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On "Killing Your Little Darlings"

For the life of me I can't recall whether it was in Stephen King's On Writing or Anne Lammott's Bird by Bird (both equally fine books on writing, by the way) where I read the phrase, "kill your little darlings." It referred to editing your work, and getting rid of unnecessary words, more specifically, those lovelies, the ones you hold near and dear to your heart. I received a set of line edits last night and it got me to thinking about the first ones I ever received as a professional writer. I nearly fainted when I saw page after page of almost complete red. This editor was asking me to eliminate nearly every beautiful word I had written. What would be left afterward if I did this? Like the amateur that I was, I debated and went back and forth with her about what should and shouldn't stay in and why my little darlings were absolutely pertinent to the story. Lucky for me, the editor was patient enough to take the time to explain why she did what she had done, and I was open enough to follow her advise and edit my story properly. So, I picked myself up off the floor and killed my little darlings, and the result was a tight and finely crafted story. Editing my work got easier over time, and now, I don't even think about it. As a matter of fact, it's rare that I even get line edits back after I've had work accepted because I tend to kill my own little darlings off the top, but when I do, I just do it because, well, darlings or not, they were slowing the story down. Back to the slaughter house...

I'm Here

My last post didn't format correctly because I originally typed it in a Word document and pasted it here and was too lazy to keep trying to correct it. So, oh well. I've also been too tied up with life troubles which included a suck ass unexpected diagnosis of Lyme Disease that had me down for a month to update with any real regularity. There were days I couldn't even account for. I couldn't move, could barely see and would scream from the pain in my back, neck, limbs and head. This went on for two weeks and after numerous hospital visits before I was properly diagnosed by my family physician. Lyme disease. It was shocking to say the lease because the area in which I live, though wooded and rural, is one of the rarest for the desease. However, my symptoms screamed it, and my test results were "grossly positive." He treated me with an agressive round of antibiotics for a month and eventually the pains subsided, my vision straightened up and I returned to work. However, I take several meds for lingering joint pains and to prevent the return of other symptoms and I suffer with pain in my hands and feet on a daily basis. Sigh. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid by not blogging. This complaining shit. But now that we have that out of the way. I've been more productive in my writing life than ever before. I've recently received my contributor's copies to Curvy Girls, Going Down and Sapphic Planet and I'm expecting Suite Encounters any day now. I recently got word that my story Lessons for Leona made the final cut for Best Lesbian Erotica 2013 and in August of this year, Chocolate Flava 3 will be released which contains my story, Choices. I'm also writing for the new Mischief line base in the UK which recently released the e-anthology, Across My Knee, containing my story, Music Morris Made and I've had my story, Having His Cake accepted for their Too Fast For Love: Opportunistic Encounters anthology as well. I'm beyond excited. I'm writing pretty much on a daily basis now, which is a far cry from what I was doing before (remember that year I didn't write a damn thing?!). So, for those who have been lurking and popping and wondering about me, yes I'm here and yes, I'm still writing, writing away.

“Hey Man, Can I Borrow Your Car?”

in.teg.ri.ty [in-teg-ri-tee] noun 1. adherence to moral and ethical priniciples, soundness of moral character; honesty. For today, we will pretend that I haven't gona all year without blogging. You'll forgive the long-winded post I never did write summarizing months of unexpected and sudden onset illness and you'll give me just a minute more to properly catch you up on all happenings writing-related. No, today, I want to talk about integrity. I used the word early this morning while ironing my work uniform. In fact, the sentence I used was, "...but, it speaks on your integrity as well..." Ever heard the phrase "guilty by association?" Or, how about "birds of a feather flock together?" I know they're cleche and I know it's basically stereoyping but when you're in a relationship, an adulty relationship, doesn't what your friends do while they're with you, around you, or do involvin you, reflect on you and your own relationship? I'm sure many (men) would say no. In fact I was told by one in particulat that I didn't need to trust "them," that I needed to trust "him." But he, by whatever passive participative part he had in the situation, condoned what was going on. No, it wasn't him acting, no he might not have cheered the person on or verbally said, "What you're doing is cool with me." But by not standing up and at least saying, "I'm not judging, but I don't feel comfortable participating in what you're going to do..." isn't that the same as saying, "Go for it man!?" What I wanted to say, but knew that the words would have been wasted, was that it creates a standard. Somewhere at some point, and I might not have enven been in the picture at the time, something he did or said let this person (these people!) know that it was perfectly fine to solicit him in their elicit endeavors. And that pisses me off. #1. He's a married man with a family. #2. He breaks bread with these friends' family all the while not only keeping their dirtly little secrets, but helping them pull off the scam. I find it disgusting and frustrating. It makes me wonder exactly why it's so easy for them to come to him for these favors. is it because they've done the same for him and he "owes them one?" Or does he oblige because he thinks he may need the same services in return form them one day. I just don't like it. Cheat on your wife/girlfriend. Those are your morals, your vows and that is your integrity. But when you involve my spouse, you make me an unwilling party. When so-and-so gets caught not driving his own vehicle, of course his reasoning will be because he left his friend (my spouse!) so-and-so use it to "do his thing." I shouldn't have to defent myself against rumors that don't even have to get started. Hasn't anyone ever heard of doing your dirt all by your lonely? Geesh.

Every Road Has An End

And what goes on in the dark will most certainly come to the light. No one wants to be the last to know, but what's worse, the knowing or the knowing days, months, years after everyone else has known, aided and embedded, participated, etc.?

This is a test. This is only a test.

Being cool and calm and calculating my next move carefully.

What You Say Can and Will...

One of my dearest friends and biggest supporters only recently learned that I'm not just being funny when I write down something she says or does, or tells me some anecdote about her family.

I named a character after her uncle once, a quiet man who is extremely tall and skinny (tree trunk-like) and his nickname is Stretch. I have a thing for unique names and why people get the nicknames that they do, so I just had to use it in a story. I forewarned her of this, but I'm not sure she believed me, even though I didn't write it with the expressed intent of it going anywhere. But I submitted it to a call and early next year, the story will appear in Curvy Girls edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel.

Sometimes it's a name. Sometimes it's a question. Sometimes it's a conversation. Yesterday, it was something quite funny she was telling her someone on the phone about a ham. I wrote down two sentences, something her uncle said to her and something she said back and I now have a new story in my head.

I find my inspiration everywhere...in people, in environment. I build stories, my own little worlds, around them.

I asked another close friend a while ago if she would mind my naming a character after her (her nickname, of course) and she agreed. Then I sent her a screen shot of what I was writing and I think it really drove the point home. That story will also go public soon...where, I'm not telling just yet.

That's what I'm doing, when I'm sitting off in a corner sipping my wine. That's what I'm doing when I'm smiling but not talking much at all. I'm listening and thinking and pulling out my pen or my phone to take a note.

I write stories with your help.

And I always thank you later.

Pay Offs and Reaffirmations

In my experience, much of the writing and selling of short stories has been a "hurry up and wait" situation. You meet the deadlines (in my case sometimes), you wait for the response, and if the response is good, you subsequently wait for the publication date and the pay.

This can leave "dead" time of anywhere from months to a year or more, depending on the editor, the publisher and the market as a whole. Though this year has been my biggest in submissions (15), and sales (8), I've only received one, maybe two payments and one set of contributor's copies.

And no one is to blame. It's how it all works. It just leaves it looking, and me feeling like this year I've really done nothing, however, I already know that with all the releases due in 2012, it will look like I've been banging them out.

I guess my contribution to balancing it all would be to be constantly (or at least consistently) writing, reasearching markets, and making submissions. But like I said, considering my circumstances, 15 submissions in a year is damn good. No, we won't go in to the full-time job, special needs twins, a moody husband and fiesty dog situation. But, you know what I mean.

I suppose what I'm saying is this...while it feels so good to write, finish something, send it, have it accepted and have someone actually willing to pay me for it is great, but holding those books in hand and seeing those payments drop and my Google hits multiply do so much to encourage me.

One day, there won't be all these roadblocks (okay, some will never go away), but one day doing what I love will be a daily for me, and not just a luxury I steal and run and hide with and that is the pot of gold toward which I run...always.