Where's the Love?

Over a year ago I posted a blog (rant) about a run in with an acquaintance who had such a scathing attitude to the romance genre that it left me reeling. I understand not choosing to read it or just not getting into love stories, but the vitriol dripping from the comment was overwhelming. Any attempt at pleasantries between us was effectively crushed. Honestly, unnamed person, you could have just smiled and said no, then brought up the weather. Social niceties 101.

At the time I assumed this person must read obscure but profound literature. You know, the stuff college professors assign or the titles on your list that you never actually read but plan to some day because the names show up on crossword puzzles. Plus, it's fun to seem like you're smart, right? And, of course, the best way to do that is to make sure everyone else knows you think they're an idiot.

The fact that thinking about it still bothers me shows how sensitive I am. Oh well.

My point, you ask? Well, today I found out that this person reads sci-fi/fantasy and my jaw dropped. Wait, after that absolute slap in the face about the genre fiction I write and love, you read genre fiction too? You mean you deign to waste your brain space on formulaic, commercial tripe? You respond to the hero's journey? Say it isn't so.

Oh, it is.

Don't get me wrong, I love sci-fi/fantasy. My adolescent reading started with mystery and then morphed into sci-fi/fantasy with Xanth trilogy (or so it began) and I kept going from there. I only started on romance ten-ish years ago. I'm not insulting the genre, but I am saying that it is a genre of commercial fiction.

So what makes one genre more elevated than another? I'm going to go out on a limb here and say NOTHING. Within all genres there are good and bad authors and it's entirely subjective. That said, why the disdain? I teach high school and I can't remember even a student being that rude before. Seriously.

Image from HBO's mini-series Game of Thrones, written by George R.R. Martin (and yes, I've read it but not seen the series). High fantasy with a lot of kinda rapey sex.

McDonald's

Today, while my daughters practice their Irish step dancing in preparation for the St. Patrick's day performances, I find myself making use of the WiFi at McDonald's. It's not the first time I've done this. Starbucks is often too crowded or hipster for me, plus the coffee is cheaper here. This is, however, the first time I've done this at the McDonald's on Nordahl in San Marcos. This is only significant because this is the location of my first official job. And, no, I do not feel nostalgic. In fact, McDonald's occasionally features in my nightmares. If it wasn't for the coffee, good price on drinks, and cheap cones I would probably never patronize a McDonald's again. Seriously, I've seen the how they make nuggets (shudder).

It was a great first job for me. I got to learn to follow rules and focus on people other than myself. I was sixteen and cute, so I worked the counter. We got swamped one night after a movie got out. My shift ended at nine, but there I was at nine thirty frantically taking orders and making fries while my dad's impatience burned hot (I didn't drive -- he was picking me up from work). I told one of the manger-type-guys there that my shift ended, at that point, almost an hour ago and I had to leave. I clocked out and left. The next day a higher manager on the totem pole pulled me aside and gave me a talking to about responsibility and the McDonald's family. She told me that McDonald's counted on me and, since I had true McDonald's potential, I should take my responsibilities seriously. I told her I was sixteen and my shift had ended almost an hour previously and I wasn't sure whether it was illegal or not to work a minor over a certain number of hours. A month later I got a role in the school play and quit.

I don't mean to trash working at McDonald's. For me it was a great start out job. Some people turn it into a career and that's great. I knew when I took the job that it was only serving to add something to my resume. I knew I was going to go to college. I knew my McDonald's potential would translate into a lot of fields that required a smile while you did something unpleasant. Since then I've worked in retail, insurance sales and service, and education. Eventually I look forward to adding 'published author' to that list.

So here I am, more than twenty years later, blogging whilst I sit in a McDonald's that in no way resembled my job sit of yore. My daughters are working on their hop two threes while I work on my fifth novel. The pretty girl behind the counter politely took my order and smiled while she pretended to be interested in the fact that I used to stand in the same place. I wonder where time will take her, what will her McDonald's potential translate into?

Just for fun, in honor of fast food employees, view this drive through prank video:

Judging

If you'd ask me last month how to get inspired about getting housework done, I'd have told you writing. Not in-the-zone writing, but the kind where you force yourself to sit and stare and reread and type filler to get from point A to point B. You know, the writing that you'll end up deleting next time.

I was wrong. Writing is a great way to get excited about housework, but if you really want to get inspired to scrub things that no one sees anyway, judge a contest. That will get your cleaning motors running. I'm a machine, I tell you!

The good news is that I am plugging through the contest. It's a little awkward because these authors are all just like me - they have a finished book (or four) and are trying to get their work out there. Some submissions have great bones but poor finishing. Some are excellently written but I can't seem to get into the characters. Some draw me in right away... Really, it's just like reading anything -- absolutely subjective to my interests and whims (not counting the poor editing that pulls me right out of a story that might be great).  Being a judge doesn't make me more objective, it just makes me not give up.

Judging has also made me wonder about previous (and current) contests in which I've participated. Are they all judged by schlubbs like me? I mean, what makes my wisdom all that and a can of Coke? Nothing. I'm just another writer plugging away toward my word count and crossing various appendages with the hope that someday, SOMEDAY, it will all pan out. Sigh.

On that note, I can only hope that the people who judge my submissions to various contests give me the attention and honesty I'm giving the submissions in my packet. I may not be the reader that will give them the push they need to get into the world of publication, but I will be thoughtful and apply opinions based on my experiences in this crazy world of writing.

And I will do some more dishes. Who knew the grout around my sink was actually cream colored? I always thought it was brown.

Kryptonite

I can spew one hundred thousand words, but summing it all up in two hundred and fifty is horrible. Seriously, fork in the forehead horrible.

Queries are my kryptonite. Not only are they not good, but I suffer a complete psychological shut down when I even start to think about them. When I force myself to write one, I can't even remember what my story is about. I start babbling and think of alternative things I could have written that would be great in m query. It's bad.

Writing a synopsis is not as bad, but it's not fun either. I took a great class this past summer at RWA13 in Georgia which really broke it down. In fact, when I had to write a synopsis for Golden Heart, it flowed from my finger tips. Of course, some really horrible grammar mistakes also flowed (and remained unnoticed by both myself and my husband). Still, it's the best synopsis I've written (now that, too late, I've fixed it).

I see these online classes about how to write a query. I read Query Shark and nod in agreement at the sage comments therein... but when I try to apply it, I freeze.

Do you have any tricks to writing a query?

Something New

Today will be my first time attending a creative writing group meeting. I was honored to be invited and really look forward to broadening my experiences here. I have my three copies of ten pages from my current work in progress. I have my layered dip and chips. I'm ready to go.

But I'm seriously nervous. Silly? Maybe. I mean, this is m fifth novel. I'm in RWA and involved in the online writing community. I should know what I'm doing by now, right?

Who knows.

The thing is that this book is different from the others. My others, particularly the historical, were so formal. Yes, I occasionally broke grammar rules for impact, but not a lot. This book, well, all I can say is thank you to Darynda Jones for giving me permission to be snarky.

The first time I wrote a silly deep pov thought, I edited it out right away. Slapping myself for cowardice, I added it once more and kept going. This character is the most real, the most flawed and the most open to love that I've written to day because I am not editing out her stream of consciousness. I love it.

BUT... will the new creative writing group get it? They haven't seen my evolution, so they don't know how hard it was to push myself in this direction. I guess we'll find out today. Besides, all critiques are gifts, right? I don't need them to take me seriously as a writer to know that I am one.

One thing all of my characters have in common is, by the end of their arch, they can find validation from within. I guess I need to work on that. :)

Cheers.

Resubmitting... Maybe? Advice Needed.

Every single project I have completed has ended up with me hacking the first two to three chapters off it. Why? Because I'm the queen of slow starts and back story. I can't seem to help myself. It's sad really.

When I chopped the first two chapters off of Karma, it wasn't enough. It still was too slow. I edited the bejeebers out of it, getting to the action ASAP. It wasn't until months later and a slew of non-responsive agents that I actually reread it with fresh eyes and realized I'd cut the soul out of the story.

One rejection said the story lacked balance. I didn't know what the agent meant until I read it again. Boom, there's action. It's hot, it's creepy... but it doesn't pull you into the story because there is no hint at who the characters are. It was painful to realize, but easier to fix than I'd hoped.

The question is should I resubmit? If the agents who gave me no responses read at all, it was only the first thirty pages. The rest of the book unfolded organically and, I'm happy to say, I'm still really proud of my work. They requested it int he first place, so they saw something in it. The lack of a "no thank you" isn't a de facto rejection, so it wouldn't necessarily be pushy or unprofessional of me to try again. Would it? I have no idea. I don't want to come across as too desperate -- but if the shoe fits...

Help me out, people. Your expert advice is appreciated.

Dropping the Ball

Happy 2014 to everyone. I actually stayed up until midnight to ring in the New Year. I did not feel the least excited until my daughters, ages 9 and 7 1/2, tackled me with hugs, eyes sparkling, full of joy and hope for the new year. Seriously, nothing is as inspiring as a child who believes in magic and their own potential.

Miley Cyrus performed Wrecking Ball at Times Square. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I like the song. My kids, former fans of Hannah Montana, watched the performance with uncertainty, glancing at me for my reaction from time to time. My eldest pointed out that Miley wasn't as naked this time.  Poor, poor Miley. Talk about someone who has lost innocence and doesn't believe in magic. If she had faith in her own potential or trusted in her talent would she be exploiting herself like this? Very sad. I actually watched video a week or so ago just to see what the hype was about. I'm all for artistic expression and was ready to give the benefit of the doubt. I tried to see some of the directors vision, looking for the rubble and nudity as a metaphor for vulnerability, being stripped bare; but then the licking of the construction material grossed me out and the whole thing left me feeling like both Miley and the wrecking ball needed to be sanitized. I hope she comes out on the other side as a wiser adult, able to get past the embarrassment of her behavior without too much therapy.

Click here to view Wrecking Ball on YouTube.
Click here to view The Onion's slideshow. Much better.

I think I lost some of my faith in my talent and the value of perseverance over the last part of 2013. RWA 13 in Atlanta was not a screaming success for me. I can partly blame that on the fact I had just torn a tendon in my bicep (what I thought was a pinched nerve at the time) -- I wasn't nearly as social this year. My pitches went well, but yielded nothing. I came home, got some pain meds for my shoulder, and proceeded to do very little in the way of writing for the rest of the year. I dropped the ball.

This year is starting out with me blogging again (yay!) and writing forward. The good news is that pain med induced dreams can be very realistic and very weird. I have a couple new premises for future projects. I also spent a lot of time considering my current characters and really know them much better. I expect today's writing to be productive.

Wish me luck! Good luck to you and your endeavors. Hope to post again soon.

*Note: I was looking for some Wrecking Ball parodies to link here but they all grossed me out. Sorry.