Balance

I've decided that a steady income isn't the only reason to keep my day job.

Learning to write is profoundly humbling, and while humility is essential to the learning process, it's also crippling if not balanced with hubris.  Hubris is not too strong a word -- only a tiny fraction of aspiring novelists ever finish their first book, let alone get published, let alone make a living at it.  Knowing this, a writer doesn't stand a chance of finishing without monumental confidence in her project and herself.

So.  As long as I spend my nights abasing myself in the writing novitiate, I need to spend my days as the deft expert, replenishing my well of chutzbah.

Going to Hell

If you haven't already seen this gem on book publicity, please enjoy a little hilarity compliments of The New Yorker.

Writing Space

I've always been interested in interior design.  Like many people, I feel happier when I spend time in a beautiful space.  That said, I have a strong suspicion that the popular notion of a beautifully designed writing space is, well, crap.

You know what I'm talking about, right?  I'm not arguing against Virginia Woolf.  I'm arguing against this:

This picture, which I recognized from a Pottery Barn catalog, appeared in a great blog post on a related subject last week.  It is representative of a fantasy writer's room that is popular in decorating magazines and books.

I would kill for this room.  I would like to believe that if I had this room, it would magically transform me into a bestselling author who also happens to be great looking and an impeccable hostess.

The truth is that I don't have an imaginary room like this because I don't have an imaginary life.  I have a real life, where computers and lamps have power cords and white furniture has stains and windows look out onto neighbors' houses and the actual objects I use every day are not color-coordinated.

In my real life, a desk has half-empty drinks and stacks of junk mail, magazines, and books.  It has dirty socks and crayon drawings deposited by my children.  It has a big ugly printer.  In fact, there is no room to write on this desk.  I write on the couch.

Of course some actual writers do have awesome spaces.  But I think they are the exception, and even they probably started out on a card table in the laundry room like Stephen King.  On the flip side, I have known real people who had amazing writing spaces, and never accomplished what they hoped to in them.

Here's the thing.  Writing is hard.  It's all-too-tempting to externalize our shortcomings into things we believe we could control if we only had enough money/space/time/etc.  I can't write because I don't have a good space.  In other words, we like our excuses.  It's natural, but it's lame.

If You Like TwitFic

Have you ever entered The New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest?

You TOTALLY should!  It's fun, it's creative, it's quick, it's free, and they might even send you a bookmark.  If you manage to win, you get a credit in the freaking New Yorker!

There is no downside.  Go.  Go now!

50%

Today, Big Boss posted this as his status: 50%

It's been niggling at me all day.  What the hell does he mean?

My first thought is paranoid, that some performance indicator is 50% of what it should be.  If Big Boss caught a problem before we did, it'll be ugly.  I double-check all the reports.  Phew!  That's not it.

I start over.  Is he feeling only 50% well today?  Is he only 50% available?  Is he noticing only 50% of his people are available?

Stop it, Kate, it isn't about you.

Are we half-way to one of our goals?  This could be good or bad depending on the time frame.  My mind wanders to compensation and staffing possibilities -- 50% can be miraculous or devastating depending on the noun it modifies.  But scratch it; he wouldn't post about something like that because it would be neither professional nor, frankly, of that much interest to him.

What would be?

Eureka!  The key partnership deal he just negotiated: 50% revenue share.

Note to self:  A story may revolve around the protagonist, but the actions and motivations of other characters generally do not.  Characters must say and do according to their own reasons.

Ode To a Four-Year-Old

I have a four-year-old daughter.  She is a magical little person in many ways, but in one especially: she is so very easily entertained.  Tonight's activities, for example:

1.  Gleefully pointing out every pink object in the grocery store.
2.  Dueling dramatic readings of Sandra Boynton's Doggies.
3.  A nice long bath dramatizing several original stories featuring Ariel rescuing Flounder.
4.  The Pajama Monster game, in which she plays a monster easily defeating the parent attempting to put her to bed.  I'm not being ironic here.  She's so dang cute saying RAWR! and collapsing into giggles it takes Herculean resolve to put her to bed.  In fact, I failed utterly.  Instead I sic'd the Pajama Monster on her father at the other end of the couch, at which point the P.M. met its match: the Daddy Socked Foot Monster.  That battle went on for another five minutes until D.S.F.M. had P.M. pinned to the floor and giggling so hard he could finally scoop her up and deposit her in bed.

Why do I go on about this?  Is it really my intention to bore readers with stories about my children?  No.  I promise I won't make a habit of this.  My point is there was a time in our lives when our thrills were simple and elemental.  The highest goal I have in my fiction writing is give the reader a path back to her own fountain of youth, where wonder, excitement, and joy flow pure.

I'm No Expert, But...

Aside from being fascinating and instructive, all these blogs by industry insiders also give me a daily dose of writing humility.  This humility is liberating; a novice is allowed and expected to make mistakes.  It is in this spirit of humility that I wish to discuss a mistake I have observed and hope not make myself.  There is probably a technical name for this error, but as unlearned as I am, I'll have to make up my own.  I'll call it the Answer to a Stupid Question Doth Not Drama Make Error.

The example I have for you is actually dialog from a trailer for the movie, G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra (2009).

Guy 1:

"Standing in front of you are Delta-6 Accelerator Suits." 

Guy 2:

"What does it accelerate?"

Guy 1:

"You."

[boom-boom-boom-explosion-gunfire-etc.]

The question Guy 2 asks is patently idiotic.  What the hell else would an accelerator SUIT accelerate if not a person wearing it?  I mean, it is clearly a man-shaped suit.  We've already been told that this group of people is the best of the best.  Is Guy 2 supposed to be an imbecile hero?

No, Guy 2 is a device.  In this scene his function is to increase the mystique and awe surrounding the accelerator suits by making them appear so mysterious and awesome he can't figure out what they are even after being told.  He is made to ask so that drama can be contrived from the one-word answer punctuated with heavy bass and CGI pyro f/x.

What Guy 2 actually did was undermine the credibility of the entire movie at the exact moment I was deciding whether or not I wanted to see it.

Thus I humbly add the Answer to a Stupid Question Doth Not Drama Make Error to the list of things I humbly try not to do myself.

A Bit of Inspiration

Yesterday I made a special trip to pick up The Ghosts of Belfast, the debut novel from Stuart Neville.  The reviews are fantastic, but I would have bought it anyway because I've been reading Stuart's blog.  From the first entry (scroll to the bottom of the page), I knew I liked this guy.

I can't wait to start reading the book, but I'm making myself write another five thousand words first.

More Flash Fiction

I'm very dissatisfied with my foray into flash fiction yesterday.  It's just such a good idea.  All other media is trending shorter and more flexibly delivered to busy/mobile people.  I think short fiction has a natural place at that table.  (OtherMe is certain of it.  She's already plotting an iPhone app.)

So I'm going to go out and read a lot more of it.  Since I also strongly suspect that the skills required to write good flash fiction will be useful for writing any commercial fiction, I think I'm going to try some here on the blog for practice.  Stay tuned.

Incidently, I understand why it isn't necessarily favored by authors.  Novels usually pay advances and/or royalties, but unless anthologized, short stories usually pay one time, by the word.  Under this model, flash fiction is utterly unlucrative, even by writing standards.

I Knew I Was Getting Dumber

Yesterday I mentioned twitfic - complete stories in 140 characters or less.  Today I read some flash fiction - complete stories in 1000 words or less.  Mostly a lot less.  I don't know what I expected, but much of what I read was, frankly, incomprehensible.

Maybe I just found a tough batch, but I had to re-read many of these stories several times.  I thought I more or less knew what was going on plot-wise (though I hesitate to use the word plot), but there were inconsistencies and loose ends that I could not reconcile.  While it's possible this was plain bad writing, comments from other readers suggest I'm just too dim to understand.

I knew it.  I was once considered quite bright by standard measures, but I've suspected for a long time now that I'm getting dumber.  It started with my first pregnancy and got much worse with my second.  I should sign up for long-term care insurance before it's too late.