The Commune

New Blog

2010-08-30T23:17:00.002-05:00

I am in the process of setting up a new blog at Wordpress. Please join me there.

Reinvention

2010-08-18T21:16:00.000-05:00

I'm thinking it may be time to reinvent myself. I haven't quite decided yet, though. What are your thoughts?

Finish Something...

2010-07-02T10:29:00.001-05:00

Finish something.

A good friend said that to me earlier this week and it’s been in my head ever since. She wasn’t saying it maliciously. It was just a comment when we were talking about our respective to do lists, but still… it must have struck a chord. There was Truth in it. And she’s right…

My New Year’s resolution this year was to ask myself before I volunteered for anything “How does this advance my goals?” Mid-year and I’ve found myself either ignoring what I know to be true or else forgetting to ask that question all together.

Some Days...

2010-06-09T09:41:00.001-05:00

Some days, it doesn’t pay to get out of bed. Of course, some days, getting out of bed is part of the problem.

So far today:

I failed to turn my alarm ON last night, which means it did not go OFF this morning. I was laying in bed dozing, waiting for it. Finally opened my eyes about 40 minutes after it should have buzzed.
My mother poked me in the eye this morning.
The fast food place that I went to for breakfast (the 40 minutes had to come from somewhere) took an excessive amount of time getting my food to me. The lady at the window was having a bad day, too. I had to laugh. There really just wasn’t much choice at that point.
I arrived at work to the phone ringing and my inbox filling up with help desk calls. Did I mention both IT guy and the woman who knows the systems very well are off this week?

At this point, I’ve only been up for 2 hours and 20 minutes. Maybe I’ll try an exercise I read about. I’ll picture me absorbing all this bad energy so it doesn’t effect anyone else.

Spying

2010-05-19T11:20:00.001-05:00

I see you…

One Nation...

2010-05-12T22:49:00.001-05:00

I suspect my brother will soon be sending me an angry e-mail, or at least an annoyed one. See, my brother is an E-mail Forwarder. You know what I mean. He’s one of those individuals who forward the messages that say “if you believe in this, keep the message going, if not….” Fill in the blank with what you are if you fail to forward the e-mail message to a set number of individuals.

Now, typically, I don’t mind my brother’s forwards. If nothing else, it lets me know he’s alive and still exists. Beyond that, they are what they are. Today, however, he sent me a message with the subject line “NOW THIS IS CUSTOMER SERVICE” and the body of the message followed:

How ALL phones should be answered:

Good Morning, welcome to the United States of America: a Christian nation of the free and the home of the brave. How may I help you?

Press ‘1’ for English.
Press ‘2’ to disconnect until you learn to speak English.

And remember only two defining forces have ever Offered [sic] to die for you, Jesus Christ and the American soldier. One died for your soul. The other for your freedom.

If you agree… Keep it going.

Enjoy life now – it has an expiration date.

The above message was intermixed with pictures of a pretty white blonde woman wearing a headset, an American flag, a picture of Jesus holding the lamb, American soldiers walking through a desert scene, Jesus on the cross, and flag-draped caskets on a plane overseen by a man in uniform.

Understand, like my brother, I support our military. I fully believe that without the men and women willing to surrender their lives for our nation, I would not be permitted to write this message to you. That without those willing to serve in our armed forces, my words, my thoughts, and the ideas I could safely express would be censored. I know there threats to the safety of our nation and its citizenry that are thwarted by individuals working beyond the front lines. The servicemen and women of the US military have my respect and admiration.

What I objected to in the message he forwarded to me was the underlying implication that if you were not Christian, if you were not white, and if you did not speak English, you were not American. As I told my brother, part of being the Land of the Free is the freedom to worship how, when, who, and what we choose, or to not worship at all. Nor is it one race or ethnicity. Being American is not any one thing or any one way of being. It is an amalgamation of many things, of all the peoples who have come together to create our culture and build our country throughout history. In truth, the only underlying belief we all need to share to be American is a belief in freedom and an acceptance that those who are different than us have as much right to exist and be as we do. Now, true, that’s not always easy. We sometimes have to fight against our human nature in order to make such things work. But the belief must exist, even as we struggle to make it work in actuality. That is what being American is all about.

It does not matter if one’s family first migrated here from Asia, Europe, Africa, Latin America, or across the Bering Strait’s land bridge, you can still be American. It does not matter if your belief structure is Christian, Muslim, Hindu, or if you’re a Druid seeking a sacred grove, the American soldier still put his or her life on the line so that you could live free. Regardless of whether you are homosexual, heterosexual, bisexual, transsexual, transgender, or go orgasmic at the site of a cucumber, the rights of the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave should still encompass you.

There is no one way to be when you’re American. We are truly a patchwork quilt, or if you prefer the old analogy, we are a melting pot with a blending of flavors, and we all enjoy the protection our military has to offer us.

I for one will continue to fight to support a country where we can all live in harmony, where my rights are equal to yours, regardless of who I am or who you are. I will continue to fight and support the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave, because I believe in diversity and have faith that we can all live together in peace, despite our differences.

The one real irony to the message my brother forwarded me? He's Jewish.

Classified Advertisement

2010-04-12T12:38:00.001-05:00

Over on Facebook, Celina was grumbling because her internet service went down yesterday and, while that made for an effective writing day, when it came back up today, it meant she had 37 messages that had to be dealt with. She didn’t mention it, but I imagine there might have been about the same number that didn’t have to be dealt with, too. I imagine this because that’s often how my e-mail looks.

When I went away to the writer’s retreat last fall, I managed to check my e-mail three times. The lowest number of e-mails I received in any of those times was in the upper 60’s. The other two times I had 80 or more e-mails waiting for me. I was officially out of e-mail account for 9 days and none of my friends were e-mailing me because they knew I was out of contact.

Right now, my e-mail’s not quite that bad, because I’ve cut back on so much while finishing the thesis, but as soon as I’m done with that, I know my e-mail numbers will be right back up there again. It’s reached a point where my mother feels guilty for adding to the numbers, those she also recognizes that it’s often the best way to leave me a message without disturbing me while I work.

Next Christmas, my mother and I are planning to travel. She has already asked me if I plan to take my laptop with me or not. On one hand, a true vacation without it would be wonderful, but on the other, if I don’t take it, what will I have to dig out of when I return?

These things – the almost constant need to be connected – the increase in average communications – these things they don’t mention when you announce you want to be a writer and they’re the things most people don’t think about, but once you start actually being a working writer, these are they types of things you have to learn to juggle and quickly.

In response to Celina’s grumbling, I pointed out that we chose our careers. Deciding to be a writer is not a passive choice. It’s not like anyone has ever answered a vague newspaper classified and discovered they will be writing a novel or a short story or a children’s book. Writing is something you both have to decide to be and then actively pursue. It’s not something you can do in your spare time whenever the muse moves you. But, my off-hand comment to Celina, got me wondering: What would a newspaper ad say in order to entice the unsuspecting to apply?

A Writer's Mind

2010-04-08T12:28:00.001-05:00

I am in the process of being tested for, and possibly diagnosed, with a couple of chronic – would that be the right word choice? I think it is – conditions. By chronic I mean they are not terminal in and of themselves, but a shot of penicillin and a couple of weeks won’t make them go away either. They’re something will have to be managed and dealt with for the long-term. Possibly forever.

I’ve been debating about how much to say online because – quite frankly – there comes a point where I want my privacy and I should be allowed it. On the other hand a great deal of my life is lived in the goldfish bowl that is the internet and I know, eventually, this will make it’s way there, too. Regardless, as I argue in so many cases, I am an individual and deserve to be treated as such. I am also a person, a human being, and entitled to the same respect as the stranger on the street. If I wish to keep my private life private, it is my right to do so.

With all that said, this week has been a rough week. Monday was a very emotionally draining day. There were tears and there were rants. By Tuesday morning I wore casual capris pants and a hoody to the part-time day job. Something I normally would not even consider an option outside of Saturday morning, a bonfire, or hanging around the house, but after the previous day, it was all I had the energy to put on.

Yesterday, I left a message asking for the status of my blood work. What were the results and when could I expect it to be back. Sometime yesterday evening – I’d forgotten to take the phone off silent after work so had not heard the call – there is a cheeful voice on the other end indicated to me that my <alphabet soup> levels were x.x which meant my <condition> was under control because the doctor liked to see levels under y.y.

Um, excuse me? Back up. Rewind. Did the cheerful voice just tell me that I had the condition we were testing for? It sounded to me like she had. Okay, now what did that mean? What was I supposed to do at this point?

A couple of phone calls, another doctor’s appointment made – because at this time the doctor I am seeing is on vacation – so I can say “It appears we’re having a communication issue,” arrangements to take off work, and some hysterical laughter later, I’m back to my daily routine. More or less. And the mind is free to wander while I label file folders and file away last month’s documentation. And where does my mind wander? Not to, ‘How am I going to live with this?’ Not to, ‘What do I need to change?’ Not to, ‘I wonder how much trouble that nurse is going to get into?’ No. My mind goes to, “I wonder how I can turn this into articles that I can sell? What are the markets? What are the angles I could cover? Who should I query?”

That’s how the writer’s mind work. Everything is something we can write about and sell to someone.

The Economy

2010-04-07T12:55:00.001-05:00

I don’t care what the government and the financial experts try to tell us, folks. The economy is not going to truly improve until after we hit rock bottom and we’re not there. The world is still a scary place. Freelancers are not immune to job loss. Continue to be professional. Continue to work on diversifying your portfolios, and don’t ever rest when it comes to looking for new markets and publications.

Weather Lore

2010-04-05T00:23:00.001-05:00

Growing up, I was taught a lot of the old weather lore – the phrases and quotes passed down from our ancestors who did not have the benefit of satellite technology or meteorological data to predict tornados and thunderstorms and track hurricanes. There was, of course, the fact that if the groundhog saw his shadow, in other words if it was sunny, on February 2nd, we would have six more weeks of winter, but if it was overcast, spring would soon follow, as well as the corresponding March proverb:

If March comes in like a lion, it will go out like a lamb.

Science has proved most of those false, there being little correlation between a sunny/cloudy February 2nd and the weather that follows shortly thereafter, or the beginning and end of the month of March. The old sayings just don’t seem to be that good at predicting long range forecasts. Still, they persist, for a variety of reasons.

Still other sayings, the majority of which are short term predictions, have been found to have a scientific basis:

Red sky at night, sailors’ delight.
Red sky at morning, sailors take warning.

This saying has to do with the movement of weather fronts and the scattering of the light rays off dust particles and moisture-heavy clouds. All this means, if one sees a red sky at morning, rain is probably on the way. Rain when you’re out to sea, is reason enough for a sailor to take warning.

Similarly, the old sayings about halos around the sun and moon? Equally true. It has to do with the refraction of light through ice crystals in the upper atmosphere.

But what’s brought all of this to mind? Why, yesterday was Easter Sunday and it rained. You know what that means, don’t you? It’s going to rain for the next seven Sundays.

Political Rhetoric

2010-03-25T00:05:00.002-05:00

I’m rather sick of political rhetoric and individuals who take a firm stand for or against something based on a tag line without thinking about the issue or looking into it. I fully admit I’m not as versed in what my individual representatives are doing as I’d like to be, but I do try. I contact them. I subscribe to their newsletters (invariably they end up unsubscribing me, which tells you something – they don’t actually want to keep their constituents informed.) I tell them what I want (to which, if it goes against the stance they’ve taken… well, that’s usually when they unsubscribe me from their newsletters.) I try to give some thought to what’s going on in the political world around me and then, when I do, I find myself confronted by individuals on Facebook using the word “demon” to refer to whichever political party they are opposed to.

C’mon guys. That’s empty rhetoric. It does nothing except set up an us vs. them dichotomy while failing to explore the real issues of the day or come up with workable solutions to the problems around us. More than that, it feeds into the hands of politicians who benefit from keeping the public ignorant of their goings on.

Let’s be clear: The majority of politicians in office today do not care about you as an individual or even as a member of a group. They have little concept of the day-to-day struggles you face. We have reached a point where our political leaders – where are government – is almost completely disconnected from the every day lives of those they govern.

In the last presidential election, the “down-to-earth” candidate resided in a home worth more than $4,000,000.00 in a metro area where a nice middle class home cost a tenth of that amount and the other major candidate was unable to tell a reporter how many houses he owned. This at a time when more and more ordinary citizens were facing foreclosure of the only roof over their family’s heads.

Instead of helping out the taxpayer, the government chose instead to bail out corporations and mega-banks, who used the money not to help the people but to secure bonuses and corporate retreats for its executives. This should tell everyone where the real power base is in this country. The government is not working for the betterment of the ordinary citizen; it does not represent us. Instead, it represents corporations and special interest groups to us because those are the entities which finance their campaigns and decide who is and who is not elected. We the people are just pawns in the game who are sacrificed at little cost to the major players on the board.

In the past, when the gap which separated ruler from ruled became such a chasm, revolutions happened. When, in Russia, the tsar and his nobility attended galas while covered in glittering precious jewels while the country people were unable to feed their children, the Bolsheviks rose to power and Nicholas II and his beloved family were executed. In France, when Marie Antionette was told the people had no bread and she said “Let them eat cake” the ruling class lost its heads.

What I wonder these days is if the American people, when faced with not an oppressive government but with an unresponsive one, still has the passion that first drove our ancestors across the Atlantic to settle the New World, then fueled the Minute Men in their fight for freedom, sent pioneers across the mountains, and finally put a man on the moon, or if those fires have grown cold. Are we now nothing more than spoiled, self-indulgent children who expect others to solve all our problems for us or does the independent flame still burn within our souls?

Honestly, I hope we don’t have to find out, but I worry that we will end up with little choice.

What it's all about

2010-03-18T00:05:00.000-05:00

The biggest problem with writing, with being a writer, is not learning craft well enough to be published. It’s not coming up with ideas. It’s not submitting or editors or agents or any of that.

The biggest problem with writing is balance. It’s somewhere between being a hermit and living life to its fullest. To be a writer – whether you are writing educational newsletters, greeting cards, short stories, or articles for magazines – is to examine the human condition. To do that, one must live. You have to get out there and allow yourself to live, love, and laugh, to know pain, sorrow, and regret. You have to be.

But to put words to paper, it is necessary to pull back, close the door, stop taking calls, tell your family that you are most definitely not talking to them this weekend, and lock yourself up in your own head with nothing but pen and paper (or laptop and keyboard) and to turn over the stones of what was in order to use that to move others.

Finding the balance. That’s what being a writer is all about.

Test

2010-02-25T11:21:00.001-06:00

Just testing the e-mail posting option.

The End of Print Technology? I think not.

2010-02-15T21:21:00.003-06:00

I came across yet another article tolling the death knell for print books and the transcendence of e-books. This one was written by Dan Agin and published by The Huffington Post. While I do not dispute Dr. Agin’s intelligence – he is not only a PhD and a professor emeritus at a distinguished university but also a neuroscientist – I do dispute the logic he used to signal the demise of print publications.

He starts by equating the digital book with the Gutenberg printing press, which allowed books to be reproduced without the laborious work of hand copying them. The thing is, e-book technology does not change the way books are produced. It changes the way they are delivered. The majority of work that goes into producing a book does not involve the printing of it; it involves the writing, editing, and marketing of it. None of that is changed by digital technology. The only thing that is changed is the way the books are consumed by the audience. Before the Gutenberg printing press, the audience did not exist, and therefore the industry that surrounded it did not exist.

Dr. Agin goes on to say

It's tragic because when an industry dies because of corporate blindness, people do get hurt. When the automobile put the horse and carriage trade out of business, blacksmiths and carriage makers became irrelevant overnight. But before that happened people were up to their eyeballs in media baloney that the automobile was only a fad.

This shows a woeful ignorance of history or deliberate hyperbole. I’ll leave my readers to make their own judgment on which it is. Because anyone who knows even a fraction of history knows the automobile did not emerge onto the scene overnight and its early incarnations employed the self-same blacksmiths and carriage makers who serviced the equine industry. The very first self-powered vehicle was built in 1769 for the French military. The next innovation did not happen until 1801 was one of the first pieces of machinery to be termed a horseless carriage because that was exactly what it was. A carriage without horses. The first practical automobile did not appear until 1886, overly 100 years after the first self-powered vehicle was used in France. Hardly an instant success that toppled entire industries overnight.

Also, working blacksmiths are still in demand and not just as a sideshow exhibits at Renaissance fairs. They make the decorative wrought iron railings you find on public buildings and in nicer arms. They create safety rails and repair centuries old work and they still shoe horses, which remain a large part of many people’s lives today.

Dr. Agin also claims that

The same will happen to the entire printed-book industry, editors, publishers, printers, salesmen, publicists, marketeers, whatever. They will be gone or transformed -- to be remembered in anecdotes about the old days.

Really? No more editors or salesman or publishers? Who then will make produce the books that are delivered digitally? Who will alert distributors and stores, online or otherwise, to their availability? Who will make certain that the world inside the author’s head has made it onto the page or select the books for a particular line? The role of editors, salesman, publishers, etc., do not go away just because the delivery mode has changed. E-book publishers are still publishers. They still – thankfully since I have a paycheck lying nearby from one of them – need editors to help authors polish manuscripts. They still need editors-in-chiefs to finalize manuscripts and staff to alert the reading public to the existence of the finished product.

I believe Dr. Agin has compared digital book readers to the wrong technology. I would remind him, and anyone else who claims the digital book means the death of print books, that movies did not bring about the end of plays, televisions did not mean the end of movie theatres, VHS and DVDs did not mean the end of television shows. All complement one another and provide for yet another way of reaching the audience, just like digital book readers do.

Back on the Street Corner

2010-01-19T12:47:00.004-06:00

Please excuse me while I rant. Again. Today’s topic is people who expect others to solve the world’s problems for them.

Again, as most of you know, I’m a long-term moderator over at Absolute Write. Recently, I decided to develop a crit circle over there. After polling those interested, I selected a day and a time. Unsurprisingly, especially given that AW is truly a global community, the time I chose did not work for everyone. Not much I could do about that. No single time I chose would have worked for everyone. That’s just an impossibility when you’re dealing with as many individuals scattered across so many time zones. At one point I received an e-mail asking me what I was going to do about those in the European time zones. My response: Nothing. I challenged that individual, and a couple of others, to step up to the plate and create their own crit group that might work for others. Much to my delight, they did.

Now, for me, this is just the world in a microcosm. Too often, people identify a problem – the vacant lot on the corner is filled with trash, the food pantry isn’t open at hours that accommodate people who have jobs but don’t earn enough to pay the bills, there’s been an increase in crime in the neighborhood – and then complain because the government, the church leadership, the police, whoever –aren’t solving the situation. That’s bullshit. It really is. If you want a problem solved, you need to be willing to roll up your sleeves and get a little dirty. You need to be willing to take responsibility for helping to make the world a better place.

The government’s job is not to solve all the world’s problems. The church’s responsibility is not to fulfill all of our society’s needs. The police only have so many officers and can only be so many places at once. The government, the church, the police, what have you, are resources for us to use, not for us to depend on. Sitting on the sidelines and complaining – whining – because no one else is taking responsibility for solving a situation we’ve identified accomplishes nothing.

So, if the vacant lot is filled with trash, grab a garbage bag, organize the neighbors, and go clean it up. If the food pantry needs extra help, volunteer. If there’s crime in your neighborhood, form a neighborhood watch.

When we, as individuals, abdicate our responsibility for the world around us to those in positions of authority, we are also abdicating our freedom to make our own decisions. We surrender our autonomy to individuals who do not have the same goals and objectives as we do. If you want to live in a free society, then you must also live as a free individual, and that means taking responsibility not only for your own actions but for the world around you. It means getting dirty, it means standing up, it means occasionally missing an episode of 24, because, really, what’s more important? Jack’s latest mission or making the world a place we want to live in through our own actions? There’s pride in ownership. There really is.

Guess what?

2010-01-14T17:56:00.002-06:00

I was interviewed.

Writing Rituals

2010-01-11T00:05:00.001-06:00

On writing forums, some questions are evergreen. They’re always recurring. Actually, when you’ve hung out at writing forums for as many years as I have, all the questions are recurring. It’s more about the frequency a particular question gets asked and the number of ways it can be spun. One particular question with a moderate recurrence has to do with a writer’s rituals. What does a writer have to do before they sit down to write? What habits or routines do they engage in to get in the mood to write?

What I found interesting this time was that a clear division seemed to be drawn between what I will term aspiring writers and working writers. Aspiring writers may be writing frequently, they may have even been published once or twice, but at this point, they’re still getting their feet wet, if you’ll forgive the cliché. They have yet to produce for publication on a regular, on-going basis. Writing is not yet a part of their livelihood. They are under no obligation to write.

By comparison, the working writers are often under contract or dealing with deadlines. The income from writing has become a regular part of their household budget. People are waiting on their words and if they don’t produce, it’s more than just the writer who is affected.

What’s interesting about these two different groups is their responses to the question: “What are your writing rituals?”

The aspiring writers will often say things like, “I have to be inspired before I can write,” “I have to go for a walk,” “I need to play three games of Bejeweled Blitz and earn an average score of 100,000 per game,” or “I have to have a cup of hot tea – Lapsang Souchong works best – and use a fountain pen with blue ink on an unlined mole skinned notebook in order to feel creative enough to write.”

Whereas the working writers will say things like, “I just sit down, open the file, and write,” or “I go into my office, shut the door so the rest of the household knows not to bother me, open the file, and start writing.”

In other words, working writers don’t have to have rituals or routines. They don’t wait for inspiration. They just sit down and write.

It’s something to think about.

Happy New Year

2009-12-31T09:37:00.000-06:00

Here is wishing
• that each of you obtain most, but not all, of the goals set out before you,
• that you experience true happiness, if only for a short time, that you have a moment of personal clarity through which you see yourself and the world,
• and that moment leaves you changed for the better.

Here, too, is wishing
• that the world experiences one day without killing,
• that the government always acts in the best interest of the people,
• that the human race learns to judge people based on their actions, and not on the color of their skin, who they like to sleep with, or how they do or do not worship.

May we humans learn to work together to eliminate tyranny, poverty, hunger, fear, and hate.

Here is to a fresh start and another chance to get it right.

Best wishes for a happy, safe, and productive 2010.

Happy New Year.

Merry Christmas

2009-12-24T12:57:00.001-06:00

Christmas Gift Suggestions:

To your enemy, forgiveness.
To your opponent, tolerance.
To a friend, your heart.
To a customer, service.
To all, charity.
To every child, a good example.
To yourself, respect.

~Oren Arnold

Ridiculousness: Working for a Possible Chance at Maybe Getting Published

2009-12-19T21:46:00.005-06:00

Almost every week when I receive the Duotrope fiction newsletter, I open it and look a the paying markets. Sometimes, as happened this week, a title catches my eye and I take a closer look. What I found was this

Critical Writing magazine has a non-standard submissions procedure.

In order to submit work authors must join the Critical_Writing critique group for fiction submissions
Critical_Writing group
and the Poetry- group for poetry submissions
Poetry- group

and, when I clicked on the "more info" link (only because I decided to blog about this, I discovered

Rule #1: DON’T SUBMIT YOUR WORK UNLESS YOU’VE OFFERED AT LEAST 3 CRITS FIRST!
Rule #2: TRY TO DO SEVERAL CRITS BETWEEN YOUR SUBMISSIONS.

The rules go on from there, but this is completely ridiculous. This is a publication that values my time and my effort not at all. They're not offering a paying market, but trying to build a crit group through bribery.

It's bad enough that the number of paying markets has been greatly reduced in recent years, it's bad enough that most paying markets don't pay pro rates (and I understand why -- most of them have no funding and can't afford to pay pro rates), but now, in addition to writing the story, rewriting and editing the story, researching the markets, and submitting the story, this market wants freelancers to act as the editing staff and take their already limited time to critique other people's work.

Look, I have a critique group. I love them. They're my tribe. I would do almost anything for them. I'm not looking to expand it. I'm looking for opportunities to sell my work and have it read.

I understand every writer has not yet been as fortunate in finding ideal readers as I have been, but providing a critique group is not the job of publications. There are writers' forums, universities, and artist organizations for that. Publishing is the job of publications. Marketing to readers -- not writers -- is the job of publications.

Now, I can anticipate someone coming along and posting that if I don't want to submit to this market, I shouldn't. And I won't. You shouldn't either, because really this is exploitation. Your time, as a writer, would be better served writing another story and finding another market than submitting to a place that puts extra work requirements on submitting.

Oh, by the way, critiquing the requisite number of stories, submitting yours, and ranking high enough for publication is still no guarantee you'll be published by this market, because at any time, you might be bumped by someone who has ranked higher than you, but, if by some chance you do make the cut and the so-called editors at this market decided to publish you in their bi-annual 'zine, you will receive $30 for a feature story, $20 for a non-feature, and $10 for poetry.

Ridiculous.

For those wondering, the market is called Critical Writing. It's new. Don't expect it to last long. In addition to non-standard submission requirements, they also don't have a target audience, as evidenced by the fact they accept any genre. I take that back. They do have a target audience: it's writers who are desperate for a critique.

If you're reading this and really need a critique, I'd suggest Absolute Write's Share Your Work forum, or any writing forum with a critique area, would be a far better use of your time.

Milestones

2009-12-03T12:57:00.001-06:00

In writing, milestones are sometimes fuzzy. When we start out writing, we expect that measurements of when we’ve “made it” to be clear and easily defined. We’ll sit down with our notebooks, at our typewriters, at our laptops, and we’ll type away until a book – novel, non-fiction, memoir, it doesn’t matter – appears beneath our fingers. Or we’ll jet about the country, finding interesting people, uncovering earth-shattering news, writing the details of what we find, and our names and our words will appear on the cover of Time or National Geographic. Regardless of the writing track we’re pursuing, it will be easy. We’ll sit down, write, and publish. We will make a living from our writing. We will be writers. Easy peasy.

Reality soon shatters our illusions. Writing is hard. Sure, the stories are in our head; the interesting people are out there. But using words to create images on the page is not as easy as it sounds. People with stories that need to be told don’t just appear next to us while we wait in line at the grocery. Not to mention the old adage “writing is rewriting” is far truer than we could have ever imagined. This writing thing is work. It takes time and energy. Research takes effort and, in some cases, money.

That’s the other thing we writers soon learn. It takes an incredibly long time to make a living from our words and in the meantime, we have to pay our rent and put food on the table. Even when we have loved ones who make enough to keep a roof over our heads and our bellies full, they often don’t make enough to pay for braces, a second car, Julia’s band dues, or for us to pay postage to keep sending manuscripts out. We have to do something to contribute to the household’s financial well-being while we wait for the world to discover us. In some cases, that means a day job – part-time or full-time. For others, that means getting really creative and finding ways to make our writing pay for itself in the meantime. In many ways, the day job is easier.

Through it all, our families and friends, keep waiting for us to “make it,” as do we. When, people ask, will we be able to take them on a celebratory trip to Disney World? With each achievement they want to know if they can auction off our stolen underwear on eBay yet or hold our cat for ransom. Can they say they knew us when? And with each guess-where-I-just-got-accepted-e-mail, we answer “not yet.”

In traditional careers, the milestones are easier to recognize. A raise. A promotion. A title added to our business cards. In writing – as in most creative endeavors – the markers of success are not that clearly defined. First acceptance is certainly one, as is the first rejection. First sale for money. First request for something specific. First letter from someone who has read your work. First… In truth, writing is a career of firsts and they all mean something to us, even if they don’t mean we’ve made it yet.

Over time, we come to recognize the truth of that other adage, the one that says it takes twenty years to become an overnight success. Being a writer, we realize, is not a destination, but a journey, no matter how cliché that may sound. Each achievement is not so much a milestone as it is a signpost confirming we are traveling toward our goals. It is progress. We might, one day, be able to make a living at our craft or become a household name. I question if we will have arrived even then. More than likely, those achievements will be yet another signpost on our path, telling us we are still growing in the direction we chose for ourselves so long ago. In the distance, there will be still another goal waiting for us and we will still be telling our friends and family “not yet,” this achievement is not the destination, but merely a step in the journey we are on.

Peace This Thanksgiving

2009-11-27T00:30:00.000-06:00

Dear Lord; we beg but one boon more:
Peace in the hearts of all men living,
peace in the whole world this Thanksgiving.
~Joseph Auslander

Bad Blogger. Bad.

2009-11-24T12:33:00.000-06:00

The presence of smart alecks in the proceeding post’s comment trail tell me that it has been far too long since I posted anything at The Commune. They are, of course, correct. It has been far too long since I’ve posted anything here. Bad Lori. Bad writer. Bad editor. Bad blogger. Bad, bad Lori.

What amazes me is, while I’ve been away – okay, while I’ve been negligent in my blogger duties – my followers have grown in number. *waves at followers* This makes me feel special in the good way, though why they would choose to follow a neglected blog… Maybe I shouldn’t feel too special? After all, a couple of them look a little shadowy. Has The Commune become the dark alley where ne’er-do-wells hangout, waiting for their next victim in lawless cyberspace?

Oops. Sorry. Didn’t mean to head off on a tangent like that. It happens sometimes these days. I blame a combination of a lack of sleep, a lack of dreaming when I do sleep, and a lack of fiction writing. All of my brain’s creative outlets are shut off, so it takes whatever creative opportunities pass its way. Bad brain.

While I’ve been absent – I prefer that to the more accurate negligent – I read an article about how ignoring your readers was the same as telling them they were not important to you. This is not true. You are important to me. So, on top of everything else , I now feel guilty about not updating here as regularly as I said I would.

Anyway, I’m still out here, eating vanilla wafers and drinking Diet Coke and/or hot tea, working a part-time day job, editing other people’s manuscripts, riding herd on my stable of authors, adding words to my thesis, oohing and aahing over office supplies, and occasionally changing my sheets. It’s an exciting life I lead, I tell you, but not a bad one.

What’s up in your lives?

Writing Speaks to Us

2009-10-28T12:53:00.001-05:00

Non-fiction speaks to the head,
Fiction to the heart,
And poetry to the soul.

Inspiration

2009-10-03T10:36:00.002-05:00

Sometimes, inspiration comes to you from unknown places. Sometimes, random thoughts come together and create a new idea. Sometimes, it's something someone else has said or that you've seen or heard. Sometimes, it comes from a dream. And, other times, you wake up, realizing you have something to say, something to share, and knowing exactly what that something is and how to accomplish it.

This Writing Fad

2009-09-10T00:05:00.000-05:00

One thing being overweight most of your life teaches you is that if something sounds too good to be true, it usually is. Fad diets are just that, fads. They come and go with each generation and don’t really change all that much. They’re not healthy and they don’t produce lasting results. You might be able to lose weight with SlimFast®, but as soon as you start eating like a regular person, instead of getting the bulk of your nutrition from a prefabricated drink, you’re going to regain as much as you lost, if not more. And the FDA… don’t trust them either. Just because they say a weight loss drug is safe, doesn’t mean it is. No medication just released has seen long-term use in the general population. Better to sit back and wait and observe than to risk even more serious health issues than already created by carrying extra pounds on your frame.

Even if you religiously keep to the 1500 calorie diet currently recommended, you still won’t slim down if the bulk of your nutrition comes from potato chips (one 2 ¾ oz. bag of Lay’s original Kettle Cooked chips contains 450 calories) and candy bars (one king-sized Reese’s has 400 calories). In the end, the only things that really work for long-term weight loss are: 1) address any underlying issues for weight gain/failure to lose weight, 2) exercise, and 3) eat a balanced diet. You know, the things that are hard, difficult, and take work.

If anyone suggests anything else, it’s probably too good to be true, and therefore will not work.

The same is true of writing. There aren’t any quick fixes. No easy solutions to navigating the publishing maze. If anyone suggests otherwise, they’re trying to sell you a fad diet that’s going to cost you more in the long run.

Writing professionally, takes discipline. It’s hard. It’s work. There will be times that you fall off the bandwagon and indulge your whims. When that happens, the only thing to do is stand back up, dust yourself off, and hit the gym – or place your butt in chair, as the case may be.

Being a professional takes balance as well. It’s highly unlikely that you will be able to make a living doing only one type of writing, at least not in the beginning. Making a living writing nothing but fiction is straight out.

Yes, yes. I know. Fiction is the fun stuff. It’s why you got to be a writer in the first place, but the reason you can’t make a living at it has nothing to do with you as a writer. It has everything to do with the realities of the market right now.

When it comes to short fiction, very few markets pay a professional wage. Most pay in the neighborhood of $.01 per word. Some less. Many less. At these rates, to make even $100 from a story, it needs to be 10,000 words long. Now, go research the number of short fiction markets that accept that length. Very few. Most want 3,000 words or less. So, in order to make a part-time wage, you need to sell approximately 3 stories a week, every week. There just aren’t that many market available right now. I don’t know if there ever were. Then, for fun and games, take into account the number of people attempting to be writers these days. They’re all submitting work, too, and many of them are just as good as you are and some are better. Most are worse, but even so, when even the smallest publication has three to five acceptable stories for every slot they have available, the odds are greatly diminished of the stories you’ve written getting chosen by the editor three times a week

What about novels, then, and receiving an advance? First, many advances aren’t that much. Certainly not enough to live on for a year. Second, novels are a long-term investment. From the time you finish it, at the absolute least, it will be a minimum of a year before you receive any monies from it, advance or otherwise. And that assumes you sell it in the first place.

How can you ever hope to make a living as a writer in this day and age? How do others do it? Diversify and find a niche. By diversification I mean don’t concentrate on any one medium. Write non-fiction as well as fiction. Write puzzles, greeting cards, magazine articles, and hire out your services to those who lack your skill. By find a niche I mean find a topic or subject matter that you do well. Are you a health nut? Corner the health-writing market. Do you like martial arts? Then research that? Are you a parent? Hey, that’s fertile ground. Exploit what you know all over the place and never, ever be ashamed of doing so. And don’t ever let anyone tell you this writing thing is easy.

But then, nothing worth doing is.

Loneliness

2009-09-07T10:44:00.000-05:00

I think we’ve forgotten how to be alone. No. That’s not true, because I’m often alone. Alone in my car. Alone in my office. Alone in my room. What we’ve forgotten how to be is lonely. Too often when we’re in danger of becoming lonely, we reach out electronically to other people who had been in danger of loneliness. Through our cell phones, e-mail, and the internet – forums, newsfeeds, blogs – we can always find another soul to connect to. This isn’t always a bad thing. Think of the people whose lives have been enriched, or saved, this way. Think of the times someone has needed a shoulder, and found it, because of how much smaller technology is making our world.

But this newfound interconnectedness comes at a price. What we’ve lost the ability to do is respond to ourselves, to be alone inside our heads. Thing is, that is where individual strength comes from, where we learn who we are. If, when we need to think something through, form an opinion, or overcome some hurdle in our lives, there is always someone out there to help us, how are we ever to foster a dialogue with the one person in our lives who means the most to us?

How are we ever going to learn to communicate with ourselves?

Writers' Retreat - Part I

2009-08-17T00:05:00.001-05:00

In early September, I will be attending a writers’ residency – seven days and nights without cell phone, internet, television, day job, housework, yard work, errands, pets, or any of the thousand and one distractions that take time and can be used as excuses to not write. I am so looking forward to it. For that one week, I’ve given myself permission to be selfish. To only think of my needs and wants, and to do nothing but write. Glorious.

It occurred to me this past weekend that I should be chronicling the experience from beginning to end and posting about it here. Sometimes, I’m slow. Really, really slow. So, forgive me as we go back in time to February and March 2009, when I was exploring my options and submitting an application.

Where to Apply

One of the first things I had to decide was where to apply. I’ve been collecting information on grants, fellowships, residencies, and workshops and staring at the different websites with longing for a couple of years now. The idea of going some place where writing was all I had to focus on more than appealed to me. This year, I’d decided to look at some of the places quite seriously and apply for either this year or the next if I could find one that fit. There are a number of very real external factors – most people, me included, do not have the luxury of just dropping all of our responsibilities and disappearing for weeks at a time. If we did – if I did – writing time would not be an issue.

I already knew I did not want a workshop. Workshops specialize in critiquing and helping writers improve. I’m not saying my writing is perfect – far from it. There are lots of areas I need to work on, so maybe I will apply for Clarion or Viable Paradise one day, but this time around, I was seeking dedicated work space and time. Some place I could go and be alone with the voices in my head and the words on the page.

Real Life Considerations

That said, there are some very real considerations that have nothing to do with writing or my desires that had to be taken into account when choosing where and when to apply. I have commitments that limit the amount of time I can step outside of my normal existence for this experience. I currently have a part-time day job. Since I don’t earn vacation time, I wasn’t certain how much time I would be permitted to take off, especially since I’d been there for less than a year. My boss assured me that I could take off for two weeks and she would not fire me. I didn’t ask about any longer than that because, quite frankly, I still have bills to pay and more than that would have been too much a strain on my household budget. Plus, there are my freelancing deadlines to consider. And the thesis, which my advisor tells me I’m no longer permitted to call ‘The Never-ending Thesis,’ just so you know.

Many of my readers might have to take into account household and familial responsibilities, too. I do have the benefit of sharing a home with my mother. While we each have our chores about the house, for the most part, if one person disappears for the time, the other can pick up the slack. If I were married or had a child, this would be a different story. If I was living alone, there would be a different set of concerns that would have to be addressed. Fortunately, I don’t have to worry about any of these things, but even so, I could not consider places like the Art Farm, where they prefer residents to stay for 8 to 12 weeks at a time. This was not an option for me, not this time around.

Eligibility

Beyond the length of the stay, the eligibility requirements of some of the places I found meant I could not apply. For example, some require that the writer be from certain places or their work to relate to the area where the residency is located. Others want the work to have a certain theme or focus. Because I’m still a student, I was ineligible for a number of others.

Then there were the ones that I’m just not qualified for. They are the type of opportunities where writers who are much more established in their careers than I am would apply. I had to play the odds. If I wanted this, I had to focus on places where I had a realistic chance of getting accepted.

Even so, there was a long list of options available to me. At least technically. Other variables meant I could not pursue some places, no matter how much they made me go weak in the knees.

Financing

One of the first places I discovered that I thought I could realistically attend was the Mary Anderson Center in Indiana, but they charge $45 per day. Given that this covers most meals, it’s more than reasonable, but when you’re looking at a week or more, it also adds up rather quickly. Seven days is over $315. Not only would I be losing a week’s pay from the day job, I’d have to pay out over $300. Again, reasonable and fair, but not an option for me right now. Maybe next year – maybe – but definitely not this year.

I wish financing weren’t such a weighty factor in my decision-making of where to apply, but I can’t escape the fact that it was and probably will be whenever I have the opportunity to try for a residency or fellowship. I imagine the same is true for most of my readers, too.

Location

The location of the residency was a factor for two reasons: travel time and travel expense. Yep. There’s that financial thing rearing its ugly head again. There’s no escaping it. I am not independently wealthy. But, again, if I were, the writing time thing wouldn’t be as big of an issue.

While I might have loved to apply to Soapstone – and one day I will apply either there or to Hedgebrook – having to travel to the Pacific Northwest, but that would add three to four days of overland travel – which would mean more time away from the day job that pays the bill – or airline tickets – which can be expensive if one can’t find deals that match travel dates. Also, with airline travel, I have to either coordinate pick-up and departure times with someone else or a rental car. Some places don’t offer any airport shuttles as part of the retreat or fellowship. Either way, the travel expenses and the deficit from the day job paycheck add up quickly. These things must be considered.

I needed to limit my selection to locations within a day’s drive. Preferably closer. This, finally, seriously shortened the list of possible places I could apply.

Many places have application deadlines. I found one place that seemed ideal, at least as far as the above concerns went, and it had the added benefit of having an early deadline. I decided to apply there and see what happened before exploring the other possibilities in more depth.

More about where I applied in Part II.

Soap Making & Professionalism

2009-08-13T21:20:00.003-05:00

This summer, I started attending farmers’ markets. I’ve been searching for fruit, since my mother’s companion provides us with more than enough vegetables to see us through the year, let alone the season. I’ve also been looking for girlie products, since I’m a sucker for such things and nothing quite beats well-crafted homemade soap. So far, I’ve discovered three such vendors at two different markets. I’ve bought products from two of the three. Both women that I bought soaps from were very friendly. They made themselves available to answer my questions, their displays were attractive and well organized, despite the fact they were set up on a folding table in the middle of the street, and they took the time to help me select the product that I would enjoy. One even offered me a money back guarantee.

The third… Well, the woman didn’t meet my eye, couldn’t be bothered to stand when I approached, was indifferent to my questions, didn’t seem to know her product, and everything was just sort of tossed out on the table.

The products of the first two women were everything they promised. I could easily become a regular customer of one or both of them, even though one is slightly out of my way. I’m definitely going to buy more soap from one of them before my writer’s residency. Something in a nice lavender, though that might be too relaxing for what I’m hoping is a highly productive week.

I have not, and cannot imagine, trying the third woman’s products. Thing is, they may be just as good, or even better, than the other two people’s. Soap making might be her passion. She might be brilliant at it. I don’t know. Why then won’t I try something of hers just to find out? Her appearance, her presentation, and even her attitude were unprofessional and I have no reason to believe that she didn’t have the same lax, uncaring attitude and inattention to detail when she created the products she wanted me to try. Why should I shell out my hard-earned dollars or risk my skin to find out, especially when there are two other people, one in the same farmers market, who are willing to take the extra time to market their products and answer questions in such a way that I’m easily reassured about their quality even before I make a purchase?

The same is true of writing. Editors have a choice. Trust me. I’ve now served not only as the editor who makes the selections, but also as an editor who helps whip manuscripts into shape prior to publication. There is absolutely no reason for any editor to choose to work with any writer who thinks they are the gods’ gift to literature. Ego. Disparaging readers. Unwillingness to accept criticism. These things are huge turn-offs and, rather than dealing with them on an on-going basis, editors are more than willing – and rightly so – to reject a well-written manuscript or terminate a contract. It’s just not worth the stress, especially when there are a whole slew of far more professional writers offering similar products for sale. (And, no, your story is not that unique. It’s just not.)

Does this mean writers need to kowtow to editors and brown nose in order to get published? Definitely not. What it does mean is that as a writer, you need to bring more than just a well-written manuscript to the table. You need to not only be a professional, you must also present yourself as such. Part of this are the things we often hear about:

Use correct spelling, grammar, and punctuation
Format your manuscript properly
Read and follow the writers’ guidelines

Beyond these things, though, the writer who would like to make a career out of this writing thing needs to:

Be humble

Leave the ego at the door. You may have tons of talent. You may be an extremely skilled storyteller. You might just be the next big thing, but even so, no one owes you anything. Not the editors, not the agents, not publishers, not the booksellers, and certainly not the readers.

Life is too short to spend it dealing with people who look down at their colleagues and, worse, their customers.

Listen

To an editor, a quality product isn’t just about delivering an innovative story or an article with an interesting angle. It’s also about providing a story or article that the editor can use. If they make suggestions, or indicate a certain need: Listen. Be willing to make changes or extend yourself in order to meet an editor’s needs.

Communicate

If something isn’t going well with the project, if something comes up – personal or otherwise – let the editor know. Be willing to admit your limitations. Be honest about what you are able to do, both with yourself and with the editor. This includes asking for extensions on deadlines if you’re not going to be able to make one.

Stand behind your product

When turning something in, make certain it is nothing you will be embarrassed to have written. While there’s nothing wrong with using a pseudonym, and in some cases there are very valid reasons for doing so, make certain you can still point to the quality of writing with pride and say, “I wrote that.”

Manage your first impressions

In this business, reputation is everything and that reputation often begins with first impressions. Thing is, in this increasingly virtual world, writers often cannot be certain where those first impressions will occur. Will it be at a con? In e-mail? On a writers’ forum? In your blog? Wherever you are, behave as if the person you wish to work with will “meet” you first through the words you leave behind.

Also, when you land a gig, make certain you treat each assignment as if it were the first one and you were establishing yourself with this editor. They say one unhappy customer will lose you ten more. As a writer, how many editors can you really afford to not do business with?

This list is in no way inclusive of everything we as writers must be aware of in order to be and be treated as professionals. It is only a start. The important thing is, just like with the two soap makers who impressed me, to remember that writing and publishing is a business and it is up to each of us how we manage our company of one. We are the only ones who can control how our customers see us. Leave as little as possible to chance and take control of what you can.

Nothing is Created in a Vacuum

2009-08-10T00:09:00.000-05:00

Our family often seeks inspiration from others when it comes to home organization. For example, there is a bar constructed of pipes hanging above my mother’s washer and dryer. I thought it had been her innovation, but turns out she borrowed it from my cousin, her niece. Another cousin, this one on my father’s side of the family, once confessed that for the layout of her much larger kitchen, she used our smaller, eat-in kitchen, as inspiration. She liked the idea of the cooking taking place at one end while the family could gather round the kitchen table at the other.

Understand, no one stole any of the ideas. I don’t think any of them are that unique. Nor, if you were to step into the three separate homes, would the casual observer see more than the base similarity between the any ideas. “Oh, look, you have a table in your kitchen. Didn’t I see the same thing in your cousin’s house? Hey! You’ve got four walls and an exterior door in here, too. Now, wait a minute…”

Still, the inspiration exists. Nothing, as they say, is created in a vacuum. We all get our ideas from somewhere. Then we take them and make them our own.

The same is true with writing. No author, beginner or otherwise, should avoid reading. In fact, we should all read as much as our schedules allow. Our inspiration will come not only from the world around us, the experiences we have and observe, but also from what others have written. This is not plagiarism. It is not copying. It is not stealing. It is seeking inspiration where it exists to be found.

I have heard young writers claim that such things as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead is nothing more than fanfiction of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. To say such things shows a gross misunderstanding of what literature is and how it comes into being. Nothing is created in a vacuum.

If you’ve followed my blog for any time, or engaged me elsewhere in the internet, you’ve heard me talk about the interconnectivity of literature, how it is conversation that occurs across time and space. This is why we, as writers, read. To learn what has been said before. Without this knowledge, we are unable to fully utilize our skills to create meaningful stories that engage our readers and have a chance to stand the test of time.

If we, as authors, have any talent, we are able to take what we read and, not only respond to it, but we also use it. We take snippets of things we’ve seen, ideas that others have used, and we recreate them in new and innovative ways, that really aren’t all that new or innovative, just changed enough to make it our own. We engage in the conversation and, if the reader looks hard enough, they will still be able to see the threads connecting our work to what has come before. After all (repeat after me), nothing is created in a vacuum.

Fairy Tale Nightmares

2009-08-06T12:36:00.000-05:00

My mother would not let me read The Terrible Nung Gwama to my nephew at bedtime this past weekend. It’s Chinese version of Little Red Riding Hood, but instead of encountering a wolf on the way to Grandma’s house and being rescued by a woodsman, the girl-woman in the story is on her way to her venerable parents and encounters a monster known as the Nung Gwama. This monster, because the girl refuses to give him the food she is taking to her parents, promises to come by her house that evening and eat her. This, understandably, reduces the girl to tears. Several peddlers happen along and give her gifts, which she uses to defeat the Nung Gwama later that evening.

Now, the parts of the story that my mother objected to as a bedtime story were the descriptions of how the monster consumed his victims, not eating them delicately, but crunching on them, bones, head, hair, and all. Not to mention all the violence done to the monster – he’s bitten by poisonous snakes, has his fingers snacked on by fish, and is blinded by exploding eggs – before he is destroyed at the end of the story.

“But, Mom,” I told her, “it’s a fun story. I like it.”

“You’re thirty-eight. He’s six.” She paused. “You can read it to him during the day, when the sun is out, but you cannot read it to him at bedtime.”

Knowing when I’m fighting a losing battle, and not particularly wanting to deal with a six year old’s nightmares on his one and only night in town myself, I relented, making only one comment about what the non-Disney versions of Cinderella and Snow White actually contained. Cinderella’s stepsisters slice of parts of their feet in order to fit into the slipper and Snow White forces the queen to dance to her death in red hot iron shoes.

Thing is, these fairy tales teach us how to deal with ourselves and the world around us. Not to the point of showing us how to peck out our siblings’ eyes or kill our (step)mothers, but by allowing us to acknowledge our inner demons and letting us know that we are not alone in how we feel. Such fairy tales serve as a reflection of our deepest inner selves. Children denied such outlets become repressed adults. Adults denied such outlets become depressed.

I’m not certain when we started protecting children to the point where we tried to deny not only was the world sometimes ugly but that we ourselves are sometimes ugly, but that’s what’s happened to children’s literature. It’s become sanitized. It denies the humanity of the reader. Recent publications seek to educate without enlightening the individual.

But we need the mirror that literature, and fairy tales in particular, represents in order to better understand who we are as a people, even if that truth does sometimes give us nightmares.

Late Summer Reading

2009-07-30T00:48:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, our cable company changed their line-up. What this means is, whenever I pick up the remote and automatically enter the numbers pre-programmed into my fingertips, I end up with channels I normally don’t watch. It’s a bit like ending up with a book in a genre I don’t normally read. It’s odd and enjoyable and makes me want to recommend to each of you to go to the bookstore and go to a different section than you normally shop and pick up a book you wouldn’t normally read.

Or, better yet, post your absolute favorite book(s) here and other people can pick a late summer or early fall read from the list.

I’ll start:

Catch-22 by Joseph Heller

Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst and Ray Cruz

Sam 1; Statuary 0

2009-07-20T00:05:00.000-05:00

Sam doesn’t like statues. I discovered that this weekend. We were at a different Farmers’ Market than normal Saturday morning and I paused near a bronze statue of a young Abraham Lincoln with a pig at his feet to adjust how I was carrying my packages and holding Sam’s leash. Next thing I know, there’s this strange noise coming from nearby. I glance over at Sam, and he’s low to the ground, staring hard at the statue, and growling. Before I can fully wrap my head around the idea of Sam growling in earnest, he starts barking at it, warning it not to come near, that he was prepared to defend himself, his territory, and his pack.

I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. Funniest thing I’ve seen in awhile.

I think we need to get him off the farm and out into the world a little more often. We have been trying.

The More Things Change

2009-07-13T00:05:00.002-05:00

The more things change, the more they remain the same. I’m not certain who first said that and, as I write this, I’m not taking the time to do a quick search on the internet, but it’s true all the same.

Look, for example, at our shopping habits. There was a time a little over a century ago, when you took your own basket to the market to carry your purchases home. Then, stores started providing paper sacks, then plastic, then a choice. Now, environmentally conscious people take their own, reusable bags to the store with them in order to carry purchases home. Not so different, is it?

A few weeks ago, I was at a farmers’ market to buy locally grown, in-season, slow-grown produce for my family’s table. While there, a local hospital gave me a go-mug that included a clip to attach it to my belt or bag when it was empty. It was designed to encourage me to take it more places with me and use it more often than just the car. Looking at the design, I could not help but smile.

I’ve attended more than one Renaissance Festival in my day. I’ve worn made-to-look-like period clothing and I’ve admired the people who had far more interesting and authentic costumes than mine. I was just a weekender. There for a one-time, fun shot. There are people whose lives revolve around Ren Faires and their costumes are something to see. They spend months, if not years, researching and getting them right. One thing many of them have in common is they have a cup attached to their belt. When they get thirsty, they unclip it, have it filled, drink from it, and, when it is empty, the reattach it to their belt for the next use.

The concept is almost exactly like the one the hospital used for their go-cups, except using modern materials and a modern twist on the carrying mechanism. Oh, and all of the go-cups have lids. Only some of the Renaissance mugs did. These are the differences.

In the fullness of time, everything that is old will become new again.

In this environmentally conscious world, what will come around next? What's your best guess?

Write Like a Master

2009-07-09T00:05:00.000-05:00

I am, unashamedly, a viewer of certain reality television shows. The ones that appeal to me are mostly those that are contests, rather than invitations to voyeurism and extreme behavior. As I once explained to my mother, they really are no different than the game shows popular in the 1970’s. Think The Newlywed Game . Real people put in front of the camera, being asked embarrassing questions, and being judged on their responses.

My two favorites have probably been Project Runway and Top Chef. I stumbled upon Project Runway in season four, I believe. Maybe season three. I’d never heard of it, but I was clicking through and I landed on Bravo while the contestants were standing on the runway being critiqued. Keep in mind, I own a needle. I can sew a button, and maybe a quick stitch for minor repairs, but if I need anything even hemmed, I either pay someone or strike a bargain with a family member. Didn’t matter. In a very few seconds, I was hooked. Why? Because as I lounged, listening to the contestants respond to the critiques, I didn’t see designers on the camera. I saw writers. There responses to the judges, how they handled the opinions of their work, how they responded… I recognized all the personalities I’d ever encountered when I’d critiqued other writers work.

Later, Kristine convinced me to watch Top Chef. The same thing was true there. As these individuals struggled to win, the creative egos shown through. You could see who was confident in their work, who had talent but had yet developed the skill to match, and whose ego surpassed their ability. You recognized the individuals no editor would ever want to work with, regardless of their talent, and the Golden Worders who may or may not come to learn their vision was the end all/be all of creation.

This year, there has been some shuffling in the schedule line-up, probably in part due Project Runway switching networks, has been somewhat messed up and, this summer, they are airing Top Chef Masters. Instead of the regular season of Top Chef, where 15-16 contestants compete against each other all season, until you get down to three who go head-to-head in one winner-take-all competition, chefs who are names, who are known, who are the Stephen King’s and Neil Gaiman’s of the culinary world, are competing for their favorite charities. Each episode, four famous chefs go head-to-head and one advances to the final round. And there’s a real difference in the personality of the competition.

During the regular season, all the competitors are hungry. They want this. Winning could propel their careers forward by years. It is the jumpstart, the chance, the one single break they dream of. As such, there is stress and tension. Tempers flare. Sure, they tend to help one another out and have fun, but they want to impress. They want to be noticed. They want to be the last person standing. For them, the competition is very, very personal.

For the Masters, not so much. They’ve already been noticed. People are already impressed by them. And while many of them comment they were surprised how difficult it was, and how they have a newfound respect for the regular contestants – they’re also much more relaxed. This is not the end all/be all for them. It’s fun. It’s something to do. It’s a game for bragging rights among equals who have already carved out their own niches. One made cookies while waiting for the judges verdict. Most of them laugh at some of the silly mistakes they made, at their inability to operate a microwave or keep track of their own grocery cart.

And I think there’s something to be said about the differences in attitudes between the up-and-coming chefs and the masters. Sure, we all want to make it, to be the name, the success, and to have the freedom and opportunity to relax that already being at the top affords. But there’s also something to be said for relaxing and having fun while you’re struggling to the top, and trying to make it.

After all, this creative thing isn’t supposed to be about ego. It’s supposed to be fun. We’re supposed to be enjoying it.

My suggestion for all of you reading this, when working on something creative, act like you’re already a master. Like you already have a niche. And by that, I don’t mean using your ego to crush others. I mean relax. Have fun. Enjoy yourself. I bet it shows in your work.

Non-blog post post

2009-07-03T23:32:00.008-05:00

I’ve had lots of good ideas for posts for The Commune this week. Some ranting. Some pointing out good things. Some talking about writing. Some not. Some going “huh”? The end result, when this happens, when I’m bombarded by ideas all at once and they all seem very good and something I should write about now, immediately, before the timeliness disappears is, you get nothing, or rather, instead of nothing, you get a recent picture of and lots of babbling about the puppy.

He’s eight months old now, weighs somewhere around 50-lbs, and will still be in the chewing stage for at least two more months.

Most days, it's hard to remember how small he was a mere six months ago, but I'm glad he joined our lives, even when he's a complete and total PITA. I hope the chewing stage ends soon.

First They Came

2009-06-29T12:16:00.002-05:00

Some days I feel like I'm the crazy person standing on the street corner shouting about Armageddon and conspiracy theories. Some days I feel like we need more crazy people standing on street corners and shouting. It seems like every time I turn around, there’s something else that makes me stop dead in my tracks and say, “You have got to be kidding me?”

Two months ago, it was discovered that Amazon was deranking books with homosexual content. Not just books with graphic sexual content, mind you, but children’s books, like Heather Has Two Mommies. Meanwhile, things like Playboy: The Complete Centerfolds were still ranked. Understand, Amazon’s ranking system includes the tags which make books easy to find if you don’t know the exact title or author. Deranking certain books was the equivalent of keeping them under the counter where customers had to specifically request them. When I told some friends, who are readers but otherwise not part of the publishing industry, I was a bit shocked by their nonchalance. I was disappointed – no, disappointed is too light of a term; I was appalled – when one long-term friend told me she believed Amazon had been “too limited in the net they cast.” [Anonymous]

I was appalled because, although it was a right-wing Christian who uttered this comment, she is also a well-educated individual. As such, I would have hoped she understood the world is not limited to her experiences and beliefs. There are others with different experiences, different traditions, and different beliefs who hold their history and life-paths just as dear and precious as she holds her own. I had hoped she would be able to understand it is one thing to live one’s life according to one’s own belief system, but quite another to attempt to remake the world and force everyone else to live according to her worldview. To do so marginalizes and oppresses many.

I believe firmly in the message of Martin Niemöller’s poem “First they came…” If I do not speak out for others, even if they are not part of my tribe, who then will speak out for me in my hour of need?

The Bahá’í Faith teaches, “Should any king take up arms against another, all should unitedly arise and prevent him.” [Gleanings, 249] I personally believe this should be taken one step further. Whenever another individual attempts to oppress another through physical or other means, we should all unitedly arise and prevent it. In order to create a society in which everyone is free, we must be willing to champion that freedom, even for those who are unlike us.

More recently, four men from the Christian Civil Liberties Union in West Bend, Wisconsin, have filed a lawsuit because it finds a young adult novel dealing with homosexuality to be “explicitly vulgar, racial [sic], and anti-Christian.” [Flood] First, I have to ask since when is it a crime to be anti-Christian? Since when is that an offense one could reasonable expect to take to court? There is absolutely nothing in any US constitution, state or federal, which says any individual must be pro-Christian. That’s the beauty of living in the United States. I can be against anything I choose to be against and for anything I wish to support. I don’t have to be any certain religion. I don’t have to be any religion at all.

This protection is not limited to certain sects of Christianity. It encompasses all religions and non-religion, too. Your rights end where the next person’s begin; it is the next person’s right to not support Christianity if they so choose. My beliefs, my neighbor’s beliefs, your neighbor’s beliefs, do not infringe on your right to believe as you do. While Christianity may be the dominant religion in the United States, it is far from the only legitimate belief system; there is no state religion.

The Bible the members of the Christian Civil Liberties Union have read must have been far different than any of the copies I have studied. All the versions of the Bible I have had the privilege to read have one thing in common: they relay a message of compassion and acceptance as taught by the prophets of the Christian faith. The desire to remove access to other ideas and ways of being is not an act of compassion or acceptance. It is bigotry and oppression. It has as its source, not tolerance, but hate.

I’m not going to repeat the childhood adage, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” because I do believe words have power. They can slice to the quick faster than the sharpest sword. As such, they should be used wisely. I also believe words and ideas are precious, and should never be discarded out of hand. If we find them offensive, it is better to ask ourselves why, because obviously they have touched a nerve within us, than to shove them aside and pretend they do not exist. I believe in self-realization, not in persecuting others.

The thing is, this is not a fluffy bunny world. It will never be completely inoffensive. Nothing anyone does is going to make it that way. No matter what you object to, no matter what causes you offense, there will be people out there who believe exactly the opposite. There will be people out there, standing on opposite street corners from you, shouting just as loudly as you, about things that make your blood boil. And, you know what? They have as much right to shout as you do. They have as much right to exist, and believe as they believe, as you do. If you truly believe in freedom of speech, you will not try to change that.

And if you don’t truly believe in Freedom of Speech, do not attempt to use the First Amendment to further your own private, personal agendas. That’s not its purpose.

__________

Anonymous. “RE:Mail blocked due to Inappropriate Content.” E-mail to the Author. April 14, 2009.

Flood, Alison. “Christian group sues for right to burn gay teen novel.” The Guardian. June 12, 2009. .

Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh. Trans. By Shoghi Effendi. Wilmette: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1952.

“Martin Niemöller.” Wikiquote. Last Updated June 21, 2009.

You're selling what?

2009-06-22T00:05:00.002-05:00

Commercials are scaring me lately. The commercials themselves aren’t frightening but what they are saying about people and what we’re willing to do to ourselves, or sacrifice for the sake of convenience, is.

Take, for example, the commercials for Latisse, the first FDA-approved drug designed to – get this – help you grow longer, thicker lashes. Let me say that again, in case you didn’t hear it the first time: the sole purpose of this drug is to help people – the marketing is targeted to women – grow longer, thicker lashes. This means that the drug companies believe there are people out there willing to ingest drugs into their system just to get Bambi-like lashes. I have no doubt the drug companies are right. Just when we’re starting to realize there are too many artificial ingredients in our food, when we’re finding prescription medications in the drinking water, when parents are starting to demand that the potential connection between immunizations and autism be explored, when a record number of people do not have proper healthcare, there are people seeking prescriptions so their lashes will be longer. Oh, and did I mention that one of the side effects of this drug is a potential permanent change in eye color?

Yeah. I believe this drug is safe. It can’t be doing anything harmful to the body if its worse possible side effect is changing an aspect of ourselves that’s determined by our very genes. (That’s sarcasm, by the way.)

One of the other commercials that has me pounding my head against the nearest unresisting surface are those for Bing. In case you hadn’t heard, Bing is Microsoft’s latest entry into the search engine wars. It is not, the marketing tells us, a search engine, but a decision engine. According to the commercials airing for Bing, the human race is so overwhelmed by options, they are no longer able to answer simple questions or make basic decisions. Bing is the alleged solution to all of this. When you are looking for information on the internet, it can decide what you’re really seeking for you. The mere human user doesn’t have to worry about all of those pesky choices. Just let the computer do it for you.

Isn’t that the premise of multiple science fiction movies and novels? The machines come alive, start thinking for themselves, and attempt to destroy the human race. Why does this not sound like something we should be actively pursuing to me? Why does the fact that Bing removes my ability to make my own decisions not sound like a selling point? I like making my own choices, I like learning things I didn’t know before. And on those occasions when I don’t, or can’t, figure out the best option for myself, I prefer to choose who helps me out of my quandary by going to other humans that I respect and trust and who have knowledge in the area that I’m stuck in. Far better to do that than trust a mindless, soulless machine programmed by a team of computer engineers whose primary purposes are to advance their own interests and take home a paycheck, not necessarily in that order.

It’s long past time for people to start collectively questioning what advertisers are telling them and why they’re trying to sell the products that they’re selling. If you’re really so into your appearance that you’re willing to rise permanent changes to traits that are considered identifying markers, then perhaps you should look into therapy instead of new prescription medications, because really, how full your lashes are, it’s just not that important to risk your health, or risk further pollution to the planet, for.

As for making your own decisions? There’s a saying amongst writers: Own your words. It means take responsibility for what you say and how you say it. As writers, we are expected to have greater control of how we use language. The rest of the population needs to take on the same standard of conducted. Own your actions. Make your own decisions. Choose wisely. And, if in doubt, ask questions, both of yourselves and of the people trying to sell you things.

In this increasingly virtual world...

2009-06-18T00:05:00.002-05:00

In this increasingly virtual world, it is sometimes easy to forget that the people on the other side of the screen are more than the sum of the text they choose to share with us and what we read between the lines may not be reality. Often times, what people choose to share online fails to give the complete story. There are many reasons for this. Perhaps the person doesn’t feel like sharing the full details – they are real people, after all, and entitled to their privacy. Perhaps they aren’t writers and don’t have strong non-verbal communication skills. Perhaps the medium – as in the case of Twitter – doesn’t lend itself to providing full details. There’s only so much you can, or should, say in 140-characters. Maybe the person is just tired and doesn’t feel like typing all the pertinent details out. Or, again, just maybe, it’s none of your business and the person on the other side of the screen is not obligated to share every detail of their existence with anyone with online access.

In a post I would like to see made famous, Neil Gaiman informed a group of readers who were attempting to demand George R.R. Martin do nothing but write – no days out, no watching football, no nothing except writing – that George R.R. Martin was not their bitch. He was entitled to a life apart from the characters and series they had fallen in love with. In fact, he might need a life apart from the character and series in order to be able to create it. When it came to his private life and personal decisions, Martin did not answer to them.

During my growing up years, the only ways people had to reach out and touch you over long distances were by postal mail or telephone. The only individuals with that sort of access usually already knew you. You were highly unlikely to encounter a stranger’s opinion about the letter you wrote to grandma when you answered the telephone or to find that someone you had only conversed with on the most basic level had reached a conclusion about who you were and how you needed to improve based on a comment you had made to friend during a late night phone conversation. Such things were, generally speaking, private. Not so these days.

These days, you can have deep lasting friendships with people you’ve never met anywhere except online. Many of your exchanges with these friends are in the public domain. Snippets of dialogue found in one online locale are continuations of much longer conversations from other internet dominions. Those snippets are used by passerby to form a full image of you devoid of any background or other contextual information. From these snatches of dialogue they feel free to evaluate your existence and judge how you are living your life.

My father’s parents and siblings were not the nicest of people. Sometimes, his siblings would call into the house, intoxicated and belligerent. I was taught from an early age that there was nothing that compelled me to accept a phone call from anyone. Just because someone called into the house and I answered the phone, I was under no obligation to listen to them. I was free to hang up the handset and walk away any time I chose to do so.

Increasingly prevalent technology has not changed this. It is still merely a tool and if someone uses it to cross the boundaries of acceptability, I am not obligated to allow them to continue to do so. As much as people are free to say whatever they want, I am free not to listen. It is an empowering realization and is true not only of phones, but also forums, blogs, twitter, IM, and e-mail. Nowhere, in any contract or agreement that I’ve signed, does it say I must accept communication from any individual not affiliated with the companies providing the service to me.

Life is just too short to allow people who raise your blood pressure or who only want you to feel horrible to have access to you. Life is too short to allow others to judge you and tell you how to live your life. You are the only person who can make the best decisions for you. I am the only person who can make the best decisions for me.

Make History: Write Like a Child

2009-06-15T00:05:00.001-05:00

For many years now, I’ve been a moderator over at the Absolute Write forums. As new writers come and go from the boards, there are a handful of questions that are perennial. One such question is, basically, “What is (un)acceptable to write?” The questions take on various forms, such as, “How much violence can I include?” “Can I talk about child rape?” “Am I allowed to…” I now have an answer for every writer who ever wondered where the line is: Write like you were a child.

By this, I do not mean keep your story G-rated, with unicorns and fairies and happily ever after endings. Children are not the pure, innocent creatures we pretend they are. Babies might be pure and innocent, but by the time our offspring leaves the toddler stage to become a small child, innocence has been left far behind. Instead I mean to say (and by that I mean write) whatever comes to your head, no matter how inappropriate you might consider it to be.

The other day, I was walking Sam and I came across a little boy riding his bike in the road. Sam was on “short leash,” walking right next to me, but I still tightened my grip on the leash. Sam is well-trained, but he’s still just a puppy, even if he’s a big puppy, and the boy was only about 5 years old or so, still riding a bike with training wheels, right at Sam’s level. A bike that size was new and I could see Sam suddenly deciding it needed to be investigated. Dogs, especially puppies, are a lot like toddlers. They move quickly and not always in the way you’re anticipating.

About that time, Sam sniffed something worthy of his attention in the yard we walking past. I glanced over and saw an old pile of doggy doo. I called him to me. Told him to “leave it.” Which he did.

At this, the child spoke up. “Don’t worry. They won’t care if he goes to the bathroom. They have three dogs and a cat.”

The adult in me was thinking, “Yes, but it’s their dogs and cat in their yard. They might mind if my dog goes in their yard,” but I said, “Yeah. He was sniffing one of their dogs poop and he’s been known to roll in it.” I smiled and wrinkled my nose.

The child made a face. “Eww.”

“Yeah,” I said.

At which point the boy must have decided I was all right, in a way that only a child can quickly size an individual up. He proceeded to point out which house he lived in and talk about his dog. He explained to me that his dog was a boy and he would “hump” (the so-called innocent child’s word, not mine) other boy dogs, even if they were lying down.

Now, I know that male dogs will hump other male dogs as a sign of dominance, but I did not say this to the child. That would have been far too pedantic and though I am capable of being far too pedantic, even I have my limits. Also, I was struck by the boy’s openness and his willingness to say whatever came into his head, without worrying about causing offense. He did not stop to consider that he was talking about what many would consider homosexual behavior, that there were people who would condemn him for daring to even allude to such things, that sex discussions in any form, even when talking about animals, are often taboo subjects, and I was a stranger who might possibly be offended in multiple ways by his words. No. He just said what he wanted to say, sharing the information he wanted to share. It’s what children do.

Writers should be as open and as unconcerned about causing offense as children are. When writing, say what’s on your mind, what you want to say, without worrying about consequences or tact. Forget the social niceties about what is and is not proper that have been drummed into you since your parents first heard you talking about the dog’s bathroom habits at the formal dinner party with your father’s boss and the church minister.

If you’re always worrying about who might be offended by the words and scenes you’re creating, you’re far less likely to write anything worthwhile. Laurel Thatcher Ulrich said, “Well-behaved women seldom make history.” As writers, we need to adapt this philosophy and make it our own. Authors who are constantly concerned about what is and is not acceptable or proper are not going to publish anything that removes the blinders from people’s eyes or changes the world around them.

To every budding writer out there who has been concerned that they should not write something because someone somewhere might possibly be offended by it, I say good. Let them be offended. Let them question their values and the values of the world around them. Make readers become aware there is more to the world than their nice safe corner of it. If your words encourage someone to think beyond their own limited experiences, than that is the type of writing that will stand the test of time.

Go out there. Write like a child, free of inhibitions, and do not worry about being a well-behaved author. After all, you want to make history.

Classics & Antiques

2009-06-11T00:05:00.001-05:00

Wednesday morning my mother and I woke to a heck of a thunderstorm, the type that damages roofs, knocks limbs out of trees, ruins gardens, and makes for great sleeping weather, which is exactly what both of us did when the rain and thunder woke us. We rolled back over, tucked our heads under the covers, and fell back asleep. Problem is, both of us forgot that the front windows were open, and the wind was driving everything against that side of the house.

My mother was the first up. By the time I emerged from my room, she had already shut the windows, pulled the furniture away from the walls, and dried everything off. She’s efficient that way. When she told me what had happened, I asked, “What got wet?” I was walking into the living room to assess the damage myself as I talked. A lot of my stuff that isn’t in storage (read that as books and photos) are in the living room.

“Keep walking,” she said.

In short order my bare feet hit damp carpet. “How’s the furniture?” The trunk had been pulled out and the antique rocker my great-grandmother had refinished just for my mother was sitting in the middle of the room.

“I dried them off,” she said, as I approached the outer wall to see exactly how wet the carpet was nearer the windows and check out the baseboards, “but I forgot to check the tapes. They’re probably wet, too.”

I glanced down at the video rack full of an assortment of CDs and VHS tapes. “Yep. They’re wet.”

I left my mother to take care of them while I hurried into the shower to get ready for my work day. As I left, I wondered to myself how many of the CD cases were ruined and how well a VHS tape could withstand a good soaking. I hoped they had fared okay. The shelf was metal, but I hoped its protective coat of paint had done its job, though I figured water had pooled in little divots on its surface.

The thing is, I was far less worried about how the old steamer trunk and the rocking chair fared our housekeeping lapse than I was concerned about the tapes and CDs and the shelf they sat on, modern as they. More to the point, I was worried about them because they were modern. Such things don’t always stand the test of time as much as the furniture we’ve built out lives, and our family’s lives, on.

The same is true with books. Many writers want to create something new, something modern, something that will sell well now. Yet, just because something is a bestseller today doesn’t mean it’s constructed to stand the test of time. It could very easily go out of print next week. To be a true classic, a book must be something that is handed down through the generations. It needs to be well crafted, have an entertaining story, and speak directly to what it means to be human.

Classic literature can withstand the critics and the evolving world. Take Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn for example. Sure, he talks about slavery and uses the word “nigger,” but his work is still read today, both casually and academically, not because of those issues but in spite of them. Regardless of the setting in which the story is told and the language used to tell it, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is about what makes a man, a man. And because it is well crafted and an entertaining story and speaks directly to the heart of humanity, it endures regardless of changing standards and altered social mores.

As writers, we must ask ourselves what we’re striving to do. There is value in entertainment and in creating something readers enjoy today, but if the craftsmanship is equal to the story, then its possible that what you write will also be able to withstand harsh criticism and endure to be passed on from generation to generation. After all, my mother rescued that old steamer trunk from her father’s barn, where it was being used to store greasy car parts, and the rocking chair came from my great-grandmother’s attic where it had been discarded. Both are classic pieces that would fit into almost any décor, despite being created for an earlier time. And the rain? It didn’t harm them one bit. After they were wiped off and the floor around them was given a chance to dry out, they were slid right back into position under the windows. They’ll probably remain there until they’re transferred to either my brother’s or my home in twenty or thirty years. As for the DVDs, I’m certain some of their cases are starting to fall apart now. Not that it much matters. They’ll be replaced by something new before too much longer.

Eye of the Tiger

2009-06-01T00:05:00.002-05:00

I tend to whine. I readily admit this about myself. Usually about little things. Big things, I don’t whine about. Mostly because when it comes to big things I just want to lay down and pound my fists and heels against the floor while screaming at the top of my lungs. This, I know, is a temper tantrum, and unbecoming of any adult, no matter how good it make one feel from time-to-time. (This is the great secret that adults fail to tell children: we’re actually jealous of your ability to totally give into your emotions and just go with the moment.)

So, I tend to whine about little things. Thing is, often when I whine about things, something else comes along to show me how good I really do have it.

For example, this past Friday I was whining because my arm hurt and I felt like a slug. My arm hurt because I’d blown a vein trying to donate platelets and I felt like a slug in part because of the arm and in part because my hormones had been unable to settle for the last week and a half and in part because I had done nothing but drive the previous day. All told, little things, especially when compared to what was happening in the lives of other people I know, like David Ihlenfeldt, his wife Alise, and their two boys.

David is one of those people who helped make me the person I am, despite the fact that he probably only has the vaguest recollections of me. I went to school with David and his twin brother Donald from first grade until I received my Associate’s degree at a local community college and all three of us transferred to different universities to finish our Bachelor’s degrees. In grade school, I always had either David or Donald in my class. By the time the three of us were in high school, I associated more with Donald than with David. Still, I have fond memories of both Ihlenfeldt boys – memories of times when I was beginning to become me – despite the fact that our lives have moved on and apart.

Recently, I learned from my mother, who learned through her church, that David’s ten year old son Alexander suffered from a bleed on the brain. Along with untold others, I’ve been following Alexander’s story, as told by David, on http://www.caringbridge.org/”>CaringBridge>. Despite the fact that his family’s life has been turned upside down and they do not know what tomorrow brings, David provides updates with humor and a sense of hope. No whining.

It’s something to remember. Even in the darkness, there is light. Even in the midst of tragedy, there is laughter. Even when confronted with the unknown, there is hope.

It's something to remember, too, the next time you receive a bad crit, or your work is not received as you wish it to be, or you find a rejection in the mail. In the great scheme of things, these are small things and nothing to complain or lash out about. As long as there is food on your table, a roof over your head, and your family is healthy, there's not much else worth whining about. Not even for angsty writers.

Deal With It

2009-05-28T21:46:00.002-05:00

"Dogs bark, babies cry, grass grows. Deal with it."

~Lt. Colonel Henry J. Plawer

Did you miss me?

2009-05-25T00:05:00.000-05:00

I’ve come to realize how very difficult it is to “get away” these days. Thanks to technology, one can be connected to one’s ordinary life – friends, family, news, business, hobbies – wherever you are. It doesn’t matter if you pack up on the spur of the moment or plan a trip a gazillion miles away. Odds are, you’re either going to have cell phone reception – and with so many people giving up their landlines and using cell phones as their primary telephone number that people aren’t going to think twice about calling you on the cellular number wherever you happen to be. Most of us have plans that are no longer limited by regional constraints but are instead based on the number of minutes we use in a given month, at a given time of day.

In addition to cellular phones, the proliferation of laptops and wifi has made it easy to know what anyone is doing at any time of day. We trade pictures, quips, notes, tragedies, and achievements at an unprecedented rate, regardless of where or when we are.

Where it was once the great impasse, geography has become irrelevant to communication.

Thing is, it was once possible to miss someone. They would go on a business trip, take a weekend vacation, and we would be aware of their absence from our daily lives, if only for a short time. We would wonder what – and how – they were doing and hoped they returned safely to us. These days, such a thing is a rarity. Thanks to technology, despite a person’s physical absence, we can reach out and touch them, find out about their adventures, what new things they’ve learned, what’s gone right and what’s gone wrong, all before their trip is even finished. When they do return to us, it is without the profound sense of relief that they are back, relatively unchanged for their time away. When they do return, there are no stories to tell, no experiences to share; all that’s to be done is the laundry.

Such is true of the trip I took over Memorial Day weekend. On Friday night, as I boarded the train to take me to Joliet, I called the friend who was to meet me at the station and let him know the train was leaving on time. There were reassurances that if something should happen to slow the train between my departure and arrival, I would call him en route. He would have no surprises about whether I was arriving on time or not.

Before I left, a dear friend died. My sempai. Knowing I would want to go to his funeral visitation, I considered canceling my trip, but I also knew that given his military status, the holiday weekend, etc., it was unlikely to be held before my scheduled return. So, I went on my trip. While I was gone, I checked the online obituaries and had my mother check the print obituaries in the paper at home. I talked on my ever-lovin’ cell phone to both my mother and to my sensei about plans for attending the funeral. Even though I was not home, my availability status had not changed. I was still there.

That has become one of the complaints of business men. No matter where they are, they’re working. Even when traveling, in a busy airport, aboard a plane, they’re on. Making deals, preparing reports, getting things done. We’ve become a nation of Type A personalities. People who don’t know how to take the day off, to kick back, to relax. To just be. It’s an art we need to relearn. We need to rediscover how to get away. We need to be missed, even before we are dead.

Not Far, Not Forgotten

2009-05-20T22:58:00.003-05:00

Hi, gang. I haven't been far from The Commune. In fact, I have three or four articles started for it. Kinda hard to follow up on Kristine and Pete, though. Off the top of my head, I've started a blog post about how our view of what is happening in the publishing industry is limited by our individual perspectives and we need to be aware of that when reading industry blogs. I started a post about how easy it is to overlook the wonder that exists in our own back yard.

After reading my e-mail tonight, I'd like to blog about politicians who are so completely out of touch with their constituents or... Seems most of my thoughts involve being blind or ignorant of how others see things. As writers, we always need to be flexible in our point of view.

Anyway, I'm still out here. Still writing. Still editing. Still working I haven't gone far and I haven't fore

Breaking the Covenants

2009-05-02T10:40:00.003-05:00

Another Edited by Lori A. Basiewicz title (What? Don't you collect books based on who edited them?):

Somewhere Between the Gutter and the Closet Guest Blogger: Pete Tzinski

2009-04-27T00:05:00.000-05:00

It's an interesting time to be a writer, these days, isn't it? Even if you don't follow the publishing industry all that closely – and I don't, because it stops being pertinent news and turns into a horse race pretty quickly – you cannot help but be aware that the times, they be a-changin'. That fact isn't argued. The argument comes from trying to figure out what on earth those times are a-changin' into.

Recently, I've been listening to a writer I know – the wonderful MeiLin Miranda – express her frustrations as she tries to get some promotional attention for a book she's put together. It is, if you want to call it that, a self-published work.

And that means that nobody is going to touch it with a ten foot pole. Thus her frustrations. The avenues for promotion for a book – news web-sites, book review web-sites, magazines, and so forth – all say somewhere on their site if you self-publish, you can go put your head in a bucket before you can send your book to us. (Sometimes, they say it more nicely, sometimes not). Everyone knows that if you do the book yourself, with a publisher, you're going to have to do the promotion yourself too. Sure, fine. The problem arises when you aren't given any real avenues to reach out and touch readers.

As we all know, it is a fact that every self-published book is absolute crap. There is no doubt about it. Just like all indie music is garbage, any piece of art that is not in a musuem is rubbish, and any product you buy that doesn't come from a Big Box Store is just junk.

Wait a second...

I hate the phrase self-publishing. It sounds cheap. It's lumped together with vanity press, which has its own connotations. So let us, for the duration of this article at least, refer to it as indie publishing. Humor me.

It's very odd, the self-publishing stigma, but it actually is perfectly understandable. It also needs to die. It's strange that the industry of stories lags so much behind other fields. In music, it is perfectly respectable and legitimate to make indie music. Put out your own disc, or put it out on a very teeny tiny label. Or just sell CDs at your gigs. Or, as Catherine AD did, sell hand-crafted individual copies of the disc. In the music world, having a major label is no longer the end-all be-all that it once was.

Indie publishing has only lately become something to be shunned and derided. As someone who loves reading about the history of pulp fiction, and just fiction in general, it wasn't uncommon for some pulp magazines to be self-produced, or produced by tiny publishers which could barely afford to put anything out. It was common enough.

However, it's Sturgeon's Law which, these days, makes a shunning of indie publishing perfectly understandable. As an editor myself, and having waded through my fair share of slush piles, I can tell you that the prospect of having a book review site and having to slog through every single thing that anyone puts up on a web-site and sends to me is...daunting, and exhausting, and 'orrible. And while some of them might be good...how am I to know, except by reading all of them?

When a publisher sends a reviewer a book, they are also sending a guarantee. This is as good as the rest of what we publish. If I get a book from HarperCollins, I know it'll at least be on the line with other HarperCollins books. Whether I like it or not comes later, but that assurance is built in from the get-go.

But there's no similar assurance in the world of indie publishing. This is as good as the rest is more of a condemnation when you are sharing space with, for example, very badly written stories in which Captain Kirk and Spock share their feelings and then have sex. You may have poured your literary heart into what you wrote, but you're metaphorically just down the hall from the guy who is slightly off his nut and is writing something that exists somewhere between a blog post, a confession, a story, and a transmission from whatever planet his brain is on.

And the reason it can be so frustrating is...you might have written a work of literary genius, full of rich allusions and themes and metaphors and brilliant commentaries on the human condition. You might have an audience – not a huge one, but an audience that sends you money, buys your books, supports you as surely as a crowd showing up at a gig supports the musician. You might not be buying tropical islands off your fan base, but you might be going out to dinner now and then. And more importantly, you are being read.

And yet...you cannot get access to any avenue that would be otherwise open to a small, un-promoted paperback novel out through Ace Books, which maybe only twenty people will read, and which the author will see very little money, and which might do so badly that it really hurts his chances to get another book published.

It's a major hurdle. It's a frustrating glass ceiling.

Full disclosure time: I started out writing free Star Trek fan fiction stories, posted on the 'net, because I took pleasure in writing them and took greater pleasure in having people read them. As my writing muscles built and grew and I could flex them better, I shifted into original fiction. I've been telling big science fiction stories, in serialized form, on the internet in various places for more than ten years now, off and on. I take a huge amount of pleasure in it.

But...

Recently, while writing a Star Trek article for SF Signal, I discussed at length my own penchant for writing fan fiction, and how it led to my original fiction on the 'net. And I realized that actually, I was slightly nervous to talk about it. And for no good reason. The gentlemen who run SF Signal are wonderful human beings, and I consider them both friends. They would hardly come at me with pitchforks and torches. And yet...I was made nervous. It felt overly revealing. I could just imagine the snickers that I was going to get. He writes stories on the internet. Must not be able to get published. Pathetic.

And of course, that's not true. I publish regularly, in mainstream avenues. But I like writing serialized fiction and I really like putting it on the internet, for free, for whoever wants to see it. I don't do that exclusively, I travel between the worlds and also sell short stories for money. I have novels that go out to honest-to-goodness publishers.

Why can't I release my main record on a big label, and then do a delightful other project and put it out myself? Put in music terms, that is not so foreign idea.

It feels like I'm coming out of the closet, if you see what I mean. Obviously, since I am not gay, I can only theorize what that probably feels like...but I can imagine. And it is the same exposed, nervous feeling that I get (to a lesser extent, I assure you; I'm not losing sleep over this) going out into mainstream avenues and saying “Yes, I do write fiction and put it on the internet for free, Bub.”

I was very proud of my serialized fiction and the places I was able to go in it, until I got very embroiled in some aspects of the mainstream publishing world....and then, I disowned it all, was deeply embarrassed, and would have denied its existence. And I stayed that way for several years. It's only recently that I've looked it again and said “This is where I learned how to do what I'm doing. This is where I had readers, and this is where I got better.”

These days, I'm doing all the angles. I write articles for mainstream promotional web-sites, and I sell short stories, and I work on novels for publishers. I have no interest in releasing the novels, for example, for free on the 'net. But I am also putting together a big web serial. Thousands of words in each episode, detailed and as complex and intelligent as I can make it all. Put out for free.

There's no wall between it and, you know, really badly written Buffy/Angel slash fiction.

Ah well.

As I mentioned above, I read history for pleasure. And one thing history teaches you is that your time will come around, for good or ill. The pulps were gutter fiction, and now some of them are classics (and many of the authors who we consider classics of science fiction wrote gutter-trash for pennies a word). Comic books were just funny books which were most useful as ballasts on ships heading across the Atlantic. Now, comic books are a big industry and called “graphic novels” and make up most of Hollywood's output each year.

The best example of it all are web-comics. Anyone can produce a web-comic and slap it up. I can, and I can't draw. They're silly. And yet...over time...they become a fairly big thing. You wind up with strips like Questionable Content and Penny Arcade and Sluggy Freelance who are doing just fine and dandy and supporting their creators. And no one says “Well, despite that, they're only doing these internet doodles because they can't hack it in the newspaper syndicate world.” Well, no, they're doing it because they can, for pleasure and art, and because the newspaper syndicate is increasingly a dinosaur.

By the same token, indie fiction is perceived as trash. But give it time, and fight, and effort...and the quality will rise above the garbage. I don't necessarily think that internet publishing, or indie publishing, whatever you want to talk about, is the sole wave of the future...but I think that it is a wave, and it will build and prove itself.

In the meanwhile, I would entreat anyone reading this to remember the funny books, remember the pulpy gutter-fiction, remember indie music...and take that knowledge and go out and find something self-published, on the internet or in book form, and give it a shot. And what you find may be garbage. 90% will be crap. But keep looking and see if you can't find the 10% that's pretty darn good.

And when it comes down to the respectable author with a book out who is making no money and may not be able to publish again....or the hack author putting out stories and bringing in regular money through the fans who publishes what he wants, when he wants it...well. Only one of 'em is laughing all the way to the bank. If you're going to write either way, why not be that one?

_______________

Like a lobster in warming water, Peter Tzinski is an increasingly busy guy. He is working on a serial which he'd love to show you, but which won't launch until May 1st. He has fallen in love with Twitter and doodles on it, and can be found at twitter.com/tzinski. He lives in the parts of Minnesota currently not massacred by Road Construction Season.

Guest Blogger: Kristine Williams It's a Jungle in Here

2009-04-23T00:05:00.008-05:00

Lori is being kind enough to let me stand on her soap box today, partly because she’s been very busy lately editing and herding authors, and partly out of the kindness of her advertising heart. She knows my own PR firm is an 800lb silverback gorilla named FooFoo who flings poo more often than he promotes novels, and sometimes I have to pick up the slack to get my name out there.

But enough about me . . . I was struggling a little bit about the topic for today. The plan was to discuss my issue with industry news and rumors, and how completely nutso I can get after a day of reading agent blogs and their comment trails – But then I realized Chest-Thumping Power-Whores and the People Who Love Them really didn’t seem like a subject line Lori would want on her blog.

Then I considered a post about the real truth of self publishing – fighting the tired diatribes: “Those who can’t make it in the real world, self-publish.” “Ninety nine percent of everything self published is utter drek.”

Or “Writers who aren’t good enough to get an agent always turn to self publishing and pretend that it’s the way of the future.” But I was pretty sure: That Ain’t Even Bullshit, That’s Horseshit also wasn’t a subject Lori would be happy to post.

So I sat here, staring at the screen and eating my cherry soy yogurt, and I pondered.

I pondered what makes me angry about reading industry blogs. I pondered what irks me about the reaction you get when you talk about self publishing. And I pondered the ape shit on my shoe, and reached a conclusion.

There’s an 800lb gorilla sitting on every desk. Every single writer out there has one. Whether it’s the discipline you don’t have, or the stamina you wish you could develop. Whether it’s the pride in yourself that you lack, or the social networking and public advertising you dread having to face.

Sitting on my desk, the 800lb gorilla has a name, FooFoo, because I’ve managed to bring myself to acknowledge him.

The next step is to stop feeding him and make him work for me, and in order to do that, I have to accept who I am as a writer. I have to admit that having self published novels puts me into a category in other people’s eyes – but I don’t have to accept it or agree with it. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t feel strongly about the novels, and my ability to tell a story. And if I can’t take pride in what I’ve done, how can I ask anyone else to?

My 800lb gorilla is the voice inside my head that keeps reminding me what other people are thinking. “You gave up,” it says. “They’re mocking you.” And until now, I’ve let that gorilla have his way. But not anymore. I finally grew a pair, gave that gorilla a name, and I’m putting him to work for me.

When you name your problems, you own them, and when you own them, they can’t tell you what to do any more.

But it’s a jungle out there, full of gorillas on writer’s desks.

Procrastination. He’s the one who likes to pick fleas off everyone’s back instead of doing his own work. He’d rather spend time in chat rooms, or writer’s forums, gabbing with cyber friends and giving out advice. Anything but working on his own novel or short stories, or getting that non-fiction proposal done, because he knows what will happen if he does. He’ll have to DO something with it. As long as he has a novel “in progress” or a non fiction idea brewing in the background, he’s not required to take the next step. He won’t have to write queries or research agents. He won’t have to suffer the pangs of rejection letters and revisions, or face the possibility that his dream is going to turn into just another thing he wasn’t good at.

Name him Petunia and stop feeding him.

What about his brother, Butt-in-Chair? This one has some amazing talents, and usually your spouse or significant other really appreciates him. He’s the gorilla that finds anything and everything to do BUT write. He’ll turn on that PC, open up that file holding the title of the novel and a big wash of white screen, and he’ll stare for about ten minutes, flex his fingers, crack his knuckles, then go do the laundry. After the laundry, he’ll clean up the kitchen, vacuum the carpets, wash the car, take the dog out, watch a rerun of George of the Jungle. He’ll glance at that screen as he passes by on the way for a snack, and contemplate the opening paragraph while he waits for the microwave to ding. Then he’ll sit down with a soda and his popcorn, flex his fingers, crack his knuckles, hold them over the keyboard and . . . the dryer will buzz, saving him from having to commit to the opening sentence.

You’ll never get that novel written unless you name this one Lambchop and take away his banana.

But what about Pete and Repeat? They are two scary-ass gorillas, and often harder to recognize until it’s too late. They don’t stop you from writing, and they don’t keep you from putting your butt in that chair. In fact, they’ll happily let you write your novel while they play patty cake for a while. It’s when you’re done with that novel that they go to work. Oh, at first you tell yourself they’re just editing, polishing that manuscript until it’s reached perfection, so you can send it out and find it a home. But after one or two of the rejection letters come in, Pete and Repeat take that novel, and get you to rewrite it. After all, if it was fantastic, it would have sold by now, right? So you’d best rewrite the whole thing, change up the protagonist, alter the antagonist -- maybe add some sex. Trouble is, that’s not good enough for Pete and Repeat. If you let them, they’ll keep you rewriting that same novel a hundred ways, year after year, always striving for a perfection you can’t achieve and keeping you from writing something completely different.

Call ‘em Alfalfa and Puddin'Pop and send them both packing.

Just keep an eye out for Misconception. The females are the most dangerous of any species, and fool a lot of people. Even before you’ve finished your first novel, she’s working away, whispering in your ear about how Publishing really works. She’s filled your head with tales of fame and fortune, and keeps showing you those Yahoo headlines about six-figure deals and book tours to Europe.

She’s got you convinced you’re going to sell this novel and be able to sit back and watch it all happen. Giant posters inside Barnes & Noble, book signing tours around the country, maybe even one of those trailers you see on TV and the Internet these days.

What she doesn’t want you to know is the ugly truth -- most writers have day jobs, and most publishers have very limited funds to spend on the bulk of their catalog.

They’re going to pick one or two targeted novels (more often than not these days it’ll be non fiction) and spend the most marketing money on them. While your midlist paperback is gonna get shelf space (if the bookstores order it) it’s still going to be up to YOU to make a lot of noise. You’ll need an author website, you’ll need to rub elbows, network, blow your own horn, all while writing your next novel.

Most writers don’t like to call Misconception by her real name – Delilah – and they’re afraid to stop feeding her.

But you’re in for a pile of ape shit in your future if you don’t at least put her on a diet.

And those are only the Great Apes. There’s a whole bunch of lesser apes, howler monkeys, and the occasional orangutan that can get in the way of writing and clog up a writer’s brain with false ideas, distractions, lack of motivation or creativity. It’s a jungle out there, and there aren’t any hunky, gun-toting adventure guides or thong-wearing jungle-Jane’s coming to your rescue. It’s just you, baby.

So don’t be afraid to look that 800lb gorilla sitting on your desk in the eyes, call him Snookums, and take away his banana. Either make him work for you, or send him packing so you can get your writing done.

Just, um, don’t tell FooFoo I said that. He’s huge, and he scares me.

_______________

Kristine Williams is completely off her nut. If you need further proof, she's got a webpage full of free fiction over at Midnight Reading and a blog where she randomly goes off. Just watch for ape shit and carry a big banana.

Guest Blogger: Pete Tzinski Writers Without Deadlines

2009-04-21T14:01:00.002-05:00

I don't think that there's any way to talk about this topic without sounding like I'm complaining. And in a way, that ties in very nicely to the topic.

Deadlines are, in theory, the enemy of the working writer. As Douglas Adams so wonderfully said, “I love deadlines. I love the whooshing sound they make as they go by.” Anyone who knows much of anything about writing – because they are a writer, or somehow managed to find themselves married to a writer – is aware that what being a successful author mostly means is, you get no sleep and you have to try to write too much, too fast, for too many people that you can't keep track of by yourself.

Only a writer looks at that and thinks “ah, bliss.”

But the tricky bit is, a career doesn't start out that way. And when it's a career in writing, it can be very hard to make a go of things, not least because of your lack of deadlines. Let me explain.

Suppose you get a job at a big company in which you want to be CEO. Everyone around you supports you. The best job you can get is working long and tiring hours in the mail room, sorting crap for the higher-ups. You go in and work eight hours every day, occasionally you go in on the weekends. And slowly, you begin to rise through the company, getting more and more work that takes more time. Your weekends are turning into funny theoretical things.

Everyone will support you in this, because it's a proper job. It's a proper work. You're getting up, getting dressed, going off to punch in and do your time and then punch out and come home for the day. This is a Real Job.

Now writing. Suppose you want to grow up to be Stephen King? Well, I don't, but you might (I want to grow up to be a weird amalgam of Alan Moore, Neil Gaiman, Harlan Ellison, and Ray Bradbury; you probably have your own amalgam). And you know that in order to reach the top, you have to write a lot and read a lot. And you do, there's no way around it. You have to write as constantly as you can manage, even sacrificing sleep sometimes. It's exhausting and frustrating and boring, sometimes, and it involves a lot of grind and self-doubt...but the surest sign of any writer is that they wouldn't trade that misery for a cushy job in the big-company-mail-room. (Look, I didn't say we were sane.)

And gradually, you begin to get some success. You're selling some short stories, now and then. You're doing some articles for a few places, if you're lucky. It's not always what you want to be doing – you want to grow up to write science fiction, but why are you now reviewing hardcore gay fiction? well, it's a gig – but it's work and it's helping.

The problem is with the people around you, in many cases.

(And I'll say from the get-go that it's just not their fault.)

The problem is that you are not going off, punching in, vanishing from their lives for a few hours as you work, then punching out and reappearing. Probably what you are doing is going into your computer room (or, in my case, your walk-in closet set up as an office) and sitting down to write. The stuff you are writing isn't guaranteed any sales. And even when you do have sales and gigs lined up...well, it's still not a time clock. The story for your personal pleasure and the story for sale are both done by you sitting around pecking at a computer, or doodling on a piece of paper.

All your writing has to be done as if it is a serious business, it is going to sell, and you are making a job out of this. Even if you're not. That means that when you go into your office, you are 'punched-in' and you are 'at work'. Your family wouldn't dream of showing up at your actual day job in the big company mail room and hanging out to chat. They wouldn't show up to ask you to knock this off and come take out the trash. And they wouldn't get grumpy that you go off to a day job every day instead of spending time with them.

We are not built to believe that This Is Real Work. Maybe it's just that funny little thing you do that your friends put up with. About on the lines of organizing your baseball cards, or going outside to shoot hoops. It's a thing you're doing to kill time, it's not much more vital than watching a lot of TV. It can be interrupted and put off and done away with, if needed. It's not serious.

Deadlines help a little bit. One gets more leeway if they say “I can't go out drinking, I have an article due tomorrow morning, I have to work on it.” Although one still doesn't get the leeway of saying “I can't go out drinking, I have to go into my job and close up shop.” At best, writing is, like, homework. “I can't go out drinking, I have to do four math problems by tomorrow.” It's along those lines.

But the young writer is writing to improve himself, to improve her work ethic, and to build up a body of work which they can then flog out to every editor in the world in the hopes that if they've worked extremely hard and built themselves up...they'll be lucky enough to send a story to an editor who has just fallen off the sobriety wagon and who buys it and sends out actual money.

It's not the fault of the people around the young writer. Even when they do understand that it's serious, it still seems like the sort of thing that you just magically do. In the movies, the guy sits down and goes clacky-clacky-clacky and the camera cuts away to him laughing and holding copies of his new book.

It would be a boring-as-hell movie if we saw the other four hundred hours he spent staring at six words on a computer screen, playing with a slinky, and ranging from cheerful to deeply depressed.

Everyone around you is not a writer and doesn't understand. And there's no reason why they should fully grasp the depths of the matter.

So what's the solution? Well, there isn't one, really. You can be firm, but it only works so much. You can tell your family to treat 6:00pm-10:00pm as if you are at your day job and not to bother you in your office, but I don't know how well that'll work for you (it's never worked for me). You can try to just write in the snatched moments between your actual job, and between when everyone in the house has fallen asleep, writing frantically up to the moment when you zonk out. A trick that used to work for me a lot when I was younger – before everyone caught onto me – was to make deadlines up for things. When I had to get out of something for a writing piece, I would have a magazine or an editor or somebody who 'was waiting' for it. It was rarely true. Ironically, these days, it is true, someone is waiting for lots of what I write. But no one listens to me anymore. So tread carefully there.

And it's even worse if you're doing web-based work. I write an internet serial (which I can't give you a link to, because I'm still writing myself ahead enough that it can launch and give me some free time to work on it more). But consider the people who also do web-comics. You say you want to make a living at it. Well sure, everyone supports that idea. And you might do it. But it doesn't happen instantly. You have to put up a comic every day for two years before you see a cent. Assuming you ever see a cent.

The bottom line is, there are no instant-stars in writing. And until the money is flowing in and you are clearly a Working Living Writer (if it happens, and I hope it does for all of you), it'll be tough to convince the world to give you space and treat you as if you're already a Working Living Writer.

Ah well. Writing isn't easy. I don't think it should be.

Besides, having to fight for writing time is a good thing. I can tell you from experience that if you suddenly have all the writing time in the world stretching out before you, what will mostly happen is...you'll spend time playing with your toddler and turn your e-mail into a social crutch that you spend all of your time in, and develop a pathological fear of telephones and never leave the house and have a head of hair that looks like it houses owls and read weird stuff and...

You get the idea.

Stephen King said something memorable on a different topic, but I think it applies here, too. So I'll leave you with his quote. “It's the grit of sand in the oyster that makes the pearl, not pearl-making seminars with other oysters.”

People not believing in you, you not making money, you not believing in yourself, you having to struggle to eke out any bit of writing time...

...that's the grit.

Swear about it quietly under your breath, and then go off and make yourself a pearl.
__________

Pete Tzinski also blogs at SF Signal.

Guest Blogger: Pete Tzinksi Language

2009-04-18T18:45:00.003-05:00

[I'm up against a couple of deadlines this week, so Pete Tzinski, writer of short stories and serial fiction, and a columnist at SF Signal, has volunteered to fill in at The Commune. I will return on Thursday. --Lori Basiewicz]

___________

It begins, as most things begin, with a song.

In the beginning, after all, were the words, and they came with a tune. That was how the world was made, how the void was divided, how the lands and the stars and the dreams and the little gods and the animals, how all of them came into the world.

They were sung.

[...] songs remain. They last. The right song can turn an emperor into a laughingstock, can bring down dynasties. A song can last long after the events and the people in it are dust and dreams and gone. That's the power of songs. -- "Anansi Boys" by Neil Gaiman

1.

Language. It is so fundamental an element of existence, so very key a thing. It is fourth in the order of survival, in that once you have found a place to sleep, a place to eat, and a place to drink, you will then use language to convey this information to others, or to remind yourself. To study the history of languages is to study the very history of humanity, all the way back. Whether or not you believe in creationism, and a God, it is safe to say that in the beginning...there was the Word.

Once upon a time, the power of language was understood. A witch, a magician, well, they might be feared about the village, sure. They might make your hen lay funny, or make some of your teeth fall out. But even worse than someone like that was a bard. Worse than a spell, what if the Bard puts a satire on you? You will be long-dead, and people might still be laughing at you.

All of us might not know anything specific about the American War for Independence...but most of us know Yankee Doodle Dandee. Long after the events have passed and the people involved are gone, we innocently mock with a playful little children's song, originally designed to make fun of the Yanks.

That is the true power of words. They change how we see everything...and then, they hang around. They last.

It is irrelevant whether or not the Hebrew God actually exists, whether or not there was a Jesus Christ. Or it would be, if we hadn't written about it, if we hadn't told the stories. If the followers and true believers hadn't gone up and down the ancient world and told everyone, compelled everyone into believing. Without the language, without the stories, it wouldn't matter how magnificent a person Jesus had been...he would have been forgotten. Instead, we have a Bible in every hotel room.

Language remembers. Language incites. It is not just through the banging of swords and shields and screaming that the troops get their blood boiling and rush into battle. No, it's in the powerful speaking of the General, promising them victory, outraging them against their enemy, and swearing that the Gods are with them.

Language is power. Language is magic. The word "Grimoire" is just another way of saying "grammar." To cast a spell is, literally, to spell. Again, whether or not one believes in any form of mysticism is irrelevant. Through the magic power of language, in this day and age...you can make countless people, all at once, be singing the FreeCreditReport.com song. Or making horrible jokes about "gellin'." If the power to reach out across the world and plant the same piece of language, the same set of ideas, into the minds of people you will never see isn't magic, then I don't know what is.

Language. It can destroy us for the ages, and it can immortalize us. An author might die and live on, immortalized in his work. A man might die for his beliefs and live on, in the power of his language and his ideas. They are greater than statues and elegant tombs.

The ideas continue to incite and inspire and enrage.

The statues are merely admired.

2.

So why is it that this fundamental component of who we are is given so little attention and is assigned so little importance? We spend an enormous amount of time worrying about eating, sleeping, drinking, and all manner of other basic pieces of survival, and yet we neglect language. If we treated food in a similar casual and disinterested manner, then we would surely starve to death.

How many times have you been talking to someone -- or they have been talking to you, either way -- and telling a story, describing an experience, and you get to the end and you raise your hand and go, "It was like...it was like....I just can't describe it!" And how many times is this said with frustration, at the genuine inability to describe "it." To take the images and ideas and emotions in your head and convey them to another person. I hear the frustration all the time, when someone is trying hard to tell me something and I keep misunderstanding it.

I am not the first person, nor shall I be the last, who will remark on the fact that we are living in an increasingly communication-based, language-based world culture, and yet...we are becoming less and less capable of communicating with one another. We might spend hours on our cell phones, type hundreds of thousands of words into text messages, or e-mails, or blogs, or forum threads...and yet, for all of that, we do not hone our communicative skills. They lessen. So many people do not read, and cannot speak. I am forever aware of it, when sitting in a room full of people. Someone gets up to speak, and you have to parse the meaning of what they're trying to say, out through the muddle.

Why is this?

I think it can actually be explained by a quote from an interview, conducted by Bill Moyers with legendary SF author, Dr. Isaac Asimov. And I will quote the pertinent section:

ASIMOV: [...]That's another trouble with education as we now have it. People think of education as something that they can finish. And what's more, when they finish, it's a rite of passage. You're finished with school. You're no more a child, and therefore anything that reminds you of school - reading books, having ideas, asking questions - that's kid's stuff. Now you're an adult, you don't do that sort of thing any more.

MOYERS: And in fact, like prison, the reward of school is getting out. Kids say, "When are you getting out?"

ASIMOV: Every kid knows the only reason he's in school is because he's a kid and little and weak, and if he manages to get out early, if he drops out, why he's just a premature man.

MOYERS: I've talked to some of these dropouts, and they think they've become men because they're out of school.

ASIMOV: You have everybody looking forward to no longer learning, and you make them ashamed afterward of going back to learning. If you have a system of education using computers, then anyone, any age, can learn by himself, can continue to be interested. If you enjoy learning, there's no reason why you should stop at a given age. People don't stop things they enjoy doing just because they reach a certain age. They don't stop playing tennis just because they've turned forty. They don't stop with sex just because they've turned forty. They keep it up as long as they can if they enjoy it, and learning will be the same thing. The trouble with learning is that most people don't enjoy it because of the circumstances. Make it possible for them to enjoy learning, and they'll keep it up.

Here, then, is the reason why. The actual, conscious absorption and improvement of language is so strongly associated with schooling, which as Moyers aptly points out, is practically associated with prison. When do you get out? When do you get to quit reading these damn stories, writing these damn essays, using this damn brain, and so forth?

Language, and the things we use to improve it, are tied into that and thus seen as something not to waste time on. There are more important things to worry about, such as your job, your bills, your lower back pain. Language is down there, somewhere, as the sort of thing you'll fix up when you've retired and you get to read books on a beach. Or something. Or whatever.
Why is language important, then?

3.

If you are not willing to think for yourself, then you're a tool. And if you're a tool, you're gonna be somebody's tool. If you're a tool, then I'm gonna use you. -- Harlan Ellison

Language is important, because without being able to communicate with those around us, we are also unable to communicate with ourselves. How can we know what we think, if we cannot dismantle it and consider it from new angles, poke and prod and consider? And how can we do any of those things without the mental tools at our disposal? Those mental tools all come from language.

To study language -- and I do not necessarily mean an etymological study of words themselves, or doing the thing of learning one new word every time you go to the bathroom, or anything like that -- is to build ourselves up in many, many ways. If we want, we take in language from stories and poems, song lyrics, people talking to us in a million different ways on different topics, movies, news, and so forth. We absorb it, we learn to think about it critically, we hold it up against what we already know, and through the power of language (which is, in so many ways, also the power to discern), we are able to come out without confusion.

I have been vicariously reading books since the first moment I figured out how. All my life. I devour them. But I do it for pleasure alone, and for the sheer unabated joy which I take from a well-turned sentence, a brilliant idea delivered in a fashion that is inescapable. An image that is painted with words so perfectly, you can feel it living in your mind. I wasn't doing this to improve myself, it was just the thing that I enjoyed.

Recently, I returned to college. And what astonished me, as I worked my way through my first two semesters...was that subjects which were completely foreign to me, were made so much easier and so much less foreign simply because of the indiscriminate reading which has filled up the nooks and crannies of my life. It was from this foundation of language and story and idea that I could move forth and deal with college, and the rest of the world, and not only be able to handle it, but be able to feel comforted that it wasn't all alien to me. Even if it should have been. Language did that.

Language is wielded every day, at us. Journalists and newscasters on the networks use language to anger us, makes us feel sad, work us up over a controversy. Politicians use language to garner to them our support, to anger us into letting them lead us where they want to go (even if we would otherwise not have let them). Language lets a good liar get out of trouble, or out of a confrontation. Language can build up our self-image or completely destroy it. And it can do all of this without our conscious knowledge or consent.

As I said at the beginning, language is so powerful. It immortalizes and destroys. Sometimes, all at once.

And if we do not have at our disposal the greatest-possible amount of language and idea and story, if we do not armor ourselves and arm ourselves with language, then we can so easily have it wielded against us. As the Ellison quote says, without language, we become tools, and someone will use the tools for whatever ends they see fit, and what we think will not matter. And should we protest, we shall not have the language to evoke a reaction in anyone we protest to. We will be shouting into the abyss and waiting for the echo, in vain.

Language is a weapon against us, and a weapon for us. And it is a delight, and a pleasure. It can make us last forever. It can help us keep friends we might have lost through misunderstanding; it can help us make new friends. Language and the joy of learning are vital.

Unfortunately, the joy of learning part is stomped out of us pretty thoroughly by school. I hated school, and I find that I still do. But I adore learning. I can grumble my way through a class, and then come home and get excited because I've learned an exciting fact about the gravitational field of the Earth's moon and what the fact means. I adore learning now, and I get frustrated at how much there is for me to learn, because I can never get through it all.

These, then, must be our goals: we must equip ourselves with as much knowledge, and as much power-of-language as possible. And we must work as hard as we can to make learning a joy for those around us, and those who come after us.

Otherwise, someday, it may be that "the man who was a god amongst insects," shall simply be the fellow who forms evocative sentences, standing amidst a crowd of woefully ignorant TXT speakers.

Star Wars: Retold (by someone who hasn't seen it)

2009-04-15T00:05:00.000-05:00

Star Wars: Retold (by someone who hasn't seen it) from Joe Nicolosi on Vimeo.

Amazon's Prejudice (#amazonfail)

2009-04-13T00:05:00.005-05:00

By now most of you will have heard that Amazon has unranked select books. There explanation is that they are unranking books with "adult" content, but books like Heather Has Two Mommies, a pure children's book, has been unranked while Playboy: The Complete Centerfolds hasn't. So far, it appears that it is books with gay and lesbian themes that are being unranked, regardless of any sexual or erotica content.

Yes, you heard right. Amazon is making marketing decisions based on homophobia.

Some people say, "What does it matter if books are unranked? Isn't that only about bestseller lists and the vanity of the author?" No. They also drive recommendations and make it easy for customers to find books whose titles readers may not know. Unranking books is the equivalent of removing books from the shelves and relocating them under the counter or to the backroom where they must be specifically requested only by those who know the specific title.

And while Amazon is claiming that it is a system glitch, back in February, they told an author that his memoir had been removed due to adult content.

More information here:

Amazon Follies

#Amazonfail and the Politics of Anti-Corporate Cyberactivism

Amazon Rankings Reek of Homophobia and Puritanism

Housebreaking Your Writer

2009-04-10T21:08:00.007-05:00

I didn’t post anything on The Commune yesterday. I’d started writing a rather lengthy post about #agentfail and #queryfail and Nathan Bransford’s “Be An Agent for a Day,” contest. Basically it boiled down to pointing out the flawed thinking in Bransford’s contest and pointing out how both agents and writers were both wrong and right in their individual viewpoints and saying, “Can’t we all just be grown-ups and get along?” What writers, agents, and editors all need to remember is nothing in this business is about us. It’s all about the story and the reader. The story is the product and the reader is the customer. Without a worthwhile product (story) to offer to the customer (reader), none of us have a job or a reason for being.

Those of you who follow me on Twitter, or who just glance at the updates off to the side there, know that yesterday I took my puppy to have him neutered and microchipped. Based on his reactions when we dropped him off and when we picked him up, it wasn’t a traumatic experience at all for him. He just didn’t understand why we weren’t feeding him for about twelve hours beforehand. Was the pack out of food? Couldn’t we go hunt some more? Maybe we could eat the squeaky toys or one of the soft, fuzzy blankets? Oh, look, there’s a nice Texas Longhorn[1], maybe we could have one of those? You brought the barbecue sauce, right?

He was actually quite eager to go with the vet tech when I handed off the leash. I’m certain he could smell food in the back. His vet is located on the premise of a local stable that breeds champion Palominos. When we got out of the car, the smell of horses (prey) and their food was very strong in my nose. I can only imagine what it smelled like to a very hungry puppy.

The vet tech reported that Sam greeted her enthusiastically this morning; he was equally enthusiastic in greeting his human pack when we showed up to retrieve him. Sam is nothing if not friendly and enthusiastic. He’s never met a stranger and he seems to have learned that we always come back, nor is he one to hold a grudge.

I’ve long said that any writer who does not have children should have a pet – whether a dog or cat does not matter. Pets force us away from the keyboard and out into life periodically. They remind us to get up and move. They give us a reason to get up in the morning. They put us on a schedule – it doesn’t matter how long we stayed up writing the night before; they know what time the alarm is supposed to go off – which makes us more likely to take care of ourselves.

Besides all that, as I missed my rambunctious, demanding, high-energy puppy yesterday, I realized that we writers could learn even more from our pets. We could learn some very important writerly lessons, if we choose to pay attention.

Live in the moment. By breeding, Sam is a herding dog. As such, keeping him exercised and stimulated is very important to the overall happiness of the combined human-canine pack. There have been times when I’ve taken him out to play fetch when he’s just taken off running. He’s not running away nor is he running toward anything. He’s just running. In those moments, watching him, the sheer joy and pleasure that comes as his feet move across the grass, as his muscles contract and release, allowing him to almost fly, one can tell he’s not thinking about the past or the future or even the present. He’s not aware of the grass, the wind, me, or even himself. All that exists in that one moment is the act of running. It’s pure focus and complete absence of self.

I’ve seen the same thing in cats when they’re hunting. There’s that moment when the prey has been identified, when the cat has his muscles pulled beneath him, watching, waiting… Looking for the moment when everything is perfectly aligned. When that happens, it’s not about the cat, or the prey, or the act of springing… It’s all about the moment when these things come together and just are.

Writers often worry about what’s going to happen next. When I finish writing, who am I going to submit to? What happens if it’s rejected? What if… Sometimes, such things don’t matter. Sometimes all that matters is the act of writing. Just enjoy the moment, the act of being, the act of writing, and don’t worry about what comes next until later.

It’s okay to look foolish. Have you ever seen a dog rolling in a pile of leaves, legs flailing in the air, tongue hanging out? They are anything except dignified. What about a cat who walks over to you and flops over on their back in a demand to have their belly rubbed? They look anything but dignified. They have no pre-conceived notions of what is acceptable or what is proper. They don’t worry about what other dogs or cats think of them. They just do what gives them pleasure, what they want to do at the moment, what they enjoy.

Writers often get caught up wondering if something in their story is acceptable. They get bogged down in the details. Is it proper to use the serial comma? How long should a chapter be? How do you denote scene breaks? How many inches down a page should a chapter begin? Which font is the most correct? What should this character do or think or be?

Who cares? If you’re still writing, if you’re not at the submission stage, just write. This isn’t an office job. No one really cares if you’re using the exact same font as the person in the next cubicle over. New writers often tend to want to come across as serious or profound. They want to be serious literary figures who are respected and held in high regard. Pshaw. This writing gig is supposed to be fun. Go roll in a few leaves, flop over and let the words tickle your belly. Let go. Enjoy being a writer. Laugh and share the simple pleasures with your stories and your readers.

Explore new scents and experiences. Dogs and cats never stop exploring their environments. Despite the adage “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” dogs never stop learning. Same with cats. If either comes across something new in their environment, they want to learn everything they can about it. Is it dangerous? A threat? Is it alive? Does it need protecting? How can we use this for our purposes?

Writers also should never stop learning. Through new experiences, we gain new ideas, new perspectives to share with our readers, new ways of expressing ourselves. Is it something we should or could share with others? Is it a story? Can we use this to torture a character? How will it make our writing more believable? More accessible?

Curiosity is one of the greatest resources available to any writer. Never stop looking, sniffing, exploring, tasting, listening, reading, or learning new things, no matter how experienced a writer you become.

Ask for what you want. Be persistent. Anyone who has ever owned a dog or a cat know it’s not easy to tell them ‘no’ when they really want something. So what if you’re about ready to solve the meaning of the universe, if puppy wants to play, there will be a squeaky toy shoved against your leg. Squeaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueak. If the cat wants his ears scratched, claws will be extended to pull your hand away from the keyboard, the remote, or whatever you were doing until their need is satisfied.

Humans with pets have learned it’s easier and simpler to take a moment to throw the toy, to scratch the ears, than it is to try to deny the animal what they want especially when, in the great scheme of things, it’s really not that big of deal.

Treat publishing the same way. Keep sending your work out over and over again. Go after the goals you really want. Don’t be afraid to ask. The worst you will be told is no, but eventually, someone will take the time to satisfy your needs if you are insistent enough.

Training is not a bad thing. Successful pet owners know that the key to a healthy, happy pet is training; that the right training is the best way to prevent problems later on. And the thing is, pets don’t typically resist training. They’re eager to learn what their human families want from them. Despite some clichéd differences, this is true of both cats and dogs. They want to know what is acceptable, what is forbidden, what is preferred, and what isn’t. They want to know what the rules are and when it is and is not acceptable to break them. They accept criticism.

Writers would do well to follow their example. Learning the rules of writing – how to mark dialogue, how to create tension, pacing, the different parts of speech, what different sounds can represent on a psychological level, what agents and editors want in a submission – aren’t bad things. They help make the entire writing process easier.

Learning when it is okay to break certain rules – when it is okay to jump on the bed and when it’s not – help make our writing stronger. Being willing to accept criticism, rather than claiming that a mistake is “our voice,” would serve writers well in their quest for publication and readers. Seeking out and accepting training as writers is not a bad thing.

As you learn to write and seek to improve your craft, don’t just look to other writers for lessons. Look to the world around you, including the animal kingdom.

[1] Several years ago, a local resident purchased the herd of Longhorns that used to appear in the Marlboro cigarette commercials, back when you could still have ads for cigarettes on TV.

Business, Publishing, Writing, and This Blog

2009-04-06T00:05:00.001-05:00

The other day, while thinking about business and what is and is not business and this blog and how it is and is not about writing, I came across the following quote:

Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.

Cyril Connolly, New Statesman

It crystallized many of my thoughts and tied them together for me.

I’d received an e-mail from a blog directory informing me that The Commune had scored a 6.3 out of 10 points on their ratings scale, which based on their system is a “Good.” I was invited to click on a link and add a little button to my blog informing the online world of this fact. Having never heard of the site, and knowing I never submitted The Commune to be evaluated, my first thought was that it was malicious spam and clicking on the link would cause bad things to happen. A little googling alleviated my fears somewhat. The site, such as it is, is legitimate, but still, I wasn’t prone to placing advertising for them on my blog just because they wanted me to do so. A little more research showed they had evaluated an older version of The Commune. It also says the score is based on “editorial” review but does not give me access to the review or tell me anything about who the editors are. There should be some degree of transparency on both sides, or at least provide readers a breakdown of the point system and a brief written review for the consumer, such as is found in movie and book reviews.

Beyond all that, the important bit, for the thought process I was experiencing at the moment, was that they had categorized The Commune as a blog about “writing” and that when I went to look for it in their listings I searched for it under “writing” without even thinking about it because I do believe The Commune’s tag line, that this is a place where people, life, and writing come together. And, yet, as I glanced at the other blogs characterized under the “writing” heading, I had to step back. Most blogs about writing tend to be filled with talk about publishing and getting published and the writing process and while The Commune did look at some such things in the beginning, it has evolved to the point where it discusses many things and most of them do not appear to be about the writing process or the writing life or the business of writing or the writing craft. For the most part, my posts are just turning the stones over and examining what I find underneath. Even so, I still consider The Commune to be a blog first and foremost about writing.

Why? Because, to me, writing is about life and life is about writing. Everything I encounter, everything I do, is fodder for an article or story idea. Writing is about turning the stones over and examining what is underneath and sharing it with others in such a way that they are entertained or gain a new perspective or both.

When I talk about the economy, I’m talking about writing. When I create a post about the other-worldy feeling generated by a snowstorm or the SciFi channel’s name change, I’m talking about writing. How so? The SciFi channel’s name change was about branding and respecting your readers. Without them, writers are nothing. They should never be dismissed out of hand as the SciFi channel has done their viewers. The snowstorm was about feelings we get in certain situations, about seeing the unusual in the usual, about how extraordinary the ordinary can become. There are possibilities in everything and it is up to we writers to see them and share them with others.

As for the economy, that is about the business of writing. What can people afford? What is happening to the world around us that affects our ability to make a living through our prose? It is about the writers’ ability to forecast the future and our responsibility to tell others.

About a year ago, I attended a sample class given by a PhD being interviewed for an associate professorship. His specialty was philosophy and business. It was an unusual combination. Part of his lecture has always stayed with me. He explained that when someone “went into business” there really wasn’t a definition of what that meant, other than they were going to try to make money, and why did business have to be about that? Why couldn’t the end goal of a business be about improving the community? Why was success only measured by the bottom line? I do not do his philosophy justice, but it made me think, which was the hallmark of a good professor, and one of the reasons, when all the sample classes were complete, I voted for him to get the position.

It leads to the question why is the hallmark of a successful writer only about getting agent representation and commercial publication? What if they were able to get readers some other way? Would the writer then be a success, even if they don’t have the name “Random House” or “TOR” on the spine of the books?

My friend Kristine Williams is already ahead of me on pondering the answers to that question with Midnight Reading. In an era when publishing is struggling to evolve and adapt to both economical and technological changes, she has taken her literary future into her own hands. While she still wants to be read, she has stopped considering traditional publishing to be the end all, be all goal. Instead, she has put her work out there where the readers are and invited select writers to do the same on her dime. She is in the process of creating a place that is not about how many books are sold, but about how many books are read. She is bringing fiction and readers together again without overt concern over the bottom line. As a result, she is building a future for herself and those she chooses to partner with. It’s commendable and interesting and an example of what it means when business is not just about how much money is made. It’s what writing and reading should be and were once, before those who published and sold books became so disconnected from the reader and the product in their pursuit of the almighty dollar.

I fully expect to see more such projects as the Depression continues to grow around us.

What Animals Really Think

2009-04-05T11:45:00.000-05:00

Brain Candy and Big Business

2009-04-03T20:53:00.003-05:00

U.S. corporations greatly under-estimate the intelligence of the American consumer. Whether it is the McDonald’s inside Wal-mart claiming that health concerns is the reason outside plastic cups can no longer be refilled at their soda fountain or the entertainment industry only producing television shows, movies, and books that appeal to the lowest common denominator, it has become obvious that Big Business does not think much of its customers. When the majority of television is reality TV or the same two shows in different incarnations and books must be either about or by a celebrity, then it is time reinvent the wheel.

Before we discuss this further, let’s clear up a couple of things. McDonald’s, we know the real reason you don’t want us to bring outside cups in is you were losing money by not being able to strictly control the size of the cup or diameter of the straw. Yes, we also know about capillary action and we, the American consumer, did notice when you increased the diameter of your straws twenty some years ago. We even know why you did it – to make us drink more and buy larger drinks – we were not fooled. Do you think it is a coincidence that this was about the same time you had to begin to fight for your share of the fast food market? Disrespect the customer and they go elsewhere.

What Big Business does not understand – what they need to start to understand if they are going to survive – is that humans are complex creatures. It is entirely possible for the same person to attend the national ballet and to watch USAF wrestling and enjoy both equally well (just hopefully not at the same time.) Just because we watch reality television doesn’t mean that’s all we want to see.

This blog is, at times, eclectic. Some posts are about nothing more than my puppy eating popcorn on the cob. They’re brain candy. Others analyze the language behind well-distributed urban legends or examine what is and what is not free speech. They’re more demanding of you, the reader, and your time. One thing I’ve noticed is that the brain candy posts get more comments, but the more in depth posts get more hits. What this tells me is that while you, the reader, like the occasional sweet, what you’re searching for is something more substantial in your internet reading diet. You want to be challenged, or at least treated like the adult you are.

Maybe that’s why independent films and self-published books are starting to be more widely received than they were in years past. Film studios, TV networks, and the large publishing houses are producing too much brain candy. That leaves us dissatisfied and looking for something more nutritious in our entertainment diet. When that happens, we’ll hunt until we find what we’re missing, with little regard for where it came from. And when we do find it, we tell our friends, who tell their friends. Word of mouth has always been the best marketing tool.

If Big Business wants to survive this economic downturn, then maybe they should step back and really examine what the consumers are spending their hard-earned entertainment dollars on rather than wasting time, money, and energy trying to convince people that the latest sugar-filled snack is worth the cost of a well-balanced dinner. Otherwise, they will not survive. There are plenty of little guys waiting in the wings, ready and willing to become the next Big Thing. US corporations should remember that every time they're tempted to under-estimate their customers. It is the consumer, after all, who ultimately decides which businesses survive and which ones file for Chapter 11.

Annwn

2009-03-30T00:05:00.007-05:00

On Sunday, Illinois was reminded that Mother Nature is in charge and beautiful. About 3:45AM, I woke up from a sound sleep. When I looked out the window, the landscape had been transformed into another world by a combination of snow, ice, and fog.

I stood looking outside for a few minutes, marveling at the artwork that was my yard, then woke the rest of the household to share it with me. It was one of the moments where we were at one with the world around us and, despite being together, we were alone. Silence had meaning. It was tempting to go outside and wander the streets at that hour, but to have done so would have been to risk crossing into the world of faerie.

Metamorphosis

2009-03-27T00:05:00.001-05:00

I edited this. You should buy it.

Who Are You?

2009-03-26T12:40:00.000-05:00

On St. Patrick’s Day I wore tennis shoes to work. This isn’t a monumental thing, except one of my co-workers commented on it. “Lori,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear tennis shoes.”

And she’s right. She probably hadn’t. It’s also a little odd because I tend to wear tennis shoes far more than any other shoe… except to work, where I wear office clothes, even though clean, non-faded blue jeans are allowed. When I reached the point in the day job work-thingy where I was as likely to talk one-on-one with a CEO wearing a suit and tie as I was an office, or lab, worker in jeans and t-shirts or scrubs, my personal office dress code became business casual. Still, when I get home, the office clothes are off, the loafers are in the closet, and I’m back where I belong, in sweats or jeans.

I just felt like dressing a bit more casual on St. Patrick’s Day.

It also led me to ask the question, which person is more me? The office worker who does not dress immaculately by any means but does try to look presentable because she finds it adds to the professionalism she prizes, or the writer and student who wears faded jeans and way-too-comfortable sweatshirts while puzzling over the craftsmanship of a particularly piece of writing?

This, naturally, led me to what did my writing say about me as an individual.

My professors, back when I was still taking classes regularly, instead of just staring at the never-ending thesis, would often bring in letters and other, non-published writings from the authors we were studying. Those scribblings gave insight into who the writer was as a person, separate and apart from their work. I’d often wondered what my non-published writing would reveal about me, should someone look for it after my death. The tennis shoe comment made me realize it would depend on which writing they looked at.

For example, if someone were to try to figure out who I am as an individual by looking at the posts and comments on this blog, they’d interpret me to be academic and very serious whereas literary archeologist digging through the Absolute Write archives would find me intelligent and a bit of a smart ass. Another individual, researching my interaction on Twitter would find me prone to cases of the grumps and would be struck by how my mind leapt from topic to topic as shone by my frequent non sequitur comments. The strange connections my mind makes would be further illustrated by personal e-mail. Someone reading that would also wonder how I ever wrote a novel-length work, given my propensity for one-word correspondence. A look, long after my death, into my private journal would show self-doubt and an introspective nature.

So, which set of writing reveals the real me? Which interpretation of me is correct? Am I really the ditzy, tennis shoe wearing person desperately in need of a Keeper, or am I a confident, assertive member of the intelligentsia? The simple answer is, yes, I am. All of these things are true about me. They are all part of who I am.

People don’t tend to be two-dimensional individuals. They often aren’t one thing or another, but a mixture of many conflicting beliefs and personality quirks. To be able to see all different aspects of them is to really know them.

What about you? Who are you?

Why Geoff Should Twitter

2009-03-24T20:46:00.003-05:00

Please post a comment explaining to Geoff why he should join Twitter. It's okay. You don't have to know Geoff to encourage him to join us on Twitter. There's no limit on the number of characters, though 140-character comments could be kinda fun.

An Urban Legend Examined

2009-03-23T00:05:00.002-05:00

The other day the following e-mail was forwarded to me. Before anyone jumps on me, I recognized it for the urban legend that it was.

B E W A R E O F M C D O N A L D S

THIS IS BY A GOOD DECENT MAN WHO TOOK THE TIME TO WRITE THIS, AND HE SIGNED THE STATEMENT AND INCLUDED HIS CONTACT INFO:

READ ON:

I’m sure those of you who aren't in the cattle business don't understand the issues here. But to those of us whose living depends on the cattle market, selling cattle and raising the best beef possible... This is frustrating.

This will keep us from ever stopping there again, even for a drink.

The original message is from the Texas Cattle Feeders Association:

American cattle producers are very passionate about this.

McDonald’s claims that there is not enough beef in the USA to support their restaurants. Well, we know that is not so. Our opinion is they are looking to save money at our expense. The sad thing of it is that the people of the USA are the ones who made McDonald's successful in the first place, but we are not good enough to provide beef.

We personally are no longer eating at McDonald's, which I am sure does not make an impact, but if we pass this around maybe there will be an impact felt.

Please pass it on. Just to add a note:

All Americans that sell cows at a livestock auction barn had to sign a paper stating that we do NOT EVER feed our cows any part of another cow. South Americans are not required to do this as of yet.

McDonald’s has announced that they are going to start importing much of their beef from South America. The problem is that South Americans aren't under the same regulations as American beef producers, and the regulations they have are loosely controlled.

They can spray numerous pesticides on their pastures that have been banned here at home because of residues found in the beef. They can also use various hormones and growth regulators that we can't. The American public needs to be aware of this problem and that they may be putting themselves at risk from now on by eating at good old McDonald's.

American ranchers raise the highest quality beef in the world and this is what Americans deserve to eat. Not beef from countries where quality is loosely controlled. Therefore, I am proposing a boycott of McDonald’s until they see the light.

I’m sorry but everything is not always about the bottom line, and when it comes to jeopardizing my family's health, that is where I draw the line.

I am sending this note to about thirty people. If each of you send it to at least ten more (30 x 10 = 300) ... and those 300 send it to at least ten more (300 x 10 = 3,000) ... and so on, by the time the message reaches the sixth generation of people, we will have reached over THREE MILLION consumers!

I'll bet you didn't think you and I had that much potential, did you? Acting together we can make a difference. If this makes sense to you, please pass this message on.

David W. Forrest, Ph.D ., PAS, Dipl.
ACAP Department of Animal Science
Texas A&M University

Phone (979) 845-3560

Fax (979) 862-3399
2471 TAMU College Station, TX 77843-2471

Again, before any of you start snickering, yes, I do know this is not real. For those of you not familiar with it, here is a link to Snopes. Other reliable sources will also debunk it if you take but a moment to research it.

Why then am I blogging about it?

What first interested me was a response to sent to the person who forwarded it to me and cc’d to everyone on her list. It was from an individual who took it at face value and did the math of all the hard-working people who would be out of jobs if everyone banded together as the original letter writer suggested. As I read that e-mail, I thought, “But they’re both missing the point.” The original e-mail was not meant to be taken literally. Instead, it spoke to our fears and where we, as a people and a society, have found ourselves.

Back in the eighties or nineties, there was a similar urban legend about a person finding a deep fried rat in their bucket of restaurant-purchased fried chicken. That story, as false as it always was, spoke to the consumer’s lack of contact with their food source. At one time, if we wanted fried chicken, our grandmothers had to kill a chicken, preferably one that was beyond it’s egg-laying years, pluck it, gut it, cut it into pieces, flour those pieces, and then stand over a skillet filled with hot grease, carefully shifting and turning the pieces so they cooked evenly.

By the time I was a child, my mother no longer had to kill her own chickens, but if the family were to have friend chicken for dinner, she still had to cut the bird into appropriate-sized pieces, make certain it had been properly cleaned, make a mess of flour and seasoning, and standing over the skillet of popping oil or melted shortening to cook the pieces. I remember when my mother stopped doing that. She said, “Why should I mess up my clean kitchen when I can buy a perfectly good friend chicken from…?”

By that point, my mother was no longer a stay-at-home mom. She worked hours outside the home equal to what my father did. Her career was advancing, the children were growing, the financial resources within the family were improving as were the consumer products available for purchase. It took far more time and effort to make homemade fried chicken than it did to stop and pick some up on the way home. As an added benefit, someone else cleaned up the grease from cooking the bird.

The shift in our home was not unique. It was happening all over middle class America. Thing is, as our affluence increased, so did the distance from our food source. What the rat legend talked about was that distance. We didn’t know who was preparing our food anymore. We did know they had no reason to care for our family’s well-being like we did. They could do or feed anything to us and how would we know?

That’s the nature of fairy tales, myths, and legends. They speak to what’s true inside us, even when the scenarios they paint are not real. Urban legends speak directly to our inner fears, which are as true an emotion as anything else, even when they are based on unknown assumptions.

In the case of the McDonald’s tale, the underlying fear is the impersonalization of today’s big businesses, particularly the food providers. What do they care for their customers, especially when compared against the all-important bottom line? What are one or two human lives when it comes to making a buck? Unlike the corner grocer or the small town restaurant that was owned by our neighbor, who we could trust not to serve our children anything they would not serve their own, McDonald’s and similar restaurants are as removed from their consumer as they are from the food source. They are not in the business because they enjoy the culinary arts or because they like to provide people with a well-cooked meal. They are in business for the sake of business, to make a profit. They are a corporation. Beyond that, they could just as likely be selling construction equipment as burgers. They are not willing to spend a little more to keep their neighbors in business; they might cut corners in ways we would prefer them not to. This is not necessarily reality, but it is the truth of our underlying fear which this particular legend speaks to.

Let us look at how this open letter accomplishes this emotional reaction from us.

First, there’s the opening lines:

B E W A R E O F M C D O N A L D S

THIS IS BY A GOOD DECENT MAN WHO TOOK THE TIME TO WRITE THIS, AND HE SIGNED THE STATEMENT AND INCLUDED HIS CONTACT INFO:

The very first word provokes a fear response that harkens back to our childhood: BEWARE. Beware the dog. Beware strangers. Beware gun-totin’ maniacs. Beware big corporations, like McDonald’s, which, right up there with Wal-Mart, is synonymous with Big Business in America. We export Big Macs to other countries right alongside Walt Disney, as dual ambassadors for our country’s culture. There can be nothing more American than McDonald’s, and nothing more frightening than its signs proudly touting that billions of people have been served. Personal restaurants aren’t capable of serving billions. Only a large, impersonal corporation with assembly line technology could manufacture billions and billions of the same food product. This reaction is juxtaposed against the claim that the letter was written by a “good decent man.” Not a corporation. Not a business. But an individual. Not only that, he’s willing to offer us, the world, a piece of him by sharing his contact information. He’s personable. What could be more neighborly than giving your private phone number to the world-at-large in this age of internet aliases and unlisted cell phone numbers? This is a person you can trust because they are willing to put themselves out there.

If you call the number listed, you receive an automated recording telling you that the person’s mailbox – it doesn’t even name the person – is full and no longer able to accept messages. At least that’s what I received. Not nearly as personable or as real as it seems, is it? Of course, most people aren’t me. They wouldn’t pick up the phone to call a total stranger, so it’s an easy bluff to make. While I don’t think the individual listed as writing this letter ever existed, I suspect the phone number was real and belonged to a faculty or staff member at Texas A&M University. Someone doing a quick internet search would have found it associated with someone there and assumed they were the letter writer, but if only a small percentage of the people who received this letter picked up the phone and called, the individual would have been inundated with calls. They would have had to change the number and the university would have had stop using the one listed. The mailbox and computer generated greeting would be the standard one for all university numbers.

I base this suspicion on the fact that the original source of the information purports to be the Texas Cattle Feeder’s Association (TCFA), which is a real organization. They received so many inquiries over the years since this e-mail was released into the wild that they have put a disclaimer up on their website. They state they do not know the source of the e-mail or why someone had chosen to use their name. I do.

First, it’s real and lends an air of credibility to the letter. Again, the majority of people would not check with the organization. When something is printed, either electronically or in hardcopy, it gives a certain authority to the words. Somewhere in the back of our media-trained minds, we know that someone else has done their due diligence and authenticated the message. The actual letter writer took advantage of that built-in trust for the written word to further their own agenda.

The letter’s narrator goes on to say:

Our opinion is they are looking to save money at our expense. The sad thing of it is that the people of the USA are the ones who made McDonald's successful in the first place, but we are not good enough to provide beef.

This is another emotional gambit. The big, impersonal corporation is taking advantage of the little guy. As a culture, America has always favored the underdog. The Cinderella-story is part our common history. The Minute Man, rushing from their home in the middle of the night to defend their right to exist against the Imperial armies of King George III, and John Paul Jones declaring, “I have not yet begun to fight,” have always been our champions. Now, here is a new hero for this day and age, regretting that they have but one life to give. Cue the patriotic music.

With readers’ emotions already running high, the alleged sender ups the ante by adding a supposed personal note to the letter:

All Americans that sell cows at a livestock auction barn had to sign a paper stating that we do NOT EVER feed our cows any part of another cow. South Americans are not required to do this as of yet.
McDonald’s has announced that they are going to start importing much of their beef from South America. The problem is that South Americans aren't under the same regulations as American beef producers, and the regulations they have are loosely controlled.

This gentle aside is juxtaposed against the patriotic pitch in the earlier paragraphs and is designed t remind people that such threats as mad cow disease came not from US raised beef, but from imported beef, from that foreign beef. It is coupled with the growing suspicions about the effects of pesticides not only on our environment but also on the health of our developing children that has recently begun to infect the collective consumer conscious. Without saying any of these things specifically, it further inflame people’s passions and increase the “us vs. them” mentality. Just like the rat legend of years past, it insinuates that the business provider of our food cares nothing for our health. The writer does not have to spell these things out. S/he only has to hint at them and leave the rest to the readers’ imaginations.

With the emotional manipulation nearly complete, the actual writer brings all the threads of the legend back together and neatly unites them with the letter’s opening. What can we, the people do? We can start a grassroots campaign and through the united strength of each of us as David, we can bring Goliath down. We individuals, we rebels, can slay the corporate giant, and destroy the Evil Empire.

It’s all very slickly done. I’m impressed. It took a very skilled writer to tug at people’s emotions this way and to get them to look past the obvious fallacy and buy into the legend without thought or further consideration. I’m also intrigued by what it says about us as a culture and I’m curious what it means for us, both now and in the future.

What are your thoughts?

Welcome to the SyFy Channel

2009-03-19T00:05:00.006-05:00

As of June (or July, depending on the source) 2009, the SciFi channel is changing their name to SyFy. They have lots of stated reasons for doing so and have conducted market research to determine that non-sense spelling SyFy is hipper and trendier than the more conventional SciFi. As SciFi Wire (SyFy Wire?) tried to spin it:

Syfy more clearly captures the mainstream appeal of the world's biggest entertainment category, and reflects the network's ongoing strategy to create programming that's more accessible and relatable to new audiences. Syfy will continue to celebrate the traditional roots of the genre, while opening the brand to accommodate a broader range of imagination-based entertainment.

To me, this name change is just another indication of the greater problems with Corporate America. It’s no longer acceptable to serve a niche market well, to brand oneself as a maker of purple widgets and be the best purple widget maker there is. In addition to making purple widgets, businesses want to succeed not only at every other color of widget, too, but also at gizmos and whatchamacallits. And that is when companies first begin to fail. By trying to be everything to everyone, they wind up being nothing to no one.

The hipper, trendier SyFy channel takes this winner-take-all strategy one step further by disparaging the audience on whom they are built:

“The name Sci Fi has been associated with geeks and dysfunctional, antisocial boys in their basements with video games and stuff like that, as opposed to the general public and the female audience in particular,” said TV historian Tim Brooks, who helped launch Sci Fi Channel when he worked at USA Network.

Most individuals would recognize this description as a satirical representation of science fiction fans. It has less to do with reality and more to do with a Saturday Night Live skit. The majority of the science fiction fans that I know are intelligent, well-educated adults with far-ranging vision. They cross all age ranges and income levels uniting on common love of the science fiction genre. Approximately fifty percent of the fans I know are women. Perhaps instead of doing market research to reach a new audience, the network executives should have done market research to determine who their target audience really is? They were in an incredible position to help change the public perception of their viewers but instead they chose to jump on the negative stereotype bandwagon. I say were because they have already dismissed their core audience with a pat on the head:

Howe [1]knows some fans will dislike the change and see Syfy as a rejection of the network's core viewership. More than most channels, Sci Fi has an intense relationship with its audience. Clashes are unavoidable to some degree when you combine a network making businesses-minded decisions with a genre that has some of the most passionate and outspoken fans around.

Not only has the SyFy channel stereotyped its core viewers and discounted all of its female viewers as non-existent, it has also anticipated the viewers objections and dismissed them out of hand.

Look, Mr. Howe, you can call the network anything you want. Like most of your fans, I am an intelligent, reasonable adult. I understand the need for your company to have a logo you can trademark and control. That’s a business decision. But do not say you’re doing it because you want to meet women. That’s such a geek-boy reason for changing the name.

If you really wanted to serve your market, maybe you could try actually putting on the shows we want to watch, regardless of whether they have spaceships in them or not. Meanwhile, I suggest you take a lesson from the Hallmark channel and Lifetime. They’re not ashamed of their target audiences.

__________

[1] Network President of the SciFi channel.

Random Question

2009-03-18T00:05:00.000-05:00

Question for all the writers, artists, and assorted creative people out there: What do you want out of this life path? When you die, do you want to leave your work behind? Why?

Aigememnon

2009-03-17T00:05:00.001-05:00

This is hilarious. It would be more so, if it weren't also deeply and unsettlingly true.

A Technological Fast

2009-03-16T00:05:00.003-05:00

Last week at work, I was talking to a couple of my co-workers when one of them realized her cell phone was dead. She was a bit discombobulated because she was heading to her second job and would not have phone access for the remainder of the evening. I mentioned that it was a good opportunity to spend some time in her own headspace. In the course of the conversation, I also mentioned my intention of “going dark,” or turning off my internet and possibly my cell phone the weekend of March 20^th. Both of my co-workers were appalled. What if someone tried to reach me? What if someone wanted me or needed me? How would I know? I shrugged and said, if they really needed to reach me, if it was truly an emergency, then they would call someone else to drive to my house and alert me, or else send the police. Anything that did not require this level of search and commitment could wait.

They were never without their cell phones, they said. People were always able to get a hold of them. One said that if she didn’t return a call within thirty minutes, her friends were likely to worry. And that, I said, was a very good reason to go dark, to turn off technology. It is important, I said, to occasionally spend some time alone in one’s own head, even if it was just turning the cell phone off while on a long drive, and that technology makes that difficult. They remained unconvinced.

Thing is, when you’re constantly plugged in, and everyone has the ability to contact you on demand, and you have the ability to contact everyone else, it is easy to become dependent on others. If you’re stranded five miles from home with a flat tire, why bother trying to figure out how to change the tire yourself? Just call someone. If you need to identify the Seven Wonders of the World, just Google it. If the door is not sitting in its frame correctly, then there has to be a DIY website that can provide the solutions. This leads to a lack of innovation and a loss of creativity. Sure, scoff, but how many times have you just picked up the phone and dialed a friend for the answer when, if you’d given it a few minutes thought, you could have puzzled it out yourself? From there it’s a short step to realizing that new solutions, possibly better solutions, might never be achieved because people are not stretching their own minds to find the answers. Individually, this is not how new skills are learned; collectively, this is not how new innovations are achieved.

It’s also easy to forget that everyone is not connected by the same level of technology as the American middle- and upper-class are. The Digital Divide is not a generation thing, nor is it a race thing. It is a class thing. But rather than being something that differentiates classes – the urban elite are those who know how caviar tastes and the blue collar workers do not – it creates the classes through lack of access. Those who have the ability to be connected by e-mail, internet, and cell phone are members of the Technological Haves regardless of where they live, income level, or skin color. Technology may be the great equalizer; it is also very divisive.

From their plugged in state, it is impossible for the Haves to fully understand the lives of the Have Nots. How can the Haves comprehend what it is like to not know, not have access, while billions of bytes of information are streaming through their brains. They laugh at those on dial-up – existing in a limbo between a Have and Have Not state – without fully comprehending that for some, there is no other option. That is the best available. That there are places where being a Have is not even a possibility due to the lack of technological resources. In many parts of the world, the Have Nots have more pressing concerns than the Haves – the fear of survival of themselves and their offspring.

Meanwhile, how can the Haves comprehend the value of that perfect, quiet moment, spread out in the grass, watching the clouds go by, while a cell phone is ringing in their ear and they feel the need to Twitter about this right now, because to not do so is to lose the moment, even as they are losing the moment. Haves tend to live in the moment and, if they do not take steps to remind themselves, they forget the long view and lose sight of the bigger picture, not to mention who they are as individuals.

For a short time in my life, I was a Bahá’í. As part of the proscribed practices of the Bahá’í Faith, members are expected to Fast for 19-days every year. It is similar to the fasting which the followers of Islam undertake during Ramadan. For the time of the fast, members – provided they are adult, healthy, not pregnant, or a variety of other factors which would making fasting dangerous to the individual – are not allowed to eat or drink from sunrise to sunset. It is a time of spiritual cleansing. I also always found it to be a time of increased awareness of one’s Self and one’s surroundings. Often the things I had taken for granted were no longer true; I had to stop, think, and consider them.

If, for example, I was out running errands and I found myself hungry, I would think, "I'll just pop through a drive-through," and as I was scanning the area to decide which one of several available I would visit, it would hit me, I couldn’t. Even if the fast food chain was just a parking lot away, it was forbidden to me. Granted, the choice, the decision, was always mine, but it made me aware that there were others who could not make that choice or that decision. Either the did not have the same access to convenience food as I did, in fact did not have the same access to food that I did, or else they lacked the financial resources to take advantage of the sustenance that surrounded them. How awful must it be to live in a land of plenty and not be able to partake of it? How awful must it be to know that half a world a way, the people’s greatest health threat is having too much to eat while you’re watching your own child starve?

Fasting is a very enlightening experience.

Sometimes, I believe that we Haves need a period of technological cleansing, too. We need to be purified of all the gadgets that surround us and supposedly make our lives easier. We need to simplify. This is particularly true when we reach the point where we take for granted our easy access to information and other people. When we reach that point, it is time to turn the technology off, to step back, and re-examine ourselves, who we are as individuals and how we are living in relation to the world around us. Such things are important to know if we are to continue to grow and develop as individuals, as a society, and as a planet.

Recently I mentioned to a few friends that I would like to start journaling again. I used to journal, back in my early twenties, but then, I typically only wrote when things weren’t going well in my life. What I was looking for now was something different than blogging or twittering.

Blogs, I’ve long argued, are not really journals as they were first advertised to be, but are more the modern equivalent of alternative and underground newspapers and magazines. The Blogosphere is where you find alternative thinkers, alternative viewpoints, and news that is not presented by the major corporate networks. It is the equivalent of pulp magazines from the early and middle part of the twentieth century, of newspapers printed on hand-cranked mimeograph machines in people’s basements, stapled together, and distributed by hand or subscriptions sold by word of mouth. Some of these pulp rags lasted longer than others; some had greater impact than others. All were important as a way of capturing ordinary people’s thoughts and revolutionizing perspectives on the world around us. Blogs do the same. Consequently, we do not write them for ourselves as journals, but for the others who might be reading them.

Neither is twittering journaling. It is a way of putting oneself out there and connecting with others. It is not about Self, but about that interconnection with others.

Conversely, journaling, true journaling, is all about the self. It’s a way of finding out what I think or believe or reminding me what is important without being separated from myself by technology. There is no keyboard and no screen between me and the printed word, just my hand holding the pen that is touching the page where the words appear. There is no audience other than I. I’m freer to be more truthful with myself than if I were writing in other mediums. I’m free to find and meet myself.

Before I could go out and purchase my own journal, I received a package from Kristine. Inside was a beautiful Italian leather journal with a leather bookmark and leather ties to keep the covers closed. It is filled with many lovely blank pages. This is the first entry I made in it:

Friday, March 13, 2009, 22:09

I received this journal from Kristine today. It was a consolation prize for our last writing contest, in which I performed dismally. Thing is, I’d just decided I needed to start jounaling [sic] – with pen and ink and a nice, blank book – instead of, rather in addition to, blogging and Twittering. Those mediums are different than a book written to oneself, notes really, that you don’t expect anyone to read until after you’re dead, if then.

I’m going to enjoy this. Must let Kristine know I made the first entry.

My handwriting is definitely abysmal.

I’m looking forward to writing a few lines in it each night, and discovering what I think is important. I’m looking forward to getting to know myself without a public audience, without a technological wall between me and my thoughts. I’m also looking forward to unplugging next weekend.

I would like to challenge everyone to pick one day, just 24-hours, where you turn off your internet and your cell phones and whatever other technology you have, and explore the back rooms of your own mind. You might be surprised who, and what, you meet there. If you’re too afraid to do so, too afraid of what you might miss, it is definitely time for you to go dark and explore the world around you. One should never be afraid to give up a luxury; one should never be concerned about meeting oneself.

If you are, why is that?

Sam & Popcorn

2009-03-15T00:05:00.001-05:00

I learned yesterday that Sam really loves popcorn and by that I mean he really loves popcorn. It may be the magical food for which he'll do anything. This is good to know. Sam's primary owner is a retired railroad worker/farmer who grows a huge garden every year. Last summer, among other things, he grew popcorn. On Saturday, said primary owner, my mother, and me were playing with popping the corn on the cob in the microwave. Sam was in heaven. Not only were his three favorite people in the whole entire world together in one house, they were making a mess using his favorite food.

At one point, someone -- not me -- had the idea, "Let's give Sam the popcorn that didn't come off the cob and see what he does." We are easily amused.

Green takes Green

2009-03-14T16:27:00.004-05:00

The interesting thing about so many of the green alternatives is the cost. While in the long run, the options may cost less than throwing away and repurchasing some of the non-green alternatives, in the short term, many people cannot afford the initial expense without planning and budgeting for it. People are willing to go green. They want to go green. They want to be green, but until such a time as the alternative options become more affordable, they are not able to do so. It's ludicrous to ask a young, financially struggling family to pay $19.95, or even $17.96 on sale, for a single set of reusable bamboo cutlery when they can get 24ct plastic cutlery for $1.00 or less. For that kind of money, they'll just pack their own fork and knives.

That's the problem with the green lifestyle. It's not accessible. Like eating low-fat, healthy foods, often times only those of a certain income bracket can afford to do so.

Thing is, if people would stop focusing on products to sell to the masses, and start educating people, I think they would find us far more willling to explore the alternative solutions out there. It is possible to be green without buying green.

Have To, Need To

2009-03-12T00:05:00.000-05:00

I was on the phone with That Barb Person the other day and mentioned I was debating about whether or not to go to aikido that evening.

“What would you do if you didn’t go?”

“I don’t know. Edit. Write. Thesis. I’ve got a ton of stuff I have to do and I need time to do it.”

“Go to aikido,” That Barb Person said. “It’s the only thing you do for yourself anymore.”

And I realized, she was right. My life has become a series of ‘need to’s’ and ‘have to’s,’ one flowing into the next. Often they overlap or pile on top of one another. I have to go to work to earn a paycheck and I need to do the editing in order to earn not just more money but the opportunity to quit the day job again. I have to work on the thesis if I’m ever to get that little piece of paper that says “I am the Master now,” and I need to write other things if I’m to build a stable writing career and continue to advance there. Most of my online activities, even the ones I started for fun, even the ones I do with or for friends, have become networking opportunities that I need to keep up. Even my beloved aikido, that Barb states is the only thing I do for me, is sometimes a have to or a need to. As I’ve advanced in rank, there are times when I’m pegged to lead a class, and then I have to go and instruct others. And at the end of the day, when I finally fall into bed, I have to fall asleep quickly because I need to get up early in the morning and start everything all over again.

It’s constant running and constant trying to get the next task completed before they all topple over and overwhelm me. If one runs late or goes off course, it creates a domino effect that is difficult to recover from. In many ways, this current state of affairs is a testimonial for “Be careful what you wish for,” because you might just get it. I’ve worked hard to get here, too, and I’m not where I want to be yet. It’s been a long path, there have been some derails – some the result of my own self-sabotage, some that just happened as a result of life, some because I lost focus. As a result, I made one, and only one, New Year’s resolution this year: This year, before I take on anything new, I must ask myself, “Does this help me achieve my goals? How?” If the answer to the first part of that question is no, then I cannot agree to do it.

Thing is, I only meant to ask that question about writing-related tasks, including school work. I never meant all the have to’s and need to’s take over my life, to be all I did because it’s necessary to stop and recharge periodically. To do things for fun to keep the creativity flowing and the (in)sanity in check. I know this.

Therefore, I’m making myself a promise. Just once, before the end of the month, I’m doing something that I don’t have to do, like take a bubble bath or watch a movie in the theater. I’m going to indulge myself.

I need to.

The Power of Barter

2009-03-11T21:52:00.005-05:00

Puppy Sam has a fondness for things related to feet. Specifically, he likes to chew on house slippers, whatever shoes we wear the most, and any shoes we wear less frequently. That's his order of preference, too. The stronger the foot odor the better, I guess.

This evening, he stopped by for a quick mid-week visit. I wasn't home yet and my mother thought my bedroom door was closed. It wasn't. It was only pulled up. Sam quickly discovered this, snagged one pair of my fuzzy house socks, and made off to the couch with them. That's where my mother discovered him.

We've been using the "my is better than yours" tactic with Sam. This involves getting a squeaky toy or a stick or another shoe or anything and making over it like it's the best thing ever. At which point Sam will come over to try to get it from you, leaving the item you don't want him to have behind or else bring it to you to trade. This is an honest-to-goodness training technique that the professional dog trainers have taught us. And it really works.

Now, Sam has been known to relinquish the house slipper in favor of a squeaky toy, only to try to get the house slipper back again after he has secured the toy. Sam wants all the good things, thank you very much. He's a mite spoiled that way.

Anyway, this evening my mother walks into the living room and sees Sam on the couch, where he's not allowed, with my house socks, which are verboten to him. Before she could do anything, Sam jumps off the couch, both house socks still in his mouth, walks over to the toy basket, drops one sock, grabs a squeaky toy and takes it and the other sock back to the couch. All as if to say, "Look, I know you're going to offer me a squeaky toy in exchange for both socks, but why don't I just give you one sock and take the squeaky toy I want, then we're both happy? Kthnxbai."

Looks like our Sam is going to start driving a hard bargain.

Macaw Mystery Solved

2009-03-10T11:11:00.002-05:00

It would seem that my mother and I are not the only ones who have seen mysterious tropical birds. I hope they're able to lure them to safety and find a home for them, since the local zoo will not take them.

Wake Up Call

2009-03-08T10:48:00.005-05:00

For the past month and a half, I've had Sam on Fridays -- Sam is a shared dog; there are two households and three people who have joint custody of him; I'll explain more about that later. This past Friday, I wasn't certain if I was going to have him or not. I was also operating on a sleep deficit. Since it was the first Friday of my mother's retirement and I knew she'd be awake to take custody of Sam should he arrive, I told her that I was not setting my alarm clock, that if Sam showed up, to wake me before she left for her doctor's appointment, otherwise, I was sleeping. This arrangement worked for her.

A little after 6:00, she poked her head into my room and said, "I'm sorry to wake you," in the background, I could tell there was definitely no Sam in the house yet, though it wasn't quite time for him to be dropped off, plus it was far too early for her to leave for her doctor's appointment, "but there are two big blue parrots on the roof."

I dutifully dragged myself out of bed, all the while my mother was twaddling about these huge parrots and they were blue and on the roof and she had to wake someone because someone else had to see them. In between her commentary I'm saying things like, "You're describing giant blue macaws," and "They're tropical birds." All the while I'm thinking, They can't be inflatable birds. We live in Illinois. It's March. Things blow into the yard all the time. She wouldn't be excited if they were inflatable birds. They have to be real.

Meanwhile, I'm dutifully walking down the hallway, out the back door, and around the house with her following me, talking about how she'd seen something hanging off the roof and she hadn't been able to figure out what it was and when she'd gotten around front to get her newspaper she realized it was tail feathers and there were two giant blue parrots on the roof. As we're walking along the house I'm barefoot, I've bypassed the bathroom in order to see these blue parrots, and I keep saying things like, "Hush. You'll startle them. Mother, hush." As we neared the corner of the house, I gave up saying hush. I'm still thinking things like, They can't be inflatable. This is Illinois. It's March. They're tropical birds. They'll never survive out here. Despite the fact that it was warm enough for me to walk around the house barefoot at six in the morning, it was only 60-degrees out. Warm for a midwesterner just emerging from winter, but absolutely frigid for a tropical parrot, no matter how big and how blue.

As I reached the corner of the house, there was a rush of wings. I stepped around front just in time to see two giant blue macaws with their blue wings and tail feathers and yellow breasts winging their way to the southeast. I was heartsick. They had to be someone's pets. Possibly a breeding pair. They would never survive the Illinois spring.

My mother called the local police department to see if anyone had reported them missing. I can only assume that they had been acquired legally and escaped through an unexpectedly open door. Who knows how far they'd already flown, though.

They were beautiful. I hope they survive.

Welcome Back (I hope)

2009-03-07T23:06:00.004-06:00

First, I'd like to apologize for all the non-personal posts on The Commune the last few months. I never intended them to become the full content of this blog. They were just things that had interested me that I thought I'd post in between posts. Only the other posts, the "real" posts, never happened. I am very, very sorry about that. It won't happen again. Please forgive me?

Part of the reason the "real" posts never happened is there's been quite a bit going on in my life. I can hear you say, "Why didn't you blog about that?" Simple, in addition to the ever-present lack of time thing, there are some things I won't blog about because there are some things it's just not a good idea to blog about. For example, I'll never complain about my mother on this blog. Even when she's driving me 100% crazy and I'm venting to everyone who'll listen, I will not put those thoughts down here. The reason? Even when my mother is driving me 100% batshit crazy and I'm venting to everyone who'll listen, I never want her to read those thoughts because I don't really mean them. Sometimes, the things we complain about aren't the real issue; sometimes, we just need to vent to our friends when we're tired or crabby or frustrated. That does not mean those things should be put out for the public to read, or for the people I love to find.

I will also not blog about third-party work. Many of you know that this past fall I took a part-time job. Since at least my second day, I realized that the individual I reported to directly was not going to be employed as my boss forever. She was on the short list to be terminated. Friday, that event finally happened. My thoughts about the moments in between that realization and the final act did not need to be captured in a searchable format. My now former boss was a nice lady. She was passionate and knowledgeable about the industry and she cared about her employees very much. She also was not management material.

There are some battles that need to be fought; I do my best to fight them. There is also a power to words and with power comes responsibility. I'll glady own any words I write here, but some things do not need to be said publicly. Some things do not belong on a blog. Much of what has been going on in my life the last couple of months falls under that category. It is nothing that I mind sharing, but it's also nothing that needs to be searchable on the internet.

What is new then? What have I been up to?

Well, the female parental retired this week. We're still striving for a new balance around the house. I'm also looking for balance between the part-time job, the writing life, and the academic role. Some days, I despair that the thesis will ever be finished. In January, my advisor had me pretty much scrap everything I'd written up to that point. It's to be expected. It'll happen a couple more times between now and the time I really do finish. (I will finish the thesis. I will finish the thesis. I will finish the thesis.)

I've had to miss more aikido the last couple of months than I care to as I work to stay on top of everything. I discovered the same thing I discover every time I miss too much aikido: I'm a better person who is able to do more if I take the time to go to the dojo, even when I don't have time to do so. Sometimes, I need reminded of that.

In January, I took Trunk Novels down. There was only so much I could do and I am not currently able to give Trunk Novels the time and attention it deserves. It may return later. I was very moved by the out-pouring of support I received when I took it down, the people who felt it was an important thing. For those of you missing it, check out Kristine's recently started Midnight Reading. Lots of good stories there. As for me, I've taken on more freelance editing work, mostly from Aspen Mountain Presss.

In other news, there's a new fella in my life. His name is Sam. He currently stands right about knee height on me and has four legs and a tail. That's him in the picture at the top of this blog. The picture was taken about a week ago. It shows Sam trying to figure out what a frisbee is for. He doesn't quite get it yet.

As of this writing, Sam is nearly 21 weeks old and weighs 30-pounds. He's half English Shepherd and half Australian Heeler, both of which are very intelligent herding breeds. He's been a handful. I love him. We have great fun together.

I've also joined Twitter. I did it just because everyone else was. Poor reason, I know. Also, I've been fascinated by HotAmishChick and her pony. They're funny. One thing I'm quickly realizing about Twitter is it's going to be a great place for me to put all those random thoughts that fill my head based on connections no one else sees. It'll probably provide everyone far more insight into my psyche than anyone will be comfortable with.

I continue to search for balance, even as I fall asleep over the keyboard. I hope you will all enjoy the new, more relaxed Commune as we continue to move forward.

Welcome back.

Quote

2009-03-03T00:05:00.000-06:00

A classic is classic not because it conforms to certain structural rules, or fits certain definitions (of which its author had quite probably never heard). It is classic because of a certain eternal and irrepressible freshness.

~Edith Wharton

Let's Go to Market!

2009-02-28T00:05:00.002-06:00

Dog Oil Press
Dog Oil Press only publishes humor. Please do not send anything that's not funny.
Please do not send attachments.
All submissions must be 981 words or less.

Payment: $10 flat rate

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Radish
Radish is a monthly magazine dedicated to improving our readers' health through the natural foods, products and services of western Illinois and eastern Iowa. Editorial content is geared to reflect lifestyle choices that lead to self-renewal and renewal of resources and includes information, news and advice on diet, cooking, health and fitness, local farmers and farmers' markets. Radish is distributed free at farmers' markets, food stores, fitness clubs, libraries and health-care facilities.

Payment: $25-$150

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Bay Nature
Bay Nature is a quarterly magazine dedicated to the intelligent and joyful exploration of the natural places, plants, and wildlife of the San Francisco Bay Area. It contains writing, photography, art, and cartography about the natural history of the land and waters of the nine counties ringing the Bay, as well as significant nearby areas(such as the Delta and Monterey Bay). We are a nonprofit enterprise, sponsored by the Bay Nature Institute in Berkeley, California.

Neither scientific journal nor travel guide, Bay Nature's aim is to foster a deeper connection between the Bay Area’s residents and our surrounding landscapes. We do this by examining local nature from a variety of angles and in a wide range of voices, in a manner that is both accessible and intelligent, serious and playful. We see Bay Nature as a forum that brings together the local environmental, literary, artistic,and political communities, and serves the shared goal of conserving and restoring our natural heritage.

Payment: Varies

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Everyday Weirdness
Welcome to Everyday Weirdness, a daily source for tidbits of weird...

Everyday Weirdness collects weird works—prose & poetry, artwork & illustration, and a variety of other media—and strives to publish them 7 days a week for your enjoyment.

Payment: $5.42 flat rate

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Noctober
At Noctober, we are seeking brilliant, unsettling, dark speculative fiction; think Harlan Ellison’s “Jeffty is Five” or Kelly Link’s “Stone Animals.”

Contemporary fantasy is probably your best bet, but we will not turn away high-quality slipstream, high fantasy, or science fiction. We welcome retellings of old tales as well new myths presented in time-honored styles. We are also open to non-fiction, but unfortunately must refuse poetry. Gratuitous sex, violence, or language will count heavily against you.

Payment: $5.00 flat rate

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Beowulf

2009-02-24T00:05:00.000-06:00

PRELUDE

LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings
of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!
Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,
from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,
awing the earls. Since erst he lay
friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:
for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,
till before him the folk, both far and near,
who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,
gave him gifts: a good king he!
To him an heir was afterward born,
a son in his halls, whom heaven sent
to favor the folk, feeling their woe
that erst they had lacked an earl for leader
so long a while; the Lord endowed him,
the Wielder of Wonder, with world's renown.
Famed was this Beowulf: far flew the boast of him,
son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands.
So becomes it a youth to quit him well
with his father's friends, by fee and gift,
that to aid him, aged, in after days,
come warriors willing, should war draw nigh,
liegemen loyal: by lauded deeds
shall an earl have honor in every clan.
Forth he fared at the fated moment,
sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God.
Then they bore him over to ocean's billow,
loving clansmen, as late he charged them,
while wielded words the winsome Scyld,
the leader beloved who long had ruled....
In the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel,
ice-flecked, outbound, atheling's barge:
there laid they down their darling lord
on the breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings,
by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasure
fetched from far was freighted with him.
No ship have I known so nobly dight
with weapons of war and weeds of battle,
with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay
a heaped hoard that hence should go
far o'er the flood with him floating away.
No less these loaded the lordly gifts,
thanes' huge treasure, than those had done
who in former time forth had sent him
sole on the seas, a suckling child.
High o'er his head they hoist the standard,
a gold-wove banner; let billows take him,
gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits,
mournful their mood. No man is able
to say in sooth, no son of the halls,
no hero 'neath heaven, -- who harbored that freight!

Let's Go to Market!

2009-02-21T00:05:00.002-06:00

Russian Life
Most RL features are written by experienced and talented freelance journalists and writers. RL covers Russian culture, travel, history, cities, towns, politics, art, geography, issues, business and society. RL often focuses on current issues and events facing Russia and Russians. But it is not a newsmagazine. The majority of RL content is feature articles, many of which are tied into a round (5/10/25-year multiple) anniversary or other seasonal "hook."

Payment: $100-$300 prose; $20-$40 per photo

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Relish
Welcome to Relish, where we celebrate America’s love of food. The best things in life happen around the table, and we want to be part of yours. From Wisconsin's cheesemakers to New Mexico’s chile pepper farmers, we’ll showcase the folks who make our food great. Along the way, we’ll advise you on the best cooking gadgets and cookbooks, serve up nutrition tips and help you get dinner on the table fast. We’ll even pick the wine. Our first bit of advice? Relish life—eat dessert first.

Payment: Varies for prose

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Range
Range magazine is an award-winning quarterly devoted to the issues that threaten the West, its people, lifestyles, lands, and wildlife. Known for its powerful photos and straight talk, Range portrays "The Cowboy Spirit on Americaís Outback." It exposes a land in crisis and shows how daily challenges are being met with grit, determination and humor. No stranger to controversy, Range is the leading forum for opposing viewpoints in the search for solutions that will halt the depletion of a national resource-the American cowboy.

Payment: $50-$400 prose

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Funny Times
The Funny Times is a monthly forum for humor - funny jokes, political cartoons, news and columns - in a world totally insane. No matter what has you down:

The War on Terror

HMO Waiting Rooms or

Family Stress

...our cartoonists and columnists will fill you with inspiration instead of despair. We read thousands of the funniest cartoons in order to find and collect the Best of the Best each month in our tabloid newspaper.

Payment: $60 prose; $20-$40 cartoons

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Flashquake
flashquake is an independent, quarterly, web-based publication that focuses on works of flash fiction, flash nonfiction (memoirs, essays, creative nonfiction, humor) and short poetry.

Payment: $5-$25 prose and poetry

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Opening Lines

2009-02-17T00:05:00.002-06:00

. . . So as long as she's here, everything's still all right: I can go over and look at her any time; but tomorrow they'll be taking her away and how on earth will I manage on my own? At the moment she's in the room on a table, two card-tables put together, but tomorrow the coffin arrives, white, white gros de Naples, still, where was I . . .

A Gentle Creature by Fyodor Dostoevsky, translated by Alan Myers

Let's Go to Market!

2009-02-14T00:05:00.002-06:00

Aquarium Fish International
Aquarium Fish International (AFI), started in 1988, is the leading aquarium magazine with the largest tropical fish enthusiast readership in the world.

Payment: Up to $400 prose; $25-200 per photograph

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Verbatim
Verbatim is published for popular consumption. That does not mean that it does not publish articles on language that are scholarly, merely that it is not designed to appeal primarily to academicians (though many subscribe). Verbatim publishes original articles dealing with any aspect of language.

Payment: $25-$500 prose

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Mysteries Magazine
We accept unsolicited manuscripts related to historical/ancient mysteries, the paranormal, conspiracies, unusual archaeological finds, lost treasure, UFOs, bizarre scientific breakthroughs, or the occult. Before pursuing any topic, please query first at editor@mysteriesmagazine.com.

Payment: $.05/word prose; $5.00 per photo/illustration

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Birder's World
Birder’s World is a bimonthly magazine for people with a broad interest in wild birds and
birdwatching. Our readers are intellectually curious and well educated. They own many field
guides and other books about birds, and they read widely.

To satisfy them, we strive to publish articles that enhance their enjoyment of the hobby and
make them better birders — that is, we look for photos that make our readers say, “Wow!”
and information that they can use to find birds, attract birds, identify birds, and understand
how and why birds do what they do.

Payment: Up to $450 prose

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Ephemera
Since 1980, Ephemera has been producing Novelty Buttons, Magnets, and Stickers. You'll find our stuff in many cutting edge card & gift shops, bookstores, music stores, gay & left wing shops, porno stores, etc. We’re looking for satirical slogans about pop culture, politics & the president, job attitudes, women's & men’s issues, coffee, booze, pot, drugs, religion, food, aging, teens, gays & lesbians, sexual come-ons & put-downs. But please don't limit yourself to these topics, surprise us!

Payment: $50 per slogan

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Untitled

2009-02-10T00:05:00.001-06:00

Lucky bridegroom,
the marriage you have prayed for has come to pass
and the bride you dreamed of is yours. . .

Beautiful bride,
to look at you gives joy; your eyes are like honey,
love flows over your gentle face. . .

Aphrodite
has honoured you above all others

~Sappho, translated by Josephine Balmer

Let's Go to Market!

2009-02-07T00:05:00.001-06:00

Eating Well
EatingWell is the only national food magazine that focuses exclusively on eating healthfully (our motto: “Where Good Taste Meets Good Health”). We are the preeminent magazine resource for people who want to enjoy food that is delicious and good for them.

Our readers are interested not only in cooking and nutrition science, but also in the origins of food and social issues related to food networks. They appreciate eating culture and traditions. They are well-read and discriminating—yet they don’t take themselves too seriously.

EatingWell’s “voice” is journalistic and authoritative; it speaks to both men and women. We cover nutrition with a newsy, science-based approach. Our recipes emphasize high-quality healthful ingredients, simple preparations and full flavor.

Payment: Up to $1.00/word prose

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Back to College
Back to College® is a news and information resource for adult re-entry students pursuing professional development or an advanced degree.

Feature articles must address issues that are of importance to the older student: obtaining financial aid, distance education, finding the right program (comparing costs and quality of curriculum), graduate school, or attaining academic excellence (study skills and success strategies). Career management and articles on successful transition are appreciated. We are especially looking for stories on the re-entry student experience. Articles may be anecdotal, or include examples and resources where readers can obtain more information. Web resources cited are desirable for an online publication. Make sure your article idea has not already been addressed on the Web site. (See Feature article section for examples.)

Payment: $65-$85 prose

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Banned Magazine
Seeking well-written stories about censorship, government secrecy and privacy. Issue stories that explore a global trend have a better chance of being accepted than stories that focus on a single event in one country or region. That doesn't mean all accepted stories must have world-wide implications - a well written profile of a local free-speech crusader or strict censor would have a great chance of running, too. First-person accounts of censorship by professional journalists will also be considered.

Stories with photos and or video receive priority. Please look around this web site to get a feel for content.

Payment: $50 flat rate prose; $50 per photograph

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Toastmaster Magazine
Our readers are knowledgeable and experienced public speakers; therefore we accept only authentic, well-researched and well-crafted stories. Show, don’t tell! Use sources, quotes from experts and other research to back up your views. The best articles have style, depth, emotional impact and take-away value to the reader. A potential feature article needs an unusual hook, compelling story or unique angle. Profiles of colorful, controversial, historically significant, amusing, unusual or unique people are welcome, but keep in mind that our readers live in 92 different countries, so stay away from profiles of American presidents or sports figures.

Payment: Varies

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Homestead.org
Homestead.org is looking for writers to produce manuscripts of 2,000 to 3,000 words each for which we will pay $100 per manuscript.

If you're interested and think you can produce timely, interesting material, please send us a letter proposing three homestead-related articles any of which you could produce within two weeks after approval.

Payment: $100 flat rate prose

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Quote

2009-02-03T00:05:00.001-06:00

Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.

~Cyril Connolly

Let's Go to Market!

2009-01-31T00:05:00.001-06:00

Ballinger Publishing

We accept submissions for Pensacola Magazine, Northwest Florida’s Business Climate, and Coming of Age. Please query by topic via email to Kelly@ballingerpublishing.com. If you do not have a specific query topic, please send a resume and three clips via email and you will be given story assignments if your writing style is acceptable. You do not have to be locally- or regionally-located to write for us.

Payment: $.10-$.15/word prose; $7.00/photo

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Conscious Choice

Conscious Choice examines developments in alternative health care, nutrition, ecology, the environment, green businesses and sustainable development, urban planning, spirituality, personal growth, social justice, progressive politics, and renewable energy, among the many topics we have covered in our many years. The articles we publish are intended to help our readers build active, balanced, and conscious lives.

We prefer thoughtful, well-researched articles with an informed and upbeat tone. We favor a narrative approach in which “story-telling” is emphasized. We welcome investigative reports, personal interviews, and essays with a philosophical bent.

Payment: $50-$600 prose (50% kill fee)

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Renaissance Magazine
Renaissance Magazine accepts unsolicited queries and manuscripts related to the Renaissance and late Middle Periods, including but not limited to: historical articles, martial arts, travel, interviews with artisans, articles on the SCA and related re-enactment groups, and the Renaissance Faire experience. Authors are strongly advised to query the editor to ensure that your proposed topic is appropriate and has not been reserved for another writer.

Average feature article is approx. 2,000 words in length although longer work may be considered. Sidebar information is also encouraged, as well as high-resolution graphics, including copyright-free logos, illustrations, and photographs. Renaissance Magazine takes North American serial rights on all work accepted. Those interested in writing for Renaissance Magazine on a regular basis as a staff columnist must query first, and include a brief bio/resume and sample article. If accepted, a writing contract will be required and the writer will be expected to contribute articles/columns on a regular basis.

Payment: $.10/word prose; $7.50 per image (photo or illustration)

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Plenty
Plenty covers a broad range of lifestyle topics, from food, travel, and fashion to technology, business, and culture. We’re looking for creative, well-researched ideas that put a positive spin on protecting the environment. You can pitch us about any subject you’d like, but please do your homework and flesh out a few details about your proposed topic. Vague pitches like "I'd like to do a feature about hybrid cars" will not be taken seriously.

The front-of-book columns ("Forward") are more news-oriented, while back-of-book departments ("Choices") address lifestyle topics like fashion, food, and homes.

Pay: $1.00/word print prose; $150 flat rate electronic prose

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The Smart Set
The Smart Set is an online magazine covering culture and ideas, arts and science, global and national affairs — everything from literature to shopping, medicine to sports, philosophy to food. The Smart Set strives to present big ideas on the small, the not-so-small, and the everyday.

The Smart Set updates daily, Monday through Friday, with a mix of columns and features — high quality writing and photography presented in a broad range of genres including reportage, personal and critical essays, travel writing, memoirs, and stories. The Smart Set is an independent magazine, generously supported by Drexel University.

The Smart Set is published for people who enjoy reading, and enjoy thinking about what they read. The Smart Set feels that what unites its readers is their intellectual curiosity, and this cuts across age, gender, income, and education level.

Payment: Negotiable

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Gulliver's Travels (an excerpt)

2009-01-27T00:05:00.001-06:00

Part 1. A Voyage to Lilliput

Chapter 1. The author gives some account of himself and family; his first inducements to the travel. He is shipwrecked, and swims for his life; gets safe on shore in the country of Lilliput; is made a prisoner, and carried up the country.

My father had a small estate in Nottinghamshire; I was the third of five sons. He sent me to Emanuel College in Cambridge, at fourteen years old, where I resided three years, and applied myself close to my studies: but the charge of maintaining me (although I had a very scanty allowance) being too great for a narrow fortune, I was bound apprentice to Mr. James Bates, an eminent surgeon in London, with whom I continued four years; and my father now and then sending me small sums of money, I laid them out in learning navigation, and other parts of the mathematics, useful to those who intend to travel, as I always believed it would be some time or other my fortune to do. When I left Mr. Bates, I went down to my father; where, by assistance of him and my uncle John, and some other relations, I got forty pounds, and a promise of thirty pounds a year to maintain meat Leyden: there I studied physic for two years and seven months, konwing it would be used in long voyages.

Soon after my return from Leyden, I was recommended by my goodmaster Mr. Bates, to be surgeon to the Swallow, Captain Abraham Panwell commander; with whom I continued three years and a half, making a voyage or two into the Levant and some other parts. When I came back, I resolved to settle in London, to which Mr. Bates, my master, encouraged me; and by him I was recommended to several patients. I took part of a small house in the Old Jury; and being advised to alter my condition, I married Mrs. Mary Burton, second daughter to Mr. Edmond Burton, hosier, in Newgate Street, with whom I received four hundred pounds for a portion.

But, my good master Bates dying in two years after, and I having few friends, my business began to fail; for my conscience would not suffer me to imitate the bad practice of too many among my brethren. Having therefore consulted with my wife, and some of my acquaintance, I determined to go again to sea. I was surgeon successively in two ships, and made several voyages, for six years, to the East and West Indies; by which I got some addition to my fortune. My hours of leisure I spent in reading the best authors, anicent and modern, being always provided with a good number of books; and when I was ashore, in observing the manners and disposition of the people, as well as learning their language; wherein I had a great facility by the strength of my memory.

The last of these voyages not proving very fortunate, I grew weary of the sea, and intended to stay at home with my wife and family. I removed from the Old Jury to Fetter Lane, and from thence to Wapping, hoping to get business among the sailors; but it would not turn to account. After three years' expectation that things would mend, I accepted an advantageous offer from Captain William Prichard, master of the Antelope, who was making a voyage to the South Sea. We set sail from Bristol, May 4th, 1699, and our voyage at first was very prosperous.

It would not be proper, for some reasons, to trouble the reader with the particulars of our adventures in those seas: let it suffice to inform him, that in our passage from thence to the East Indies we were driven by a violent storm to the northwest of Van Diemen's Land. By an observation, we foundourselves in the latitude of 30 degrees 2 minutes south.Twelve of our crew were dead by immoderate labor, and ill food, the rest were in a very weak condition. On the fifth of November, which was the beginning of summer in those parts, the weather being very hazy, the seamen spied a rock, within half a cable's length of the ship; but the wind was so strong, that we were driven directly upon it, and immediately split. Six of the crew, of whom I was one, having let down the boat into the sea, made a shift to get clear of theship, and the rock. We rowed by my computation about three leagues, till we were able to work no longer, being already spent with labor while we were in the ship. We therefore trusted ourselves to the mercy of the waves; and in about half an hour the boat was overset by a sudden flurry from the north. What becaome of my companions inthe boat, as well as of those who escaped on the rock, or were left in the vessel, I cannot tell; but conclude they were all lsot. For my own part, I swam as fortune directed me, and was pushed forward by wind and tide. I often let my legs drop, and could feel no bottom; but when I was almost gone, and able to struggle no longer, I found myself within my depth; and by this time the storm was much abated. The declivity was so small, that I walked near a mile before I got to the shore, which I conjectured was about eight o'clock in the evening. I then advanced forward near half a mile, but could not discover any sign of houses or inhabitants; at least I was in so weak a condition, that I did not observe them. I was extremely tired, and with that, and the heat of the weather, and about half a pint of brandy that I drank as I left the ship, I found myself much inclined to sleep. I lay down on the grass, which was very short and soft, where I slept sounder than ever I remember to have done in my life, and as I reckoned, above nine hours; for when I awaked, it was just daylight. I attempted to rise, but was not able to stir: for as I happened to lie on my back, I found my arms and legs were strongly fastened on each side to the ground; and my hair, which was long and thick, tied down in the same manner. I likewise felt several slender ligatures across my body, from my armpits to my thighs. I could only look upwards; the sun began to grow hot, and the light offended my eyes. I heard a confused noise about me, but in the posture I lay, could see nothing except the sky. In a little time I felt something alive moving on my left leg, which advancing gently forward over my breast, came almost up to my chin; when bending my eyes downwards as much as I could, I perceived it to be a human creature not six inches high, with a bow and arrow in his hands, and a quiver at his back.

~Jonathan Swift

Opening Lines

2009-01-20T00:05:00.002-06:00

The whistles always woke Mazie. They pierced into her sleep like some guttural-voiced metal beast, tearing at her; breathing a terror. During the day if the whistle blew, she knew it meant death--somebody's poppa or brother, perhaps her own--in that fearsome place below the ground, the mine.

Yonnondio: From the Thirties by Tillie Olsen

AW is up

2009-01-18T10:34:00.002-06:00

AW is up again.

ETA (1145, 18JAN09): Or not.

More on AW

2009-01-17T13:08:00.003-06:00

Report is that the refugee camp is now open. AW addicts may get their fix there.

I know I haven't sent out e-mails, but I'm pretty certain my e-mail list is mostly out-of-date. I need to get it updated and will do so as soon as we get back. However, blogs -- presuming you read and follow them -- are also a great way to spread the word and reach more people.

Last report I had, direct from Medievalist, is that it appears to be a problem with the ISP. The techies are continuing to work diligently on getting AW back up.

Be calm. Be safe. This is only temporary and merely "one of those things" that sometimes happen with technology.

ETA (approxim 2:15PM Central 17JAN09): Message from Mac -

Yep. AW is down, right now. The tech line has a minimum 4 hour wait, the last time we tried to call, or sometimes it's just busy. The story seems to be that they're having problems with at least one major switch being down BUT there have also been repeated brown-outs in the city where the server is located.

We're working on it, as much as we actually can. But most of this is out of our hands.

AW Status

2009-01-16T21:28:00.002-06:00

The techies are working on it. Now, go write, the lot of you.

Eighteen Sixty-One

2009-01-13T00:05:00.002-06:00

Arm’d year—year of the struggle,

No dainty rhymes or sentimental love verses for you,

terrible year,

Not you as some pale poetling seated at a desk

lisping cadenzas piano,

But as a strong man erect, clothed in blue clothes,

advancing carrying a rifle on your shoulder,

With well-gristled body and sunburnt face and hands,

with a knife in the belt at your side,

As I heard you shouting loud, your sonorous voice

ringing across the continent,

Your masculine voice, O year, as rising amid

the great cities,

Amid the men of Manhattan I saw you as one

of the workmen, the dwellers in Manhattan,

Or with large steps crossing the prairies out

of Illinois and Indiana,

Rapidly crossing the West with springy gait

and descending the Alleghanies,

Or down from the great lakes or in Pennsylvania,

or on deck along the Ohio river,

Or southward along the Tennessee or Cumberland rivers,

or at Chattanooga on the mountain top,

Saw I your gain and saw I your sinewy limbs

clothed in blue, bearing weapons, robust year,

Heard your determin’d voice launch’d forth

again and again,

Year that suddenly sang by the mouths of the

round-lipp’d cannon,

I repeat you, hurrying, crashing, sad, distracted

year.

~Walt Whitman

Job Description

2009-01-12T23:54:00.002-06:00

You might find this interesting:

Bureau of Labor Statistics, Occupational Outlook Handbook, 2008-09 Edition, Writers and Editors

Illinois Politics: The End of Business as Usual?

2009-01-11T00:05:00.000-06:00

The Illinois House voted to impeach Governor Rod Blagojevich on Friday.

For those of you who do not know, I live in Illinois. My mailing address, and my current part-time job, are in Springfield, the state capital, so all of this drama currently coming out of the 21^st state is very local news for me.

I find much of it funny in an absurd rather than humorous sense of the word, which is not a good way to feel about one’s government because that’s just a step removed from rebellion. When one is revolted about one’s government, revolutions will and do happen. It’s one thing to make jokes about the people in office. It’s quite another to feel that the government itself is a joke. In Illinois, we’re pretty much at the latter point.

I, personally, reached that point when Roland Burris showed up at the US Congress and was turned away because his credentials weren’t in order and then threatened to sue over that fact. He threatened to sue Illinois Secretary of State White for refusing to sign the documents supporting his appointment as an Illinois Senator to the US Congress and he threatened to sue the US Congress for failing to seat him. And then… and THEN his supporters played the race card.

What did Mr. Burris expect? First, one should not be able to sue another public servant for performing their duties according to their conscience and the will of the people they were elected to do. The Illinois people, the man on the street, the old men gathered together in gas stations, co-workers talking at the water cooler, friends and families conversing over lunch and dinner, have made it abundantly clear: We do not trust anyone appointed by Governor Blagojevich to represent us in the US Senate. By refusing to sign the paperwork supporting Burris’ appointment, Secretary of State White was acting according to our will.

Second, this is not a matter of race. This is about politics, pure and simple. While it is true that Roland Burris would be the only African American senator if he is seated, just as President-elect Obama was, that does not make his rejection a racial issue. The average Illinois person said, long before Burris’ appointment, that they could not imagine anyone accepting an appointment from Blagojevich at this point, just because of the suspicion that would go along with such an action. The average Illinois citizen also expected Blagojevich to pull something like this and to find someone to go along with it. Burris has chosen his path and it is the path the voters trust least. That has nothing to do with race; it has everything to do with politics and those the politicians are supposedly elected to serve.

Keep in mind that Burris has been involved in Illinois politics since the 1970’s. He is known to the state’s citizens as a public official in his own right. He has also long desired a position with more authority than the ones to which he was elected. In the 1980’s, he campaigned for the Democratic nomination for the US Senate then and lost to the bowtied Paul Simon, who went on to win the election and become a very recognized figure within and without Illinois. Later, Burris campaigned to be the Democrat’s candidate for the Illinois Governor, not once but twice. He has also played the race card multiple times as part of his political strategy, regardless of whether or not it was a appropriate.

In between his vying for a chance to be elected to the US senate and the Illinois gubernatorial office, Burris has not been without controversy. In the 1980’s and 1990’s, when he was Attorney General, Burris was accused of ignoring evidence in the Rolando Cruz case, in which Cruz and a co-defendant were convicted and sentenced to death for the kidnapping, rape, and murder of a 10-year old child. A heinous crime, yes, but the assistant attorney general assigned to fight the appeal uncovered several inconsistencies in the evidence to the point where she felt she was being asked to convict an innocent man. When Burris ignored her concerns, she resigned in protest. DNA evidence later exonerated Cruz and his co-defendant. The Cruz case was one of the reasons that a moratorium was declared on executions in the State of Illinois because the system was “fraught with error.”

Also in the 1990’s, Roland Burris, who has advocated for a national handgun ban, organized Chicago’s first Gun Turn-in Day. Only problem was he “forgot” to turn in his own handgun. You know the old saying, when guns are illegal, only criminals will have guns. Illinois politics, with its “business as usual,” under the table, tit-for-tat mentally, is a good argument for keeping and supporting the Second Amendment. Our state leaders are not to be trusted.

Because of this, because the Illinois population is not as stupid or naïve as our leaders might believe, we do not truly believe Blagojevich when he says that he is innocent – although many of us do think there is probably something to his assertion that those who wield the power behind-the-office choose whose skeletons are revealed and whose are not – Illinois politicians are well-known for their connections with organized crime after all – nor do we truly believe Burris when he swears that he did not offer any legal, personal, or professional considerations to gain the Senate seat. And that is why, regardless of whether or not the Senate seats Burris now, we are very unlikely to elect him the next time his seat is up for the vote.

Roland Burris days in the US Senate will be short, just like Blagojevich’s days remaining as the Illinois governor are.

Quote

2009-01-06T00:05:00.001-06:00

Unprovided with original learning, unformed in the habits of thinking, unskilled in the arts of composition, I resolved to write a book.

~Edward Gibbon

Troilus and Cressida (excerpt)

2008-12-23T00:05:00.000-06:00

[THE PROLOGUE]

[Enter Speaker of the Prologue, in armour.]

PROLOGUE:
In Troy there lies the scene. From isles of Greece
The princes orgulous, their high blood chafed,
Have to the port of Athens sent their ships
Fraught with the ministers and instruments
Of cruel war. Sixty and nine, that wore
Their crownets regal, from th'Athenian bay
Put forth toward Phrygia, and their vow is made
To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures
The ravished Helen, Menelaus' queen,
With wanton Paris sleeps, and that's the quarrel.
To Tenedos they come,
And the deep-drawing barks do their disgorge
Their warlike freightage. Now on Dardan plains
The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch
Their brave pavilions. Priam's six-gated city --
Dardan and Timbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien
And Antenorides -- with massy staples
And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,
Spar up the sons of Troy.
Now expectations, tickling skittish spirits
On one and otherside, Trojan and Greek,
Sets all on hazard. And hither am I come,
A Prologue armed, but not in confidence
Of author's pen or actor's voice, but suited
In like conditions as our argument,
To tell you, fair beholders, that our play
Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils,
Beginning in the middle, starting thence away
To what may be digested in a play.
Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are,
Now good or bad, 'tis but the chance of war. [Exit]

~Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, Prologue, 1-31

Opening Lines

2008-12-16T00:05:00.002-06:00

A throng of bearded men, in sad-colored garments and gray, steeple-crowned hats, intermixed with women, some wearing hoods, and others bareheaded, was assembled in front of a wooden edifice, the door of which was heavily timbered with oak, and studded with iron spikes.

The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne

Simple Gifts

2008-12-09T00:05:00.002-06:00

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,
'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gain'd,
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,
To turn, turn will be our delight
'Till by turning, turning we come round right.

~Anonymous

Seeing More Clearly

2008-12-05T15:21:00.002-06:00

The helping hand of the government has a way of grinding people down when it’s supposed to be lending comfort and aid to those in need when it should be building them up.

I’ve recently gotten glasses for, we’ll say, the first time. There was a brief stint with glasses my freshman year in high school but the prescription did nothing for me and they were laid aside and forgotten amidst the developing teenage years, so these are the first pair of note. It was amazing how crisp the world has become since I’ve gotten them. I didn’t realize how rough around the edges it had become until the glasses refined it for me.

Things have not been entirely smooth with my prescription, though. Not only was the optometrist a wee bit egotistical, the first pair of frames I purchased were not me. I was tired, didn’t have much help picking them out, missed some details that were decidedly not what I wanted, and I did not fully comprehend that these would be things I would wear all the time. So, I exchanged them for something less flashy and more down-to-earth. You can read that as boring if you’d like. At least they’ll blend with the rest of my wardrobe.

I’m still haven’t gotten the replacement pair adjusted to the point where I don’t notice them when I’m wearing them. They have a tendency to slide down the nose. This becomes more pronounced as the day progresses, but they’re getting there. I also noticed, the first night that I had them, that the lenses, which I’d paid to have polished to reduce the glare, had definitely not been polished.

Last night I stopped by the optometrist to find out how to get this corrected and have them adjust the glasses a little more. While I was there, talking to the staff – who have been most helpful and courteous, I should point out – a woman came in with her young son following. She was a bit breathless and harried. I gathered she had not been having a good day. The son was being safely quiet. Children do have the most remarkable survival instincts.

She told another employee that she was late for her appointment and was hoping she could still be seen. Unfortunately, she was late to the point where they’d released her spot and given it to a walk-in instead. It was also the end of the day and the doctor was preparing to leave after finishing with the current patient. The employee went to check. The woman, son in her wake, followed.

She re-emerged a few minutes later frantically digging through her purse. Apparently, she was on public aid and was unable to find her card. Without it, the doctor absolutely refused to see her. Through the tears that started to fall, she said, “It’s horrible the way they treat people with cards.”

I don’t know if it was the same doctor I’d seen or not. If it was, I could have told her that his attitude had nothing to do with the fact that she was on public aid. That he was just an egotistical ass. I should have.

She and her son were both clean and their clothes in good repair. The son’s looked new. You would not have been able to pick him out as being from a family on public assistance if you threw him onto a playground with a horde of other children. Her clothes had been too many washings and were more faded than you normally saw in public. One sensed that she was a bit faded, too. In her stance, in her posture, you could see that she was used to being denied. Her shoulders were hunched. She looked at people, but not in the straight-on way someone who is used to being treated with respect does. She expected to be overlooked, treated rudely, turned down. She wanted the same type of service that I received, but she did not expect it.

And yet, despite her tears, despite her reduced energy, you could tell that she was a fighter. Here was a woman who was doing and would do whatever was necessary to survive and see her children through. She might take the indignation that society through at her, but she would not stop being. She would not become as washed out as the clothes she wore.

I wish her well. I hope she makes it. I praise her spirit and her pride. The world needs more people who do not break under adversity.

Quote

2008-12-02T00:05:00.001-06:00

Writing gives you the illusion of control, and then you realize it's just an illusion, that people are going to bring their own stuff into it.

~David Sedaris

Thanksgiving To Do List

2008-11-27T19:30:00.002-06:00

Go out to eat.
Eat too much.
Channel Grandma Nellie.
Make a mess in the kitchen preparing cookie dough for tomorrow.
Invent a new kind of frosting.
Solicit guinea pigs to sample the frosting.

The First Booke of The Faerie Queene (excerpt)

2008-11-25T00:05:00.001-06:00

Contayning The Legende of the Knight of the Red Crosse, or Of Holinesse

1
Lo I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske,
As time her taught, in lowly Shepheards weeds,
Am now enforst a far unfitter taske.
For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds,
And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds;
Whose prayers having slept in silence long,
Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds
To blazon broad emongst her learned throng:
Fierce warres and faithfull loves shall moralize my song.

2
Helpe then, O holy Virgin chiefe of nine,
Thy weaker Novice to performe thy will,
Lay forth out of thing everlasting scryne
The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still,
Of Faerie knights and fairest Tanaquill,
Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long
Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill,
That I must rue his undeserved wrong:
O helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen by dull tong.

3
And thou most deaded impe of highest Jove,
Faire Venus sonne, that with they cruell dart
At that good knight so cunningly didst rove,
That glorious fire it kindled in his hart,
Lay now thy deadly Heben bow apart,
And with thy mother milde come to mine ayde:
Come both, and with you bring triumphant Mart,
In loves and gentle jollities arrayd,
After his murdrous spoiles and bloudy rage allayd.

4
And with them eke, O Goddesse heavenly bright,
Mirrour of grace and Majestie divine.
Great Lady of the greatest Isle, whose light
Like Phoebus lampethroughout the world doth shine,
Shed they faire beames into my feeble eyne,
And raise my thoughts too humble and too vile,
To thinke of that true glorious type of thine,
The argument of mine afflicted stile:
The which to heare, vouchsafe, O dearest dred a-while.

~Edmund Spenser

Let's Go to Market!

2008-11-22T00:05:00.002-06:00

Falling Star Magazine
Stay on topic. Less is more. We’re looking for narrative works that introduce us to characters amidst experiences who have something to hide, are running from something and living with the angst and weight of the secret. If your character is an introvert, what made them that way? No science fiction, gore, horror or Hallmark movie-of-the-month stories, please. And please, no submissions off subject with a main protagonist who just happens to listen to the Beatles song.

Guidelines

Pay: $.02 per word prose; $20 flat rate poetry

Neon
Neon is an alternative journal of poetry and prose, delivering a quarterly dose of imaginative, highly stylised literature. We intend to bring our readers something brighter and more meaningful than what can be found in the insipid world of mainstream poetry. Neon is modern, uncompromising and strange.

We are concerned with themes of isolation, post-modernism, technology, dislocation, apathy, the apocalypse, memory, Kirk Cameron and urban decay.

Guidelines

Pay: £5 flat rate

Silver Blade
Silver Blade is a quarterly journal of classic fantasy. Our mission? Inspiring people to dream of faraway places; swords and sorcery; triumph over evil; dragons and elves -- worlds where nothing follows the rules and everything fires the imagination....

Guidelines

Pay: $5 flat rate

THEMA
THEMA, the theme-related journal, has three goals. One is to provide a stimulating forum for established and emerging literary artists. The second is to serve as source material and inspiration for teachers of creative writing. The third is to provide readers with a unique and entertaining collection of stories and poems.

Guidelines

Pay: $10-25 fiction; $10 poetry; $10-25 artwork

Zoland Poetry
What instantly sets Zoland Poetry apart from other anthologies is that all the work is previously unpublished and the translations are presented as an integral part of the contemporary poetry scene, rather than as something exotic slipped between the pages of a book filled primarily with English-language poets. Equal footing is given to voices from Italy, Iran, Argentina, Poland, and across the United States.

Guidelines

Pay: $25 per page ($200 maximum)

Writing Rules

2008-11-19T07:17:00.002-06:00

For the most part, I have amazingly supportive friends when it comes to my writing. Just yesterday, one sent me a link to a site of "writing rules," things to do and not do when writing a novel. I'm sure he thought it would be helpful.

Rules of Writing a Book

Don't worry. I know where he lives.