Over in the Asimov's forums, a poster asked "What are your priorities when you write a short story? What's your mission?"

The amazing and fantastic James Patrick Kelly gave an answer that I'm about to tape to the wall over my computer. I don't think he'd mind my sharing.


1. Try not to repeat myself. (I've been around for awhile.)

2. Get something into the story that I've never seen before. (I've been around for awhile.)

3. Make readers want to turn the page.

4. Say something bigger than the plot.

5. Write at least one character who doesn't know she's a character.

6. Stick the ending.

7. Get published.

8. Get discussed.

re No. 5:
Well, it has something to do with the way a character will do something that surprises me or show a side of herself that I hadn't seen when I imagined her. For example, I thought John Dark in "Surprise Party" was only coming to Mercedes 's party so he could sleep with her. I didn't know he was going to do what he did until I typed it. Or take Rain from "The Edge of Nowhere." What she does after Will leaves came out of nowhere.

This "independence" happens because I usually try not to think too much about a character's backstory until I need it. I will write what they do before I know exactly who they are.

Sleep is magical.

I think I may have figured out why this story is fighting me.

1. Ultimately, this is a story with one main character, yet I've been trying to muscle it into two-character tension (plot) patterns. In other words, I think I've got a mystery, but I've been subconsciously trying to write it as a buddy story. There really isn't a buddy, although there are some important secondary characters. I think each one of those has been clamoring to be the buddy, so I've ended up with a lot of mutually exclusive motivations (and characters doing things they really wouldn't do).
2. If this is a story with one main character, he needs one major problem -- and he doesn't really have one. He's got some inconveniences, some pretty awkward and uncomfortable situations, but they don't necessarily relate to his major character trait. In fact, his major character trait doesn't really have sufficient gravity to support the plot; it's really a secondary trait.

In an ideal world, I'd take time to find a good model, tear it apart word by word, analyze it, and use it as a foundation. I don't have time to do that because I've got a June 1 deadline. (I'll keep it in mind for the future, as I do my reading -- run a minimized mental search window and make note of stories like this that I can model). So I'll continue working without a net.

I'll see what happens. I'm talking pretty much a blank-screen rewrite, here, because the thing went wrong at the last line of the first scene. I think.

Onward!

I've sort of slowed down on posting writing-related stuff (except for the MFA updates, which are under a separate lock to protect the people who don't have any interest in the ins and outs of my grad school existence). I'm deep in the trenches: I write every day, some of it works and some of it doesn't, and it doesn't do my writing any real good anymore to take the time to read about other people's writing or to post about my own. I've squeezed that sponge dry. I don't really think in terms of hope or success anymore, either, in general: every day is another step through Ithilien  on the way to Mordor, and I try not to think about the Sisyphean magnitude of it all.

OK, so this was funny.

My brother went to my niece's 'Grandparents and Special Friends' day at school. My niece is eight. Imagine a classroom full of kids, and in the back, one or two adults for each kid.

The teacher asked each kid to come up with two adjectives to describe their special friend. My niece belts out "fat" and "has cavities."

Thankfully, my brother laughed, although some of the poor grandparents tittered.

I've been tagged by bogwitch64.
1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people and post a comment to bogwitch64's blog (your tagees will post to mine, etc.) once you've posted your three sentences.

I'm not going to tag people because it looks like most of my flist has been tagged, but it would be nice if you'd play along, if you have a mind to, and link back to bogwitch64. That said, I'm so sorry about this! But it says 'nearest book', right?

The genital pore is immediately posterior to the ventral sucker; the genital pore of other trematodes is located elsewhere. The location of the genital pore and the fact that the testes lie opposite one another are the only characteristics that unite the diverse assemblage of genera thrown together in the family Troglotrematidae. Troglotrematids of veterinary importance are parasites of the intestines or lungs.

Yes, welcome to what I do for a living.

I love me the slashy stuff. Not fanfic slashy (except for anime), but original fantasy fic, or vampires, that kind of slashy. In my old RP days I was pretty much married to a slash vampire (which is a whole other, looooong story).

So anyway, I have to say... last night I watched some episodes of the worst... I mean, the worst... slashy vampire series I've ever, ever seen. It's epically bad. It's cataclysmically bad. It's Dark Shadows bad -- and I don't mean Dark Shadows camp bad, I mean Plan Nine bad. It was so bad I was lying on the couch giggling my ass off at the sheer badness of it, and covering my face in embarrassment, despite the fact that I live alone. This was no Dante's Cove, let me tell you.

I can't wait for episode 5.

The sheriff's name is Sheriff Trout, for god's sake.

And now, excuse me, I have to go somewhere and giggle hysterically.

Phillyish is a crazy, crazy place to be today. The roads are crazy, there are people all over the intersections with signs, the robocalls are crazy (I got five yesterday), and oh-my-god, the polls this morning were NUTS.

So I had this dream last night, where I was at grad school with dfable. The door to my workshop room was locked. dfable was irritated with me because I wanted to just hang out outside the door and wait until it opened, so she left me and walked down a pier out to the ocean to get some fresh air (in winter). Other stuff happened. Then I looked around and I was in a meeting of a Stonecoast secret support group. And Jorge Garcia was there. And a crazy girl sniffed my shoulder and said I smelled like heroin.

I have no idea what I'm doing. 

I just finished a story that I'm really, really, really really happy with.

But it's 9200 words, which makes me sad.

Edited to add: I'm so happy with it that I'm now in this pause place: "I'll never manage anything that feels this strong, ever ever again!" Which means I don't have a thought in my head, and yet I've got a deadline on the 15th.

So... did anybody watch Hell's Kitchen?

Did anybody happen to notice a passing resemblance between Gordon Ramsey in a wig and someone else? Hmmmmm?

April 1 is the anniversary of the day I Got Serious about learning to write. (It was actually March, but I liked the symbolism of April 1, so I stole it.)

That was 2002. I'd written quite a lot before (including one complete and a bunch of partial novels), but I'd quit at one point, after a lot of rejections, and I stayed quit for about fifteen years. To keep myself going this time, I decided that learning to write was a lot like learning to be a doctor -- that I shouldn't expect to be practicing until I had a lot of years of study under my belt, and that I shouldn't expect any real success for years after that. So I made a little ten-year plan (actually, more like a twelve- or fourteen-year plan), and a little chart: 2002, Freshman in high school. 2003, Sophomore in high school. Et cetera. That way when the rejection got to be depressing, I could look at the little chart and say, "Look! You're only a junior in high school. Just how much medicine do you really expect to be practicing?"

So... today I start my junior year of college. In the last six years, I've cranked out first drafts of three novels (not really worth revising, although the one I workshopped at VP may be worth a rewrite when I start working on my novel muscles), periodically dipping into short fiction. But now I'm sticking with short stories until I'm satisfied that I've learned how to learn.

Rejection? Sure! Bring it on! I'm only six years into my ten-year plan. I'm a junior in college! How much medicine do I really expect to be practicing?

So the rejections come, and I throw them in a binder, and I get up at 3:30 every morning (including Christmas and Saturdays) to get in another couple of hours of work before I have to tackle the dayjob. I'm in a master's program, working with super teachers. I retype good stories and tear them apart word by word to see how the authors did what they did and where I'm not doing it. I read everything I can get my hands on, with an eye to seeing how it can help me improve.

My report cards (such as they are) are promising. And I feel even more deadly serious than I did six years ago. I feel driven, and I feel forged. It's left me with no sense of humor! ;D

But I 'll keep trudging to Mordor, dammit, one word at a time, despite the fact that the ring's getting heavier. Bring it on! Make it heavy as hell! I'll still be walking. I'm really good at forcing myself to take one more step.

I have it! The key to brilliance!

All I need to do is mention exactly the right things exactly the right number of times. I just need to get rid of all the places I inadvertently say things twice, and make sure I mention everything that does need to be mentioned at least once. In the right place. And the right way.

I see the word embargo, and all I can think of is "Masterblaster runs Bartertown."

I ordered a tee shirt for my nephew from an outfit called Rockabilia, back in January. Caveat emptor!

I got an email from them in January saying it was backordered, and it would take 2 to 8 weeks to deliver. I just called them.

Apparently, after 8 weeks go by, they can't tell you when the order will come in: it just goes to "will come in whenever." It "could be a long time." So basically, even though their email tells you 2 to 8 weeks, the actual time frame for order delivery is... infinity. Which I would have no problem with, except for that pesky "2 to 8 weeks" they committed to in writing.

Oh, and they charged my credit card in January.

OK, so... I just had to tell a bunch of kids to Get Off My Lawn!

No, seriously. My front lawn is about ten by ten, and when you take the pine tree into consideration, if you're on my lawn, you're about four feet from my front window.

The dog was going batpoop crazy, trying to jump through the window to eat them. I had to do it. I had to yell. It was them or me.

What can I say? I'm mean and proud!

Actually...not. I just want a house in the woods. (And for the record, I was a Get Off My Lawn type even as a child. This hasn't suddenly developed in my forties.)

Afterellen.com has a nice review of The Best Short Stories of Leslea Newman.

Leslea is one of our instructors at Stonecoast.

Oklahoma representative Sally Kern apparently spewed a hate-filled diatribe when she thought only fifty people were listening. She likens gay people to cancer.

This sort of idiocy makes me sick to my stomach. Perez Hilton posted her snail mail and email addresses for lodging complaints.

Ooh, ooh, 56 pharmaceuticals were found in Philadelphia drinking water.

That has to be a typo. Even California only had about eight or ten. Although, wait. There are bunches of pharma companies around here.

If it's not a typo, wow. Not that I drink tap water here anyway (in addition to the 56 pharmaceuticals, I know what else is in there), but now I'm really not drinking tap water.

Edited: Apparently not a typo. Here's the link to the full article.

Ohmygod, ohmygod. I just came home from running an errand and found... an empty, torn-apart jelly bean bag. My dog ate two pounds of tropical-flavored jelly beans!

She's going to be farting mango while she's passed out for the next 24 hours.