Re/Dejection

Sight Unseen was not-accepted. I think I mentioned that. I managed to stuff whatever reactions I had to that until I had written; if I had the reactions first, I was fairly certain I wouldn’t write for a few days while I tried to pull my head out. So. Wrote. Good for me.

This morning reaction set in. My spine’s natural shape was like that of a shepherd’s crook, and the world was gray, gray, gray. I worked through with clenched teeth; I was unwilling to give in to the doldrums. I continued Lisa’s method of synopsis -> draft; I wrote bare-bones statements blocking the movement in the story. “Herman walked to the edge of the gazebo. He leaned on a post. He nursed his rum.”

Not what you would call exciting writing, but the better part of the first scene was laid out in detail in about ten minutes. Some description slipped in when I wasn’t looking, and some reactions. I wrote another 200 words — and escaped the killing calm indifference of the post-rejection doldrums.

*whew*

I think I may be in sufficient repair that, tonight, I can rewrite Sight Unseen as a cyberpunk story (thanks for the suggestion ) which will take it out of the difficult-to-accept “psychological almost-horror” genre and move it more firmly into “science fiction”. Or I may yet send it off again, unchanged. I will undoubtedly find out when I sit down to rewrite it.

Crossposted from Epinephrine & Sophistry

Well, then

Today I learned that my resume had been rejected from a company that actually quite needs me, and that Sight Unseen had been not-accepted (it isn’t a rejection until the bother to tell one) by the most recent magazine to which I’d submitted. And I was up late for a Pet Emergency, and there’s packing to do. And the Zombie Love Story awaits.

Clearly I should be doing things. I’ve little energy with which to do them.

*sigh* Life. (“Life,” said Marvin dolefully, “loathe it or ignore it, you can’t like it.”)

Okay. Nap has been had. Sake has been had. Sake has been had again. I am, in fact, planning to get some sake now. And then – positing an ability to walk the hallway without bludgeoning myself unconscious against one or more walls – I shall write something. Just so I can say that I did.

It is, as I understand it, what we writers do. And I am apparently one of those, these days. About damned time, that’s my feeling.

Where’s my sake?

Edit: I skipped more sake, but wrote 250 words. Good ’nuff.

Crossposted from Epinephrine & Sophistry

Goals

Revision is not insurmountable. I have identified the work, divided it, subdivided it, and have manageable tasks to accomplish. Good deal. I can do this.

As a side issue, the last meeting of the Muse Collective required me to set my short story free to find a publisher. I am currently hiding from the daunting task of learning to write a cover letter.

Then, just to make sure that I get utterly submerged in the whole writing gig, Shannon suggested a new goal, one that does not replace the work on the novel, but adds to it. Each month, I must submit a piece of fiction that has never been submitted before. If that means I dust one off and revise it, fine. If I must daydream for three hours, write for two, and have something new, also fine.

This does a few things:

  • Get used to producing a broader range than one novel
  • Get used to sending my babies away
  • Get used to rejection
  • Become published, frequently (eventually, one assumes)
  • Which will give me publishing credits for my cover letters
  • And will also get my name out there
  • BUT MOSTLY — it will be fun and keep me enthusiastic during the revision process, and later during the submission process.

The Muse Collective supports this plan wholeheartedly. So. I’m learning to write cover letters, as I’ve given myself a deadline of tomorrow to mail out Sight Unseen.

Crossposted from Epinephrine & Sophistry