Changing Perspectives

So I'm querying again.

Shot that sucker right out there. So for now we'll sit back and see what we see. I hadn't realized it's been since October 2009 that I last sent out a query. Since then the novel has gone through three major revisions.

Last night, just for kicks, I took a look at the original draft from September 2009 and cringed. It's horrendous. Completely infantile. I can't believe I was arrogant enough to actually send that out into agent-land. It's hilarious when you think about it.

When you start your writing career in a vacuum, everything feels right. Your family tells you how great your stuff is. The words flow and before you know it, you think you the next great American novelist. It's funny to look back at those original words. They're awkward, overly-complicated and the writing style was so over-grammatically correct it was stiff as a board.

But what was there was passion. Probably more than I have now. There was a lot of feeling in that story, and it reflected in the plot. The basic concept was great. How do I know? More than a few professionals have told me so.

Haha, but therein lies the rub. I had to learn how to write my great story. And that took time. Make no mistake; I'm still learning to write. There's a reason the average time to publish is around eight years and a hundred queries sent. Make no mistake about it, this shit is hard.

So as I stared at the draft email containing my query, my finger paused over the 'send' button. I was fearless the first time I queried. Back then I treated the endeavor like I do with any request: the worst they can do is say no. In 2009 it took me two seconds to hit that button.

But two and a half years later, the stakes are higher. I've got a boatload more experience and learning, not to mention the scars earned from the monthly exchanges in Kelley Armstrong's Online Writing Group. In 2009 I wasn't afraid of failure because I had truly nothing to lose.

Enter 2011 and a different perspective. I am afraid of failure. Strike that. I'm not afraid of failure; I'm afraid of lack of growth. I'm afraid I'm no better than I was in the final months of my tour in Iraq in '09.

But I am better than 2009. There's no question there. Remember, I looked at that old manuscript and laughed. I have grown. This round of queries is a test to see how much. The goal is still to get picked up and published by 2015. So this time I did hit that 'send' button, it just took twenty seconds longer than the last.

Hey, the worst they can do is tell me no.

Rewrite Hell

A month ago I resolved to rewrite my YA novel, EMANARE. At the time, the momentum was there. It was coming of a half-decent ABNA showing. I had a couple very solid betas. I had likable characters and villains, a timely plot, and some great dialogue (albeit a little stiff). Technically, I knew what the structure lacked and I figured a rewrite would be a snap. Uh-huh.

So why can't I get going? Well, the first obstacle is work. The second, third, and fourth, is well, life. Family stuff, father stuff, stuff around the house. Stuff, stuff, stuff...

Yeah, right.

Truth is, I've been procrastinating the hell out of a rewrite because, frankly, I don't know how to do one. The more I peel back the layers of the first manuscript, the more I find that not even a massive re-edit will do. In order to sync up the plot, sub-plot, and emotional arcs and craft them into into a symphony, I have to throw out a lot of the first book. About half.

I'll have to chuck maybe about the middle third to completely restructure the story the way I envision it. Before that, the first act will stand mostly intact, albeit with some sequence, dialogue, and character revisions. So a few good characters will become bad, while some of the original bad-guys will become a bit more sympathetic.

Momentum. I'm a Newtonian-style writer. (Objects in motion tend to stay...blah, blah) That is to say, once I get going, I can chew up massive amounts of ground. The kicker is, I have to get going. There's some vacation coming up, so the plan is to use the time to focus on the actual writing, putting the nuts on the bolts.

Until them, I'm planning and plotting, improving on the original story and characters' mythology and back-story. I'll get it done, I promise.

Hello, my name is Ken, and I'm a writer.

My Place to Write

"Lemme see your writing space!"

Except to the tune of R. Lee Ermy's line in Stanley Kubrick's 1987 war epic, Full Metal Jack, "Lemme see your war face!"

Yeah, it's a stretch. Lame.

When I attended the Army's Command and General Staff College a couple years ago, my instructor said we needed to create a space where we could read and contemplate in quiet. We needed somewhere away from raging kids and other home-driven distractions, somewhere we could focus on learning and expanding our view of the world.

We bought a new place back in January, first time we purchased a home since 1995. It's taken a few months, but the house is finally starting to come together. Between work, school, and extended family stuff, we only had time to seriously work on the place on every three or four other Saturdays. A pain. But I did finally got around to putting together my little workspace in the back bedroom. The way our floor plan is designed, the only thing better would be a basement or cave (it's Texas, everything is slab).

So I figured a picture was in order.



Let's break it down guy-style:

Apple 13" Macbook Pro Intel 2.53 GHz Core 2 Duo ($1,400 USD), 4 GB RAM, 320 GB 7,200 rpm HDD. The 24" Apple LED Cinema Display ($849 USD) lets me tile my work across dual monitors, simplifying all my cutting, pasting, blogging, twitting, and critting.

I'm ADD, it works for me.

The Time Machine backup program goes to two external HDD's, a 320 GB Western Digital My Book and a 320 GB Western Digital Passport Elite (both available everywhere online for under $100 USD). When my laptop went down last week with a bad motherboard and RAM, the Apple Store ended up replacing the entire interior, HDD included. If I didn't have timely backups, I would have been screwed. Fortunately, I keep two, in case either external drive decides to fail (and sometimes, they do).

We all know music is critical for our writing, so hiding behind the big monitor is a pair of Audioengine A2s ($200). Designed with critical listeners in mind, these little dudes bring the Boom, Boom, Pow to your desktop, throwing more bass than anything this small should be entitled.

If speakers aren't your fare, of if you're trying to hide you tunage from a sleeping spouse or baby, hiding in my drawer is a pair of Grado Labs SR225i headphones. The 'cans', made in New York ($225), bring true high fidelity to my iTunes collection. If you've never been introduced to this level of listening, even in familiar music there would be detail you didn't know existed .

The Apple Magic Mouse. If you have an Apple, and you have one of these, you know how cool they are. If you're a PC, and you don't, well, you don't.

Software weapon of choice: Literature & Latte's Scrivener. Word processing and formatting by writers for writers. If you haven't experienced the pain of uniquely formatting your manuscript for different agents, editors, publishers, contests, etc..., save yourself the trouble and drop the $40 on this. A click of the mouse and Scrivener will compile to any acceptable standard for Novels, Short Stories, Screenplays, and more. Oh, it's only available for Mac.

If you're a PC, I'm sorry. (Catch the theme yet?)

Desk, a cappuccino-contemporary piece from WalMart, about $90 USD. Chair, an oak dining special from the original Corps of Cadets Duncan Dining Facility, Texas A&M University, circa 1930's. The candle-stick thingy with colored glass? No clue; wife stuck it there because is looked cute.

Later in the month I'm throwing out the guest bed from the room and installing my Consonance tube amps and Sonus Fabers to add some real warmth to the room. If you can't already tell, I'm a bit of an audiophile nut.

If I were doing it again, I would have added an iMac rather than the Cinema Display. The difference in price and size between the two aren't all that much, and there's an adapter that would allow my laptop to dual-screen with the iMac's monitor, adding a cool computer that the kids could use when the Macbook was travelling with Dad.

So, that's it; my place to create. What y'all got? Anyone? Anyone?

No Thin Skins

I'm still a relative noob when it comes to writing. Not a week goes by that I don't learn something useful from my friends in the OWG at Kelley Armstrong's Otherworld Forums. Today I got exactly what I needed: a good swift kick in the rear.

In a moment of weakness, I let some criticism get under my skin. Now I get criticism of all sorts from my OWG friends, some harsher than others. Their's never phases me, after all, it's not personal, they give of their free time to assist my development, and I'm appreciative of their efforts. It's kind of like getting whacked on the ass in a college fraternity and saying, 'Thank you sir, may I have another?'

Initially, I wasn't very appreciative of the Publisher's Weekly review I received as a prize for making through to the ABNA Quarterfinals. The editor used phrases like gauche, limited promise, apropos of nothing, and watered down. I was rather enraged. I fumed, stormed about the office, complained to my OWG mates. A good hour of the productivity was lost to my private little tantrum.

Then there was a cup of coffee, a meeting, some work that needed to get done. For a moment, I was lost in solving tax-payer funded issues. I did what a Field Grade officer gets paid to do: solve macro problems. When I sat back down in front of my laptop, my perspective had changed.

Years ago, as a Lieutenant, training at the National Training Center in Fort Irwin, California, I would attend After Action Reviews (AARs) following each engagement. The memorable rule of the AAR: No Thin Skins. Sometimes the truth hurts, especially when it comes from an anonymous source.

The rule still applies. It's not personal; you're only going to learn if you're will to take your pitches high and inside. As I've grown as a writer, my early inadequacies became glaringly obvious. I've known about the issues with my manuscript. The individuals who read the manuscript came to similar, albeit somewhat less despotic conclusions. The book I entered in the ABNA was completed in July of last year, months before my adventures in a writing group even began.

So I'm thankful for my anonymous professional reviewer. They confirmed the suspected shortcomings and helped me regain some of the perspective I'd lost while cramming in my myopic little writer's cave.

Given the impossibly small percentage of writer's that end up with their work on the shelf of a local bookstore, I anticipate many more of these insightful critiques. I'll survive.