Falling in Love

I've had a lot of time alone to dissect what draws me to people/what repels me from people.

During my stay in Seattle, I met a boy the night Jen and I went to celebrate. I'd been brave and talked to not only agents, but editors as well. Thus, Jen and I put on dresses, and make up, and hit the town.

When I'd ordered a drink, a lovely gentleman with an OK GO t-shirt on called to our waitress, "I'll buy those drinks, actually." What could we do? Of course we asked him to sit with us.

This picture makes me laugh, so hard

After a few minutes of gushing thank yous from both Jen and me (as we're super broke), the drinks (Irish Car Bombs) arrived.

I looked to Jen, and looked to the cute Irish stranger sitting near me. "I'm going to drool all over the table, don't judge."

His response? "I don't judge, I work with drool all day."

I stopped. Jen stopped. Immediately I was attracted (I come from a long line of droolers. It always makes an appearance in my novels.) "What do you do?" I asked.

"I'm a veterinarian." There are two types of people I love in this world. 1) Writers, because we're all batshit crazy. 2) Veterinarians, because they're pet people. (I actually got a degree in Medical Biology for Pre-Vet)

And like that, Jen and I dropped the shot into the mug and chugged. Sure enough, I drooled all over the table. He handed me a napkin and bought the following round. Early in the night he took me and Jen out on the dance floor (allowing us to share him equally).

18 Second Video. Highly recommend watching it
(It is kind of dark though, sorry!)

It was then I knew I loved this stranger. Not only was he a vet (we talked quite a bit about my dog and his work), but he knew how to dance, RESPECTFULLY. He wasn't feeling me up, or groping me, or grinding on me. Instead, he would twirl me, and spin me, and dip me, and lead me the way the guys do in movies.

During one of our magical dances, he dipped me and proceeded to kiss me, which caused heat flashes in every part of my body. He was thirty something, I was twenty something, and in the hours I spent with him, I planned out the rest of my life.

But all fairy tales come to an end, and like Cinderella, my prince had other plans and left the bar around midnight, taking my phone number and never calling again. (In all fairness, by the end of the night, I found another boy to dance with, and when the vet returned, new boy had his arm around me, and he just stood, suddenly very uncomfortable. I excused myself from the table to talk to him, and do you know what he said? DO YOU? "I just came to make sure you guys were okay." And my heart died. I wanted to tell him that I'd leave new boy for him, that I should shoo away the other person, but the damage had been done. He left again, and my little heart went with him.)

So why am I blogging about this?

When I read a book, I want to fall in love with characters. I want to see the things that draw me to them. Sure, tall, dark, and handsome rocks (you know the kind, dark hair, jet blue eyes). But tall, dark, and handsome can have a collection of dead babies in his closet. I need more, I need the flawed, the intense, the spontaneous, or whatever else. This lovely gentleman made this night in Seattle memorable, and now, nearly a year later, I still think of him (and regret not being able to spend more time with him). I knew him for maybe four hours, and his presence resides in my heart.

The question for you, writers, is:

Will your characters steal my heart, too?

Your Work, Out Loud II

Ever since last summer's PNWA conference, I've been itching to find people to read my work out loud to me. Well, last Wednesday, it happened.

Baxter liked her couch...

Claire (you'll remember her from this blog, this blog, and this blog) had me over to her house after my last day at the school. After a round of shopping so I can now feed myself for MONTHS (Thanks again, Claire), and inheriting a dying plant, we drove back to her place....and I managed to get lost, of course :)


She'd printed some pages off so I could mail them out, and I (as always) was insecure about them. While she shuffled around her house (unloading dishes, cleaning, taking care of dinner, etc), I read the first two chapters out loud to her. This is good for me because I always need practice reading out loud, plus, maybe someday I'll get to read at a conference, or book tour, or...a middle school. (Wait, I've done one of those now!!)

When she finished her chores, she sat on her couch, I sat in other one, and she took over reading.

This was from Week 2
Crazy thunderstorm hit, it was safest to stay

Together, we read 34 of the 50 pages. The amazing part? I didn't cringe. At all! There were a few type-os (but instead of put, when instead of then), small things like that, but overall, I was comfortable with the sentences, the repetition here, the pauses there. I loved when she would pause mid-sentence and say, "What a b*tch!" about the horrible aunt, or when she'd ask, "Wait, where did the money come from for the cabs?" or "Why does it seem like Sarah is in love with Mike?". Most of the time, the questions were answered soon, or later. Or, I was at least evoking a feeling in my reader that I was aiming for.

When you have someone read your work out loud, you truly hear how someone other than yourself reads those words. The type-os are easier to find, and you can truly hear if your narrator is coming through the way you want them to.

I still recommend this exercise if you can find someone to read for you. It's a new kind of terrifying.

Breaking Points

Last August I went to Seattle to attend PNWA, and it was one of the highlights of my life. Every day at the conference was amazing, my friend who housed me, rocked.

Daylight in Seattle...no rain, just sun

But the second morning there, Jen walked me to the bus stop and asked if I'd be okay getting home that night because she would be at a friend's function. "Yep!" I said with full confidence, "I'll be fine!" (Famous last words, right?)

The panels were great, and dinner was yummy, but a full day of sessions started wearing on me, and I felt the way I do when I stay up writing til 3am and just need to sleep. Right now. I texted Jen to tell her I was on my way home and walked out of the keynote speaker I'd been waiting for.

When I got off the bus, it was about 9pm. It was dark. When I'd walked here this morning, it was bright enough to merit sunglasses. Now in the darkness, nothing looked familiar, and so I had to trust my instincts. (For those of you who don't know me, my instincts are wrong, 99% of the time....thus begins our story.)

I took a left, and started walking on what I thought was a somewhat familiar bike path. Jen said she was still with some friends, and I told her I thought I knew where I was going. Then came a fork in the path. I didn't recognize it at all. I looked left, didn't recognize the walk. I looked right, and nothing looked right, either. I started walking anyway.

Then my phone beeped to tell me my battery was dying. Time was rapidly becoming a factor. I needed to get home, now.

It gets so dark there!

I walked, and walked. Each step caused my one strap messenger bag to weigh more and more. I constantly transferred the bag from one shoulder to the other in the hopes I'd even out the back pain, but it didn't work.  It was the first time I asked myself, Why the hell did I buy so many books today?

I continued on the path. Everything was looking more and more foreign. I started questioning if I'd even gotten off at the correct bus stop. I called Jen when I reached a sign that mentioned some sort of a park. "I don't recognize that name at all," she told me. A sinking feeling took hold, but I refused to cry.  I can do this, I just have to keep walking.

She suggested getting off the path and walking on the road so I could at least read road signs. My battery light flashed at me, time was running out. "I'll try to start looking for you," she said, and gave up going to her friend's function because I was an idiot and bad with directions.

The high heels I'd been wearing
(Don't worry, I was wearing
dress clothes for the conference)

I got off the bike path and onto the road, and called Patrick who was in California at the time. Whenever I've been in a jam, or gotten lost before, he'd always bailed me out. He said he'd map quest me some directions, and there was a ray of hope.

I took off my high heels and we found a cross intersection. My heels now felt like a pummeled pumpkin, but I continued on after he told me which way to go.  Low and behold, the next street sign matched up to what he was seeing. He'd found me!

It was so dark outside and lamposts were few and far between. The neighborhood looked like I was going to get jumped at any time. Because I'm a writer, I imagined every worst case scenario possible, but reassured myself that it would make for a good memoir.

"I don't get it," Patrick said. "The road you're looking for should be right there."

"There's just what looks like an elementary school!" I cried into the phone. Just as Jen's phone number flashed across my screen, my phone gave one last valiant vibration and went black. I was cut off from the world.

Now, completely alone, and walking in the wrong direction, I checked my watch. It was 11:30pm, I'd been walking for 2.5 hours. I was lost, cranky, tired, and sore. My arthritic knees hated me and begged to stop moving. They were ready to give out at any moment, and so walking was rapidly becoming a factor now. I wanted to cuddle Baxter, to be home, to be at Jen's and drink some soy milk. Instead, I continued walking the same stupid streets I'd passed sixteen other times.

I passed an older looking man, dressed completely in black in this ghetto neighborhood, and asked, "Do you know where (name a street) is?" He pointed in the direction I'd just come from, "Are you walking honey?" Me, "Yes." "It's about ten blocks that way. About two miles...." he looked apologetic, and I wanted to scream.

Please no, I prayed. Please just let me be home. 

Jen, my lovely host, and wonderful friend

Instead, when the man was out of sight, I sat on the curb and cried. I stopped caring if I was going to get raped or murdered. I didn't care if I got shot. I was lost, Jen would never be able to find me. And the worst part was that I was going to miss the rest of the conference.

I'd reached the breaking point.

Out of some run down driveway, a small pure white cat emerged and crawled onto my lap. It wasn't Baxter, but I still spoke to it anyway. "Hello little friend," I sobbed. "I'm so lost, and I don't know where I am, and I hate this stupid city and buses." I whined to the cat for a long while while my aching feet and knees rested. Finally, I told my small friend I had to leave, and that I couldn't take it home, and resumed walking, taking sketchy streets with bars on windows, and found an open door.

Still hysterical, I stumbled in and rambled, "I'm lost, and I don't know where I'm going, and my phone died..."

The man behind the counter looked at me, and said, "Ma'am, I can't understand you. Take a seat, calm down, and we'll try to help you."

I sat in a seat, and cried more. An old man who smelled like he hadn't showered for the last few years sat beside me and asked, "You lost little girl?" and I cried harder and nodded my head. When the tears started to subside and I could breathe again, I looked around me. The man appeared to be missing some teeth and I wasn't sure that you could even consider what he was wearing to be clothing anymore. Meanwhile I was in a new dress I'd bought the day I'd arrived, and my new shoes. I'd even gotten ambitious and put make up on, which was now probably smeared all over my face.

To my right was what resembled a soup kitchen or pantry, at least the way they look on TV shows. To the left were stairs and empty chairs.

I'm in a shelter, I concluded.

Finally, I approached the desk, and explained the situation. They asked me if I knew of anywhere, and I didn't. Did I know Jen's phone number? No, and my phone was dead. Was I alone and on foot? Yes. Did you know it's not safe for a girl to be lost around here? I had a feeling, which has been solidified, thank you.

It took me a solid five minutes before I could even remember the name of the road where Jen lived. They informed me that I was on the other side of town, and the bus stop where I'd been dropped off at has a split where the roads all match each other. I should have crossed the road to get on the other bike path.

Just as I'd started to cry again, one of the men offered to give me a ride. Because I was still in the mindset of not caring whether or not I died, I took a risk and got in his small car.

Soon enough, I got to Jen's found the spare key, and went in. I dug out my phone charger, and called her to tell her to come home, I was safe. It was now after midnight. I called Patrick, who had left me several worried voicemails, and let him know I was alive.

When Jen came into the apartment, we both burst into tears and hugged. "I'm so glad you're safe!" she told me.

Eventually, I was reunited with my little man :)

So, why am I telling this story?

Because, this kind of thing happens to me a lot. That moment where you reach the breaking point and have to live in a friend's basement because you got fucked over on your living situation, or getting lost in Seattle, on foot, with no cell phone.

Submissions are a lot like this. Query letters, partial requests. All of those things are like this. We get rejected. We all reach the point where we sit on the curb and cry, and are completely ready to get shot in the face and die. (A little dramatic, but you know what I mean :) ). But then there's a little white kitten who crawls into our laps and whispers, Keep writing, keep editing, keep going. And so we get up, brush ourselves off, and stumble into something we never knew existed.

I believe that things work out. I also believe that things can get hard beyond belief. But if you reach your breaking point, keep pushing. You may still make it home.

Information Dumping

Before we get this going, I'd just like to tell you all that the only reason why I keep updating so regularly is because I've been getting sick of writing. Not actually, but...I like to space out. It's how I write...so...I'm having a momentary lapse of ADD. Sorry.

Plus, this is how I'm usually writing..or his head is right in my lap. Right now, we're on the bed.

Anyways, so this is another round of advice from PNWA.

The Book Doctor talked about the Information Dump (Gahhh, run away screaming!!!!) which takes the reader out of the novel. Why does it take the reader away from the novel?

Because:
Jamie and Sarah are having a huge fight. Just as Jamie goes to ball her first and strike....
She thinks back to the time when she was five years old, and skinned her knee. Don't worry though...her mom came to put a band-aid on.
BAM. The fist hits Sarah.
(Get it? Don't give your characters ADD)

The information dump occurs when:
*We are too lazy to be creative
*We are too lazy to write another ten pages, strewn about the novel, and letting people in
*We decide to give back-story at the wrong time
*We're telling rather than showing

An example of the information dump (this is real life, by the way. This was actually in Igniting a Firestarter, in the first five pages nonetheless. No wonder it kept getting rejected!):

Typically Mirrors try to have minimal contact with Firestarters because we can char and burn right along with the flames they throw at us  We can feel their insides, we can absorb their fires. It hurts to be around them. The other down side about being a Mirror is that sometimes, rather than deflecting the attack, we reflect it. We are supposed to be healers. Sadly, most times Mirrors interact with Firestarters we harm them. It’s safer if we adhere to avoidance. Even a hand wave can have repercussions.

When you’re born you’re assigned to your legion. A tattoo is placed on your right foot and inside your left wrist bearing your symbol, your coven, if you will. Generally, your powers are determined by genetics, but sometimes bastards emerge. These complexities can arise from parents sleeping around or an anomaly, but either way, they exist.  Rather than showing you what happens, say...using an interaction between the two different types, I just dumped this on you.

So, now...I have to go through this entire effing novel and cut the heck out of it.

Give examples, friends. It's easier to show the first time around than go through 200+ pages and try to come up with ways to show people what you're talking about.

Happy Holidays!

Show And Tell

I have a lot of problems with telling rather than showing when I write. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I write in the first person a lot....but part of it is that my brain just doesn't think that way (especially in the way rough draft).
Plus, until about four months ago, I didn't know what the hell people meant when they said, "Show, don't tell."

The Book Doctor at PNWA, whose name is escaping me, gave a badass example of what showing verses telling is.

I'll share this life altering information with you, with an example I'm gonna make up here on the spot.

Are you ready?
Here it is:

Telling:
Baxter is the best dog, ever. (Of course I'd pick a Baxter reference.)

Showing:

After we'd both undergone surgery, I went upstairs to take a nap. As per doctor's orders, Baxter stayed downstairs after taking some medication. Soon enough, I heard his paws clumsily making their way up the stairs. He staggered to the side of my bed. One paw at a time, he army-crawled onto my blankets, still careful not to be on me. Together we napped, him at my feet, me at my pillow.
When I woke up, blood started pooling out of my mouth. Though Baxter had just gotten his nuts chopped off, and was probably in pain himself, he saw (or smelled? You pick) the blood and started whimpering and nuzzling me until I pet him and told him I was okay.

Do you get the idea? I didn't just tell you Baxter is a ballin' dog, I showed you why. (This may be a kind of lame example, but it's a true one...and it may give you guys some insight as to why he appears so regularly on my blog :) ) The Book Doctor went through and explained examples of when it's appropriate to tell rather than show..but I don't remember when those times are...so once I dig out those notes, I may post about that, too :)

Anyways, hope you guys have a great night. I'm gonna start falling behind on blogging again, I start my new job tomorrow. Wish me luck!

Reality Check II: Do Your Research

In my last blog, I talked about the financial costs of conferences, which may lead to a follow up question: 

How the heck do we find conferences in the first place??

First, you need to figure out what you're looking for out of conferences.
*Agents?
*Editors?
*Feedback?
*Networking?
*Finding new places to submit to?
etc

I've found that there are conferences that are specific to what genre you're writing in, so that's kind of a jumping point. My sister is the one who got me into AWP. Before that, I didn't even know about writing conferences.

Some conferences actually give you time slots to meet with agents. This one was PNWA.

~I found out about PNWA through Vickie Motter's blog. For those of you not familiar with her, she's an agent who is on twitter and keeps an advice/review blog. On her blog, she posts the conferences she'll be attending which is helpful to writers like me who hope to meet her, and pitch to her.

~I found out about LeakyCon's Lit Day from Jennifer Laughran's blog.

Moral of the story is: find the agents you're interested in. Follow them; their blogs, their twitter accounts. They will usually say something about upcoming conferences, or some, like Ms. Motter, will have where she'll be for the next year. It's an easy way to find out about conferences you wouldn't have otherwise known about. (From there you can decide which ones are feasible, and which ones are out of the question.)


The coolest thing about conferences is that writing is infectious. Literally, I'll be sitting in a panel and have a million new thoughts to write about. The backs of my notebooks are FILLED with random stuff to start; poems, stories, ways to edit existing stuff. And then when there's a break, hit the bookshop to find other authors and literary magazines. It's a great place to talk to editors, authors, etc.

Kinda blurry, sorry. This is Kerry Cohen speaking. She's amazing.

Beyond that, TALK TO EVERYONE. Literally, every chance you get, introduce yourself. Sit next to people. Become the social butterfly you've always wanted to be. You don't know who you'll bump into. Seriously, from one of my conferences, I met a woman who offered to house me for a night because I'd been driving an hour each morning to the conference, and an hour each evening. She and I will be roommates at this year's AWP. At the same conference, I also met another person who housed me in Florida during Lit Day.

So, make a good impression and if you're serious about the game:

HAVE YOUR PITCH READY.
Everyone will ask, "What's your novel about."
Make sure you have an answer.

Reality Check

Being a writer is a costly endeavor. First, there's the computer, the software. After you get there, there's the hours you devote a day to writing a novel, a story, whatever. If you're one of the rarities (that I'm not sure really exist) that manage to get published in their first shot, then you don't really need to listen to my rant. But even if you are, you may want to. Because even after you get published, it's still about getting your name out there and spreading your fan base.

So let's take a reality check here. Here are some costs of writing conferences and memberships that help boost your bio section of the query letter, help you network, and let you meet agents and editors:

SCBWI Winter Conference:
(Registration is still open to those of you who can afford it!)
Early Registration:   Members- $360
                                 NonMembers-$450
Regular Registration:  Members- $385
                                    Nonmembers-$485
SCBWI Membership:
1st Year: $85
Renewal Cost: $70

AWP Conference:
(This year it's in Chicago! See you there!)

Attendee Categories	Pre-registration Nov. 1 - Jan. 23	On-site Registration Feb. 29 - Mar. 3
Member	$155	$190
Non-member	$225	$265
Member + 1-Year AWP Membership	$220	$255
Student	$40	$60

I love this conference because of their student price. This is one of the only conferences I've found that offer this option. It is the first conference I was ever able to go to, and the one I will go to probably the rest of my life.

LeakyCon Lit Day:
(Also in Chicago this year. Woot!)
Okay, If you want Leaky Con it's $200. They don't have the price up for just the lit day portion yet.

PNWA Membership:

• $65 Regular Dues
• $25 Full-time Student

I did not know that these guys offered a student discount. I will have to pass this information along. Either way, I belong to this program because, although I live across the country, I saved close to $100 by being a member. Plus, like I previously stated, it's a nice thing to add to your query bio.

PNWA Conference:

They're posting the information, but if I remember correctly, it was like $300-$400. This conference to me rocked my work, and somehow I was able to afford it. 

But look at these costs. I'm a recent college graduate. I own a dog. I work a minimum wage job. Even if I'm able to afford the conferences, if I don't have friends who reside in the cities these things take place, that's an additional $200ish/per night, as well as the cost to get there (depending on location $400+). 

So, another reality check:

*My rent is $425/month

*Car payment is $300ish (somewhat flexible)/month

*Two credit cards: $200/month

*Baxter (without Vet visit): ~$40/month

*Food: Too much, though I tend to stick with Beefaroni, Raeman, and RiceaRoni

Those costs alone make me kind of want to...curl in the fetal position...like this:

In all fairness, this was taken after my first 2,000 ft tandem hang gliding flight

Bottom line: Money is a significantly limiting factor for me, what about you?

So some FREE advice because I like to ramble anyway:

Research the conferences. Find agents you would tear our your kidney and sell it on the black market for. Save up your money and go to those conferences. My college professor is the one who told me to go to AWP, and I am eternally thankful to her. Because of that conference, I started saving up money to go to more. I started writing again. 

If you have the money, they're so, so worth it. Not only for the agent-to-face time, but also for the panels, the authors, the networking, the free pens! 

It's a hard game. Money is just a piece we all play with, so play wisely.

Good luck!

Positivity ; Pass It On

As promised months ago (okay, maybe A month ago)...More wisdom coming at you from PNWA:

Chances are that by this point in the conference I was exhausted; whether it was due to the fact I'd just flown across the country (Literally, North Carolina to Seattle), the fact I hadn't really been sleeping more than three hours, the fact that the conferences were so in depth that I couldn't focus....But I'm not sure.

Honestly, I can't remember the panel, or who I was surrounded by. I can't remember what I wore that day, or really, what day it was. But this day...my life kind of took off. (No, really, this was life changing advice for me, if it's not for you, then it's not for you and leave it at that :) ).

We're adults now. We can pick and choose who we associate with. Whomever was speaking at this moment told the crowd, "From here on out, only associate with people who will help propel your career, not bring it down."

Amazing advice, no?

Here's why I LOVED this.

There will ALWAYS be people wanting to latch on to you for what you can give them; if you work in retail, "Hey, can I use your discount?" If you work at a coffee shop, "Free drinks? Free coffee?" People are greedy, it's part of nature. I'm not going to lie, I'm greedy, I've used people in the past. But there are people who just take, and take, and never give back. Then...

There are those who take, and give. These are the people you want to find. These are the people willing to critique pages for you, if you do pages for them. They're willing to read your query, if you read for them. They don't want anything more or anything less. They want to offer help, and receive help.

Then there are those people already in the industry who can't critique for you, but they can offer advice. People like Janna Cawrse Esarey, a presenter (and author) at the conference who stayed well after her allotted time to help the newbies like me with their pitches. People like Kerry Cohen, Rebecca Rasmussen, Zu Vincent, and James Frey who tell you that you have something, and to just not give up. 

Branching out a little further, I've kind of taken this advice and put it toward a lot of what's been happening in my life. Within the last month or two, I was being treated poorly by a person who said they wanted to be my friend. After PNWA (literally, days later), I was talking on the phone and came to the realization that I was better than what I was receiving. I blatantly told the person, "Hey, I don't deserve to be treated like this. If you are going to change the way you're treating me, then I'd be happy to keep you in my life. If not...Well..It's not a real loss then, is it?" (I was then called a dumb bitch and hung up on. Point proven? I think so.)

Moral of the ramble is, you choose who you talk to. You choose the relationships you have to people. If they aren't nice, and they aren't supportive, you don't need them. (This is not just for writing, either). People should accept you the way you are, even if you want to some day find Atlantis, because dammit, if you set your dreams high enough, you'll reach em. (Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise). 

Celebrations!

I believe in half-birthdays. What is a half birthday, you may ask? A half birthday is 6 months from your real birthday. In example, my birthday is in April. My half birthday is in October. Those who know me well, will usually take me out to dinner or buy me some small trinket (lip gloss, shampoo once...etc). It's a reason to celebrate being alive, to get together with people. It's one extra day to be happy about an otherwise average day. 


I believe in real birthdays. My sisters and I are pretty big on birthdays. We try to decorate, we try to surprise. The day you were born is pretty spectacular, no? Shouldn't the day you turn 10, 32, 86 be spectacular as well? We try to make it so people have good birthdays, memorable birthdays. My old roommate told me a year or so after we'd parted ways, "I wish I still lived with you. It was my birthday, and there were no decorations." Oh--this was also a boy calling to tell me this.


Outside of birthdays, what else to we have to celebrate? Holidays, family reunions (if you're into that kind of thing), births...The list isn't very long (feel free to chime in if you can think of anything else for this generic list). 
During PNWA, someone said something that stuck with me ever since (I'm putting it in my own words because I have a terrible memory):


Writing is hard work. We get rejected, a lot. We get told our work isn't good enough for someone. Then...people say things like "I don't like this line" or some other disheartening thing. Mean friends and family members tell us to give up. Not only that, but we have to deal with the stresses of real life; finances, kids (if you have them), pets (if you have them), relationships....etc. 


Life is hard. Tack on something where you're constantly told no, and our brains may explode.


So what do we do to counteract this negativity?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!CELEBRATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is actually a picture from my birthday this year :)

Find some friends, find someone, anyone to celebrate with. If you don't have anyone, treat yourself to dinner, even if it's a fast food chain (which is what I did yesterday :) ). Go to a movie, a concert, something you wouldn't typically do, because you deserve it.


You just finished your first draft? Sweet, get a drink. Don't drink? Get a soda, puppy, toy. Get something to commemorate what you've done. Get a partial request? Sure, it may get rejected in a few days, but live in the moment. You just got a REQUEST! Get excited, it's okay! Wrote ten pages? Give yourself a friggin pat on the back. Be proud of yourself for those little steps you take along the way.


It's the small things that keep you, keep us, going. 


Go out, celebrate. This is your mission as a writer. And who knows? Maybe you'll find something else to write about during your adventure :)


(Also--sorry I haven't been updating too much this week. I slipped and fell on my porch last week and hurt my knee pretty badly. Haven't had a lot of time to think. Don't worry, I'm going to a specialist Monday! Wish me luck!)

Advice

I've told many people about leaving my little east coast and flying across the country to the west. I've told them why; the Pacific Northwest Writing Association conference. They all say 'Oh, you're a writer?' and I have that awkward shift from one foot to the other before saying, 'Yes.'

One of my co-workers (the same one that has been getting on my case and telling me that I'm a terrible employee) cornered me the other day and tried to impart some wisdom on me. He told me not to listen to what anyone had to say, (pretty much that the conferences were worthless, and I won't learn anything) and that I shouldn't read stuff in my genre (you don't need to do any of that). When I tried to tell him what my feelings were, as per usual he didn't listen.

I've also had people say "Don't pitch to an agent. Give them a spin, and ask -them- what they can do for you." When I tried to explain that 90% of this information can be found on their blog, they again refused to listen to me.

So here's my advice:

You go to conferences to hear inteligent people talk. You hear them tell about their experience(s), what they've learned, and the hardships they've gone through. Some, you'll be able to relate to. Some will say insightful things, and some won't. Take what you want out of it. I take about a page per panel of things that I like. I bring a highlighter for things that I really like (because let's be honest, when I take notes, I rarely actually go back through and read the whole page). The biggest things that I've gotten out of conferences is:

KEEP WRITING.

Along with that, everyone always tells you to read within your genre, and I agree. But I also think that you should step out of your genre and read other things, too. (I despirately want to read a trashy romance book some day, when I'm less awkward.) Be a well rounded writer and reader. Keep reading, keep writing, keep going.

That is all for today :)

Now to get ready for pre-PNWA stuff!

Leaky Con Lit Day

And so 

 Came and went. Lit Day registration was rather hectic...

But in the end it was an awesome experience. I met amazing people like:

 Stephanie Perkins (author of Anna and the French Kiss) and

 Scott Westerfeld (author of the Uglies triology) and John Green (who I sadly wasn't able to get a picture with, but who wrote Looking for Alaska).

I also got to meet and greet with some amazing editors and literary agents (like Jennifer Laughran, Katie Schafer-Testerman, Barry Goldblatt, etc) and pick their brains which was a lot of fun...especially after some drinks:

But if you must know, my favorite thing about LeakyCon's Lit Day was probably just being there...being part of something amazing. I've never read the Harry Potter books but this experience definitely made me want to. It was really cool just to meet everyone and listen to what they had to say. It was a good practice run for PNWA.

Sorry this isn't more detailed, but a quick run down of what happened: My car broke down twice in GA, then I made it to Orlando and slept forever. Went to the conference, got back last night at 2:30am, didn't sleep and worked from 10am-6:30pm. I'm very, very tired. 

It's Official...

As of yesterday, I am a member of PNWA (Pacific Northwest Writers Association). I'm pretty excited for a couple reasons: 1) It's saving me $40 on the cost of admittance 2) At the conference, I'll be able to put out my business cards ***WHICH CAME IN THE MAIL AND LOOK AWESOME***(and try to promote this here blog until I possibly land an agent) 3) I can now write that on the bottom of query letters 4) At this conference, I'll be able to speak with agents and editors!!

It's sort of lame because I don't live near Seattle, or Washington....but there are a few of their perks I'll be able to indulge in. I'll take what I can get. :)

Some more competitions are coming up on March 31st, and for my birthday Mike is footing the bill for one and loaning me money for the others, so I'm pretty excited about that. I CANNOT wait for my income taxes to come back!

Things I Am Looking Forward To:

Usually, my days tend to be kind of bllllaaaahhhh. Work 9-5, clean the warehouse on my days off, ogle agents and people who are published. Write..edit...read....play with my sister or my dog...or the Wii Fit

But, these days, I'm constantly finding myself jumping up and down (no, I have not yet landed an agent, nor have I heard word back from the magazine competitions...which reply closer to April or May)

Early April:
The lovely agents at FinePrint Lit will be announcing their winner for the Backspace Query Competition, also Burnside Review and various other magazines/competitions will be announcing their winners.

April 12: Rebecca Rasmussen's novel, The Bird Sisters is released!

April 19: My birthday!!!!

April 26--Take Action Tour:
Silverstein and Bayside concerts in Raleigh!

July 13--LeakyCon 2011, LitDay
John Green, Scott Westerfeld, Kate Schafer Testerman, plus other awesome people and agents, and publishers (I'm swooning right now!)

August 4-7--PNWA Conference!!
You get to speed pitch, listen to speakers, meet agents, SOCIALIZE, make friends....I cannot wait. I cannot wait. Not only this, but I will be staying with my lovely friend, Jennifer Olson who I have not seen in far, far too long. (Yay!!!)

Things I will need for the writing conferences:

• My voice recorder cleared out (currently has battery acid) so I can have fresh batteries and record notes people say to me. Also so I can be all Dirty Work and say "Note to self..." (Or so I won't have to call my voicemail and say "Steph, this is Steph. This is the idea for a story/novel/portion of your memoir I was thinking of while stuck in stop-and-go traffic." Driving a stick is hazardous (sp?), talking is not.
• Business cards (awaiting them, any day now!)
• Pages of two FINISHED and EDITED novels: Confessions of an Immortal Heart and Igniting a Firestarter
• Speed pitch--written, practiced, verbalized (at PNWA it's 3 minute sessions. Gotta talk quick! Be ready to provide pages. This is what I learned from Janet Reid's blog).
• Confidence
• A good hook
• Nice clothing (thank you tax refund!)
• Money to buy books! And apparel! And awesomeness!