social networking overload

 journal, writing life  9 Responses »
Jul 182011
 
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Plitvice lakes

Croatia is, well, it's partially booked, and the rest of it is planned. That totally counts as progress. I'm going to be seeing Zagreb, the UNESCO listed Plitvice Lakes, and the Dalmatian coast. This strikes me as a most excellent way of spending some time.

This weekend I also managed to book my flights to America for WFC 2011. Yet more progress!

In more ephemeral progress, I've also been pondering the thornsome dilemma that is social media. There is, quite simply, too much of it.

I like blogging for the fact that it's my website, and my voice, and I like the space you get in blog posts, both writing them and reading them. Conversely, I like Twitter for its immediacy, and for its ephemeral, thrown-off nature. I don't like Facebook — too much noise to signal, and the platform makes it impossible to filter content from chatter. I have a Goodreads account, but I can't remember the last time I found time to log in. I'm on Google+, which I like better than Facebook if only for its more easily-accessible privacy and filtering utilities, but it does feel like yet another platform I'm supposed to keep up with. Yet another platform where I have to face the dilemma of whether I cross-post, and commit the sin of forcing people who are following me on more than the one platform to trawl through duplicate content, or whether I strive to come up with original content for just this platform…

It's frustrating, because I enjoy the interaction, but the time consumption and the fragmented concentration is simply too draining.

So I am hereby giving myself permission to say that two social media platforms is my limit. For now that's my blog, and twitter. I'll still lurk on the other platforms, but I won't be logging in unless they demand my attention.

I think this also counts as progress.

why, hello again, 5:55am.

 journal, writing life  1 Response »
Jun 202011
 
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At last, I've bowed to the inevitable and taken up writing in the mornings again.

I've always written best(ish) in the mornings — by which I mean I like that I start the day knowing I have words on the manuscript, and I like that the manuscript gets first dibs on my attention. At that time of day it's more sleep-deprived than fresh, but at least it isn't drained by attending to the day's myriad needs into the bargain, which is generally my evening state of mind.

It's fair to say, though, I don't like getting up early. The bed is waaaaaaaaaarm. My eyeballs take twenty minutes to work up any moisture and come to something approximating a working agreement with my contact lenses, so I'm not exaggerating when I say the first hundred or so words are written literally blind. (Lucky I can touch-type.) Writing to a clock, because I have to stop in time to get to the dayjob, means I'm constantly interrupting myself to check the time. (I've set an alarm to keep track of the time for me, but it's a nervous tic. I'm hoping practice will help me relax and trust the alarm sooner or later.)

What I love, nay absolutely ADORE, about writing in the mornings is that I am the only person in the world. Sitting tucked up in the dark, with only myself and my laptop and my imagination, knowing the rest of the world is sleeping and no one, but no one, will disturb me … it's divine beyond words. Of course, I'd prefer that snug dark lonesomeness to be post-midnight, but that doesn't work so well with a dayjob. Pre-dawn is the next best thing.

Despite knowing from experience this was my best option, I fought it. Because it's cold in the mornings: I don't need more chillblains, and that kind of cold only exacerbates the aches in my back, neck, shoulders and wrists. Because it seemed like it would create more problems in my daily routine than it would solve, such as waking the pterosaur1 or making it impossible for me to get enough sleep. Because I wanted to try being more flexible and less routine-driven, like normal people.

But I tried flexible and less routine-driven, and all it gave me was less time than before, and a never-ending slew of last-minute errands which regularly swallowed any chance of writing that day. And I underestimated the pterosaur, who is simultaneously supportive and utterly unrousable in that he manages to lift the doona and help push me upright without actually waking himself. And as for the cold … I have a heater now!

Sometimes, taking time for your writing means admitting you need those routines that you think make you boring. And taking that time, and enforcing that routine, even though you risk some people thinking you're boring. Because the people that count will understand. (Although they will probably still think you're a little bit crazy. But everyone knew that bit already anyway.)

  1. I haven't mentioned the pterosaur overmuch on the blog, out of respect for his privacy, but suffice to say he's named for the noise he makes when he hiccoughs. It's totally the noise a flying dino would make if it had just spotted delicious (utterly deaf) prey. Startling stuff. [↩]

it's alive!

 journal, the wages of honey, writing life  2 Responses »
Mar 132011
 

You guys, I've done it: I've finished the thorn girls short story.

And by short I mean 9,156 / 10,750 words (depending on whether you count by human rules or printer's rule), so, um, yeah, not exactly short. In fact, it's what I affectionately like to call one of those unsellable lengths between a short story and a novel.

And by finished I mean I have a working first draft that I'm not ashamed to show people, and will doubtless need more work but I'm pretty sure said work, from this point on, will be polishing only, not structural. (Please, please, please let it not need any more structural work. This story has been taken apart and put back into exactly the same shape only different so many times I've lost count. Not to mention numerous brain cells in the process.)

This poor little frankenstein of a story was first started halfway through 2007, which takes a bit of believing even for me. I always forget that writing a short story is no quicker for me than writing a novel — in fact sometimes it's slower. Although in all honesty a great deal of the slowness in this case had to do with the story being constantly temporarily abandoned in favour of higher priorities, such as the editing passes on Shadow Queen and Shadow Bound.

There's something heady about the moment you know you have an actual draft, a "finished" draft. Somewhat akin to the moment you pull your hands back from adding the final card to a house of cards, holding your breath for fear of triggering the collapse and realising no, it's steady.

If I had the means on hand, I would totally be getting celebratorily drunk right now.

two months down? already?

 the wages of honey, writing life  Comments Off
Mar 032011
 

I'm behind in my blogging (as usual), and partly that's because I'm this close to wrapping up the thorn girls short story. I am tempted to indulge in the cliche so close I can taste it, but really that would only be attractive if finishing were, say, a peanut butter sandwich. With fresh white bread. Yum.

Last night I got the structure all but nailed down (albeit with an awful lot of white space in the manuscript which is nothing more than the note GET HIM OUTSIDE NOW, or some other such crossing-the-room instruction); tonight I get to trawl through and put in all those room-crossings and transitions.

Normally when I write my first draft, I put the transitions in — but in a tricky first draft, such as this one, which I got half-written and then threw at Tess in desperation, and sulked until she came back with the suggestion to rip it to pieces (which was more helpful than it sounds, given she told me which pieces I needed to keep) and thus required significant structural edits at the same time as trying to write the rest of the story … well. In those cases I tend to skip the transitions. Mostly because I find I'll spend hours agonising over the one sentence that will impel the character across the room, only to find that character now needs to not be in the scene at all. Structural edits never progress linearly, for me. Heck, nothing about my story-writing process is linear. Let's be honest.

So, because listening to me opine about editing is bound to be a little dry, I'll point you instead to Gillian's blog, where there is a piece up by me in honour of Women's History Month, where I talk about my dayjob:

…my favourite subjects were mathematics and chemistry. …I could go on at length about the appeal of science and engineering — the way it takes hard physical evidence and observable, reproducible phenomena, and strings theorems and hypotheses between them to create stories of why the leaves are green and the sky is blue. That, just like writing, it's about past experiences, a shared history, imagination, and daring to dream. The fact that the entire discipline is built on a premise of being collaborative and rigorously open, encouraging invention and innovation, like a global remix project centred around numbers and factoids. I like that language is immaterial, that the stars speak to us through chemicals and fractals and ratios.

In the end, it comes down to the fact that I crave answers, yes, but more than anything, I want space and the chance to both be curious and to indulge that curiosity.

ETA: Oops! Link was borked. Fixt.

it's not like that's what the publisher wants to know or anything

 away come away, journal, writing life  2 Responses »
Nov 062010
 

Forgive me, my lovely internets, for spending so long away from you! (And, um, promise you'll forgive me for only briefly checking in before I dash away again?)

I did however find one of the world's better 'No Entry' signs while I was away, which I offer for your amusement:

Mostly lately I've been working, when I could snatch a moment to myself, on a synopsis for the faerie novel. Given I haven't finished the novel, and don't plan my novels in advance, writing a synopsis at this point in my process is … not coming easily, to say the least.

I'm finding it surprisingly draining. The story always feels forced, when I need to figure things out before the characters actually experience it, and I never trust that I've got it right. But after much grinding of teeth (quite literally — all this novel-plotting is making me grind my teeth while I sleep) I think I've figured out the important plot points.

Well, everything except the, er, climax.

Yanno, no biggie.

but the year is slipping away, and i miss the words

 journal, writing life  Comments Off
Oct 032010
 

There's an interview with Paolo Bacigalupi up at Techland and, quite apart from the fact that I am now livid with jealousy over what is apparently the coolest surname meaning EVER, towards the end of the interview Bacigalupi has some powerful things to say about writing:1

For me … having the raw ability … it was meaningless, ultimately. It was the willingness to write four novels and fuck them all up and keep going that was the definer … the willingness to accept failure and not let it stop you, and to not let that define you.

And I feel like it doesn't get talked about, that idea that nobody accidentally gets published. You don't accidentally fall into writing a novel. Just the process of actually writing a novel is too damn hard for anybody to accidentally fall into it. And if somebody says, "yeah I just did it," they're probably lying. They wanted it and they went after it is what they did.

…Discipline comes from within, not from without. I think of it as being, there are those people who are waiting for the thing to arrive, and then there's people who are going out and making it. I think about it as almost theft. You almost have to steal the book from the rest of your life. There's so few things that are going to support you in the process of writing a book. There's always more child care. There's always some emergency that has to happen. There's always some reason why, you know, you have a deadline at your regular job and so you have to stay up late, and you can't get your writing done. If you're going to write it's always stolen from somebody else's time, or some other responsibility.

Life's been a bit hectic lately, complicated by such fun things as being stalked by RSI and productivity targets at the dayjob, not to mention a ludicrous quantity of errands, and it's been stealing my writing time and energy. Worse, I've been letting that happen — because the stories I have at hand are being uncooperative, and procrastinating on them is far easier than wrangling them into submission.2

Carving time out of your day and life to write is a lesson I've already learnt — but it's also one of those lessons I continually have to re-learn and re-affirm. It can be a hard fight, to carve out that time for myself and my stories, but the hardest fight is to do it consistently and incessantly, every day. Life lets me steal a pocket out of any given day without too much trouble — but when I try to steal a pocket out of every single day, life fights back. Sooner or later, life lands a suckerpunch, and I'll miss a day. That's when the slide starts, and I find myself skipping two days and promising myself if I just have the rest of the week off from writing to knock over all these errands I'll be able to start again on Saturday with a clear head.

Finding time to write, it seems, is one endless game of snakes and ladders. Only without the ladders.

Today I'm going to dodge those pesky snakes, though.

  1. And/or investing in the creative process, since it has a far wider application than simply writing [↩]
  2. Well, okay, to be fair to me: calling life a bit hectic lately is a touch of an understatement. But still. [↩]

podcast

 journal, the wages of salt, writing life  2 Responses »
Aug 142010
 

People, it's ALIVE.

It, in this case, being the podcast of my short story "The Wages of Salt".


Squatting to examine a buried shadow, I nodded. There was no academic or scientific value in salt — it would not advance my thesis, nor bring any glimmer of knowledge about the theriomorphs — but it would sell. White gold, the economic cornerstone of New Persia.

I brushed at the crust. Dirty grains clung to the sweat of my palms. The shadow underneath, too clean-edged to be a phantasm, didn’t change. “Here,” I said. “Help me.”

“It’ll just be another ammonite.” But he knelt and set to scraping beside me.

My fingers touched cloth.

I jerked back, staring at the dark linen we’d uncovered. Suspicion lifted the hairs on my nape and I dug faster, harder, in danger of damaging the specimen with haste.

An arm emerged from the salt. Beside me, Hareem had uncovered a knee. Working feverishly now, we followed the contours, salt flying from our fingers, until the entire body lay bare to the sky.

Hareem let out a low whistle. “Now this,” he said, “will fetch a fiefdom.”

So, if you couldn't get hold of a copy of Postscripts, or you really have a hankering for audio fiction, or heck if you simply like free fiction, trot yourself on over to PodCastle and enjoy.

 Posted by at 4:13 pm  Tagged with:

tell the rambler, the gambler, the back-biter

 announcements, journal, shaping lily, writing life  2 Responses »
Jul 242010
 
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I have been the slightest bit remiss, of late, in my authorly duties. Or rather in broadcasting to you all just how my authorly duties have been carrying on while I wasn't watching. (Damn things require careful supervision, or they start nesting in the corners. You know how it is.)

So!

First up, a little whiles back I participated in an discussion-type interview about writers and writing.

Writers deal in conundrums and contradictions, striving to “open a vein”, as the saying goes, and tap something you don’t necessarily want on public display in order to produce worthwhile writing, and at the same time working very hard, crafting and polishing, in order to produce something worthy of public display. Reconciling those opposed desires, as Tess pointed out, requires sleight of mind (that’s such a great phrase!), especially during the initial draft.

The discussion was triggered by Gillian Pollack's new anthology, "Baggage",1 which I for one am pretty keen to read. It veered into all sorts of interesting places, from cultural baggage and the (often irrational) process of writing, to writing on difficult/sensitive/arresting subjects that have no solution. And it isn't just me mouthing off; the wonderfully irreverent Tessa and incisive KJ Bishop get all wise into the bargain — so go, read. Marvel at our flippant biographies and potted wisdom. (Or thank your lucky stars you don't have to live in any of our brains. Take your pick.)

Secondly, my contributor's copy of ASIM #45 arrived in the post a little whiles back. Look! Is it not pretty?

The ASIM website is still listing #43 as the most recent issue, but I'm assured that #45 will soon be on shelves or available for purchase through the website. This is the copy of ASIM that features my week one Clarion South story, "Shaping Lily", a story about a little old lady on an epic quest, with fruit bats and hearts and Consequences.

And finally, because I think you should admire my mad photography skillz some more love you all, have another Mongolia snap.

  1. I don't have a story in Baggage. I'm not entirely sure how I therefore earned myself a place in this discussion, but when people call me rather wonderful and ask me to say things, I do not quibble. I'm nice like that. [↩]
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