Forbidden Love

Today I’m going over an old manuscript. And not just any manuscript, the manuscript Liz with Aliens told me to not give up on or she’d hunt me down with a pointy stick until I got it published (I don't forget that sort of thing). I’ve written this story several times. Sweet Mother of Mountains, I have lived this story (well, not in the I-followed-the-fae-through-the-portal literally sense, but the laid awake at night hoping and dreaming about it).

This is a good representation of my Portal Feels.

The only problem: It’s a story with portals. Confession, when Glados said “Now you’re thinking in portals,” I laughed. Portals are my very favorite subtype of fantasy. Person from our world goes and has adventure in another world. I never stopped thinking in portals. As a kid, I dreamed and wished that I’d cross under a rainbow, or find a magic wardrobe (I didn’t even really know what those were because we didn’t have them in the US). The premise for most of the media I consumed as a child was “Young person finds way into magical world, has adventure, gains self esteem, and returns to this world a better stronger person.” Unicorns featured prominently.

Portals are my first love. So it’s no surprise that I have a portal story (an epic quadrilogy, to be exact).

It’s also no surprise that my story hasn’t really been the top of my “Polish this up and send it off to agents” list because I always try to keep market in mind.

It’s a portal story. At the end of the day, no agent is going to want to pick up a portal story because they are universally panned in the world of publishing. There are so many, after all. And what makes mine so special--that's actually a long story, but it starts with a jewish girl from a small town. Oh, wait, that's not what they mean. They mean how is it different from all the other portal stories. 

Did I mention the MC is Jewish? right, religious representation isn't enough because it's a freaking portal story. 

Sigh.

There are so many portal stories, that I’ve been sitting on this manuscript for almost two years. It’s just been rotting away on my hard drive. There’s a part of me that says that’s where it should stay, but the little girl inside me who dreamed about catching rainbows so she could go to where the unicorns live wants to pull this story out and take it for another ride.

So why do I feel so guilty working on a portal story?

What about you guys? How do you feel when you are in love with an unmarketable idea? Do you chase it down and watch it bloom, or have you mastered the cold places in your heart and put your zombie-unicorn-portal-dystopian into the morgue where all the publishing peeps says it belongs?

Hobbies are healthy, some are even low in calories!

Briefly, I'd just like to mention that hobbies are healthy. I know a lot of people say things like "writing is my hobby," but I'm here to say, that might not be enough.

I know plenty of people who love their jobs. I also know plenty of people who are writing with the hope of having writing become their job. If you're writing to become a paid writer, you need other hobbies because your writing has crossed a magic barrier: your writing has become a second job.

Think about it. Yes, it is a passion. No, I couldn't stop even if someone ordered me to. But if  you had a second job that you were passionate about--say making blankets for the homeless, or sewing dresses for needy girls who just want to have one storybook moment in their life--you wouldn't consider your second, yet very passionate, job to be your hobby. It would just be another thing that you do. You'd still find time to tend a garden, or play golf with friends, maybe sail or relax on the lake.

When we write, we are passionate about it, but sometimes, we write to the exclusion of all else. Don't do this. Relax, enjoy the summer around you. It may be that I am particularly guilty of this right now, so this warning is more about me getting out to smell the roses than me admonishing all you lovely people to remember to do other things with your time besides hole up and write books.

With that being said, I think I'll go walk around the garden before jumping back into the writing cave.

This is not the Insecure Writer's Support Group Post You were expecting.

Insecure Writer's Support Group posts on the first Wednesday of every Month. If you don't know what I'm talking about, visit the ninja captain Alex and hop on the Linky.

This month's co-hosts are Krista McLaughlin, Kim Van Sickler, Heather Gardner, and Hart Johnson!

Okay, I had a whole Insecure Writer’s Support Group Post all lined up (even clocking in under the prescribed 300 words—please, I can’t even sneeze in under 300 words), but you know what? Screw it. I’m going to tell you what I’m really insecure about right now:

Commas.

Yeah, you heard me right. I don’t use commas well.

It all started twenty years ago (Yeah, you know you’re old when you can start stories like that—Oh, and Crap, I’m old! I Can start stories with “two decades ago…”). Right, so two decades ago, I signed up for a correspondence course. A writing course. I’ll even admit that it was the first—AND LAST—fiction writing class that I ever took. It may have colored my opinion a bit. I should maybe try another, you know, just in case the one from twenty years ago was anomalous, but I digress. Twenty years ago, I was told that I used too many commas.

Specifically, I was told that I “clearly did not understand the proper use of a comma.” 

Granted, I probably was somewhat lacking in that particular aspect of punctuation (you should see my dire lack of hyphenation now!). Regardless, I was mocked. I was not yet twenty, but the correspondence teacher didn’t know that. It was a college level course after all, ergo, I was a college student. He mocked my comma usage, and from that moment on, the comma had EXACTLY one use: to join independent clauses with a conjunction. That. Is. IT. For years—DECADES even.

Fast forward to some of my earlier work. One nameless reader of my early work once quipped “What did commas ever do to you?” Well, they were the vehicle of my humiliation, so nothing personal comma. Don’t expect to find yourself unnecessarily inserted into my sentences.

I’ve been informed that commas come where you would take a breath if you were reading aloud.

Let’s face it: some of us are longer winded than others.

I’ve been informed that commas are only for lists.

Commas are for separating ideas.

Commas are for lists, but never use them on the third, or serial comma. It is confusing.

Commas are for dependent clauses, but not independent ones--as if emancipation of a clause mandated its comma usage.

Commas are to ensure the unsplit nature of infinitives.

Commas are poorly utilized in the English Language.

After two decades of bumbling around and studying this grand language of ours,  I now have opinions on commas. And because I am insecure about them, I will now foist them upon you. Remember, I had to be mocked into this tacit list. Ignore at your own risk, but by no means should you take my word for it.

The oxford comma is—in my opinion—non-negotiable. Use it. It will clarify numerous issues, including, but not limited to, whether JFK and Stalin were strippers. 

Use a comma before the conjunction joining two independent clauses.

A comma is appropriate to set apart a prepositional phrase, particularly at the beginning of a sentence, but it is, on occasion, discretional.

A comma is always appropriate following dialogue that precedes a dialogue tag. It is also appropriate prior to dialogue when a period would be awkward.

If you have an aside—an interjection, per se—consider the ‘m’ dash instead of a parenthetical comma.

Utilize commas at your discretion when joining a dependent clause to an independent clause.This one will take finesse and, dare I say, discretion.

Which brings me nicely to my last comma rule: if you can break the two clauses with a period, do so. There is nothing finer in the English language, than the finality of a period. End. Stop. (bonus points if you have a bloody clue what an end stop refers to).

So, what about you? Have any hard and fast rules on punctuation? And just so as we’re clear, I’m serious about that Oxford comma.

Monday got away from me or GO SEE MALEFICENT!!!

As the title might imply, I went to see Maleficent. And IT WAS AWESOME.

Allow me a moment if you will, to explain why... without spoilers.

I've always had a thing for villains. In fact, most of my stories start with the villain. Sometimes, the most interesting person in the room is the villain. For Real, especially for me.

Part of this was because I never quite fit in as a kid. I liked the frilly stuff the princesses wore, but it was impossible to wear those dresses and ride a horse, so out went the dresses. I could beat the guys at all my favorite sports games, but I was never invited to "be one of the guys." The girls thought I was weird because I was all sporty, and the guys thought I was strange because I WAS a girl.

And for this: I was outcast.

And you know who is always the outcast? The villain. I saw it early on, and I chose the villain's path (shakes fists at those fools at the university). I've even claimed that Peter Pan is a tragedy told from the very unorthodox POV of the antagonist's sidekicks.

And Maleficent did something very beautiful with the Villain. They gave the villain the opportunity to not only be redeemed (I'm a BIG Zuko fan, FYI), but to also get to have a complicated relationship.

Also costumes. And badassery.

So yes, a well told story that hit all the feels (and well), and managed to take a classic story, spin it on its head and make something really beautiful. Now, don't mind me, I'll be seeing what I can do to reproduce a set of those horns!

(hey Disney, can we get a retelling of Chernabog tale next?)

Princesses or Roller Coasters

An opportunity came up. I took it. With less than 48 hours notice, I planned and packed my family up for a trip to Disneyland.

I love the mouse. I'm sorry if you aren't a fan, but it's my jam.

So we're driving over the grape vine, when I notice: hey, my throat is a little sore. Maybe I'm allergic to LA (yakno, with all the smog and stuff). But never you mind, we are on our way to D-land. By five o'clock on the day of Disney, it was clear: I have a cold.

We had a blast. When asked what her favorite part was, my daughter said "Meeting the princesses!" So that was totally worth it. After getting off Big Thunder Roller coaster, she said "Well, if we can't go meet more princesses [fantasyland closes for the fireworks], then we need to get on a roller coaster!"

Yup, that's my daughter, inadvertently summing up my life. So, words of wisdom from a five year old.

And just one picture, because, like I told Marry Poppins as I was taking the picture, I wish I was the one in it!

Practically perfect in every way.

(someday, I'm going to go to Disneyland with my own autograph book and take pictures with all of my favorite princesses)

Pitcharama

Title: ACNE, ASTHMA, AND OTHER SIGNS YOU MIGHT BE HALF DRAGON

Author: Rena Rocford

Genre: YA Urban Fantasy

Word Count: 70k

Synopsis:

Allyson fights acne, not trolls. As an inhaler-carrying member of the asthma society, Allyson just wants to meet the father who turned her mother into a paranoid, move-across-the-nation freak. Now she’s trying to fit in at yet another school, but for the first time in her life, she has a best friend, Beth. When Allyson accidentally spits fire at kidnappers in the mall, she realizes why her father isn’t in the picture: she’s half dragon. Her acne? Emerging scales. Her asthma? The side effects of her dragon's fire breath. Instead of freaking out, unflappable Beth reveals her own troll heritage and explains how things work with the supernatural creatures who hide within the modern world of smartphones and skyscrapers.

When trolls kidnap a unicorn, Beth gets blamed. Allyson is determined to prove Beth’s innocence and keep her friend off the unicorn chopping block. When they start looking for the kidnappers, they get a call from the last person they expect: Allyson’s father. He tries to warn them off, but he's been put under a spell by the kidnappers to keep the victims from escaping. Nothing short of death can stop him. Now Allyson has to choose between killing the father she’s always dreamed of, or letting her best friend die for a crime she didn’t commit.

WRiTE Club is upon us!

I totally forgot to tell everyone about WRiTE Club. And then I checked my history and saw that I had told everyone about WRiTE club. I'm losing it (but did I ever really have it?)

Since the WRiTEs haven't started yet, I can still talk about WRiTE Club (for like another hour or two!).

What it is: It's a flash fiction contest with absolutely nothing on the line but bragging rights (I almost wrote "writes." Tired writer is delirious when nearly ready to send out to betas!).

How it works: Two 500 word stories go head to head. Anyone who shows up may vote--except the WRiTERS... wait, but it's all anonymous. hmm. Well, the hope is that enough people would show up to vote that there wouldn't be a WRiTE that close. We'll see.

So, go to DL Hammons Blog as the WRiTEs are about to start. Read through and cast your vote! Yes, YOU!

"But I didn't enter."

Doesn't matter, you can still VOTE!

So go over to the competition and vote... you know, after the first WRiTe goes up. And come back for more! There will be 2 WRiTEs per week, so come back for more. Vote, read, make friends and watch as the EPiC battles unfold for the ultimate bragging.

Scheduling Blues

I'm in that horrible place between. I've finished up some projects. I'm polishing some other projects, and since I was more or less at the end of some things, I thought it would be a good idea to try writing out a schedule, because, you know, someday I'm going to be on deadline and all that.

I wrote it out. I prioritized all the projects currently on my plate (where did they all come from???). I laid out my plan like a big girl. I printed out a calendar to mark it up and everything. I marked how long this project would take, and the one after that. Then I printed out another year of calendar space so I could keep going.

I stopped the madness when I got to the third year.

Because, let's face it, I can't stay on schedule for more than a couple of months. I'm not saying I can't finish things. Nope, not at all--finishing isn't my problem. I have some sort of crazy MUST FINISH PROJECT gene lurking in my head somewhere. No, my problem is that no matter how hard I try I can only work on ONE project at a time.

Like for real.

I thought I could just swap between two projects in a week, but NOPE. I can do it under exactly ONE condition: I can swap if the project I'm leaving is done. D-O-N-E.

So my master schedule is already off the table (though, I think the only casualty was a short I was never that enthusiastic about). And I find myself feeling like an amateur. I mean, I should know better than to try to put my creativity on a schedule, but I hate that sort of fruit loopy writing process where people are all "I'll get it done when I find the inspiration." Except, I'm the one with fruit loops in my bowl.

I want schedules people! Nice organized lists with achievable goals I get to cross off everyday. I might be obsessed with efficiency. Clearly I need to make peace with my process, but I want some organization. How do you handle your writing schedule?

Good thing I decided to go into a field where everything is right on schedule, runs like a well oiled machine, and never takes longer than it should.*










*That was sarcasm, just in case you needed a calibration.

IWSG: Rejections are good for you! (please don't shoot me)

Sweet Mother of the Internet, what happened to May? Swallowed in a vortex of Everything Else Going On, I’m sure, but I find it startling when whole months just disappear on me. But since it is a new month, and it’s Wednesday, that means it’s time to check in with Ninja Captain Alex and this month’s co-hosts C. Lee McKenzie, Tracy Jo, Melanie Schulz, and LG Keltner!

That’s right, it’s time for another Insecure Writer’s Support Group.

I’m feeling a little up right now, so I’m going to pass it along. This is probably going to sound like one of those afterschool specials about becoming who you are, and learning to ignore peer pressure. I just want everyone to know that I’m not always so upbeat. I’m not always so optimistic in the face of rejection, but today, I have some wisdom for you.

My very favorite fencing coach loved to quote Conan, Bruce Lee movies, and Monty Python. During class, he would ask one of the n00bs “How many lunges does it take to get it right?”

They would guess some crazy number around a thousand (it sounds round and the thought of doing ten thousand lunges when your thighs are screaming at you hurts too much to admit). He’d say “wrong!” then turn to one of the students indoctrinated in long nights of watching B movies on HBO and ask, “How many lunges does it take?”

“All of them, Maestro.”

Rejections are sort of like that. The idea behind “all the lunges” is that your body will be sculpted by each and every lunge, hopefully manifesting in a perfectly—or at least effectively—executed lunge in the heat of battle. Which is to say, each lunge brought you part of the way to where you are, incrementally closer to your goal. Rejections are like that too.

I came to a realization many years ago that a particular project I had wasn’t ready. I’d been querying the project. I LOVED the project, still do—in fact it’s next up on my edit list, long story, and I don’t mean word count—but in its early incarnation, it wasn’t ready. That wasn’t something I was able to see at the time.

For obvious reasons, that project got a lot of rejections. Those rejections helped me see my manuscript from someone else’s point of view. I grew.

Then I sent out more work, and I got more rejections. Many more rejections, but this one was different. I could feel the difference in the way I was being rejected, and more, after a little time away from it, I could feel how stilted and jumbled the manuscript was. (I also love that story, and may someday redo it in a way to make it publishable—I miss my motorcycle racing gryphons *sigh*).

I moved on to another book (sweet mother of science, there really is a trail of literary bodies in my wake!), and the rejections had changed again. These rejections made things sound fixable.

Fixable?

I’d abandoned projects before because I wasn’t sure what would make them better. I’d tried everything I knew how to do, and still they were flawed, somehow stuck in that place that lacked high concept AND compelling writing. Then my rejections moved to “I like this but…” That was a major breakthrough. I took the manuscript out and edited, revised, edited some more (you’ve heard how my process lacks those qualities of efficiency, yeah, this was like that).

That is to say, it took rejections—lots and lots of rejections—to put myself into a position to look at my manuscript with a more honed and professional eye. Sure, it still wasn’t the MS creating fans like the twihards, but all things in time (no, I'm not dreaming of that kind of fame, that's crazy with a capital K). And with each rejection, I gained something. Dare I say, I grew from them?

At that moment, I realized, I’d became a better writer because someone said no to me.

Mind blown.

When I was working on that first project, I cried a lot. I felt like I’d read a lot of really bad books that had been published. I felt like mine was “good enough.” I constantly said “If only someone would take a chance on my book and read it, they’d fall in love.” Or “My book is better than that published book by five-books-a-year Bestselling author.”All signs of beginner's angst.

But when no one said yes, I had to take a serious look at why. It wasn’t because I had enemies in the business. It wasn’t because people were judging me on my looks (at first I was very careful to not have pictures of me on the internet because of my work). So if they didn’t know me, and they weren’t just saying no cause I was, you know, fat (my default reason for most rejection in my life up untill that point) then why were they saying no?

Oh, right. They were saying no because the writing wasn’t that good.

So I dug deep, figured out some things and soldiered on.

Later when the rejections kept coming, I looked for other things in my craft: awkward writing, better word choice, the eradication of Just, Little, Pretty, and That. And each No drove me forward like my fencing coach yelling “Another!”. (Now I imagine him throwing a coffee cup to the ground a la Thor, but we never fenced on Thor’s days).

I’m not going to lie, rejection hurts, and even when it’s making you better, it still feels like you’re asymptotically* approaching your dreams. Even though it hurts, and even though it sucks to see a big field of no (especially when all around, you see the sea of yeses from people landing agents and book deals—or bypassing the whole system for selfpub and or kickstarter) rejections are a healthy part of the system.

A: if it were easy, everyone would do it.

B: If it were easy for you, you wouldn’t grow.

C: Okay, well, I don’t have a third piece of evidence because they hurt, and they suck, and I’ve cried over rejections, and not that pretty movie cry. Nope, that’s not my speed, deep ugly I can’t breathe crying, that's for me. But rejections change you. They mold you into the writer you will become. That’s usually better than the writer you are today. Go get some rejections! Wait, that didn't sound right. I suck at pep talks today.

And if this just makes you want to throw things at your computer, I get that feeling, too. Just remember that a shotgun to the screen, while beautiful to imagine, is actually quite messy (just imagine how I know that).

*An asymptote is a curve that approaches a particular line, but Never. Quite. Touches it. So yeah, sorry, math metaphors. It’s usually not contagious until I’m making vector jokes, but quite frankly, I'm all out of direction.

 

WRiTE Club

Today is the last day to enter WRiTE Club people, so get those 500 word flash fiction pieces together and send them off.

Go here for details, and Remember The first rule of WRiTE Club is to talk about WRiTE Club, so spread the word on entering, but remember to keep your writing anonymous.

 

It's WRiTE CLUB. 

I'll see you there (wearing my mask of course!).