Cautiously optimistic.

Despite what appeared to be a pregnancy loss a few weeks ago, this week's ultrasound showed a heartbeat. Anything could happen at this early stage, but so far, it looks like I am still expecting.

Been uniformly queasy and exhausted for about a month now, so most everything of note in my life is on hold until I'm feeling better.

2009 is just @#$%ing INSANE.

As if life wasn't complicated and thrilling and nervewracking enough: Positive pregnancy test this morning. Holy moly.

McDaniel University.

Many of you know of my two rather sad attempts to get a college degree, and how I self-destructed and gave the finger to two wonderful state schools who were perfectly willing to have me (IU and UCLA). Well, I've been itching for an education again, but I've decided to go about things differently this time. I sat down and mapped out a degree based off of an actual school's course offerings, and I'm going to buy the books and study on my own. Won't help my resume, but it will certainly help my self esteem, and other schooling options just aren't practical for me time and money-wise.

A hint to anyone looking to educate yourself: go to the local college used bookstore if you have one, and ask for the SECOND-most recent edition of the text. Once the new $100 edition of an algebra book comes out, for example, the old edition - often virtually identical - will sell for about $5. This was a very pleasant surprise to me. For things like math that really don't change, this is a no-brainer.

Gag Order lifted.

Some of you may remember my post about Clarion? Or my mysterious "I will not blog about it" post from a couple of weeks ago?

I've been officially permitted to make the announcement now - I, along with 17 other writers ranging from age 20 to 52, published to unpublished, will be attending Clarion this summer to learn the finer points of crafting fantasy and science fiction.

Now that the squeeing is over with, back to work on my screenplay. No rest for the wicked.

Writer's Remorse.

It seemed like a really good idea at the time, this screenplay. But for the past two weeks I've found myself utterly unable to work up even the faintest amount of enthusiasm for its premise. That's not a good sign. If I can't get excited about it, how am I supposed to get an agent or producer excited about it? This is the same thing that happened when I tried to write the same screenplay for last year's Nicholl Fellowship, and it's why I ended up not entering. I realized I hated the story too close to the deadline to start another.

Why I decided to drag the thing out and work on it again, I've no idea. Maybe just because I'd already done some work on it, and I didn't have any new ideas.

But I know people have finished writing projects they hated before... how do they do it? Do they ever turn out well? Am I ever going to find a way to "love the one I'm with"?

The Art of Paraphrasing.

Actual quote, re: The Sci Fi channel's name change:

"The name Sci Fi has been associated with geeks and dysfunctional, antisocial boys in their basements with video games and stuff like that[...]" - Tim Brooks, TV historian who helped launch the Sci Fi channel.

My version:

"We hate the 14 people who regularly tune into our network, so we're going to try to lure the other 6 billion by insulting them."

I will not blog about it...

I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it... I will not blog about it...

Not sure how I'm going to last two more weeks when I've barely managed to last two days...

Writing Schedule, 2009.

March/April: Work on romantic comedy screenplay for Nicholl competition.
May/June/July: Finish fantasy novel.
August/September/October: Work on horror screenplay while shopping novel around.
November/December: Write kickass fantasy short story while shopping 2 screenplays around.

Goodbye, Judith.

I play EverQuest. Okay? Get the snickering out of the way, because I need your serious attention for this next part.

One of the people I play with sometimes, a woman in her early 40s named Judith, died in a fire today. I was online and heard people talking about the fact that someone in the community had died, and my first thought was, "Probably no one I know."

Then I heard that it was someone from the community I'm most closely involved with in EQ. Then I thought, "Oh no, either PersonX or PersonY finally succumbed to her cancer." But I was wrong on both counts.

A day ago Judith was alive and perfectly healthy, and now she's gone. Completely random and tragic enough to make her local news. Everyone is in shock. Weeping real tears, not virtual ones. Because despite what people who don't "do the online thing" may believe, "computer friends" are not "computer friends." They're just friends. We chat with them every day about whatever. Some of them get on our nerves. Some of them are cruel and petty. Some of them, like Judith, are strong-willed and opinionated and yet somehow never manage to say anything bad about another person.

I remember her as being eccentric, well-spoken, and endlessly friendly. She was one of the people who always accepted me, always treated me as a friend even though I wasn't in her closest circle. Online socializing works much like real-life socializing. There are cliques, rivalries, hurt feelings, miscommunications, and varying levels of trust. Some of the community I play with had met her in person; most of us had not. But we are all in agreement that we've suffered a real loss.

I'm not one to sentimentally ascribe perfect virtue to people just on account of their being dead. Judith was no saint, but saints aren't interesting. Judith was a real person, with quirks and ideas and odd habits. But she was a good person. A friendly person. And now she's gone.

I just hope she knows, somehow, how many people out there genuinely miss her, even if they hever got to hear her reportedly amazing laugh or give her a hug that wasn't surrounded by asterisks.

Stop slandering my city!!

So funny, on the heels of my last entry, that I should suddenly feel a surge of almost ferocious optimism. Maybe it's because my 5-day headache has finally let up. But I noticed that one of my friends, who is forced to move out here to L.A. for job-related reasons, was being besieged by well-meaning(?) "friends" who decided to tell her how awful L.A. is, how she should move anywhere but there, some even with colorful anecdotes to back up their prejudices.

So I wrote a little rant to her, which I will post here, somewhat edited.

Dear Friend:

There is always more than one way to look at something. Why SO MANY people persistently choose the more glum, depressing, terrifying way... I just don't even know. Our outlook is our choice. Sure, some things it's hard to see the blessing in, like cancer... but even that, many people can take a positive spin on (and their survival rate goes up drastically, by all accounts). But this? How on earth can so many people see a move to L.A. as a horrible thing to complain and wring their hands about???

Los Angeles. The city of angels. The birthplace of cinema. Home of celebrities and year-round sunshine.

If something is coming to this country, and is only going to happen in TWO places, it comes here, and it comes to New York City. Period. No argument.

Now, New York City has its own charms, which I won't list here, but for a person such as myself who is prone to depression and/or anxiety, looking at the two undisputed metropolitan hubs in this nation, Los Angeles is the hands-down choice. L.A. is sunny, balmy, laid-back, friendly, and can even put me at ease. Me.

Yeah, there are certain disadvantages to living in a big city. People complain about traffic, crowds, smog, blah blah. Well first of all, there are ways to deal with those so they're not so stress-inducing, if you're smart. Second of all, who gives a rat's ass? I'd gladly pay the price of crowds and traffic to get the kind of astonishing cultural, educational, and entertainment opportunities that L.A. offers, second only to New York in some respects and second to none in others. You can have anything you want in L.A. An amazing zoo. A jaw-dropping library. Not into that kind of stuff? Prefer to go out dancing? Or go to rock concerts? Attend political protest rallies? Volunteer at a charity? Sit peacefully in a setting of unsurpassed natural beauty? Stay at home and read a book? You can do ALL of those things in L.A. You can do damn near anything you want in L.A. except ski, and even that's within driving distance.

Like you say, L.A. probably won't be your final stop on the road of life. All the more reason that you should get the most out of it you possibly can. All the more reason why you should stop to fully appreciate what L.A. has to offer. There is quite literally no other place like it. It has been written about, sung about, and filmed ad infinitum.

Take the opportunity to learn more than you ever wanted to know about movies and their amazing history. Spend time at the beach, see the Chinese Theater. And yeah, see homeless people and traffic jams and smog. Why does everything have to be perfect? Where's the beauty in that? "To live is to be marked, to acquire the words of a story." Or so says Barbara Kingsolver, and I agree wholeheartedly. What more fascinating chapter could a life possibly have than one set against the same backdrop as Charlie Chaplin and Steve Martin and Walt Disney?

Life is what you make of it. Don't let your "friends" build fences around your experience and tell you what L.A. is going to be for you. Hell, don't even let ME do that. Make L.A. yours. It's a multifaceted gem; you can turn whatever face you want toward you and ignore the rest. All life is like that, really, but honestly, L.A. more so than most. To paraphrase Steve Martin, it was a vast barren desert that people filled with their dreams.

Now it's your turn.

It does rain in L.A.

I have noticed I have a tendency only to write when I'm feeling great, everything's peachy, the sun is shining, blah blah blah. But I don't want my blog just to become the "Christmas newsletter" of blogs. If you're reading this it's either because you care about me or you care about writing, and it's only fair to show you the reality of both.

It's been raining for several days, off and on, providing a perfect backdrop for my current case of the blues. I have had a headache for quite literally four days now, and it's really getting old, especially since it's accompanied by nausea and loss of appetite. Too brain-dead for writing most of the time, I've been trying to make up for this lack of productivity by checking out likely agents, catching up on the latest hot authors of historical/heroic fantasy, etc. But today, even though the sun has begun to peek out from behind the clouds in a literal sense, I'm still feeling pretty down.

The more I look at any story I try to write, the more I realize it's completely stupid, illogical, full of holes, badly written, and beyond saving. I suppose I should stop looking and just keep writing, but the feeling of futility is pretty overwhelming. I have a hard time working on something unless I have hope for it, and right now, both of my projects look like they may have flaws so profound I don't know how to fix them.

So do I leave them unfinished like I always do? Or do I stick with them, keep writing, keep working, even though right now I'd rather punch a hole in my hand with a ball point pen?

End with the beginning in mind.

Writing is going well. Working on two projects simultaneously: a fantasy novel as well as a romantic comedy/fantasy screenplay for this year's Nicholl competition. I have deprioritized the fantasy novel for the moment, as it does not come with a deadline. It does, however make a handy (and productive!) procrastination tool when I don't feel like working on my screenplay.

For the screenplay, I'm starting with the ending. Endings are so important to a movie's success. Sure, you do have to have a great first ten pages to get the script represented or sold in the first place, but beginnings (for me at least) are much easier to write. Endings are not only a thousand times harder (for me), but they are the thing that makes the film either a box office success or dooms it to bounce briefly off theaters on its way to video. If the first 75% of your movie is great and the ending is blah, your movie will die fairly quickly due to lackluster word of mouth. If the first 75% of your movie is so-so (but good enough to keep people remotely interested) and the ending is great, you will actually get a surprising amount of good buzz, because those last 10-20 minutes are what people leave the theater talking and thinking about. It's best if the first 75% is good and the last 25% is GREAT, and that's what I'm shooting for.

I have now officially nailed down what happens in the climax of my screenplay, and I have to say, it's going to be a great deal of fun. Going to spend tomorrow perfecting it and then start laying the groundwork for everything that leads up to it.

Clarion Call

So, today, as I was trying to find something to do to take my mind off of a sick cat, I ended up applying to Clarion and Clarion West. This is the kind of thing that, if I hadn't done it kind of impulsively and mostly thinking about other things, I could have come up with a thousand reasons why it was a waste of the application fee. Clarion has been The Dream for many would-be fantasy and science fiction writers for over forty years now. There's a bit of legend about it. For those who haven't heard of it and are too lazy to click links - it's a six-week live-in workshop for writers of speculative fiction that is considered by many to be the "golden key" into the world of published authordom, though the people in charge of Clarion of course vehemently deny that!

I suspect that, rather than Clarion itself having any particularly magical quality, the caliber of writing and the level of sheer dedication you have to have to get in, give up 6 weeks of your life, and pay the stunning tuition cost pretty much means you'd have made it as a writer anyway. The connections you make during the workshop couldn't hurt though, and "Clarion graduate" certainly spices up a query letter.

I won't get in, if for no other reason than the samples I sent are not my best work (for various reasons). But I think it means something that I applied. It means I'm finally ready to stop clutching my precious stories to my chest and growling when people approach. I'm becoming more open to failure, criticism, and wasted application/postage fees.

Next deadline: Nicholl Fellowship. Yup, trying again this year with a quirky romantic comedy/fantasy. Might toss KoD at them again, too. Also still working on the novel, but due to various factors, I have changed my schedule from 5 chapters a week to 2. This will give me more time to work on my Nicholl screenplay, and also to do some badly-needed research that I am only now realizing I should have done already for the novel.

33.

What I got for my birthday this year:

1) Pizza.
2) A break from writing.
3) A new kitten.
3.4) An earthquake.

Getting it written.

Chapters 8 and 9 have come to me a little easier than 3-7 did. But that's not what I find most heartening. What buoys me the most is the realization that I am STILL DOING THIS. That I got through 4 horrible days in a row and am still stubbornly writing around 5,000 words a day (average chapter length). I'm just one day away from another weekend writing break, and I know I'm going to make it there without ruining my record. Who cares if what I'm writing is crap? For once I'm actually writing it, delivering on the promises I made to myself.

The second half, though, I've always known would be harder than the first, because it's where things get complicated and require actual, you know, skill. So, pray to 'em if you got 'em.

These are the good old days.

One day I'll be telling someone about this part of my life, giving it the romantic spin that we often do our past struggles. But right now it doesn't seem particularly romantic. I thought the words would just fly onto the page, as much preparation as I've done over the past several months on index cards. Or I thought perhaps the first day would be the hardest, and that habit would make it come easier and faster. But it seems to be the reverse. It's an hour til I'm supposed to be asleep and I have 1400 words or so left for the day. And I'm blogging instead of writing because it's going that badly.

I wish I could see this part the way I will see it someday, all misty-eyed while people around me toast my success.

"I remember that first draft," I will say. "It was so awful. I mean, it was really terrible, one of the worst things I've ever written. I don't know why I kept going, but I did. I sank my teeth into it like a bulldog and just refused to let go. I've never been that stubbornly dedicated to a project before or since. Maybe I knew somehow that it would all be worthwhile. Maybe not. But I sat down every day at that computer and cranked out five thousand words. Day in and day out. Five thousand terrible, awkward, nonsensical words that somehow eventually got polished into a novel.

"I was a woman on fire! I was driven, inspired, desperate maybe! It's hard to imagine. It's so easy for me now, I forget the visceral need that was driving me in those days. The roller coaster. I no longer feel the danger, the wild amorphous hope, the gutwrenching awareness of the possibility of failure. It's no longer a highwire act - it's just a job. I miss those days. I really do."

Putting the "rough" back in "rough draft."

I am now 25% finished with the first draft of a novel that will likely be about the length of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. However, unless something drastically changes in future drafts, that is the only thing that my novel will have in common with that or any other even vaguely successful piece of fiction.

(Edited to add: Sentences like the last one above are just one of the many reasons why.)

Fastest novel-writing ever?

Tomorrow I begin a rigorous writing schedule in which I will write a novel in 4 weeks! Well, really more like 4 months and 4 weeks if you count all the plotting, research, brainstorming, laying it out scene by scene meticulously on index cards, etc. that I've been doing since my last post.

Well, technically 20 years and 4 weeks, if you count the fact that I first came up with the underlying mythology of this particular fantasy world on a camping trip with my friend Meg when I was 13 years old.

Yyyyyyeah. Mkay.

If anyone wants to read it when I'm done, let me know. I'd classify it as a um, gritty sword-and-sorcery tale in a setting that is based on predynastic Egypt circa 3200 B.C., with a dash of the Serengeti thrown in since Egypt was a savanna back then and not a desert. Um, also, since it's kind of pre- or very early Bronze Age, there weren't really swords. So um, spear-and-sorcery.

Yeah.