Pantsing for Life

While I'm a proud pantser writer (I write 'by the seam of my pants,' having no idea where anything's going, for those of you who aren't part of the heated pantser vs planner debate), I'm learning that attempting to be a pantser in the rest of your life is a bit...well, difficult. You can't just randomly pop into the dentist's, most of the time, or expect the money to pay your school loans (ugh) to just fall in your lap. Life doesn't come with built-in, useful plot devices. At least, not when you need them. Wouldn't that be something, though? Just at the moment you need it, some rare spell shows up, or you find a magic sword.

So! All you planners out there: are you planners in real life, too? Or just in your writing? Any tips for a floundering pantser?

Whoops What Ifs?

Obviously, Saturdays are not working for me. I have no excuse for not updating yesterday, except the fact that I totally just forgot. Poof! I was even at home and on the computer most of the day, working on my new story idea (that I can't tell anyone about because I'm terrified if I do, I'll lose all my motivation for it), and just never got around to posting anything here. Whoops.

And I am still agentless. But! This time, for the first time, I don't feel a slump coming on. I'm still confident in my skills, I'm still working, and I've got a list of agents I'd like to query (thank you, WriteOnCon, for giving me a place to start!). So off I go!

Before I leave, though, I want to share some good advice I found on the Random Buzzer's blog. It's all about writing the story that only you can write. Everyone has a unique set of interests and knowledge and you can put that to work for you to create something entirely new and different. John Bemis (the author of the post I linked to above), suggests creating a list of what he calls Magnetic Nouns, the things that really, truly interest you--people, places, things, concepts, time periods, what have you. Then ask "what if?" questions about those Magnetic Nouns, and see if any of those spark an idea.

So! I'm going to give a shot right here, right now. My Magnetic Nouns: MAGIC, FAERIES, NORSE AND CELTIC MYTHOLOGY, TRICKSTERS, MUSIC, CULTURE CLASHES, PIRATES, LANGUAGES, IRELAND, and DRAGONS.

Lots of magic fantasy stuff! Okay, some questions. What if a dragon tried to join a pirate crew? What if a character from Norse mythology showed up in modern day Ireland? What if music was the cause of a cultural war? What if a trickster figure somehow wreaked havoc on the faeries? What if a normal teenager found out she was really a goddess from Celtic mythology?

So many crazy ideas! So, what are the thing that fascinate you? How can you use those to write a story that is only yours?

On the Query Train

I have this fantasy of going to a pitch or sending out a query and getting a request for a full, followed almost immediately by an offer of representation. What author doesn't, right? Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your point of view), it rarely happens like that. Especially not for new authors like me. But that doesn't stop the dream!

It's only when that dream, that fantasy, gets in our own way that problems arise. Me, for instance. That dream of getting representation from a single pitch session at a writing conference has made me hesitant to start sending out queries again. I mean, wouldn't it be terrible if I miraculously got an offer of representation  before my pitch session at the conference? What in the world would I say to the poor agent I'm pitching to: "Oh, I'm sorry, but I've already decided to work with someone else?"

Of course, there's no real way I would get a representation offer in two weeks when it takes most agents at least that, if not longer, to get to initial queries. So what's holding me back?! That silly, glowing, golden fantasy in my brain.

So today? Today I send out a query. The first letter I've sent out in months. The first one since I finished the fourth rewrite. Am I nervous? Heck yes. Is it what I need to be doing? Definitely.

Wish me luck!

You're Sure to do Impossible Things

The week I make a promise to myself to make this blog more enjoyable and I miss my Saturday update! Yikes! I think I have a pretty good reason, though: the Lafayette peach festival! My family and I spent most of the day up towards Boulder, at the festival (yummy peaches!), then walking around the Pearl Street mall, which I hadn't been to in ages. I'd forgotten how much I love street theatre!

Walking down the street, there's a different performer every few feet, which results in an interesting clash of music sometimes. But then there are the magicians and the jugglers and the dancers and the didgeridoo players and almost anything else you can imagine (except aerialists. But that would be kind of difficult to do outside, anyway. Oh, and animal trainers; wild animals loose on a crowded street is not exactly a good thing). We stopped and watched a juggler for a while who was absolutely fantastic. He started his show by juggling flaming torches! And I've now officially seen someone juggle seven juggling balls at the same time. But the best part of his show, in my opinion, was that every now and then during his amazingly humorous narration, he would throw in a remark or two about following your dreams. Given the amount of kids in the audience, I think that message from a performer that all of them were likely completely blown away by (I know I was!), was really important. Seriously, this guy could have been in Cirque de Soliel, but he chose to perform at Pearl Street in Boulder because he loved street theatre and wanted to connect with his audience. If that's not following you dreams, I don't know what is.

So, I guess I want to pass his message on today. As someone who's currently struggling to follow her own dreams of publication, this is important to me. Never let someone tell you that you can't do something. If you want something bad enough, and you're willing to work for it, you will achieve that goal. What are you waiting for? Go out there and follow your dreams!

Inspiration

Whatever your art, I'll bet you all the money in my bank account (all twenty dollars of it) that you have some sort of inspiration, quite possibly from the other arts. If you're a musician, do you look at paintings for ideas? If you paint or draw, do you read stories for inspiration? If you write, do you listen to music? Do you people watch? Go for long walks and let your mind wander? Clean the house? Or does inspiration just strike you like a lightning bolt (you lucky, lucky people)?

I've done all of the above for inspiration in my writing. And, on occasion, for my doodles. But, mostly, for my stories. Prompts, photos, paintings, walks, music; it's all inspiring if you pay attention. For instance, I was listening to an updated, rock version of "The Minstrel Boy," the other day and bam! Story idea! (Does it say anything about my geek side that I chose to share the version of the song sung by O'Brien in Star Trek: Next Generation? No? Oh, good.) And at just the right time, too.

Last night I finally finished the rewrite I've spent almost a year on. I know there are still some things that need tweaking (aren't there always?), but the major edits should be done. Hopefully. We'll see how it goes when I start querying again.

But that wasn't the topic of this post! Inspiration was. And how inspiration strikes right when we need it the most. Keep your eyes and ears open for anything interesting, whether it's something as small as a character tic you want to work in, or something as huge as an entire plot. There's creative fodder all around us; you just have to look for it.

Authenticity and New Beginnings (Again)

It's the first day of WriteOnCon and I've already had a revelation. About this blog. The simple fact is that I'm trying too damn hard. I started this project with the sole goal of creating an online platform to promote my writing when agents look me up after a query. While that is a noble (and practical) goal, it's not really working. I find myself dreading updating this every week--which is probably obvious from the inconsistency of my posts the last few months. And that is not what I want from this. I want to increase my visibility out there, sure. Who doesn't? But I also want this to be something fun, for both any of my readers (all, what, two of you?), and for myself.

So, as of today, I am officially throwing my "must write about writing" theme out the window! See, there it goes! [Insert crashing noises here] Ooh, it just smashed my car. Guess I'm stuck at the office now. Dang. Good thing I have another blog I have to update today, more WriteOnCon awesomeness to attend, and a stash of chedder bunnies and chocolates in my desk. I think I'm set for a while!

I'm also going to try to update here more, with whatever pops into my head. I'm thinking Wednesdays and Saturdays. Hopefully, once I get out of the "I can only write about one thing" mindset, I'll have a lot more to say. That's not to say I won't continue writing about writing, of course. It just won't be the only thing I touch on.

Cheers to that! Let's all raise a glass (of Elvish wine?) to new beginnings! Slainte! That's Irish for "cheers" for those who don't know.

WriteOnCon and Writing Babies

WriteOnCon is this week! For those of you who missed my earlier gushings about this, it's an online writing conference for children's authors (from picture books to young adult novels), and it's completely free. They have a great-looking list of agents and editors showing up, an amazing variety of live chats and forum events, and ninja agents prowling the forums for queries. What's not to like? So, if you're a children's author of any kind (or are interested in the genre), check it out! The conference starts on Tuesday morning! Hope to see you there!

And, in my personal writing sagas, I finally sucked it up and decided to cut two relatively space-consuming concepts from the last quarter or so of Savior. This was tough for me, because I really enjoyed these concepts, but they weren't working for anyone else. Maybe I can somehow work them into personal shorts later on or something. Has anyone else had to let go of some of their writing babies? Did you ever do anything else with them, or did they wither away in the back of your mind until you forgot about them?

Oljiru Kovy

Fish Out of Water

Today I have an excerpt for you! It's from a piece I began--that may or may not go anywhere--in which I was attempting to re-imagine faeries. It sort of warped into a Fish Out of Water, Man Out of Time story as I went along, and I'm not at all sure where it's going now. But here's the beginning. I hope you enjoy it.

Itoro stood on the hill, long, dry grasses waving about his knees with the gentle breeze. His clothes were worn and patched, both leather and cloth. An unkempt beard graced his square chin, hiding the grim set of his jaw. His eyes, a soft but determined gray set deep above a long, crooked nose, surveyed the valley below him, lingering on the small collection of brightly-colored tents huddled against the base of the mountains. 

The thin chestnut horse beside him snorted softly and nudged his shoulder with her dirt-encrusted nose. 

He nodded gently as if she had spoken aloud, and gently took hold of the tattered leather reins. Finally turning his eyes down to the uneven ground beneath his feet, he carefully began to pick his way into the valley. A strange sense of foreboding knotted his stomach as he walked, though he did his best to brush it away. 

The mare limped beside him, doing her utmost to put as little pressure on her rear left leg as possible. The blood had finally crusted around her wound, leaving her haunch stained with a deep, rust-colored streak. But, like her companion, she kept her big, brown eyes fixed on the tents on the other side of the valley, only occasionally tossing her head in complaint. 

By the time they stood on the valley floor, the tents had disappeared from view, leaving the two weary travelers alone in a sea of dancing brown grass, the mountain peaks before them their only guidance. Very slowly, the strains of music appeared in the distance, beckoning and welcoming the weather-beaten strangers. Drums and rattles grew louder, more distinct, with every step. Eventually, voices joined the energetic mash of rhythm and deep, breathy flutes, chanting and singing in a light, lyrical language. 

He found himself humming along, though he could not remember the words. It had been far too long since he had come across a Faeling clan. He couldn’t help but wonder if he would recognize any of them. Or if any of them would recognize him.