Confession # 6 - Editing is Harder than I Thought

I set the goal of finishing editing my novel before winter break ended and I had to start up college again. I'm still working 40 hours a week, however, so I only work in the evenings and on the weekend.

I found this great add-on to the Firefox Browser. It's called Leech Blocker, and you can configure it to block websites from yourself during certain times. Not only can you block the websites from yourself, but you can even block access to your preferences at certain times, so you don't fall into the habit of just turning off the blocker.

It's been enormously helpful in not letting me waste time. Even still, I'm only on page 50 of editing.

Page 50! Over three weeks! I have never edited this slow in my life, but for the first time it's quality, not quantity.

My agent (is it okay that I still get happy when I say that?) advises to bring the word count from 63,000 up to 80,000 words if possible. Right now I'm hovering at 65,500 because I add a new paragraph and delete the old paragraph upon which it was based.

I am also seeking a new title. Right now it's between Cristable and Antebellum. Cast your votes by commenting! So far, to the people I've asked in person, it's Antebellum by a 100% landslide. What is your opinion?

I am officially signed with the Bradford Literary Agency

Recently I had a wonderful reviewer go through the WW stories on Fictionpress and give them a hearty reviewing. I, reading these, and having given up on getting a literary agent, got inspired by these reviews to re-work the series and make it outstanding.

I was ready to get down to business.

The very next day, I received this email from a lit agency I had queried by snail mail back in July:

Hi Savannah,

I am really enjoying Woman's World! Would you mind please emailing me the full ms along with short synopses for the other 2 books in the trilogy? Thanks!

Now, it had been a long while since I'd heard from agents, and I'd had all rejects before, so I wasn't going to get my hopes up... but... no one else, having read a partial, requested a full manuscript. That was something.

So, of course, I sent her the manuscript. I also researched her and her agency. I saw a picture of her online, and something happened.

When I met my current fiancee, the moment I saw him it was like he was composed of more vivid color than his surroundings. He was just so /bright/. There was an instantaneous moment of knowledge that I /must/ get his phone number.

Call me crazy, but when I saw this agent for the first time, something similar happened: that spark of recognition. Nothing romantic, obviously, but perhaps the click of destiny?

Either that, or I was really more excited than I let myself acknowledge, but this felt right, like it /had/ to work.

The next day she wrote back with: Send me the next book, please.

Excitement mounting, I sent her Apostasy. And on the third day? You guessed it.

Finally on the third day she wrote me with this: I'd like to give you a call tomorrow for a bit of a chat. Can you let me know what time zone you are in and your phone number and a good time to call? Thanks!

This is a VERY GOOD THING. There were two outcomes, according to Agentquery.com. Either A) She wanted to tell me that she really enjoyed my work, but it wasn't ready, or just wasn't for her, or B) she wanted to represent me.

We scheduled a call for Friday morning. The hour came, my personal laptop and notes were set up in my office's conference room. She called. I took lunch break, went into the room, and closed the door.

Immediately I liked her voice. I don't like my own voice, and so am conscious of other peoples', and hers was lovely. I had done my research on her agency, which you should ALWAYS DO (see this article) so I was prepared to talk about her history, while she was just learning mine.

Her name is Laura Bradford. She told me she had spent the last three days doing nothing but reading my work. She loved it. It's got its flaws of course, but we were both aware of that. We discussed several things that had to change, and I was completely excited to begin working on it.

We discussed our personal histories, and her already signed writers at the agency, what her processes were, how publishing works, and then she offered to represent me.

She emailed me the contract (which I looked over, and contested a few points in email a few days later).

What you're supposed to do at this point is alert the other agents who are still considering your manuscripts that you have been offered representation so they have a chance to offer it too. I sent off four emails to agents who, to my knowledge, were still holding 'scripts. One no longer worked for the agency (juicy gossip, I'm guessing), one passed, and I didn't hear from the other two, so...

I signed it. On December 10th I officially signed my first agent contract and mailed it to her.

My family is thrilled and so proud, obviously, but I didn't have any jumping up and down moments. I wasn't 'excited' in the true sense of the word. I was very, deeply pleased, like a smug cat.

Yes. At last.

This is a moment I have been working towards for most of my conscious life. This it the moment I feared would never happen, the moment I knew I had to /make/ happen. Many writers go their whole lives without getting an offer. On the other hand, many get offers when they are not very good writers.

All in all, this is a wonderful opportunity. I'm taking the next month of college vacation to completely rework WW (for the absolute best, just trust me), and then we will begin submitting to publishing agencies. It could take as short as 24 hours to sell it, or it could take years.

Anyway, I had to tell, of course, my faithful reviewers at Fictionpress. You can keep up with me here on this blog. I'll try to keep everyone as up to date as possible.

Also, this allows for some wonderful learning opportunities. I'll be sure to share!

----------------------------------------------------

Drop me a review.

Copy and paste this review into the comment box if you don't want to write something personal, just to let me know you've been here:

Dear Savannah,

Congratulations! As one of your FP readers I am so excited to finally maybe one day see WW in print! Good luck!

-Reviewer X

Why NOT be a Writer?

From, oddly enough, a website called Idolect.org.uk

PS: The pattern of events as described in the above picture seems to be a pretty common theme among writers... who didn't make it.

Whatever you do, don't give up.

Ed Ruscha: Paintings of Words

Writing is an art.

In Ed Ruscha's case, Art is writing.



Taken from his web site: "Ruscha has consistently combined the cityscape of his adopted hometown with vernacular language to communicate a particular urban experience."



In some, I love this work because he was creating a particular feeling or image with paintings/words that we as writers create solely with words. The paint is basically a snapshot of what paragraphs of words would look like, combined with a few key words to take your mind in the right direction.



Others seem to be just creative paintings of words, such as the one below:



One of his books, a roughly 600-page compilation of paintings of words is titled:



I love this title. I can't explain it. Perhaps it's the word 'styrene' (an extract from the sap of a styrax tree; it is used in synthetics such as rubber or plastic).



I love that someone could be called Styrene. What would such a person have done to gain a nickname like that? Is it because Styrax trees are very beautiful, and styrene sounds like a feminine name (Eileen, Dorine, etc.), and high concentrations of styrene are carcinogens for humans?

Call it a stretch, but to me it is for these questions that we are writers. Consider this quote by Thomas Berger: "Why do writers write? Because it isn't there."

I know what I'm putting on my Christmas list. This book belongs on my bookshelf.

Personal Languages

When I was in fourth grade I decided I needed my own language.

This was before I had heard of Tolkien, and far before Paolini even had the idea to release his dragonish mess upon the world.

And so I invented a code, and learned it, and because it is a code, not a language, I can fluently translate, read, and speak it today. I was a smart fourth-grader, and so I realized that I would have to rearrange vowels with vowels and consonants with consonants so that words didn't end up translating to: gbvtw.

I also realized that certain letters usually found in pairs (c,h,s,w,t) would have to stay the same to preserve their pair-sounds (so that ch, sh, wh, th, etc., didn't encounter the garbled situation described above).

My boyfriend insists this is a pointless activity because this code language has no real use in the world, but I love it because not only is it a great way to fake knowing a foreign language, but if I'm ever in a public place writing, I can switch over to code and no one will know what I'm really saying. It makes it a lot easier to be unselfconscious.

I told you this story because it ties in with today's awesome word:

IDIOLECT:

An idiolect is a variety of a language unique to an individual. It is manifested by patterns of word selection and grammar, or words, phrases, idioms, or pronunciations that are unique to that individual. Every individual has an idiolect; the grouping of words and phrases is unique, rather than an individual using specific words that nobody else uses. An idiolect can easily evolve into an ecolect—a dialect variant specific to a household.

What's in your idiolect?

Stuff From Everywhere

Below is a list of things to inspire/entertain you:

1) Check out this video of how to print a book... in 1947.

Mercilessly borrowed from BoingBoing.net


2) Have I told you how in love with Strange Horizons I am?

Read their Fiction archives here.

It's all so dreadfully good I've ignored the rest of the site.


3) A Softer World co-creator Joey has just made his book 'Lockpick Pornography' available for free online.



WARNING: It's got a LOT of homosexual relationships, transsexuality, illegal activities including robbery and guerrilla political tactics, but this either a) doesn't bother you or b) you can get past it, this is a very creative, fun, hilarious read.


4) A list of the best opening sentences from Science Fiction books




5) Tress can communicate with each other! As a writer, you should be thrilled.


6) Cats have wings


7) Dictionary of Etymology


8) Lingual oddities: A map of the United States showing who says 'pop' and who says 'soda'

All the Books in the World

Using reddit.com I found this interesting foreign comic (it's been translated) about a bookstore that carries every book in the world... except one.

View it on someone's livejournal here.

It asks if you're 14 years or older, but the content is entirely safe for work and all ages.

Everything Wrong with Eragon

It's no secret that I don't like Christopher Paolini.

Therefore, I was thrilled when I came across this list: Everything Wrong With Eragon

This is the list I've been wanting to make for years. Utter love to its maker LordSnow. ThingInTheCoat, you and I may just have to have a polyamorous relationship. ;-)

----------------------------------------------------------------

Also in cool news, this keyboard is a modern writer's new best friend.



I know there's this stereotype that writers have cats (and why wouldn't you want to?), but really, isn't the keyboard your most faithful companion?

The Worst Book Ever Written

It is my distinct UNpleasure to introduce you to the a candidate for the worst published book in the world: The Shadow God, by Aaron Rayburn.

<--Worst Book Ever Written

I'd make fun of it, but this amazon.com reviewer has done a better job than I ever could.

Read his article here. Be prepared to laugh, to gasp, and to stare in shock that someone actually thought this book was fit to print.

Laughter aside, consider this a learning opportunity of what NOT to do.

Word Clock

To all who were concerned: Not to worry; I'm not gone, just was on vacation, and then didn't come across anything I thought you would enjoy... until this:

Word Clock

Basically what it is, is... is, umm... a clock... of words? It's kind of complicated, so just check it out.

Also, BOOK MOOCH. A cool site where you can trade books with people all across the country, for the small fee of paying your own shipping.

LITERARY AGENT NEWS:

No news is, in this case, bad news. On the other hand, I haven't received nearly as many rejects as requests that I sent out, so there's hope yet. So far all but two agents have rejected the manuscript they rejected.

And so, I am facing the fact that I may have to do a complete novel rehaul, at least on the romance fantasy revolution novel. Which, no matter how many things I find wrong with it, is still first in my heart. Damn.

Word Clouds

Today I found an awesome site for us writers.

It's called Wordle and it generates word clouds like this:



The above picture is derived from the entire text of my fifth book, Go Look There, which is a magical realism novel about strange things happening among the children of a particular Southern town.

Here's another, taken from the combined text of all of my favorite poems I've written:




Mostly what I found from this is that I'm a big fan of similes, which I knew, but when the word 'like' was twelve feet tall it really hit home. So I did a Find & Replace command in Microsoft Word (Which you can do by pressing control+F or apple key+f) and replaced 'like' with a space so I could REALLY find out what my most commonly used words are.

Anyway, this was really cool and I'd be eager to see your pictures of what words you use most commonly.

Deliverance

Today I received a request for a partial. He asked for the first two chapters, which isn't much, but hey, it means I'm on the right track.

And, just so this doesn't turn into my boring personal updates, here's something I've been working on. Kind of in the style of asofterworld.com, these are the [mostly] true adventures of my life. They're all made from pictures I took, anyway:*





Pictures taken at the Botanical Gardens in Huntsville, Alabama during their dinosaur display.

*Right click on the image and then click on 'view image'; or if you're using a Mac or laptop press ctrl+click and then click on 'view image' to see the image full size until I post again and it moves down past the side menu.

Confession: Taking the Plunge

Confession: I finally did it.

I finally started submitting to agents.

I had my query letter approved by Jaden the Wonder-Troll, and began emailing agents today.

<---Jaden in real life.

Using Agentquery.com, I sent out 65 queries. So far today I have received 9 standard rejection forms and 1 personal rejection.

And now, available only here, are details and examples of my rejection exploits. Read and learn:


Attn Ms. Agent,

I read on AgentQuery.com that you represent Young Adult fiction, and are particularly interested in __________. I believe you will be interested in my 60,000 word gender-struggle YA novel Woman's World, book one of a completed trilogy.

In a female-dominated society where men are kept as domestic slaves, one young woman must overcome cultural barriers as she grows closer to her new, abused slave -a romance that uncovers the secret history behind women's rise to power in our world and leads to an exciting, apocalyptic revolution to restore gender equality.

When the famous and reclusive writer known only as the Poetess selects for her first slave a young man whose muteness makes him worthless in society's eyes despite his great beauty, their journey towards trust and compassion in her isolated home sparks a powerful and forbidden romance. Torn with feelings deviating from strict religious and social dogma, and possibly dying from a cancerous illness that makes her shamefully barren, the Poetess struggles to come to terms with the love she feels for the slave she named Shaedyn, and her new, heretic belief that men deserve to be equal with women. Whispers of an underground equalist movement, and their tentative plan to use the Poetess as a political tool to sway the hearts of the nation, excite and terrify the Poetess until a near-deadly failing of health forces her to leave Shaedyn behind and travel to the East Hall, a technological metropolis and secret heart of the revolution itself.

At age 19, Woman's World is one of five novels I have written. Originally posted online at Fictionpress.com, garnishing 61,000 hits, near 1,000 favorable reviews, and hundreds of registered fans, Woman's World takes the female-dominant society stereotype to an intelligent and realistic place with a romance and characters proven to capture the heart of any reader. My other writing credits include a personal narrative in the literary magazine TeenInk, and an award from the Journalistic Education Association for Feature Writing. I would be happy to send you a complete copy of the manuscript for your review. I appreciate your time, and look forward to hearing from you.

Regards,

Savannah


Now, this is not the best query letter in the entire world, and I know that. But I was too impatient to wait much longer, having wasted so much time already. It's a mistake I encourage you not to make.

Within the next three hours I had six standard rejection letters, reaching a pinnacle of ten rejection letters at the end of the day, including one personal rejection letter.

Example of a standard rejection letter:

Dear Savannah:
Many thanks for thinking of me, but I am afraid I do not feel that I am the right agent for your work.

All my best,

Sara

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I’m afraid I don’t represent YA and wouldn’t be the right agent for this.

I wish you luck

Jessica

(Apparently agentquery lied to me in this particular case; learn from this -always double-check your results)

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Dear Author:

Thank you so much for sending the _______ Agency your query.

We’d like to apologize for the impersonal nature of this standard rejection letter. Rest assured that we do read every query letter carefully and, unfortunately, this project is not right for us.

Because this business is so subjective and opinions vary widely, we recommend that you pursue other agents. After all, it just takes one "yes" to find the right match.

Good luck with all your publishing endeavors.

Sincerely,

Kristin
Sara

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The Personal Rejection Letter:

Dear Savannah,

Thank you for submitting your query to the ________ Agency. Unfortunately this doesn't look right for us.

While I like the gender role switch, I'm afraid it's a pretty familiar trope and not different enough to stand out in the current market. It looks like you have a good grasp of storytelling, though, so I want to encourage you to keep writing and trying new things. Though this wasn't for me, perhaps another agent will decide to take a look.

As a side note, I was uncertain about the mention of YA and historical romance. This certainly looks like romance, but I didn't catch a lot of YA or historical with it.

Best of luck in your writing career,

Jodi

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Now, I've only gotten 10 rejections over 24 hours, and I'm sure I have many more coming in the next few weeks. Plus, since I submitted only (I thought) to agents representing YA, my next battle tactic is to submit to Romance agents, as apparently I'm a Nora Roberts sinner with a corset-opener sitting as blatantly on my desk as a Magic 8 Ball (which should be mandatory for every writer, by the way, as they are incredibly useful).

But already the panic is setting in. What if it doesn't happen? What if I can't do it?

This post by Seth Godin and this post from some dude are particularly terrifying.

Should this happen to me, I've decided I shall become a publishing rebel, self-publishing and distributing to my few Internet friends as their weekly allowance...well...allows.


Caption: I shall become a Publishing Pirate. You hear that term here first, kiddos.

Paolini, your route is not looking so bad. Perhaps I was deeply, terribly wrong about you.

BUT Paolini did self-publish first (As far as I'm aware). At least I've tried to play fair. :)

Advice and My Own Work (Finally!)

Check out these awesome bookcases:








Billy Collins, my poetry idol and unwitting mentor, spoke once in a poem of his, 'Books', about building bookshelves while in college.

This struck me as a very spiritual thing for a writer to do, and I found myself stumped as to why I had not paused to consider The Bookshelf more often. In fact, I don't think I've ever heard any other writer speak lovingly of bookshelves, when they are in fact tremendously important to our line of work.

I proposed then, in a poem, taking up bookshelf-making as an exercise in meditation, patience, and love of your craft.

In an effort to include more of my own work on this site and debate my own worth against Paolini, here is that poem, free-styled in modern poetry. And if you're not a big poetry fan (I can't stand any formats or classic work; it's modern for me or not at all, and not experimental modern, just... honest) then consider it colorful prose with hyperbole:


Bookshelves

My advice to you, young writer
is this:

(As if I could say anything
not already coded into the sequence of your DNA.
But perhaps the instructions there are pleated in your milk tongue,
as familiar and distant as the brainwave patterns of childhood.
While you speak the bland, foreign language of mediocrity now,
let me translate what I have discovered of the wending script
into words whose scientific meanings you will understand,
and allude to the musical impressions
you once breathed and swam in,
swishing your embryonic tail
through the fluid of your deepest nature)

to build bookshelves–
rooms and hallways of bookshelves.
Prepare the cradles of your children;
the cabinets and displays of your colleagues;
the frames around which books shall live and die.

Take steps, like a midwife of catalysts,
to usher life from non-worlds into this.

Hammer out rectangles and shells
to clothe and house your creations.
Meditate on your existence as you do this,
and accept a chance of death before the souls of your words
stop speaking.

Where the Sidewalk Ends - I found it!

Many of you will remember this poem by the late, famed children's author Shel Silverstein:

Where the Sidewalk Ends

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.





I always thought this was an interesting concept. It's the modern, children's myth equivalent of the end of the world, the place in the ocean where the water just falls off the edge.

I am fortunate enough to recently have found.... *Drumroll* The End of the Sidewalk. ...And then several more.

The first one:





I was just walking along and then the sidewalk ended. I was like... well now what? I felt like Alice in Alice in Wonderland the cartoon movie, when the sweeping dog comes along and sweeps away her path.

So, with nothing else to do, I turned around and went back the way I came. No, I'm just kidding. I was a total rebel; I walked on the grass.

So that was interesting, but THEN a week or two later I went on a leisurely two hour bike ride with my Boy (yes, we're turning into one of THOSE couples; it's so depressing), and found three more!







If you happen to know of any sidewalk endings, I'd be interesting in seeing your pics. Show your endings!

Lies as Creative Truth?

When we were children:

You were immortal. You could outgrow everyone, given enough time. You couldn't read. You needed a comfort object, or felt incomplete. Everything was bigger. There was always the chance that something magical would happen, that the adults were keeping some fantastic secret you might stumble across tomorrow. You believed your parents.

Read this list, taken from Mexican Pictures

Lies I've told my 3 year old recently

Trees talk to each other at night.

All fish are named either Lorna or Jack.

Before your eyeballs fall out from watching too much TV, they get very loose.

Tiny bears live in drain pipes.

If you are very very quiet you can hear the clouds rub against the sky.

The moon and the sun had a fight a long time ago.

Everyone knows at least one secret language.

When nobody is looking, I can fly.

We are all held together by invisible threads.

Books get lonely too.

Sadness can be eaten.

I will always be there.


Have you noticed that we don't 'play' anymore? Do any of you sit down with stuffed animals or plastic toys and just play with them? Why is that? What have we lost? Is it a way of living inside our own minds? Is it a lack of self-consciousness?

Take today to play mind games with yourself. Pretend that the books ARE actually lonely, that your toys get up and move when you're not in the room, that animals CAN actually talk, but they're not supposed to.

Report back.

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Also, check out this Flickr photostream of two parents who make their children's imaginations come to life by creating animals and objects that their children draw.

Charles Bukowski

Firstly, thank you to everyone who has participated in the (I'm happy to say) intelligent discussion about this blog's integrity and dirty little habit of making fun of Christopher Paolini. You've all had interesting, mostly polite things to say, and I appreciate you using this blog as a forum for discussing proper decorum (I'm sorry, I couldn't help it; I had to rhyme) and in which direction this blog should be going.

That said, it's time for some old-fashioned writer-blogging.

Enter Charles Bukowski.



The Man, The Legend, the Writing. But we're only going to talk about the writing, specifically a poem that caught my eye and tugged at my heart.

As The Sparrow

To give life you must take life,
and as our grief falls flat and hollow
upon the billion-blooded sea
I pass upon serious inward-breaking shoals rimmed
with white-legged, white-bellied rotting creatures
lengthily dead and rioting against surrounding scenes.
Dear child, I only did to you what the sparrow
did to you; I am old when it is fashionable to be
young; I cry when it is fashionable to laugh.
I hated you when it would have taken less courage
to love.


The reason this spoke to me is because of the line "I only did to you what the sparrow/did to you."



I love how the last bit was dropped to the second line, and I love the implication of man vs. nature and man vs. man, but it leads me to this question: What exactly does he mean?

I have my own interpretation, but there's no reason for it to be right, or the only what. Tell me what you think. What did he do and what did the sparrow do?


This bird is called the Savannah Sparrow. Don't you love it?

Birthday Wishes

Readers, it's my birthday tomorrow.

And that brings me one year closer to no longer being a 'teen' author. What will happen when I leave teenhood for good to become a 'real' adult? Will this blog still exist? Will it have to become 'Blog of a 20-something... normal person... who is uninteresting...'?

Anyway, Happy Birthday to me, and I suppose we'll find out in the coming year whether I make it... or not.

The Kōan -accomplishing the purpose of writing in one sentence!

A kōan is part of Bhuddism. It is generally a statment that contains aspects that may not make sense logically, yet are understood with intuition. (Rephrased from this Wikipedia article.

For example:

"Two hands clap and there is a sound; what is the sound of one hand?"

Get it?

The purpose of kōans is to bring two people to the same plane of understanding; to allow their minds to come together by sharing the same thought. In the instant that you really understood the kōan above, you and I shared the same mental leap from logic to intuition.

I am so excited about kōans because they are, my friends, the purpose of writing condensed.

When you boil it down (shapes with pens stand for sounds which form keywords that unlock pictures in our brains), the whole purpose of communication is to get people to think the same thoughts.

Stephen King demonstrates this in his fantastic autobiography/instruction manual called On Writing (I would recommend this book to any aspiring writer). In one part of the book he asks the reader to envision a white rabbit.

Now we are all sharing the same thoughts. We are all thinking of a white rabbit. our rabbits may differ a little, but in general we are all imagining the same basic concept.



Then he asks the reader to imagine that this is a rabbit used in magic tricks, and it has the number 8 printed on its back.

We may all be envisioning different types and colors of 8's, but again, I repeat, we are all sharing the same basic concepts.



That's why I'm so enamoured of the kōan. What is the sound of one hand clapping?

We are all sharing the same headspace.


Further research into the history of kōans reveals that they are not supposed to be approached intellectually; they are a spiritual excercise undertaken in person, lessons from master to student, but we don't have to be too bothered by that. I recommend more research into the history of kōans, but unfortunately listed examples of them on the internet aren't as cool as that hand clapping one.

If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands... now try it one-handed!

Encouragement

I may have posted this quote before, but you don't mind.

I figured that with all of Jaden's informative lectures, you may be overwhelmed with the enormity of the publishing-project you are about to undertake, and you might need a little bit of encouragement.

From Barbara Kingsolver (You know her as the writer that wrote The Poisonwood Bible, The Bean Trees, Pigs in Heaven, and Vegetable,Animal,Miracle, to name a few):


"This manuscript of yours that has just come back from another editor is a precious package. Don't consider it rejected. Consider that you've addressed it 'to the editor who can appreciate my work' and it has simply come back stamped 'Not at this address'. Just keep looking for the right address."




This picture has nothing to do with the above, I just liked it.