Once I dreamed of being a factory. In discipline, not in product: I dreamed of cranking out page after page, manuscript after manuscript, of setting up a schedule and achieving it without fail. But the discipline of writing, I discovered, is not much like factory work.
Driven by emotion, subject to unpredictability, writing is so much more like the stock market.
Please note: I'm not an expert at the stock market by any means. But my father is, and some of what he has tried to teach me has managed to stick in my head. These are the lessons I learned from him.
1. The Stock Market is Not Consistent
The market goes up and down. Your energy will go up and down. Governments may try to stimulate the stock market by fiddling with interest rates or tax codes. It doesn't guarantee a rise in profits. Likewise, you may gulp down expresso after expresso, but that does not mean the pages will come flowing out. Some days are a struggle and you just can't help it.
2. There are Trends in the Stock Market
My father has a trader's almanac, which tells him that September is historically a low-performing month, while December will usually be higher during the season of Christmas. Likewise, I know that historically I am most energetic in the spring, whereas my energy decreases from November and December, due to darkness and holiday stress. This helps me as I work out my goals.
Aside from seasonal trends, you can see the state of the economy based on news and a careful observation of sectors and companies. In this way, you can forecast your energy levels based on upcoming events. Moving? Vacation? Surgery? Maybe you'd better invest your time in journaling or just skip writing altogether.
3. The Most Money is Made in Spurts
Most sectors chug up and down, up and down, and remain pretty flat. But then, all it once, they have a hot streak. This is when you need to be in the market. This is when the profit reels in. Likewise, when you write. You chug and chug until you hit a bubble of inspiration that lifts you to the heights of glory.
The lesson seems to be to cash in only when the market is hot, but wise investors know that by the time the general public is aware of a trend, chances are that trend has already topped out. In order to make sure you're in right when the market is starting to go up, you have to be on the look out every single day. Writers need to catch burst of inspirations and milk them for all their worth, but to do that, they must be constantly prepared, constantly writing.
4. You Can Make Money No Matter What
If the market is going down, you can still make money. You just have to change your strategy. Maybe you sink your money into bonds. Maybe you play the "bear market," and invest in the market continuing to fall. Maybe you take money out of the market and pay off debts, "making" money by getting rid of the life-sucking high interest rates. You can always do something.
If writing a particular chapter gets you nowhere and you're feeling constantly uninspired, try something else. Write a short story. Do some research. Go tackle that pile of chores you've been meaning to get to which is always in the back of your mind and starting to give you anxiety. If you aren't productive in one thing, try another.
5. You Will Lose Money
No matter how professional you are, how wise, how experienced, you will make bad choices at least some of the time. If you can't stomach the thought of losing hundreds, if not thousands of dollars, then playing the stock market may not be right for you. Similarly, all writers throw away hundreds, if not thousands of pages. If you get too cannot let go of what you write, this might not be the profession for you. But if you don't get too attached to your every gain, you'll find that you will prosper indeed.
6. Even the Stock Market Gets Days Off
And so should you.
Showing posts with label life experience. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life experience. Show all posts
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Ten Years
Soon, I will be twenty-eight, an important age for me. Ten years will have passed since I graduated high school. Only two years remain until I hit a new decade. It seems a time to reflect on where I wanted to be ten years ago and where I am now.
I thought I'd be further along than I am now. Realistically, I knew I'd be struggling as a writer, but I guess I'd hoped I'd be published by now, or at least have finished a novel. I'm not married, I don't have my own place, I don't even have a driver's license. It's easy to see myself as a failure, looking at this particular slice of life. But I met some goals and did some things I never expected. For example, I:
I thought I'd be further along than I am now. Realistically, I knew I'd be struggling as a writer, but I guess I'd hoped I'd be published by now, or at least have finished a novel. I'm not married, I don't have my own place, I don't even have a driver's license. It's easy to see myself as a failure, looking at this particular slice of life. But I met some goals and did some things I never expected. For example, I:
- Got my Bachelor's Degree
- Became Christian
- Learned Japanese
- Traveled Abroad
- Lived Abroad (for 3 years!)
- Paid off $20,000 in Student Debts
- Did Volunteer Work
- Received 14 Rejections
- Wrote and Re-wrote an 850 page fantasy novel
- Never gave up on my dream to be a writer, even when things got tough
My twenties were about ambition, but it was also a time of learning how to be an adult. I hope that in my thirties some of this hard learning will pay off, and I'll have a steadier life. Here's how I picture myself in the next ten years, barring some kind of disaster:
- I want to have three books published
- I want my own house/ apartment and my own little dog
- I want a retirement account with actual money in it
- I want to try dating
- I want to keep up my volunteer work
- I want to plant a garden
- I want to travel to at least 2 different countries
- I want to learn a new, surprising skill
- I want to have a close relationship to family and friends
- I might want a Master's Degree
So, those are my modest long-term goals. Hopefully, I'll see them through.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Goals and Dreams 2013
Every year I do my New Year's Resolutions, aka, goals for the year. Unfortunately, I tend to lose the paper I write it on sometime in February and by December, I never know if I made it or not. So, now I'm posting it on this blog, where it will stay safely until December 2013. Maybe I'll update as the year goes by and these goals are completed.
Goals
These are the serious things that I expect myself to finish before the year's done. If I don't complete them, I'll probably be very upset at myself.
These are all the things I'd like to do that are either out of my control or maybe just ideas to throw out there. In other words, I might get some of these done, but I'm not going to kill myself if I don't.
Goals
These are the serious things that I expect myself to finish before the year's done. If I don't complete them, I'll probably be very upset at myself.
- Get Driver's License (July)
- Finish Posting Fanfiction (by March) (Finished 3-1-13)
- March-Crunch (500 words a day, 5 days a week in preparation for Camp NaNoWriMo) (Finished 3-27-13, 17499 words)
- Camp NaNoWriMo in April (Finished 4-26-13, 57207 words)
- Finish Editing Changelings (Chapter 24, 26, 27, 28, 29) by summer (Chapter 26: Finished 1-5-13; Chapter 24: Finished 1-26-13; Chapter 27: Finished 2-28-13; Chapter 28: Finished 5-12-13; Chapter 29: Finished 6-3-13; Chapter 1: Finished 6-17-13; Total Words: Approx 220,000 or 800 pages)
- Finish Rough Draft of Originals (Finished 4-26-13, see Camp NaNoWriMo)
- Finish "Three Floating Coffins" (Worked on it consistently but did not finish.)
- Begin Credentialing Process (Didn't even start)
- Crunch-tober (More or less)
- NaNoWriMo (November) (Completed Company in 21 days)
- Keep up Blog for the Year (Up until the end.)
- Keep up Volunteering (Read OC fell though, but still volunteering at library.)
- Start Submiting Novel to Agent (10 Agents: 8 Rejections and 2 No Replies)
- Evaluate Goals and Dreams at the end of the year! (Working on it)
These are all the things I'd like to do that are either out of my control or maybe just ideas to throw out there. In other words, I might get some of these done, but I'm not going to kill myself if I don't.
- Get published this year (Didn't Happen)
- Make enough money to subsist on (Er... sort of.)
- Learn new, more effective ways of writing (???)
- Read more fiction (Thus far read: Trickster, The Skull of Truth, a few short stories; The Grimm Legacy; multiple Agatha Christie novels; Across the Face of the World; Daughter of Smoke and Bone; The Scorpio Races; The Rook; etc.)
- Exercise or meditate for 5 minutes each day (Got off track in spring)
- Write a screenplay (Ha, ha, No.)
- Write poems for NaPoWriMo (also April) (See Blog)
- Finish "Ghost" Story (aka "Company," Complete 11-21-13)
- Write 12 new short stories (1 per month) (1. The Character Assassination of Julia Kaiser: 2-7-13; 2. Second Chance: 2-10-13... And a few unfinished drafts)
- After finishing the rough draft, write a new chapter for the Originals 3 times a month (Finished rough draft, re-wrote 6 chapters--not nearly up to par with my goal)
- Devote a week each month to brainstorming/ research/ short stories/ new stuff (No time)
- Use Weekly Planner to Keep Track of Events/ Words/ Pages/ Accomplishments (Started Jan and Feb, got off track Mar, April...)
- Celebrate more! (That's hard to quantify)
Update
As of January 2014, I have marked off the goals I completed reasonably well in yellow, the ones that were not finished and/ or ambiguous (though some effort was made) in orange, and the ones where no progress was made at all in red.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
3 Things Writers Must Do (Besides Write)
When I was young and the world seemed easy, I had the foolish notion that writing was just a matter of sitting down to write. A writer, armed with coffee and a computer, would sit at her desk for hours and hours, letter keys clicking, while the paragraphs and pages flowed out from her brain to her fingers to the screen. Back when I was innocent, I didn't think of myself as naive. I knew that there would be times of frustration and writer's block, but I figured that if I just kept at it, those blocks would dissolve and the story would emerge.
I tested this theory the summer I was nineteen, and it nearly destroyed me.
I was not happy. I was not even productive. After three months with absolutely nothing to do but write, I got about two chapters written, both of which I threw away a couple months later. In the mean time, I grew to hate writing, hate my story, hate that stuffy room with the glare of sunshine and the heat of the computer.
Writing, as it turns out, is not enough. If you want to create a story, you need to attack it from many different angles. Half the work is blunt force--sitting down at the computer and getting the words to come out. The other half is figuring out what to how to write and what to write.
Here are three things writers need to do in addition to simply writing.
1. Goal-set
It's simple enough. You might be able to write a poem or a short story on the fumes of inspiration, but the longer the work, the more discipline is required. (And I write 800-page fantasy monsters.) The easiest way to create discipline is to set goals. Something specific. I will write such-and-such number of words/ pages a day. I will finish a chapter each month.
It sounds easy. It's not.
Goal-setting, goal-writing, and goal-keeping is practically an art form. And like all art it needs the magical combination of intuition, suffering. and constant practice to really blossom.
For instance, you have to figure out what a realistic goal for you is. If you're anything like me, you're going to horribly over-estimate yourself and then mentally berate yourself for not finishing. You're going to agonize about what the definition of "finishing" a chapter is. What if it sucks? Also, different drafts create different production rates. I can type 3 pages an hour when I'm writing a first draft. I barely make a half a page when I'm doing close editing.
What if you have a nice writing schedule and something happens? Maybe your grandmother dies. Maybe you get a free trip to Europe. Maybe you just can't write on that particular story anymore, but this other story interests you. Should you set goals every year? Every month? Every day? Are there rewards for achieving your goals? Punishments for failing?
At some point, you start to wonder why you bother to spend so much time on goals that always seem to fail.
You do it in order to learn how you write. You do it in order to get things done. You do it because you have to. Period.
2. Brainstorm
For me, this takes two forms.
First is the note-taking form, which I tend to do whenever I'm stuck. Here I ditch my computer for a notebook and pencil and start throwing out various ideas to see which one sticks. Or, if I'm not that far along, I whine about all the reasons I hate writing this scene until I figure out what the problem is. Complaining is a surprisingly effective problem-solving method. My hypothesis is that your brain gets sick of your ranting and begins tossing out solutions just to get you to shut up.
I guess that this technically counts as writing, as words are going on the page. Initially, though, I never counted it because I wasn't "in" the story. It was like trying to climb a mountain and finding a fallen log in your path and stopping to hack away at it. It's all part of the experience, but you don't feel like you're going anywhere at the time.
If I didn't count note-taking, I really had a problem with the second form: daydreaming. For me, this usually involves lying on my bed with my eyes shut or staring at a single point, trying to act out a scene in my head. Or else I start pacing circles around a room, muttering to myself. Believe it or not, this is a good sign. Whenever you see me talking to myself, you can bet my imagination is kicked into high gear. It was fun, but it didn't feel like anything was being accomplished.
Yet something was.
Either form of brainstorm forces you to pause and think about where the story is going. It's a slap to the face of the myth that stories appear fully formed in writer's brain. They don't. You constantly have to stop and figure out what's next and will this work. Trying to move forward without brainstorming is like trying to drive across the country using side streets without stopping to check the map. Good luck with that.
3. Research
Yes, even for fantasy writers.
This has two major purposes. First, it helps you to avoid looking dumb. Now I write high fantasy, and this genre, more so than others, gives the writer the power to say, "my world, my rules." And that's fine. But know that people will be using the real world to gauge things like, oh, battles and medieval villages and the effect of religion on social mores. If you strain too hard on their credibility, they lose their suspension of disbelief and there goes the story.
The other reason to do research is to gather ideas. Ideas don't pop out of nowhere, after all. I've found that I need external stimuli of some sort or another to get the creative juices in my head flowing. While it would be nice if this stimuli came in the form of, say, a vacation to Europe, the easiest and most efficient way to do this is to read books.
For example, let's say that you're trying to write a battle scene, but you're not a military expert. You can either try to imagine your way to something and hope that you fool the experts. Or, you can research weapons, armor, castles, and famous battles similar to the one you want to fight. Now maybe you'll never be an expert, but at least you can see how expecting a poor farmer to transform into knights in shining armor in a week is just slightly unrealistic. You can see how weapons and armor (or lack thereof) determine the kind of battle you want to fight and how you might lure your enemy into a trap.
It's much easier than just squeezing your eyes shut and willing a cool battle into existance.
I tested this theory the summer I was nineteen, and it nearly destroyed me.
I was not happy. I was not even productive. After three months with absolutely nothing to do but write, I got about two chapters written, both of which I threw away a couple months later. In the mean time, I grew to hate writing, hate my story, hate that stuffy room with the glare of sunshine and the heat of the computer.
Writing, as it turns out, is not enough. If you want to create a story, you need to attack it from many different angles. Half the work is blunt force--sitting down at the computer and getting the words to come out. The other half is figuring out what to how to write and what to write.
Here are three things writers need to do in addition to simply writing.
1. Goal-set
It's simple enough. You might be able to write a poem or a short story on the fumes of inspiration, but the longer the work, the more discipline is required. (And I write 800-page fantasy monsters.) The easiest way to create discipline is to set goals. Something specific. I will write such-and-such number of words/ pages a day. I will finish a chapter each month.
It sounds easy. It's not.
Goal-setting, goal-writing, and goal-keeping is practically an art form. And like all art it needs the magical combination of intuition, suffering. and constant practice to really blossom.
For instance, you have to figure out what a realistic goal for you is. If you're anything like me, you're going to horribly over-estimate yourself and then mentally berate yourself for not finishing. You're going to agonize about what the definition of "finishing" a chapter is. What if it sucks? Also, different drafts create different production rates. I can type 3 pages an hour when I'm writing a first draft. I barely make a half a page when I'm doing close editing.
What if you have a nice writing schedule and something happens? Maybe your grandmother dies. Maybe you get a free trip to Europe. Maybe you just can't write on that particular story anymore, but this other story interests you. Should you set goals every year? Every month? Every day? Are there rewards for achieving your goals? Punishments for failing?
At some point, you start to wonder why you bother to spend so much time on goals that always seem to fail.
You do it in order to learn how you write. You do it in order to get things done. You do it because you have to. Period.
2. Brainstorm
For me, this takes two forms.
First is the note-taking form, which I tend to do whenever I'm stuck. Here I ditch my computer for a notebook and pencil and start throwing out various ideas to see which one sticks. Or, if I'm not that far along, I whine about all the reasons I hate writing this scene until I figure out what the problem is. Complaining is a surprisingly effective problem-solving method. My hypothesis is that your brain gets sick of your ranting and begins tossing out solutions just to get you to shut up.
I guess that this technically counts as writing, as words are going on the page. Initially, though, I never counted it because I wasn't "in" the story. It was like trying to climb a mountain and finding a fallen log in your path and stopping to hack away at it. It's all part of the experience, but you don't feel like you're going anywhere at the time.
If I didn't count note-taking, I really had a problem with the second form: daydreaming. For me, this usually involves lying on my bed with my eyes shut or staring at a single point, trying to act out a scene in my head. Or else I start pacing circles around a room, muttering to myself. Believe it or not, this is a good sign. Whenever you see me talking to myself, you can bet my imagination is kicked into high gear. It was fun, but it didn't feel like anything was being accomplished.
Yet something was.
Either form of brainstorm forces you to pause and think about where the story is going. It's a slap to the face of the myth that stories appear fully formed in writer's brain. They don't. You constantly have to stop and figure out what's next and will this work. Trying to move forward without brainstorming is like trying to drive across the country using side streets without stopping to check the map. Good luck with that.
3. Research
Yes, even for fantasy writers.
This has two major purposes. First, it helps you to avoid looking dumb. Now I write high fantasy, and this genre, more so than others, gives the writer the power to say, "my world, my rules." And that's fine. But know that people will be using the real world to gauge things like, oh, battles and medieval villages and the effect of religion on social mores. If you strain too hard on their credibility, they lose their suspension of disbelief and there goes the story.
The other reason to do research is to gather ideas. Ideas don't pop out of nowhere, after all. I've found that I need external stimuli of some sort or another to get the creative juices in my head flowing. While it would be nice if this stimuli came in the form of, say, a vacation to Europe, the easiest and most efficient way to do this is to read books.
For example, let's say that you're trying to write a battle scene, but you're not a military expert. You can either try to imagine your way to something and hope that you fool the experts. Or, you can research weapons, armor, castles, and famous battles similar to the one you want to fight. Now maybe you'll never be an expert, but at least you can see how expecting a poor farmer to transform into knights in shining armor in a week is just slightly unrealistic. You can see how weapons and armor (or lack thereof) determine the kind of battle you want to fight and how you might lure your enemy into a trap.
It's much easier than just squeezing your eyes shut and willing a cool battle into existance.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Things I've Learned From Submitting to Magazines
I am not an expert at publication. On the contrary, I'm quite new at the game. It was only last spring I started to take the concept of publishing seriously. My first story was submitted this past August and in the four months that followed I have published exactly 0 works. But I've been learning along the way and now have a slightly better grasp on the business of publication than I had even half a year ago. To celebrate Rejection #13, here are all the things I learned while trying to get published.
1. There Are Still Paying Magazines Out There!
When I got my Writer's Digest Writer's Market 2011, I was saddened to see something like 3 fantasy magazines listed in there and came to the conclusion that there was no market for fantasy short stories. My dream seemed over before it began. But all was not lost.
I learned of the L. Ron Hubbard's Writers of the Future, which only considers amateur writers' work and offers prizes up to $5000 with no entry fee. Also, the Writer's Digest 101 Best Websites for Writers included some helpful sites. Predators and Editors, while somewhat out of date, does offer a few (mostly low-paying) magazines.
But the most helpful website by far was the Science Fiction Writers of America, which almost inadvertently gave me a cache of updated and paying websites. The Science Fiction Writers of America will only accept published SF/F writers as members, the lowest of which must publish at least 1 short story in a magazine paying a minimum $50 or 5 cents a word. They helpfully offer a list of qualifying magazines. That means the twenty or so magazines listed not only specifically publish my genre, they also pay a decent amount. Once I found this little gem, half my work was done.
2. Some Magazines are Digital and Some are Non-Profit
I was surprised to learn how many of the magazines are entirely digital and how many of the magazines simply give out their content free of charge, no ads or anything. Sometimes you have to go to their website and sometimes they send the stories straight to your email! Obviously, this is a wonderful opportunity for writers to research the magazines and find out exactly what kind of stories the publishers are interested in.
More amazingly, they give their content out free and still pay writers. How do they do it? I learned that at least some of them do all the work of applying for grant money from the government so that they can pay for quality stories. I, personally, really am grateful for these magazines and their editors who put in so much hard work for our sakes.
3. Organization is Key
Before I got serious about submitting to magazines, I would occasionally check out the pay rates of a magazine, see what they were looking for, and daydream about submitting. Ultimately, that got me no where. There were too many negative feelings associated with publishing, and I just couldn't muster up the backbone to go through with it. It was too much work, I inwardly whined. I was too busy.
Organization changed that. First of all, the very process of organizing changed my mental framework. The business of publication became a business and did not hinge on my feelings at the moment. Having a system in place made submissions efficient and far easier.
So what was my system?
I printed out forms with the name of the magazine, their email, their editor, their genre, their interests, what they were looking for, what they were NOT looking for, their pay rate, the word limits, and how to submit. I filled out a form for every magazine (hand-written, no less) and stuck these in a binder for future reference.
When I have a story ready to submit for publication, I flip through the binder and make a list of the magazines which might be interested in the story. I prioritize the list and go through it one magazine after the other. After I submit, I do my record-keeping.
On a spreadsheet, I type in the name of the story, the magazine I submitted to, the date I sent it, when I can expect a response, the date it got accepted or rejected, comments, any costs for submitting the story (postage or contest fees) and any money received (which, to date, is just a big column of 0s). I do this every time I send out a story. I also print out a copy of my rejections. This is partially for tax purposes (on the off chance I make enough money to pay taxes), partially to keep track of where my stories are sent, partially to see how long it takes to get a rejection.
Very basic stuff, but it does take time to make and implement a system.
4. It is Very, Very Hard to Get Accepted
For some reason I thought that it would be easy to get published in Daily Science Fiction. After all, they needed stories five days a week. My logic was that they needed more stories than monthly or bimonthly magazines and so I would have a better shot at getting published due to sheer volume.
I was mistaken.
My story did actually get through the first round of cuts, "rarified company that more than 80% of submissions do not reach." The second and final round had slightly better odds, but still "half or more of our second round stories will not ultimately see publication." In other words, I had a 90% chance or higher of being rejected. And, by the way, I was. I got cut in the second round.
Now, if those are my odds for a magazine that needs 260 stories a year, I shudder to think of what my odds are for something like the Writers of the Future Contest which only accepts 12 stories a year.
5. Feedback is More Precious Than Gold
Most of the magazines I've submitted to tell me straight out that they don't have time to give personalized feedback. You get a polite but generic rejection letter. The stories I sent "couldn't hold my interest" or "isn't quite what we're looking for right now" or "didn't quite work for me." One letter told me, "To date, we have reviewed many strong stories that we did not take. Either the fit was wrong or we'd just taken tales with a similar theme or a half dozen other reasons."
I'm beginning to wonder if the legend editors sending back manuscripts bleeding with red ink to heart-broken writers has gone the way of the dinosaurs. I don't know what I'm doing wrong, if anything. Perhaps the editor just didn't like it, perhaps it was bested by better stories, perhaps it was just late to the party. There is something quite gauling in thinking your story was rejected not for any obvious reason, but because it just wasn't good enough.
If I ever do receive one of those bleeding manuscripts, I shall probably jump for joy. Then I'll read it and weep.
6. 1st Rejection = Elation; 10th = Depression
My first rejection letter came in the mail, and when I received it, I was devastated, but also weirdly elated. All writers get rejected, so this letter was like a badge of proof that I was now part of the writer's club. I had taken a step up. I was professional now. And I figured after about 50 rejections, I'd start getting accepted. That's just how it worked.
Fast-forward to rejection # 10 and the elation had worn off. I just felt devastated.
It's like going on one of those rafting rides. Before you even step on, you see the sign. "You will get wet. You may get soaked." You see the people exiting the raft shaking water off their slippers and notice the beads of precipitation on the seats. But still, you get on.
Rejection #1 is like hitting the first rapid and feeling cold water go down your back. It's shocking, but also exciting. Rejection #10 is like walking around the park in wet socks for an hour, getting a blister on your heel. You're just sloughing through, knowing it will be a long time before conditions change and feeling helpless to do anything about it.
So expect doubt and depression and questioning your worth as a writer. Just expect it delayed.
7. I'm More Creative Than I Thought
I never thought of myself as an "idea" person. My writing strength came from developing stories; that's why I preferred novels to short stories. With a novel, I take one or two ideas and develop the heck out of them. But with each new short story, a new idea is needed. How was I supposed to constantly think of ideas? My mind just didn't work that way.
Well, maybe it does.
I came up with an idea journal and forced myself to write in it. I was not constant. Every now and then, I'd force myself to write a page or two in the journal. Every now and then, I'd daydream a good idea right before bed and stick it in the journal. Every now and then, I'd stumble upon an interesting new fact or concept and play with it.
And while I can't say I'm a fount of ideas, I nearly filled up that journal in six months and came up with more ideas than I needed to. All I needed was a journal and a half-hearted attempt at brainstorming. Were all the ideas good? No. But I'm still shocked at the usable amount that I, a "non-creative" person, was able to come up with.
8. I'm Not Sorry
I've known I've wanted to be a professional writer since I was twelve. I pursued creative writing as a degree. I'm 27, and I've only just started publishing. Think of all I could have learned if I had started ten years sooner. Aren't you sorry you waited so long?
No, honestly, I'm not. I wasn't ready ten years ago.
For the longest time, I refused to submit to magazines. I told myself I wasn't a short story writer. My prose wasn't up to par, my ideas were unsellable, my stories were doomed to failure. All true. (Probably.) But the real reason I didn't submit was because I didn't think could handle the rejection. I would crack under the pressure, fall into a depression, and never write again.
So, I didn't look into publishing. Instead, I spent ten years honing my craft and building up professional armor. I needed to know my stories were good on their own, whether they were published or not. At the same time, I had to de-sensitize from the finished product enough to treat publishing as a business, basically detach my dreams of success from the story and cast it out like a fisherman throwing out a net.
Writing is a hard business. Some young writers throw out their work and achieve fame and prestige. Others get crushed. I took the cautious path. That's what I was comfortable with. When you're leaning toward ready, jump. But if you're still frozen in terror, it's okay. Take your time.
1. There Are Still Paying Magazines Out There!
When I got my Writer's Digest Writer's Market 2011, I was saddened to see something like 3 fantasy magazines listed in there and came to the conclusion that there was no market for fantasy short stories. My dream seemed over before it began. But all was not lost.
I learned of the L. Ron Hubbard's Writers of the Future, which only considers amateur writers' work and offers prizes up to $5000 with no entry fee. Also, the Writer's Digest 101 Best Websites for Writers included some helpful sites. Predators and Editors, while somewhat out of date, does offer a few (mostly low-paying) magazines.
But the most helpful website by far was the Science Fiction Writers of America, which almost inadvertently gave me a cache of updated and paying websites. The Science Fiction Writers of America will only accept published SF/F writers as members, the lowest of which must publish at least 1 short story in a magazine paying a minimum $50 or 5 cents a word. They helpfully offer a list of qualifying magazines. That means the twenty or so magazines listed not only specifically publish my genre, they also pay a decent amount. Once I found this little gem, half my work was done.
2. Some Magazines are Digital and Some are Non-Profit
I was surprised to learn how many of the magazines are entirely digital and how many of the magazines simply give out their content free of charge, no ads or anything. Sometimes you have to go to their website and sometimes they send the stories straight to your email! Obviously, this is a wonderful opportunity for writers to research the magazines and find out exactly what kind of stories the publishers are interested in.
More amazingly, they give their content out free and still pay writers. How do they do it? I learned that at least some of them do all the work of applying for grant money from the government so that they can pay for quality stories. I, personally, really am grateful for these magazines and their editors who put in so much hard work for our sakes.
3. Organization is Key
Before I got serious about submitting to magazines, I would occasionally check out the pay rates of a magazine, see what they were looking for, and daydream about submitting. Ultimately, that got me no where. There were too many negative feelings associated with publishing, and I just couldn't muster up the backbone to go through with it. It was too much work, I inwardly whined. I was too busy.
Organization changed that. First of all, the very process of organizing changed my mental framework. The business of publication became a business and did not hinge on my feelings at the moment. Having a system in place made submissions efficient and far easier.
So what was my system?
I printed out forms with the name of the magazine, their email, their editor, their genre, their interests, what they were looking for, what they were NOT looking for, their pay rate, the word limits, and how to submit. I filled out a form for every magazine (hand-written, no less) and stuck these in a binder for future reference.
When I have a story ready to submit for publication, I flip through the binder and make a list of the magazines which might be interested in the story. I prioritize the list and go through it one magazine after the other. After I submit, I do my record-keeping.
On a spreadsheet, I type in the name of the story, the magazine I submitted to, the date I sent it, when I can expect a response, the date it got accepted or rejected, comments, any costs for submitting the story (postage or contest fees) and any money received (which, to date, is just a big column of 0s). I do this every time I send out a story. I also print out a copy of my rejections. This is partially for tax purposes (on the off chance I make enough money to pay taxes), partially to keep track of where my stories are sent, partially to see how long it takes to get a rejection.
Very basic stuff, but it does take time to make and implement a system.
4. It is Very, Very Hard to Get Accepted
For some reason I thought that it would be easy to get published in Daily Science Fiction. After all, they needed stories five days a week. My logic was that they needed more stories than monthly or bimonthly magazines and so I would have a better shot at getting published due to sheer volume.
I was mistaken.
My story did actually get through the first round of cuts, "rarified company that more than 80% of submissions do not reach." The second and final round had slightly better odds, but still "half or more of our second round stories will not ultimately see publication." In other words, I had a 90% chance or higher of being rejected. And, by the way, I was. I got cut in the second round.
Now, if those are my odds for a magazine that needs 260 stories a year, I shudder to think of what my odds are for something like the Writers of the Future Contest which only accepts 12 stories a year.
5. Feedback is More Precious Than Gold
Most of the magazines I've submitted to tell me straight out that they don't have time to give personalized feedback. You get a polite but generic rejection letter. The stories I sent "couldn't hold my interest" or "isn't quite what we're looking for right now" or "didn't quite work for me." One letter told me, "To date, we have reviewed many strong stories that we did not take. Either the fit was wrong or we'd just taken tales with a similar theme or a half dozen other reasons."
I'm beginning to wonder if the legend editors sending back manuscripts bleeding with red ink to heart-broken writers has gone the way of the dinosaurs. I don't know what I'm doing wrong, if anything. Perhaps the editor just didn't like it, perhaps it was bested by better stories, perhaps it was just late to the party. There is something quite gauling in thinking your story was rejected not for any obvious reason, but because it just wasn't good enough.
If I ever do receive one of those bleeding manuscripts, I shall probably jump for joy. Then I'll read it and weep.
6. 1st Rejection = Elation; 10th = Depression
My first rejection letter came in the mail, and when I received it, I was devastated, but also weirdly elated. All writers get rejected, so this letter was like a badge of proof that I was now part of the writer's club. I had taken a step up. I was professional now. And I figured after about 50 rejections, I'd start getting accepted. That's just how it worked.
Fast-forward to rejection # 10 and the elation had worn off. I just felt devastated.
It's like going on one of those rafting rides. Before you even step on, you see the sign. "You will get wet. You may get soaked." You see the people exiting the raft shaking water off their slippers and notice the beads of precipitation on the seats. But still, you get on.
Rejection #1 is like hitting the first rapid and feeling cold water go down your back. It's shocking, but also exciting. Rejection #10 is like walking around the park in wet socks for an hour, getting a blister on your heel. You're just sloughing through, knowing it will be a long time before conditions change and feeling helpless to do anything about it.
So expect doubt and depression and questioning your worth as a writer. Just expect it delayed.
7. I'm More Creative Than I Thought
I never thought of myself as an "idea" person. My writing strength came from developing stories; that's why I preferred novels to short stories. With a novel, I take one or two ideas and develop the heck out of them. But with each new short story, a new idea is needed. How was I supposed to constantly think of ideas? My mind just didn't work that way.
Well, maybe it does.
I came up with an idea journal and forced myself to write in it. I was not constant. Every now and then, I'd force myself to write a page or two in the journal. Every now and then, I'd daydream a good idea right before bed and stick it in the journal. Every now and then, I'd stumble upon an interesting new fact or concept and play with it.
And while I can't say I'm a fount of ideas, I nearly filled up that journal in six months and came up with more ideas than I needed to. All I needed was a journal and a half-hearted attempt at brainstorming. Were all the ideas good? No. But I'm still shocked at the usable amount that I, a "non-creative" person, was able to come up with.
8. I'm Not Sorry
I've known I've wanted to be a professional writer since I was twelve. I pursued creative writing as a degree. I'm 27, and I've only just started publishing. Think of all I could have learned if I had started ten years sooner. Aren't you sorry you waited so long?
No, honestly, I'm not. I wasn't ready ten years ago.
For the longest time, I refused to submit to magazines. I told myself I wasn't a short story writer. My prose wasn't up to par, my ideas were unsellable, my stories were doomed to failure. All true. (Probably.) But the real reason I didn't submit was because I didn't think could handle the rejection. I would crack under the pressure, fall into a depression, and never write again.
So, I didn't look into publishing. Instead, I spent ten years honing my craft and building up professional armor. I needed to know my stories were good on their own, whether they were published or not. At the same time, I had to de-sensitize from the finished product enough to treat publishing as a business, basically detach my dreams of success from the story and cast it out like a fisherman throwing out a net.
Writing is a hard business. Some young writers throw out their work and achieve fame and prestige. Others get crushed. I took the cautious path. That's what I was comfortable with. When you're leaning toward ready, jump. But if you're still frozen in terror, it's okay. Take your time.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Rejection Blues
Two of my short stories have been rejected this week, and it's frustrating.
"Kinuyo and the Kitsune," a fifteen-page historical fairy tale set in Japan just after the collapse of the Shogunate about a young girl's encounter with a shape-shifting fox while searching for her missing mother, got rejected by Orson Scott Card's Intergallactic Medicine Show last Sunday. It's also been rejected by The Magazine of Science Fiction and Fantasy and Clarkesworld.
"The Necklace of DuChelle," a three-page fantasy flashfiction about a necklace that can strangle people, made it past the first round of Daily Science Fiction, before getting rejected in the final round last Friday.
I don't know which is worse. The story on rejection number 3 or the story that almost made it.
What makes it hard for me, is that I'm still new at this rejection game. It's taken me years to even build up enough courage to submit. Rationally, I know authors get rejected several times, over and over again, but that doesn't help the touch of despair that creeps into your heart when you get that dreaded email. Not that I cried or anything. Just felt a little sad.
A few things do help, though. Printing out the rejection and labeling it helps. Oddly enough, this changes the rejection into an accomplishment. I now have five rejections. I figure once I get to fifty, I should be published.
Interestingly enough, this motivated me to continue writing short stories, proving that even negative feedback is better than silence. I feel the need to prove myself. I will get something published, even if I have to wear the editors out with my persistance. Just you wait.
"Kinuyo and the Kitsune," a fifteen-page historical fairy tale set in Japan just after the collapse of the Shogunate about a young girl's encounter with a shape-shifting fox while searching for her missing mother, got rejected by Orson Scott Card's Intergallactic Medicine Show last Sunday. It's also been rejected by The Magazine of Science Fiction and Fantasy and Clarkesworld.
"The Necklace of DuChelle," a three-page fantasy flashfiction about a necklace that can strangle people, made it past the first round of Daily Science Fiction, before getting rejected in the final round last Friday.
I don't know which is worse. The story on rejection number 3 or the story that almost made it.
What makes it hard for me, is that I'm still new at this rejection game. It's taken me years to even build up enough courage to submit. Rationally, I know authors get rejected several times, over and over again, but that doesn't help the touch of despair that creeps into your heart when you get that dreaded email. Not that I cried or anything. Just felt a little sad.
A few things do help, though. Printing out the rejection and labeling it helps. Oddly enough, this changes the rejection into an accomplishment. I now have five rejections. I figure once I get to fifty, I should be published.
Interestingly enough, this motivated me to continue writing short stories, proving that even negative feedback is better than silence. I feel the need to prove myself. I will get something published, even if I have to wear the editors out with my persistance. Just you wait.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
The Anxiety of the Substitute
This fall, I took work as a substitute teacher, and just last week, I started getting called in. Although I've only subbed for two days now, teaching isn't all that new to me. For three years I worked as a teacher's aid in Japan, forced to perform English sentences to unknown audiences at the beck and call of the real teacher. Sometimes I'd go in with no plan, no script, and I'd have to create a lesson off the top of my head. Working improv is nothing new to me.
That doesn't lessen my stage fright.
Somewhere between 5:30-7:30 in the morning, the dance of dread begins. Will I get called in? My ears tense for the sound of my phone's generic ring tone, knowing only entity would call me so early. Will I get an assignment? Do I want to go to work today? I know if I get called in, I will work, I must work, not just for the immediate paycheck the day brings, but to build my reputation for the future. Yet another part of me just hopes that the school will leave me alone, so that I can spend my free time writing.
Three times the phone did ring. The first time, I hesitated, fumbled with the buttons in the dark, and completely missed the assignment. The second time, I heard the assignment, wanted it repeated, but accidently hit the button for accept. The third time, I was ready, but right before I hit that button, a surge of panic filled my soul. It became a struggle to press 1.
The next three minutes, I ran around the house hyperventalating. While the sensible part of my mind told me to arrange a ride with my aunt, pack my lunch, and find out the specifics of my assignment online, the emotional side of me was busy whipping myself into a frenzy. Oddly, I couldn't tell you over what. I was afraid. Not of teaching, I'd done that before. Not of high school students, I'd worked with them and didn't find them to be monsters. What I was afraid of was nothing. The big, black wall of nothing pressing up against my eyes.
The unknown.
I think if I were in one bad scenario, I could solve it or endure it. But my mind wasn't spitting out one, it was spitting out 20 and demanding I solve them all at once and think of new ones and solve those as well. Now! Hence the panic. But the funny thing was, once I got to school, once I saw the physical buildings, the panic left. There was no more time to prepare. There was only action. Moreover, there was something familiar about the campus. I had never been to this school, but I'd been in others, taught in them, too. My experience hardened over my chest like a breastplate and I walked inside the office calm and alert.
Parts of the day were tough. Sometimes I was frustrated. Sometimes I was uncertain. But I wasn't afraid. The situation, good or bad, had become solid, and once solid, I could adapt to it. I trusted myself again.
The phone call was the worst of it.
That doesn't lessen my stage fright.
Somewhere between 5:30-7:30 in the morning, the dance of dread begins. Will I get called in? My ears tense for the sound of my phone's generic ring tone, knowing only entity would call me so early. Will I get an assignment? Do I want to go to work today? I know if I get called in, I will work, I must work, not just for the immediate paycheck the day brings, but to build my reputation for the future. Yet another part of me just hopes that the school will leave me alone, so that I can spend my free time writing.
Three times the phone did ring. The first time, I hesitated, fumbled with the buttons in the dark, and completely missed the assignment. The second time, I heard the assignment, wanted it repeated, but accidently hit the button for accept. The third time, I was ready, but right before I hit that button, a surge of panic filled my soul. It became a struggle to press 1.
The next three minutes, I ran around the house hyperventalating. While the sensible part of my mind told me to arrange a ride with my aunt, pack my lunch, and find out the specifics of my assignment online, the emotional side of me was busy whipping myself into a frenzy. Oddly, I couldn't tell you over what. I was afraid. Not of teaching, I'd done that before. Not of high school students, I'd worked with them and didn't find them to be monsters. What I was afraid of was nothing. The big, black wall of nothing pressing up against my eyes.
The unknown.
I think if I were in one bad scenario, I could solve it or endure it. But my mind wasn't spitting out one, it was spitting out 20 and demanding I solve them all at once and think of new ones and solve those as well. Now! Hence the panic. But the funny thing was, once I got to school, once I saw the physical buildings, the panic left. There was no more time to prepare. There was only action. Moreover, there was something familiar about the campus. I had never been to this school, but I'd been in others, taught in them, too. My experience hardened over my chest like a breastplate and I walked inside the office calm and alert.
Parts of the day were tough. Sometimes I was frustrated. Sometimes I was uncertain. But I wasn't afraid. The situation, good or bad, had become solid, and once solid, I could adapt to it. I trusted myself again.
The phone call was the worst of it.
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