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J. Michael Straczynski says that one day he called up Harlan Ellison for advice on how to write better, and Harlan said, "Stop writing crap." JMS also says that what matters is what William Faulkner called "The human heart in conflict with itself". I think that pretty much sums up why I'm a crappy writer.
I had dinner at the Nebula awards a couple of years back with some very good writers, many of whom had won Nebulas before, and three of whom were currently up for the award. (I get invited to things like this primarily because of my husband, I suspect.) As the dinner progressed, and some alcohol was imbibed, some at the dinner started talking about their childhoods. They talked about being insecure and feeling cut off from the people around them, and how that had affected them deeply. I realized something then, that even though I'd had the normal teenager feelings of disconnection from the people around me, I have a very strong sense of self and didn't really care much what other people thought about me, beyond my friends. I've been depressed for a large portion of my entire life, but that was so normal (the rest of my entire extended family was also depressed) it didn't really make that much of a difference. I solved my emotional problems by applying logic to them. I've also been very good at figuring out what other people are up to, including knowing who is sleeping with whom (usually I'm the first to figure out secret relationships, long before anyone else does, but that's another story), again using logic. Hence, my stories tend to be fairly cerebral. I don't think I handle relationships well. Something to work on, I think. I feel. One of those things.
My writing for this year:
Published:
"The Ice Weasels of Trebizond", by Mr. and Mrs. Brenchley, available in Daughters of Frankenstein, edited by Steve Berman.
In the works:
I conceived the concept, wrote a story, and submitted it, all in about two months. The story would have benefited from a little more rewrite, but I suspect it will be rejected by the end of this month so I'll have a chance at it again. "A Narrow Fellow in the Grass" is a story about were-nematodes, and I submitted it to the WERE- anthology, so cross your fingers for me.
Another thing I started is monthly write-a-thons in my backyard (and clubhouse, when it's cooler). I invite all the writers I know who are local to come spend the day writing. So far quite a few have come, and have reported useful results from the sessions. I intend to keep these up in the new year. Maybe I'll have more complete stories to report (and possibly even a sale) by the end of the year.
I had dinner at the Nebula awards a couple of years back with some very good writers, many of whom had won Nebulas before, and three of whom were currently up for the award. (I get invited to things like this primarily because of my husband, I suspect.) As the dinner progressed, and some alcohol was imbibed, some at the dinner started talking about their childhoods. They talked about being insecure and feeling cut off from the people around them, and how that had affected them deeply. I realized something then, that even though I'd had the normal teenager feelings of disconnection from the people around me, I have a very strong sense of self and didn't really care much what other people thought about me, beyond my friends. I've been depressed for a large portion of my entire life, but that was so normal (the rest of my entire extended family was also depressed) it didn't really make that much of a difference. I solved my emotional problems by applying logic to them. I've also been very good at figuring out what other people are up to, including knowing who is sleeping with whom (usually I'm the first to figure out secret relationships, long before anyone else does, but that's another story), again using logic. Hence, my stories tend to be fairly cerebral. I don't think I handle relationships well. Something to work on, I think. I feel. One of those things.
My writing for this year:
Published:
"The Ice Weasels of Trebizond", by Mr. and Mrs. Brenchley, available in Daughters of Frankenstein, edited by Steve Berman.
In the works:
I conceived the concept, wrote a story, and submitted it, all in about two months. The story would have benefited from a little more rewrite, but I suspect it will be rejected by the end of this month so I'll have a chance at it again. "A Narrow Fellow in the Grass" is a story about were-nematodes, and I submitted it to the WERE- anthology, so cross your fingers for me.
Another thing I started is monthly write-a-thons in my backyard (and clubhouse, when it's cooler). I invite all the writers I know who are local to come spend the day writing. So far quite a few have come, and have reported useful results from the sessions. I intend to keep these up in the new year. Maybe I'll have more complete stories to report (and possibly even a sale) by the end of the year.
