I know I usually post a couple of times during the week, and this week has been kind of a quiet one. With the holidays, I assume that most people are wrapped up in the business of family gatherings, decorating, shopping and all the other trappings that come about when the calendar pages turn to November. I assume most of you lurkers have your attention focused elsewhere and won’t notice a few days of silence.
For those of us crazy enough to undertake it, November is also NaNo month. I will admit that it takes a special caliber and nerves of steel to say, “yes, I’m going to drop 50k words in thirty days, especially with a major holiday (and in my case a birthday) right in the middle of this time frame.” For procrastinators like me, I’d say it even requires a little sado-masochistic streak.
Suffice to say I’m feeling the crunch that comes as a deadline looms overhead. The mundane chores of my every day life have ceased to exist. Well, they exist, but I’m ignoring them at least for the next day or two.
As it stands, my official (unverified) word count is 40,004 and I have…oh, roughly 11 hours to complete 9,996 words. I expect this to shrink once I drop it in the NaNo validator, but I know that it will, so I plan to work to about 50.5k to give myself enough of a buffer to clear the hurdle with ease, though I may have to “move” to another time zone for the day. It’s going to be a bit of a nail-biter, but considering I did almost 7k last night on a story that running like a freight train with faulty brakes down the side of the mountain, I’m feeling cocky enough to say that I’m going to make it.
I’m taking bets…care to make a wager?
Thanks to the comments I’ve received lately, I fell into a bit of a WordPress hole today, wandering through posts and happened upon this one that posed an interesting question:
Who would you rather borrow from? Your library? Or a Friend?
(Or don’t your friends trust you to return their books?)
And, DO you return books you borrow?
I know this is silly, but I prefer not to borrow.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the library, but my schedule is such that I’m rarely anywhere near it (and awake) while it’s open. Add to that an impressive distractability and I’m almost guaranteed to be a.) borrowing and not reading but returning on time to avoid fines, b.) borrowing and paying fines to the point where it would have been more cost-effective to buy the book, or c.) borrowing and half-reading the book, returning late and paying fines for something I never finished reading anyway.
I am better about borrowing from my friends, but only marginally. Because my to be read pile is almost large enough to require its own zip code, unless the book is something I have a burning need to dive into immediately, chances are it will languish in the pile for months before I touch it. And I’ll be lucky to remember it belongs to someone else by the time I do read it.
With such uber-American, consumerish habits, I generally “recycle” books through the used bookstore. And if the man who runs the used bookstore isn’t interested in my wares, the library always loves donations! My shameless, consumerish habits become either more books (though fewer, based on the law of diminishing returns), or a tax deduction. Either way, it’s a win.
I’ll admit it. I have a problem. Well, not so much a problem, but a book-buying habit. Ok. Scratch that. It’s a problem.
Books call to me. They reach their papery arms towards me and whimper pitifully. It’s painful to pick them up, feel those pages riffle under my thumb as I read the back cover…and then put them back. If the blurb doesn’t interest me, that’s one thing, but when it does and I concede that I either don’t have the money or (more infrequently) responsibility kicks in and I realize I have way more to read than I will get through in decades, it’s an effort to put that beautiful book back on the shelf.
I know I am given to hyperbole from time to time, but I’m not joking or exaggerating when I say I have an entire book case full of books (double-stacked shelves with the space between the top of the books and the next shelf filled with more) and I’ve only read about half of them. Add to that the four stacks of books in front of the case, each measuring between 3 and 4 feet tall. Yes, feet. That doesn’t include the short stack on my nightstand, the downloads on my Kindle or the stack of books I’ve culled from those I’ve read and are awaiting a trip to the used book store. So how do I manage it?
Not terribly efficiently, to be honest. I love books too much to be practical about them and because I often have more than one going at a time, it can take me a while to get through one. My attention span is less than ideal (though it is improving again) and in the past I’ve been pretty notorious about getting bored with a story, putting it down and forgetting about it for a few months while I plow through something else. I am trying to kick that habit, but I haven’t done that completely yet. Oddly enough, reading short story collections has been improving the focus capabilities, though I’m not sure how that paradox comes in to play.
I was so psyched when I got home yesterday because the newest addition to the pile had arrived, and in perfect time! I just finished The Broken Kingdoms by N.K. Jeminsin. Eric, from Quirk Books, stumbled across my “What I’m Reading” page and offered to send me a copy of Android Karenina. When I got home, I discovered that it had arrived and I sat down to start re-reading Anna Karenina in preparation as I had done for Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters. In fact, it’s so exciting, I’m barely getting anything done because all I really want to do is go read!
Alas, other responsibilities await like laundry and dishes and catching up on my NaNo count. I’m behind, but not enough that I’m concerned about not finishing. I hope tomorrow will be a mega-writing kind of day. The SO completed a 5k and is sleeping it off. I expect tomorrow will be much of the same, but that’s alright. More sleep = more quiet time in the house doing anti-social, edifying things I love.
Ok…back to being a responsible adult for a while.
At the real job, at least.
Thursday was the day. I pushed hard and got through 500 words that stressed me out for no good reason and then officially kicked “The Unbidden” out of the nest. In roughly six months, I’ll have some kind of rejection to show for it before shuttling it off to the next venue.
I have completed those goals, and I’m working on another story, which, I hope to finish this weekend. I had it out to work on last night, but…well….I attended the midnight release of Harry Potter and found myself taking an unexpected nap in front of the computer instead of writing anything.
I am, however, up and moving now and plan on getting some written before heading out to support my SO in a 5k this morning. I’ll also be bringing the iPad so I can work through the lull.
The enormity of what I’m trying to do has finally hit me.
I am trying to get a horror novella published.
I have a great resource in Duotrope’s Digest, but my challenge is finding a market that’s looking for a piece as long as the one I have ready to sell. I shouldn’t be surprised that I’ve selected the hardest piece to place as my inaugural story into the market (I don’t count the flash fiction piece I submitted only to find out through a query that their submission guidelines had changed and ye olde slush pile had gone ~poof~!
I’m perturbed to admit this, but I’ve failed to meet my “kick it out the door” deadline. It hasnt been a wasted day, though. I do have a list of places that seem like they’d be good submissions to make to show for today’s efforts. I need to review some of the publications of my top choice before I submit, but I will be doing that on my lunch break tomorrow. Right now, it’s time for bed. The new goal….get it out by the end of the week. I have a feeling that work is going to be hell tomorrow.
Oh what a tangled marketing web there is to navigate. I have spent a crazy amount of time sitting at my computer, staring at Duotrope and trying to figure out whether my story fits the marketing labels a publication has expressed interest in. Some of my stories are clearly one genre or another, even if there is some commingling in there. Others fall in that dubious gray area of “slipstream,” leaving me to figure out if it’s “too horror” for a primarily sci-fi market or vice versa.
Now, granted, much of this is purely speculative at the moment because I only have one story that’s “market ready,” but it’s still something I think about, especially once I have completed the first draft of the story.
One of the things that really brought genre labels to my attention was a book I read not too long ago. I wrote up a book tease in my “What I’m Reading” page, but I am going to ramble a bit more on the subject because it bugs me. The book was Poe’s Children and it professed itself an anthology of “new horror.” I suppose the first thing that stumped me was the phrase “new horror.” I understand what horror is, and I’ve been a fan for a long time. I even understand what the labels are and why they were created. They certainly make my life easier when browsing the bookstores, or for describing what I want to read and even what I enjoy writing. However, what I don’t understand is the way labels have become so very important.
To me, labels are important to convey an expectation. I expect my horror stories to scare me. I want them to hook into my spine and pull me along for pages and pages, a willing victim in a thrilling ride that will leave me in some way changed when the story is done. I want to walk across a parking lot alone in the dark only to have my heart race and pace quicken when I think I hear the scuffling step of a zombie somewhere behind me. I want to wince when I think of Tim Curry in his clown get up. I want to read a Poe or Lovecraft story and gasp for breath at the end because I hadn’t realized I was holding it. So many of the stories in the anthology made me scratch my head, then feast hungrily upon those that I knew fit the genre.
The book itself was a good collection of stories, though one that I’d advise borrowing from the library instead of investing in because I think the label was just that…a label. What the hell is “new horror” anyway? I read the introduction and I understand what Straub was trying to achieve, but I think he jumped the shark. I picked up the book to “study” short horror fiction. I picked up the book on the strength of the editor, and the strength of contributors like Stephen King and Neil Gaiman. Even the title grabbed me and whispered dark promises in my ear. “Poe’s Children.” What else did I expect but the breathless anticipation of watching the Red Death make its way through the party, or the cawing of the raven or even the beating of the heart beneath the floor boards. Instead, there were so many stories in that book that had me questioning what made them “horror” and trying to figure out why they had been included to begin with that I lost the feel of the story. Maybe I’m just being a book snob, or maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about. I do know that when the marketing tool intrudes on the product it’s trying to sell, it has gone too far.
I’ve waited to say much of anything about the Cooks Source fiasco that had the internet’s panties all in a bunch over the past week. I was fully aware of it as it broke and spent hours compulsively watching it unfold in all its rage-fueled beauty.You could almost consider it a bonding moment for bloggers, internet content writers and anyone else with a vested interest in the protection of intellectual property/copyright laws. As engrossing as I found it, I decided to sit back and watch it unfold before jumping in and adding my +1 to the 396,000+/- results on Google.
The basics of the story, for those who have lived under an internet rock for the past week or so, can be found with a quick Google search for “Cooks Source.” Alternatively, my favorite article thus far is found here.
This debacle was an utterly fascinating social event that justified my awe of the power of the written word, and the (terrifying) power of the internet. My sadistic side has been much amused by the Facebook dogpile that had me watching a friend count rise from 700 to 3,500 in a matter of hours. It became a game to click refresh as quick as possible to see how many joined in the seconds, or minutes I spent reading the most recent comments. Then I remember that this is because of one blog post that got reposted, tweeted, emailed, IM’ed and Facebook’ed around the world.
That blows my mind.
Not only did the mob demand justice from Cooks Source, they also demanded action from their advertisers, and like the pissed off nerd netizens we are, we started digging and researching. More pilfered content was found from bigger sources – Food Network, NPR, Weight Watchers, Martha Stewart, Oprah etc. and forwarded to their attention by those who had taken up Gaudio’s banner. It’s likely those copyright lawyers squealed with glee as they reviewed the pages in question.
It’s pretty clear to even an untrained eye that Cooks Source is firmly in the wrong and it’s easy to see why every writer whose work could and does end up on the internet has an opinion about it. Plagiarism and theft of intellectual property is an unconscionable breach in the implicit trust between writers and the publishing world. Writers spend hours, days, weeks, months and even years creating work we’re proud of and we need honest publishers and editors as much as they need us. The thought of having those words stolen and used for profit of another without permission is a sickening thought. It’s no wonder that the “Internet Threw a Righteous Hissyfit” (props to NPR for the Best Blog Title Ever, by the way); Griggs is the boogeyman of our deepest digital nightmares. We watched our dark “what-if’s” play out before us and suddenly the reality struck – this could, and may already have happened, to our own work. Stephen King couldn’t have scared us more thoroughly than Judith Griggs.
But, even though we know there are creeps out there like her, knowing there’s an almost infinite support base out there of peers and sympathizers willing to do stand up to help us defend our work gives us a little bit of reassurance. We may fling our work out into the void to see what happens, but we know the pitchfork-bearing mob is only a re-blog away.
Before we go, let’s just take a quick overview of the lessons demonstrated here so they’re not forgotten. Maybe they’ll serve a budding Judith Griggs out there and turn them from the Dark Side before it’s too late…
1. Do NOT piss off the Internet. Ever. Bad things happen.
2. What is posted to the Internet stays there forever. Or at least until an EMP blast sends us all back into a tech-less dark age. (But that’s still no guarantee…)
3. Anything that can be forwarded or shared, will be. Particularly if you’re a conceited ass.
4. If you make a legitimate mistake due to a lack of knowledge, research the issue and see if you are in the wrong and if you are, ‘fess up with humility, take your punches and make restitution. A simple apology, a little contrition (and maybe a charitable donation of $130) can save you from international humiliation, ceaseless harassment and ridicule, and the destruction of current and future career opportunities.
5. If you are doing something you and the rest of the world can identify as being wrong, don’t be surprised or incensed when thousands of people jump on your ass and ride you like a cheap whore. You deserve it.
6. Arm yourself with knowledge! Research and dissemination is what we do best, so there’s no excuse if we don’t understand our rights and responsibilities, if we don’t proactively seek out ways to protect our work, or if we don’t know what copyright really means. I stumbled across this blog post and think it is a great resource. Go read it for yourself. I know I’ll be digging into even more of the links provided and others to make sure I am more informed. It’s my work, after all. Just because I submitted it somewhere doesn’t mean it’s not still my responsibility.