I'll be Back - Really

Well, farm life has become a priority for me.

If it appears that I've dropped off the face of Cyber Space, I have.

It started when the neighbor called to tell us that the old gelding was in the neighbor's yard. I'm not sure how he got out of the fence, the old boy wasn't telling.

This week the old fence is coming down - I'm have a heart attack just thinking about it! - So new fence can go up. I've got the round pen to contain the horses. They won't like it - but they will survive for a week in a confined space. Should the mares get cranky they can't corner the old gelding.

 There will be the 'new grass' issue, once the the fence is up. Water to haul and other details to handle.

I'll be back - soon enough.

Spring Chickens

Yesterday was a big day for me. Really, no joke.

My incubated eggs started to hatch, signaling the beginning of spring.

In early March, I brought a bunch of eggs in the house, even though I've had no luck hatching eggs these last few years. I'm serious, I'm talking zero chicks out of five batches.

Last fall, I managed to hatch out a few, but only two survived the winter - both roosters that I gave away. The duck hatched out more chicks than I did.

Yesterday my luck changed. Five chicks hatched out.

Why is this important? Purchasing chicks sets me back anywhere from $3 to $5 per chick. I start with a loss, need to feed them all summer, they start laying in the fall. It takes all winter to make my money back. If I hatch them, I get a head start.

If one of the hens would hatch them, I'd make money. So far, only Smudge has hatched any eggs. She hatched three chicks, three years ago. Not a good track record.

I'm afraid that I picked a breed that isn't very fertile. The Dominique or Dominiker may have fallen out of favor as a production chicken for that reason.

I thought my old rooster was the problem. But he's been gone two years now. His son, Sony, is a fine looking rooster - the current flock of hens is all Barred Rocks. I'm going to have to candle the eggs that are left to see if chicks formed. If I get a lot of 'clear' eggs, I'll know there is a fertility problem. Since this flock of hens is only a year old - I don't really need a replacement flock.

Since they are banded, I can tell the hens apart. It's been handy. I know that Seven likes high places. Six is currently sitting on a nest of duck eggs. If Six keeps it up, I'll give her a nest of chicken eggs. She can try her luck at raising chicks.

I'm not so good at it.

Using Points of View with Restraint

As a reader, I have found that just as too many cooks spoil a broth, too many Point of View characters ruin a story.

Blame my revulsion on over-populated works of fantasy & sci-fi. The flat one-dimensional Point of View characters blurred together. I call them the "Never Ending Story with the Cast of Thousands." I'm talking about five or more volumes with dozens of characters and mind-boggling page counts.

I read one or two books, hoping the writers would either develop or drop some characters. Each book had a couple new, poorly developed, characters to track. I needed a database to keep track of them.

Frankly, it wasn't worth the effort.

One of the joys of reading is finding a character with whom one can relate. That's how I got hooked on 'Harry Potter', even though it is fantasy and YA, the story moved along with a limited number of engaging characters. I could deal with a few PoV shifts to other characters (Snape's subplot rocked!) – but I cared about happened to Harry.

My point is this: yes, it is more difficult to tell the story from a single PoV than it is to hop from head to head. As a result, the book is choppy, even disjointed. Worse yet, a PoV switch can destroy suspense instead of building it. Why expose the plot when you can have the reader biting their nails as they turn pages?

I'm going to plug "Writing the Breakout Novel" by Donald Maas, because he makes a lot of sense. Breakout novels have well-developed characters who have inner conflicts. Sometimes they're forced to do things they would never, ever do, in order to survive.

Breakout novels are carefully populated, each PoV character has their own subplot and story arc. Extra characters are combined creating plot twists. Think about it – take two random characters – combine them in your head. What will this 'combination' character do? How will they react to the conflict of the two roles? If this is not a PoV character, how surprised will the reader be when they discover the second role?

The first draft of "Lunch" had fifteen characters. The final version has nine. The number of 'roles' remain the same. I also cut two Points of View, and most of the third. If I keep in mind that mystery is what the readers doesn't know – then it becomes less tempting to 'tell all' in a story.

I have half a dozen unfinished books on my hard drive. I gave up on most of them because of a lack of plot structure, however most of them included shameless bouts of head-hopping. When I read the best of them, I notice how shallow the main characters are. They are blithely unaware of what's going on around them. Why? I wrote the scene hopping from head to head instead of requiring the MC to evaluate her surroundings or the people in her 'life.'

What a cosmic 'oops' that turned out to be.

Equality for Women - 40 Years Later it's Still a Myth

I opened up my email today and glanced through the news feed. I found this little gem, which brings back many memories.

Sexism At Work speaks of the 1970 'uprising' at Newsweek Magazine. This was a time when women who worked at Newsweek were forbidden to write for the magazine. Called "dollies" they wrote for other magazines, just not the one they worked for.

I'm very happy to see that they have also mentioned "Men with Pens" the founder of this blog found that her income doubled when she assumed a male identity.

Oops - or maybe WTF?

Back when I was a child, I remember my mother railing against the fact that men working in her office made more money. In fact, that was one of several factors that made her open up her own business.

What I've found in my career in IT is that sexism is rampant; subtle but rampant. What has always frustrated me is that young women don't see it. I've watched the few, but brilliant, women I've worked with be passed over for promotion - just as I am. I note it, they don't seem to.

They pat their male collegues on the back, not seeing that they are far more qualified for the job than the person with less time on the job, fewer skills, but the correct gender.

So, for all of my readers who inwardly feel frustrated and can't understand why they hate their job, I give you a website: The Equality Myth. I do this because, my dear reader, you are still being paid about 25% less than the 'other' gender. If you are a writer, it's more like 50%.

Think about it, look around. Pay attention. If this is bullshit, you'll see women in half the management postitions at your job. If this is bullshit, you will earn the same paycheck as your male collegues.

You won't, you don't.

Health Care - the Economy is Counting on Us

I'd never heard of him. I didn't think he was up for the job.
Time has proven me wrong - yes, we are in a recession, but I expected it to be much, much worse. We'll see if we can climb out of the pit dug by the previous administration. (The arrogant and economically clueless who...I'll stop now, before I rant and rave.)
This president has won my trust - I watch him closely, listen to his speeches and track the results of his polices. I will simply post this - an email from the White House because these words are more eloquent than mine.

I wanted to take a moment to thank you directly for the outstanding work you've been doing as part of Organizing for America's Final March for Reform. I can tell you that your voice is heard in Washington every day. I see how your efforts are moving us toward victory.

But I also know that with just days remaining, the final vote is shaping up to be extremely close. Everything we've worked for is on the line, and your voice is needed now more than ever before.

Raise your voice today: We must all speak out together to finish the job.

In these final, crucial days, much more will be asked of us. Our resolve will be tested.

During moments like this, I believe it's important to remember why we have worked so hard for so long. That's why I spoke to the country Monday at a gathering in Ohio and said it plainly: I'm here for Natoma.

Natoma Canfield is like most of us: She works hard, and tries to do what's right. Years ago, she had battled back from cancer, so she always maintained health insurance in case she ever really needed it again. But because of her medical history, the insurance company kept raising her deductible and her premiums.

Last year alone, Natoma paid over $10,000 in monthly premiums and co-pays, while her insurance company chipped in just $900. And then they hiked up her rates another 40%. She simply couldn't afford it -- she had to cancel her policy. That's when she wrote to me. I read her letter, and shared her story with insurance company CEOs as another reason why the system has to change.

That was two weeks ago. Then, just last week, the unthinkable happened: Natoma collapsed, and was rushed to a hospital. It's leukemia -- the cancer has returned. Now she's in the hospital, worried sick not just about her condition, but how she'll financially survive.

So why am I still in this fight? Simple. I'm here for Natoma.

I'm here because of the countless others who have been denied coverage because of pre-existing conditions. I'm here for the small business owners forced to chose between health care and hiring. I'm here for the folks who are forced to watch helplessly as their premiums skyrocket with no reason or recourse.

And I'm here for my mother. She died of cancer, and in the last six months of her life, I saw her on the phone in her hospital room arguing with insurance companies instead of focusing on getting well and spending time with her family.

As I was finishing my remarks Monday, a woman in the crowd called out, "we need courage." She's right.

The politicians in Washington need courage to face down the powerful interests who have held back progress for far too long. And all of us who share this cause need courage to speak up with persistence and clarity in these final days.

I've always found that courage comes from remembering that we fight for something and someone beyond ourselves. It comes from our faith. And it comes from our commitment to those we love.

So please take a moment to remember those who inspire you -- those who give you the strength to march on.

There's very little time left, and still much to do. But I believe to my core in the power of Americans to change history when we put our mind to it. And if you'll stay with us in these final days, I know we can do it again:

http://my.barackobama.com/speakout

Thank you for making it possible,

President Barack Obama

In Search of a Plot Twist

 It was something I tried in "Let's Do Lunch" that went over well with my beta readers. (Bless them!) Just a little twist to get the tension from "Oh Wow," to "Holy Crap!"

It worked. They liked it - I'm hooked. I want to get that "holy crap" reaction a second time with the new WiP - so I'm looking for a good plot twist, or two.

Maybe two - I think - maybe - I've found them.

I'm looking at the central figure in the novel. He's dead - but the story still revolves around him. As I ask myself 'who was Roger Truesdale' I'm getting some answers. A perfectionist, a man with secrets, (who went to great lengths to keep those secrets) a man driven by his environment, blackmailed by his needs and desires, but - it's a big question mark - was he a traitor?

At this point, I don't know. Maybe - which is different from the 'hell yes!' I started with. Now it's Leo who thinks 'hell yes' and the writer who is working on fleshing out a character that she will never, ever use, who is no longer sure.

I love this part of writing - when the plot unfolds and the characters come to life. Sometimes they are meek, and do what they are told, other times they present this writer with challenges. I'm getting my ass kicked by a dead guy who isn't rolling over to play dead - he's fighting to have dignity and purpose.

I'm still not sure if I can pull this off. The plot of this novel is a woven fabric, not a couple of plot threads. Writing a synopsis of this novel is going to be a bitch. A bigger bitch than writing the synopsis for "Let's Do Lunch" which was a nightmare. (I dropped all the secondary plot threads from the one page synopsis - all the 'meanwhiles' looked stupid.)

All this for a few words from a reader - 'holy crap, I never saw that coming.'

Let’s Do Lunch – Discarded Scene

A dozen men and one woman sat in a circle, some in wheelchairs, some on crutches, several were amputees, all were soldiers in various stages of treatment. Some faced forward, making eye contact with each other. A few looked down; others looked away, refusing to make any kind of eye contact.
There was also a tall, thin man in his sixties sitting quietly. He had the dark skin of a man who worked outside. Across from him was the 'hard case' of the crew. Bearded and shaggy-haired Sergeant 'Tag' McTaggart wore old jeans and an Army t-shirt, what he lacked in grooming, he made up for in attitude.
McTaggart understood those reluctant to participate. He understood the despairing ones, too. Out on his own for six months he'd been back twice, once in a coma, once in a straight jacket. The condition for his release included that he come to this group without fail.
"What a crock of shit," the speaker was in a wheelchair. "I'm supposed to LIKE the fact that my career is dead and that the Army that I served life and limb thinks I'm a helpless cripple?"
"Acceptance doesn't mean that you like it." The councilor, a woman in her sixties was a civilian. "You just get on with your life."
"Bullshit," McTaggart said. "I'm going stir crazy. The days drag and the nights are… horrible."
"Then get a job." One of the other men in the circle, named Smith, said. "Stop sitting on your ass. Find something to do."
Smith was dressed in new jeans and a polo shirt. He had been "out in the world" for a year, and they all knew that he was playing stay-at-home Dad for his three pre-school kids. His jeans hid the fact that he was missing a leg.
"Right," McTaggart sneered. "I've spent the last ten years learning how to kill people. That would look great on a resume" He looked around at the group. "Anybody know a Mafia boss who wants a one-legged hit man?"
A couple of the guys snickered.
"You can come over and help me with the kids, anytime." Smith grinned. "You can chase the youngest. She hasn't learned to walk yet, but she can scoot."
"A female that can't outrun him," Rodriguez snickered.
"Smart ass, you find a job," McTaggart flipped him the bird.
The councilor held up her hand, stopping the others from commenting.
"It doesn't have to be a job as a hit man, or the president of some company. Just find something to do."
"How did you survive when you first got out?" McTaggart asked the tall thin man across the circle. "You had a long time in service. There was none of this bullshit back in your day, eh?"
The guys respected the Vietnam Veteran. He'd told his story – Green Beret, POW, married to the same woman since the 1970's, with two daughters. He had no treatment for his PTSD until a year ago. He'd nearly killed two men with his bare hands because of it.
"I did 30 years in the Army, so it was tough," retired Colonel Jim Bennett looked McTaggart straight in the eye. "It got worse after 9-11. I lost my son-in-law at the Pentagon then my retirement money when the market crashed. My pension isn't enough to cover the wife's maintenance." They laughed.
"So I got off my ass. You know, 'suck it up and drive on.'" Bennett showed his teeth in a smile. "Now I work with my daughter. I have a market garden, two acres that I work every day. I'm up before dawn and I work outside, sometimes until dark."
"Sounds like hard work," one of the men said.
"I can take my time," Bennett shrugged. "I tried an office job. I hated it."
"Maybe you can put McTaggart to work." Rodriguez was in a mood for trouble. "I don't think Smith should trust him with his daughter."
They all sat back, inhaling sharply at the insult.
McTaggart stared Rodriguez down, until the other man dropped his eyes, muttering under his breath.
"Hey, I was just messing around."
"How about it, McTaggart?" Bennett broke the silence. "I could use some help."
"Doing what?" McTaggart was curious. "What can I do?"
"Help me plant, help me harvest," Bennett grinned. "It's not rocket science, just gardening."
"What's the matter, afraid to get your hands dirty?"
"I used to work in my Uncle Ray's garden," a double amputee in a wheelchair who hadn't spoken in weeks looked at McTaggart. "I liked it."
Everyone in the group looked from him to McTaggart. 
McTaggart took a deep breath then nodded.
"Okay. I'll think about it."
Rodriguez had to get the last word, but he said it under his breath so only McTaggart heard him.
"Lay a hand on one of Bennett's daughters and you'll take a long dirt nap."
McTaggart snorted - messing with women was the last thing on his mind.

Page 99 – Test Your WIP

I found this on Madison Wood's Blog this morning. She got it from Selestiele who… No I'm not going to trace it back to the original, no time this morning. Maybe later tonight, when I have more time.


This title is based on the belief of Ford Madox Ford: “Open the book to page ninety-nine and read, and the quality of the whole will be revealed to you.”


However – I have it here. Page 99 of "Swallow the Moon" a conversation between June and the mad artist Van Man Go is taking place:

"I never interfere with things that don't concern me." Van shrugged.

"No?" June didn't believe him.

"Don't be a fool, girl. Once Cora gets her fangs in a man – it's over."

"I don't believe you."

"You'll see."

"Are you saying that she doesn't owe you?"

"She owes me," Van smirked. "Big time. But she's dead, I wrote her off as a business loss. I have to move on. Business is business."

June bit her lip and thought fast. She looked around the old building, the skin on her neck prickling with the feeling of being watched. Was it Jake, Cora or some other lost soul? She didn't want to know, not really.

"I think you have more influence over her than you admit."

"I'm flattered," Van leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. An un-lit cigarette appeared in his hand. He took a deep drag; the end smoldered then burst into flame. "So tell me, if I had the power to have Cora do her – thing – elsewhere, what exactly would you have me do?" The smoke he exhaled had a green tint to it and smelled more like pot than tobacco.

"Have you asked how she got her hooks into your boyfriend?" His eyes looked right through her. "The answer might be enlightening."

"He's just a friend." June blushed, thinking of Eric and his hot kisses.

"Rrright, my mistake." Van flashed his fangs in a smile, cutting it short with a drag on the cigarette.

"You know, the universe runs on free will." Van exhaled more smoke. "People do marvelous acts of bravery or stupid impulsive things that destroy their lives. They lie, they cheat, they kill – they even torture. They do terrible things and justify it later as 'they made me do it.' Free will makes it tricky to sort out bad guys from the good guys."

"Hardly," June retorted.

"Oh, but it does," Van leaned forward. "Motivation is a wonderful thing, makes it all into shades of gray. Good and evil aren't separate items – it's a sliding scale from one extreme to the other."

"What's your point?"

"I'm a businessman; I make deals all the time. Some are on my own behalf, for some I'm merely a proxy." He took a deep drag, leisurely exhaling as he watched her face.

"I suppose I could help you, if you make it worth my while."

"Oh?" Maybe she could get somewhere after all.

"What have you got to trade?"

"Trade?"

"Yeah, trade – business at its most basic. What you are asking for is – tarnished and well used. What have you got of higher value to trade? I think we understand each other. Don't we?"

Authonomy Reeks of Idiocy

All that nice-nice I wrote in "Autho-crack Farewell" forget it. 

I take it all back.

I am thoroughly disgusted with the antics of the trolls and the proliferation of fake identities (aka sock puppets).

The Harper Collins staff may surf the forums and laugh about the situation - but I'm tempted to go to another site's forum and spilled the beans.

I wonder how many hits I would get on - say - Facebook? Ahhh - there's a good place to start. I could route them here to get the hit count.

Signs of Spring

Up and down the Dixie Highway motorcycles zipped or roared as the temps rose above freezing to tremble in the high forties and low fifties.

Stud muffins on their sport bikes popped wheelies like colts rearing up to box. Testosterone fumes  mixed with the smoke from burning rubber.

The mating games begin.

Bundled up bikers hit the pavement on their gleaming Harley bikes - the thunder of the V-twin could be heard for miles before the bikes themselves came in view.

Is it spring yet?

Structure Strikes

When I started writing 'Let's Do Lunch,' ten years ago, I had nice characters, pieces of plot and sub-plots that were very engaging – but after 50 pages the story went nowhere. I had a dutiful daughter, a shy gardener, a snarky sister, a sneaky waitress and a lecherous cook. Certain scenes hinted that the gardener had a crush on Lindsey. Others hinted that the cook was up to no good.

Then I had the 'outline' epiphany at our face-to-face writer's group Bard's Corner. I ran down some 'if/then' statements on the spot. What if the cook was the real villain? What if the waitress had two kids to raise. What if they were moving dope, not just stealing? What if the shy gardener was a soldier just back from Iraq – gravely wounded, shell-shocked but healing, a brave man made shy and self-conscious by war?

From there I created motives, conflicts and back-story for every character. I also made the commitment to one point of view character – this was Lindsey's story.

The next step was a timeline – I picked Derby Day as the start date – the story would end on July 4^th. Everything that was going to happen would take place in eight weeks. I figured my villains couldn't hold on much longer than that. Eight weeks on speed would burn anybody out.

After that, writing was easy.

As I got closer to the end of the first book – I started working on the second. I had a bunch of ideas from the Breakout Novel books and a book on character archetypes & the Three Act structure.

Since I was better educated, I outlined the plot, created the calendar, typed up a few sample scenes. I was ready for NaNoWritMo – though I didn't bother to sign up. I had 25k words by the end of the month because I knew where this story was going, and how to get it there.

The result is 'Swallow the Moon' a paranormal romance, now in its second draft. While the book is short – I think that it will be a publishable length at 55k words.

For the 3^rd book 'Tempest in a Teapot' I'm putting each plot-point on an index card. I have two parallel plot lines (his and hers) that need to mesh. There are two Point of View characters – Wendy and Leo – with all kinds of plots and counter plots swirling around them. It will also get a calendar so I can keep the plot moving.

Why go to all this trouble?

All my research into publishing has shown me that selling one book isn't going to cut it. Nor is it a 'one book a year' business any more, the mid-list is dead. So much has changed in the last 5 years – what a pity that I didn't try to sell the book I wrote 20 years ago.

Staying visible is going to mean a book every 6 to 8 months. Making money is going to mean a back-catalog of 4 books (barring the sale of film rights.)

(BTW - That's a joke.)


 

Autho-crack Farewell

Having a career as a 'published' author has been my goal since I was a child.

Authonomy may have fed the fantasy, but it didn't get me closer to the goal. The time I spent on the site contributed to the loss of my job, conflict with my husband – and my written word count dropped to NOTHING. Sitting at the computer for hours on end has also contributed to my injury.

When 'wasting time on Authonomy' topped my list of self-destructive behavior AND obsessions, I knew that it was going to have to go. Everything that gets between my life and my goals has to go. I can't afford to retreat from reality, today. I need to be responsible.

After weeks of toying with the idea – I made my decision. I took "Moon" private –debated some more – copied my profile, comments, blurbs, deleted "Lunch" – debated with myself – deleted "Moon" and sent the "fatal" email.

To the Authonomy Team: I'm not blaming the site for my issues. 
I'm getting real with myself; my behavior and the site are not compatible. I enjoyed my time on the site. I'm very glad that the site is highly successful in getting books for HC and highly entertaining for the employees.

I've learned a lot on the Publishing DIY forum. I intend to pursue that venue in the future.

Just for today – I have goals. To face life on life's terms, suit up and show up.

I have responsibilities to meet, while I have injuries that need tended. Life is calling – I'm going to answer. I'm not burning any bridges – don't want to – but it's time to move forward.

Later!

The Misplaced Horse, by Connie Downes

Connie Downes was my 'almost' older sister, she was a fixture of my childhood – even though she wasn't a blood relation. So, it is with great pleasure that I picked up this book.

"The Misplaced Horse" is a well-written mystery about the world of horse shows. A woman buys a horse at a show, but doesn't have room for him in her trailer – so she arranges to have the horse transported to a different horse show a few weeks later. But the horse doesn't arrive, so the mystery begins.

There is a lot of back story to this book. On the show circuit horses are bought and sold – a lot. They are swapped, sent to trainers, leased, borrowed, traded and shown by an army of people whose names rarely make it to any horse fancier magazine. This army is divided by breed, within the breed by use – therefore it is no surprise to one in the 'know' that someone would ask a stranger "Hey, can you help me transport this horse from point A to point B?"

What amazes me is that 99% of the time – the horse arrives safely. This story is about one horse that went astray.

Connie was a long time trainer and her horses carried many kids to show after show – consistent performers in a very risky business. I have two of her horses in my barn – my beloved old mare was a drop out – a bucker in a barn full of kid-safe horses. My old black gelding was her prize, until infirmities made him retire – when I fell in love with him Connie was generous enough to give him up. He is my rock – steady and faultlessly trained though arthritis has made him stiff and a bit cranky. Connie gave us his papers as a wedding present.

Connie died February 15^th this year, so there won't be any more novels. But, I will always remember her.

Update on Injury

Hanging in there. Can't write - the laptop is too heavy and sitting up is misery.

However, thanks to Husband, Sister, Parents and Friends everything is going well. Will be back on track in another week or so.

Injured Again

Everything has come to a halt - I'm injured again.

A slip has pinched a nerve in my hip - now I'm down for the count. Don't know how I'm going to get anything done - can't stand, can't walk, can't carry anything.

Hopefully, I'll be back on the job in a week or so.

Authonomy Answers

A number of people have been expressing their concern about the levels of negativity on Authonomy of late. (My two cents worth is posted here.) The community is awash with personalities that conflict and the race for the Editor's Desk takes a toll on the sanity of those with books in range. People are getting discouraged by all the chaos.

However, I found (and lifted word for word) this open letter to the Powers-that-be and a very gratifying reply:

Keefie Boy: There is so much negativity in the forum these days. And with good reason. The system is broken. We have people offering guaranteed backing in return for a backing. We even have people with sock puppets offering 2 for 1. In what way, do you suppose, does this 'flush out the brightest, freshest new writing talent around'?

No, you're right, it doesn't. It flushes out the sneakiest, most amoral people on the site. Maybe you (Authonomy), don't see that as a problem. You published Sarah Palin, so it wouldn't surprise me.

Us boring, normal(ish) people are getting seriously fed up with the fun and games, though. (Okay, I shouldn't presume to speak for the majority (see what a reasonable guy I am?), but I don't think many people will argue with what I'm saying). There's a gazillion threads on here containing proposals on how to fix the voting system. I'd be very interested to see an answer, one way or the other. Is Authonomy happy with the way things are, or are there going to be changes?

The Site Admin answers:

We hear you, and the countless voices that have raised this issue in the past. We are not unsympathetic to the view that the system has its shortcomings, but it is worth pointing out the simple fact that this website has allowed HarperCollins to acquire more titles than any other unsolicited submission system (more announcements soon). It is considered a great success. Other publishers and agents have also picked up authors from the site. All round, that is good for new authors, good for readers, good for publishers and good for the future of authonomy.

But as you know from your long tenure here, we are not averse to change. We have modified the algorithms of the site in the past and will do so in the future, as required. However given the rapid and ongoing growth of authonomy, the implications of any changes are now far more difficult to predict. We have to consider the likely impact in a holistic way, not just with respect to the efficacy of the Editor's Desk. We think about this a great deal and will not be hasty.

authonomy was founded on the principle of giving over control to writers and readers, (albeit in a small way, so far) – the clue is in the name after all – but with this comes a degree of individual responsibility. The general criticisms made of authonomy, editors and other industry gatekeepers is a diversion from the reality that the outcome of the authonomy charts is determined solely by the authonomy users. As a wonderful community full of individuals able to think and express yourselves, to inform, amuse, rant, persuade and cajole, you already have everything at your disposal. This is not an argument against us attempting to improve the site – we will be – but the true responsibility for the success (or failure) of this site will always rest with you all.

We'll gladly accept the accusation of idealism, but ask yourselves, do you really want more rules, more hurdles, more gatekeepers?

Clive


When I put my Tech-hat on I see the point – changing the algorithms of the site at this point could set off rippling aftershocks that make the Starcraft invasion look like a mere traffic issue.

Litopia – another writer's colony – still isn't completely running after a major software update. While the colony appears intact – the 'daily' podcast hasn't happened in over a month. If that doesn't mean serious software issues, I'll eat my laptop.

BTW – did you see that beautiful bold text? It is considered a great success. TaDa – we have arrived at a wonderful (if frightening) conclusion – the system works better than anything they tried in the past. Authonomy has justified itself with just a scant handful of titles.

Hmmm.

Think about it, more titles than ANY previous system; say a dozen "full reads" in a year and a half, minus the ones that got away? This evokes an image of the 'slush pile' a ten-foot high room stuffed to the rafters – with 'Harry Potter,' 'Twilight' AND 'Jurassic Park' (maybe even 'Gone with the Wind') somewhere inside – unread.

Rumor has it, that Authonomy has become Harper Collins' private fish tank – the employees drop into the forums. I'm sure that the water-cooler topics include the latest spats. Since I'm riveted to the site – I'm sure that other's are as well. Facebook doesn't have this kind of entertainment value – a cross between 'Survivor' and 'Idol' with 'One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest' thrown in for spice.

"A great success…" in spite of the flame wars – the whining – the sock-puppets (my biggest complaint is the sock-puppets) and the cast of characters – just goes to show how poorly the old system worked. So the experiment continues –we stumble blindly into the future of publishing.

Authonomy is not the only site of its kind. There are many others, I find them all the time. It is the one where I spend the most time, a little guppy in the big fish tank of publishing.

I'm never going to get any work done at this rate. (G)

Snowy morning in Kentucky

The sky is falling - white on white on white.
The horses leave tracks in the fresh fallen sky,
The cats sit in the tack room window, distaining to hunt
The chickens peek out the door and elect to remain in.

But I am the one who slogs the snow -
checking water and feed.
But the fire awaits, with it's warm hearth.
The croft is peaceful
while the sky falls.

Milestone!

Yes! After months of editing and writing, and more of the same - "Swallow the Moon" broke 50,000 words! (Happy Dance!) I was starting to think that I'd never get to this point. Every time I got close I ended up cutting a different scene.

How I envy the writers who can churn out 120k words in a first draft! This is my third draft, and I'm still laboring to get to the next goal - 60k. If this book makes it to 80k I'll be surprised. "Lunch" hit 85k, or so, but each pass trimmed more until it sits at a mere 74k.

Back to work!

The Agent Debate - Revisited

Last year, in April, there was a series of rumblings on the interwebs concerning the relationship between writers, agents and publishers.

The first was a snark-fest called '#QueryFail' where the slush-pile bees sharpened their stingers to nail every hapless wannabe writer who sent in a query. The Swivet seems to be the source of the idea – and a quick check of the blog shows there are still posts up.

The actual twitter links are no longer active. Some intelligent soul has yanked them. (Bravo!) Google it however there are blog entries aplenty about it.

I'm going to quote this from Romancing the Blog:

"There were mixed feelings about the stream. While some people found a lot of value in Queryfail: "maley43055: @rebeccacoffey: People really say and write these things? I love this and it is helpful of what never to do!" and though it wasn't meant to mock anyone, it did. You can say you didn't mean to hurt someone, but that doesn't change the fact that if you hurt them, you hurt them. Mockery may not have been the intent, but mockery was the result. Many people felt that when you send a query that is declared bad, it opens you up for such criticism and you have no business trying to break into the publishing world."

From there it got more interesting. Mary W. Walters – a literary writer who I respect deeply – posted a blog challenging the agent's role as gatekeeper to the publishing house editors.

The result?

Her blog The Militant Writer was awash in flames. The post got thousands of hits and hundreds of comments ranging from supportive to blistering, mostly blistering. (There are currently 22k hits on her blog.) In an open letter to Editors, she has this to say:

"The substantial and nearly unassailable wall that separates you (Publishing house editors) from us (writers) has been under construction for decades. You can find the names of its architects and gatekeepers on your telephone-callers list, and in your email in-box. They are the literary agents—that league of intellectual-property purveyors who bring you every new manuscript you ever see. Those men and women who are so anxious to gain access to the caverns of treasure they believe you sit upon like some great golden goose that they would likely hack one another's heads off were they not united by one self-serving mission: to ensure that quality fiction never hits your desk."

Her efforts to be heard were in vain – one small press publisher replied to her, but to my knowledge, no other publishers did. There were a couple of agents who replied to her posts. Most of the replies came from other writers – a host of wannabe writers who appeared to be incensed that she challenged status quo.

There was so much snark and flaming that, at the time, I thought that the point was made – agents ruled. Writers are at the bottom of the food chain – they needed to suck it up. My interest in creating a self-publishing platform was born. I didn't want to give my money to "those trolls."

Then I found this little gem from Dean Wesley Smith – a writer with over 90 books to his credit. His essays on "Killing the Sacred Cows of Publishing" and the long, interesting and instructive comments have shifted my personal paradigm once again.

"The myths that surround agents are killing a lot of writer's careers these days. There isn't a week that goes by that I don't hear stories from at least one writer about how an agent hurt them. Often more than one. The myth that you need an agent to sell a book is an ugly one, the myth that writers work for agents instead of the other way around is really causing problems among younger writers. I have not had a lunch or dinner or meeting with other professional writers in the last few years that hasn't included agent horror stories."

In addition, he is very, very clear that the AGENT works for the WRITER – not the other way around. He says the writer knows the markets much better than the agent. Sell the manuscript yourself – then contact an agent – they are supposed to negotiate the deal. Another frequent commenter doesn't use agents (too many bad experiences) she hires a lawyer, paid by the hour, and saves herself 15%.

Who is this guy? He's writer of popular fiction – one that writes under a myriad of names, in many different genre. The point is not what he writes – but how long he's been in the business, and the fact that he offers hope. Not the 'Santa Clause' type of hope – but the 'get out there and work your ass off' kind that I can relate to.

This is why I believe he's telling the truth:

1. Most agents want to know to whom your work can be compared.
   
2. Most agents want to know what your marketing plan for the book is – before they even look at it.
   
3. Most agents are interested in your qualifications to write the book.
   
4. There is no certification or qualification to be an agent. Buy some stationary and put your name on it, put up a webpage, and if you want to be a superstar – blog about yourself.
   
5. An agent is looking for reasons to reject the work – up front – because they have a huge slush pile. This leads to inexcusable behavior like #queryfail.
   

I'm going to stand in line to buy "Killing the Sacred Cows of Publishing" when it comes out.

Now to delete that list of potential agents, I'm not going to waste my time.

Waiting for Snow

We had a taste of it earlier in the week - now I'm waiting for the real thing - there are snow warnings all over the news.

 Well, I'm ready for it. There is a new round bale in the pasture - plenty of hay in the loft - grain in the pails.

The cold is a bit scary. After so many years in the 'frozen north' snow, itself, holds no fear for me. However, aging joints don't care for the cold. My hands complain the most, and the stalls are waiting for me.

 The sparrows feast at the feeder - a small brown flock of twitters and tweets. There are no other birds this year. I think the cats ate my doves. If I didn't need the cats for rat control, I'd bell them.

The rooster Sony paces off the confines of his Kingdom guarding his hens from the Barred Rock boys. Chicken World remains closed in bad weather. No sense in advertizing my flock as a meal for passing raptors, coyotes or stray dogs.

The horses are thick-coated, frosted-breath dancers - zigzagging around the round-pen as they head for the hay.

 If I should get the young mare under saddle again - the round-pen will become my garden. Close to water - out of the way yet accessible. It will make a fine winter chicken pen as well. Chicken World Extension - a place for hens to raise their chicks, doublely protected from dogs. Then the back yard will remain clear of temporary pens. I'm sure the neighbors will appreciate it – if not then my husband will.


 My urge to purge has taken over a couple of days this week. There is a lot of junk that will need cleared from my 'office' if it is ever to lose the moniker of 'crap room.' Until then I have the Den with its fireplace, French doors and the double windows onto the kitchen as mine. I invested in some fiberboard cubes (assembly required) from Wal-mart that are very useful and nice looking. I think I'll buy three for hubby's office and give all the computer stuff a home
.
 My chores await – writing will have to wait as well. My writing has slowed to a crawl. The characters mill about in my mind – but Life has taken me in a couple other directions (barn-ward today). I'm happy to report I'm not the only writer with discarded characters at her feet. Jean of Discarded Darlings has the same problem.