the atlantic is not a damn girl

Let it be known that live music is good for the soul.

Now, I'll grant you that seeing Eddy Current Suppression Ring and Tex Perkins in the space of two nights, one of said nights being a school night no less, may have been more than my bio-rhythms were prepared to cope with, and I would have far preferred to get more than 9 hours sleep in the last 57, but…eh. It was worth it. I REGRET NOTHING.

Of course, as a consequence, today has so far been spent playing catch-up on the chores. And, er, lolling upon the couch. Which is how I intend to pass the rest of the afternoon. Although, in the interests of being a somewhat productive member of society, said lolling will be accompanied by words on the faerie novel, and edits on "Shaping Lily". At some point.

Honest.

22 August 2009 @ 15:42 |

just your typical glamorous day, really

All week I was promised: 20°C on Saturday. And now Saturday is here, and I'm sitting on the couch wearing my fingerless gloves and wrapped in a throw rug, because it is very clearly NOT 20°C. No doubt when I leave the house this afternoon, the wind will sweep itself and all the clouds away to the south and Melbourne will start to bake and I, I will be overdressed and thus I will suffer. This is the natural way of things.

So far this morning, I have managed to wake up at 6:39 (and this is despite not getting to sleep until about 02:30 and where can I lodge a complaint about my bio-rhythms, anyway?) and pick my way through maybe half of the copyedits on "Shaping Lily". Suffice to say I've had better days as far as focus is concerned. Ah well.

Now I think it's time for breakfast.

Before I dive back into wrangling that effing car-crash of a narrative the faerie novel.

ETA: Since the A-format of Shadow Queen should be hitting bookshelves soon, it occurs to me now would be a good time to remind visitors to the blog that you can read the first chapter online for free.

15 August 2009 @ 12:15 |

just keep going, dammit

Last Saturday, a friend of mine said he might take a break from the novel for a bit, because he wasn't sure quite where it was going, and he didn't like it very much at the moment. And I told him that meant he was most definitely Not Allowed to put the novel aside for a bit. Put a novel down when you don't like it very much, and you run the very real risk of never picking it up again. And the only way to be quite sure of where the novel is going is to actually write it, and see where it takes you. Plenty of time to assess whether it went in the right direction once you've gotten there.

(For those planning-type writers out there, that last snippet of advice is going to sound heinous and dreadful and like telling small children they should totally just run out into the middle of a busy road without looking first, everything will be fine, and for that matter strangers present no danger whatsoever and while we're at it, in the interests of making sure you fit in at school, have you considered smoking? I can only say I'M SORRY, but I don't plan my stories in advance. In fact, writing them in linear fashion is still kinda new to me, and something I'm struggling with, and if I could come up with a substitute analogy for you pre-planning types I would. Honest.)

Anyrate, the point of all the above is this: I have totally spent the past two weeks avoiding my novel. Because I'm not sure quite where it's going. And I don't like it very much at the moment.

I've had all sorts of reasonable and legitimate excuses. Edits on a short story needed to be done.1 Then when those edits were done, there was no point picking up the novel again because edits on Pledged should be landing on my desk soonish, and if I picked up the novel again I'd only have to put it down again. So I picked up a short story instead, because I don't have any finished short stories to submit and perhaps I could work on that. Only I've just hit a point in the short story wherein I'm not sure quite where it's going, and I don't like it very much at the moment AND ARE YOU SENSING A PATTERN, PEOPLE?

Because I sure as heck am. And, quite frankly, I don't like it very much.

The thing is, the middle of a story is always hell. (I have even heard the pre-planning types opine this, although presumably for different reasons.) This is partly why it's not-very-affectionately known as the muddle, among other names.2 And every single time I attempt a story, without fail, I have to learn this lesson about the muddle anew. Every single time I have to remind myself that it's not okay to put the thing down, the key is to get past this section, however I can. Slog through the words until I find a way out; leave a note "And then something genius happens!" and skip ahead; consume some stimulant of choice and stay up all night; try whatever trick has worked in the past and even a few that haven't, because every story is different, but whatever you do: just. keep. going.

So. Time to figure out a trick that will work for the novel.

  1. Okay, that one actually is quite reasonable and legitimate, but in the interests of full disclosure I'm including it. Because it was the excuse I jumped on to start this whole avoidance caper rolling, after all. [↩]
  2. My novels always earn themselves appellations like THAT EFFING CAR-CRASH OF A NARRATIVE around this time. For full impact it must be delivered through tight lips and with narrowed eyes and followed by the phrase WE'RE NOT TALKING ABOUT IT ANY MORE. Which is promptly followed by brooding silence and then, just when my friends have tentatively moved on to another subject, interrupting them with an angst-ridden yawp and the desperate plea MAKE IT WORK WHY IS IT BROKEN PUT IT BACK TOGETHER FOR ME! [↩]

29 July 2009 @ 17:55 | 6 Comments

everyone needs somewhere to run to

I've finished the first round of edits on "Shaping Lily" and sent them winging on their way back to the editor — who will doubtless send them straight back with a "Good work! You fixed exactly a drabble of the stuff that needed fixing…here's the stuff you didn't fix back again so you can have another go at that, and while we're at it here's some more!" Because edits are never done in one pass, and fixing one niggle always makes other jagged bits stand out. Writing is in the re-writing, as someone (actually probably various someones) famous has already opined.

Last night, instead of turning back to the poor oft-abandoned faerie novel as I should have done, I worked on a short story. Poor faerie novel: it has been picked up and put down so often it's surely going to have some serious continuity issues. And probably a good few narrative drive issues into the bargain. (Poor me, who will need to fix them!) All my stories get abandoned at some point, because my brain likes to switch to a different problem when I hit the middle of the story.1

Tonight… tonight I cannot decide what to work on. And I am getting distracted by Apple Dictionary only being in American English. Why is there no Australian English dictionary? Or at least a British English dictionary? I DO NOT SPEAK OR SPELL AMGLISH, APPLE.

  1. The one story which was written without any periods of abandonment, even minor ones, is Shadow Queen — although it did have its periods of stalled work while I grumbled and glared at it and muttered under my breath about recalcitrant plotlines. [↩]

23 July 2009 @ 18:10 | 2 Comments

today i sat in a beanbag for 8 hours (it was the best day evah)

Today, determined to finish the first pass of edits on "Shaping Lily", I decided to track my progress throughout the day. In the interests of accountability, you understand.

Read on at your own peril. You have been warned.

9:17: Realise I've been dicking around on the internet far too long already, mostly reading through 6 insane discoveries science can't explain (yet).1 This is not a promising start to my revisions. Quickly check my to-do list, and remember in a panic all those bloody things I promised myself I'd do today. Realise edits on Lily is therefore not the first thing I have to do today. Decide edits on Lily are the first thing I'm going to do today anyway.

Read more »

  1. I knew about the antikythera mechanism, but didn't know about the others. Really like the pipes. And the bloop Cthulhu. [↩]

19 July 2009 @ 18:49 | 9 Comments

house of cards

Last night I stared at "Shaping Lily" with my edit letter in mind, and wondered if it's possible to fix what needs fixing without pulling the story to pieces.

It was a totally vain endeavour, of course, and I knew this at the time as well, but it appears to be part of my process. There is a point in my process — just after I've received feedback on a story but before I've actually started any (further) revisions — when the story hangs in the balance. A point wherein I basically sit staring at the story, hesitating, thinking a lot but achieving nothing. Or nothing material, at least.

Because as soon as I start — as soon as I select a single thread on which to work — the entire story will unravel and in the process a whole slew of other things that require fixing will fall out, and what was once a story will become instead a mess of shredded words scattered haphazardly over my desk. And I will have to examine every word, singly and in context, yet one more time, as I try to weave it all (seamlessly!) back into a cohesive narrative.1

All that sitting and staring has its place as well, however. It's a moment of waiting, of zen before the battle frenzy, which fixes the big picture in mind before I get lost in the minutiae.

Which is what it's time to do now.

  1. This metaphor would probably be much stronger if I knew anything at all about sewing, or weaving, or knitting. [↩]

The Trapeze Swinger (Iron & Wine — Around The Well)

14 July 2009 @ 18:31 |

i can see my future, and there are edits in it

Today I have exceedingly good news: I have sold a story to ASIM. Tentative publication date is April 2010.

For those playing along at home, I wrote the first draft of this story in January 2005, during my stint at Clarion. (Actually, since it was my week one story, I probably started it, in some brief and jotted form at least, in late December 2004.) I can't remember what I called it at the time (probably something genius like "Untitled"), but it's since acquired the title "Shaping Lily".

The story was inspired by the meeting of two ideas: an epic(ish) quest fantasy story wherein the main character was a little old lady, and Web of Light, by Stephanie Pui-Mun Law. (And in seeking out that link for you, I've only just gone and gotten myself lost in browsing Stephanie's site. Again.)

It's a quaint little story, and one I'm very fond of, so I'm glad it's found a good home.

And in updating my spreadsheet which records these things for me, I've belatedly realised I have exactly one short story currently doing the rounds of submissions, and nothing else to offer. I do have a handful of short stories in serious need of revising (some of my Clarion stories are still languishing, for example — although I think they'll stay languishing, except for one, which may turn into a novel. Like I need yet another novel idea in the queue. Still, too many ideas is a nicer problem to have than not enough ideas, I suppose).

H'm. Perhaps it's time to work on revising or drafting a short story or two.

Swans and the Swimming (Iron & Wine — Around The Well)

11 July 2009 @ 11:36 | 8 Comments

i have been team-built

For those of you waiting for its arrival: I haven't seen a copy myself yet, but it looks like Postscripts #18 has been released into the wild.

This is the issue which features my story, "The Wages of Salt", and google alerts tells me it's made at least one good impression so far.

Now, being a writer, and therefore of delicate emotional constitution, this pleases me immensely. But I'm especially glad to see this story available for general purchase, because it's one of my favourites. Part of that is because, of everything I've written, "The Wages of Salt" is the story which best survived the translation from my head to the written word; it's always a tricky process, and every story takes a few wounds in the process of being pinned to the page. Also, partly it's because I simply adore the world I created in that story, and I'm keen to go back and write more in that same world. I have a few snippets of ideas, waiting for time and inspiration and a solid plot.

melbournebotanicgardens02

I took this photo yesterday morning, as I wandered through the Royal Botanic Gardens on my way to work. (In fact, I took quite a lot of photos. I would have taken more, but it was 8 o'clock in the morning and only 6°C: my fingers froze.) I liked the image of a circle of chairs gathered beneath a circle of trees, all empty. I wonder what meetings go on there? (Whatever they are, I bet the ones I'm imagining are far more interesting than the reality.)

28 May 2009 @ 19:19 |

it never rains but it pours

The signing sheets for Postscripts #18 have come and gone on their merry way and I can say this with certainty: I have no signature. Truly, every single one of those sheets is unique.

I am currently sitting in my car, which is at the moment a very expensive sculpture, on account of the battery going to sleep sometime in the past two weeks and now declining to emerge from its coma. Given that I need the car today in order to find a place to live, my previous plans having exploded in rather spectacular and last-minute fashion, I am, needless to say, a little peeved with life right about now. For values of a little roughly approximate to I think the world can just go ahead and burn, what do I care any more?

So, my apologies, but sporadic and unfocussed (and haphazardly abandoned) is going to be a feature of this site until life JUST SETTLES DOWN, DAMMIT.

In the meantime, have a snippet of awesome to entertain you: Predator X (link courtesy of splinister)

PS: Comments are not turned off, but please be aware that I may be a little distracted and unable to get around to answering any of them for a bit.

21 March 2009 @ 11:42 |

adventures in relocation, part the whatever

I cannot tell you how much I love today's xkcd.

Today, I ventured onto Melbourne's public transport system all by myself, and successfully navigated my way to ambush Tess in her natural habitat. Inconveniently, I forgot to actually determine precisely where her natural habitat was in relation to the closest train station, but luckily she rescued me, and fed me chicken, so all is right with the world.

She also handed over the box containing my signing sheets for Postscripts #18. I'd been wondering where they got to, but now the mystery is solved: they came to me via NZ. Given they came from the UK, this either means they went the very long way around, or overshot me and had to backtrack. Disturbingly, someone else's customs declaration has been stuck over the original customs declaration, and the new declaration states underwear. You know, I know the box doesn't contain underwear, and yet…I still don't wanna open it…

17 March 2009 @ 21:25 | 3 Comments
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