I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. (a) I always end up writing a new novel shortly before the current one is done, and (b) I think I have a Law of Conservation of Creativity, by which I mean that once I’ve made up something I like, I tend to want to spend more time with it. Regarding point (a), I see this as a psychological prophylactic against attachment to my work. So long as the new new novel is the Shiny Thing, the recently-completed novel can be kicked about and hacked apart and rejected without any personal suffering. Or maybe it’s the other way around–maybe I just get tired of a novel by the time I finish it, and my creative mind’s impatient to start on the next thing. The problem with the Not-a-Werewolf book is that I began it during the period of mental depletion that followed the end of the Dickensian Fantasy. I dicked around with that book for a full year before I really got down to business on it. I don’t know whether to count this toward its clock, or not. If I begin the clock with the current draft, it’s been just over a year […]
The awesomeness of other people
I read this story before the holidays and I keep thinking about it: “Beautiful White Bodies”, by Alice Sola Kim. Links: part 1, part 2. It’s political, it’s personal, and it doesn’t oversimplify. I enjoyed it a lot. […]
My new favourite thing…
…apart from writing, of course… is answering questions about my work. Also: if I can make myself work ten more days like yesterday, I shall be finished the Not-a-Werewolf book right on time. […]
Viable Paradise 2010 about to open for applications
In 2008 I attended Viable Paradise, a week-long speculative fiction workshop held on Martha’s Vineyard. It was the smartest thing I’ve ever done for my writing career. When I applied I was already past the million-word mark, but I had only a few sales under my belt (all a decade ago, too), and a completed novel but no agent. I knew I wanted to write short fiction again, but I hadn’t begun to do so. The instructors of Viable Paradise gave me the tools to take my next steps with confidence, without wasted effort, and with a new sense of excitement and dedication. When I applied for the workshop, my father was dying. I don’t remember whether I talked it over with him; what I do remember is the understanding that came to me with his passing: Time’s short. I know some writers who are content to be hobbyists, to write for an audience of their spouses or to stuff their completed manuscripts in a desk drawer. I’m not one of them. I need my work to be read. And I needed professionals in the field to help me quit wasting time and start writing my best work, submitting it […]
Red Letter Day: The Tongue of Bees
“The Tongue of Bees” is now up at Fantasy Magazine. Read, share, enjoy. I thank you for your interest. […]
Progress Report
As the year draws to a close, I am, as always, disappointed with how far I’ve fallen short of the goals I set for myself. I wanted to write a short story for every month in 2009. Even counting the 2008 stories I revised, I only came up with half that; nor am I quite finished the Not-a-Werewolf book. I did, however, write some things of which I am very proud. Sold:“The Tongue of Bees”“Who in Mortal Chains” On submission:“The Oracle of the Dashboard”“The Compass of Chicago”“The Duellist, After Her Prime” Final revisions:“A Sovereign Cure for Pneumonia” In progress:“Rush Lane”“Seven Postcards from the Garden of Earthly Delights”“Book of the Dead” Broken:“King of Bramble Heights”“Bleaker Collegiate” Next things to write:#3 in the Gus series#3 in the Oracle series State of the Little Novel:2/3 complete, aiming for February State of the Big Novel:In pieces all over the floor… almost literally. This novel needs a chirurgeon. State of the Novelist:…in need of another cup of coffee. Red-letter day yesterday. I got a cheque in the mail. I am in a fortunate position–I have a day job which covers my living expenses, so I am free to spend this cheque on something symbolic. Because […]
it’s alive!
My website is up. My thanks to the lovely & talented Kristin Craig Lai: may your future be rich with delicious tea! […]
In which it turns out this photograph is a metaphor
Because I miss green things already: have a leaf. This particular leaf is a grape leaf from my back yard. We don’t know what we’re doing with grapes. We inherited them from the previous owners of our house, an elderly Portuguese couple. These vines are likely older than we are. Some years our grape yield is more than we can handle; one year my mother-in-law made jelly from them. This year, I don’t know what we did differently, but all we had were leaves. I have writing years like that. Years where I can see that the vines of my mind are still hardy, but they bear no fruit. Sometimes it’s because I let them run wild earlier, and they only need time to recover their sap. Sometimes, it’s because I cut them back, harshly, all but the ragged dark trunk. This year, I am knee deep in the crush, and well on my way to a strong vintage. […]
In which everything’s coming up Humphrey
…although I do wish I had a more euphonious surname. I think it’s already too late to give myself one, however; it was too late the moment I signed my first contract. My website is ready, and will go live as soon as my webmaster has a free moment (currently, he is doing double duty as saladmaster, soon to be followed by workoutmaster). My web designer is a marvel of creativity and patience, and deserves some really nice tea. I continue to be amazed and humbled by the kindness, professionalism and enthusiasm shown by the people in my communities: the SF community, the bookselling community in general, and the community of my friends. My life makes me so excited sometimes that all I can think of doing is running around, picking up heavy things, or hauling myself up walls. […]
In which I get profitably lost
As often happens at the end of a business trip, I had a few hours of grace. I checked out of my hotel, got coffee, and began walking. I thought I was going to a market mentioned in my guidebook; I didn’t find the market, but I found a wide waste of tracks and warehouses, broken glass and razor wire. I went alone through vacant lots and beneath bridges, in the heat of the midday sun. It was exactly the thing I needed for my story. […]