) |
Got back the essay I turned in at the end of last term, and I got a B+! Hooray! Much better than I'd expected. Hopefully the essay I turned in last week will yield the same positive surprise.
Subbed A TRIPTYCH off to the Iris Print "fairy tale and fantasy" anthology last night, and A SHADE OF YELLOW to the Touched by Wonder anthology on the 7th (which I think I forget to mention).
In the 'books' section of the Times today, there was an article on how to write chick-lit. Much to my surprise there was some decent advice in there - concerning dialogue, description, etc - but they also had tips from "stars of the genre", one of which made me want to kill someone.
"The worst thing you can do is to concentrate on plot at the expense of the characters. As long as the characters live and breathe, not an awful lot need happen. Don't get too complex."
~ Freya North
The first sentence I could have accepted. A story needs good characters. But the rest....
Admittedly, this is partly personal preference. I like to read stories that are packed up to the eyeballs with complex plot, as well as a cast of interesting characters. I know some people much prefer character-fiction, where plot is very much on the sidelines. (I personally can't think of anything more boring. Oh, wait..... Nope, more boring even than prizegiving-day speeches back at school.)
I hope wannabe-writers don't take this woman's "advice" seriously. Not everyone likes plot-less stories, and telling writers to write them without saying it's not the way everyone wants books is rather stupid.
But then again, nothing really happens in chick-lit, does it? The
woman buys some shoes, angsts a bit about the guy she wants but can't
get and about her expanding waistline, and then buys some more
shoes. Give me guns and explosions any day.
Finished an essay. It's assessed, and really not that great, but I have to head over to uni now to hand it in so I don't have time to make it better. Whatever.
Can't help but snigger at the first line in this comment to a post about getting books turned into a movies. "Oh wow, you write epic fantasy! How original!" While I'm not dissing the idea of epic fantasy being good, the ratio of 'people who think they're writing The Next Great Fantasy Epic' to 'people actually writing good fantasy' generally supports my urge to snark. But snarking in this community is NAUGHTY so I must keep it here. (for those who've not seen it: keep scrolling down, that thread keeps getting better and BETTER)
On that books-to-movie topic, if I finish any of my weirder stuff I'd kill to have it animated by Studio Ghibli. But that's stepping right into Totally-Awesome-But-NEVER-Going-To-Happen territory. *keeps dreaming*
Going up to Scotland for my gran's funeral. Will return on Saturday.
Tim (one of my two flatmates) blessed our flat today with sacred chalk. o.O The best part is that I'm being totally serious. He had a bit of chalk that had been blessed by a priest, and a little leaflet from some church saying what to write on the front door-frame.
As soon as he finished it, I turned to Karim (my other flatmate, and a fellow atheist) and said, "You know, God is gonna get us now." And I chased him back to his room, wiggling my fingers and saying in a weird voice, "Conveeert, conveeert!!"
=D
And, jumping once again on the meme-bandwagon, this one listing the opening lines of the short stories I completed in 2006:
A Fay of Steam: Steam and smog clamour to control the world outside.
A Shade of Yellow: "My side... The deal... Don't forget..."
A Triptych: "Oh Mother, Mother, why did you ask this of him?"
Empires and Glass: Waste magic clung to D'sil in tendrils, hanging onto his clothing and skin like seaweed to the hull of the ship on which he stood.
Flight: The beeping woke me, sank into my hazy dream-world and pulled me to a cold morning and the incessant call of Rif's snooze alarm. (while I wrote the original of this back in 2005, I'm counting this in my 2006 achievements because I completely rewrote it in that year)
Juniper Grave: Gathered secretly from the cold tiles of our kitchen floor, held like eggs a-nesting in her finest silk handkerchief: my bones.
Let Me Fall: Rain falls like spears, slicing through any clear memories of the Circus.
Snowdrops: Snowdrops painted the forest floor white.
Statues: Illan could hear the zarek moving through the ruins towards her.
Tansu: The smell of wood varnish filled the modest room.
The Beautiful Collection: Mist curls along the high street like forgotten wisps of Rapunzel's hair.
....
Interesting little exercise.
I've learnt that I should not begin any more titles with 'A....' for a
while, and I'm surprised I started so few with 'The...' I'm proud
of the utter lack of passive tense in any of those opening
sentences. I'm wondering if the JUNIPER GRAVE
one makes it sound like the handkerchief belongs to the floor (the rest
of the paragraphs makes it clear that's not the case, but
technically...).
.
.
.
.
*peers over shoulder, watching out for God*
