I have fallen in love...

... with a scene.

:)

The realization occurred while driving to work today. I drafted a new novel for NaNoWriMo this year. It prompted a conversation with my best friend and her husband about where our stories come from. Usually if I'm blocked, I'm get a pen and paper and handwrite, and that helps the words to emerge. There is something satisfying about handwriting a story. Some people have said that it's because the action is closer to crafting than typing is. Others just like the tactile sensation and find it easier. And last year, I would have agreed (and still do). But this year, the pen blocked my words. Each time I went to write, the words started coming faster and I just couldn't keep up without resorting to typing. When that happened, the words just flowed out of my fingers. And now when I get in the mood to write this story, my fingers start itching... like I need a fix. My best friend agrees that her stories come from her ears because she transcribes what she hears. Her husband says his stories emerge from his arms and down his hands like Wolverine's claws. Upon further serious interrogation, he maintained that statement. So okay.

And because of that flowing through my fingers, I was able to write a scene--one I'd been avoiding for a few days during NaNoWriMo because I reached a point in the extensive chapter and couldn't figure out what my characters would do. The block occurred at "...you girls need to make a hard decision." And then I couldn't decide. After taking some time away from it and expanding earlier chapters, I returned to the block, jotted down a couple extra details, and forced my characters to act. I explored options within the main character's narration, such as "If she does this, I'll do this, and then I'll have to do this afterward, but if she does that, then I'll have to do that instead, and then we'll be in a new mess."

And I thought, "Okay. If I make them run into the house, they'll have to follow through with talking to the police and my main character can't hide from them because they'll want to talk specifically to her to get her testimony, and then they'll recognize her and take her away. And that will kill the story. But if I make her run into the woods, the guy will have to follow her, and then what?"

Well, then they'll run into that pesky troll from earlier.

And then the troll will react because his territory was invaded.

And there will be HUGE conflict.

But it will also pull things together nicely and give that troll more of a character, establishing trust between him and the main character and setting the foundation for future events.

So I said, "Okay," and wrote it. In fact, it's the chapter that helped me win NaNoWriMo because I just couldn't stop typing. I wrote half of that 12,000+-word chapter in one night and stayed up WAY past my bedtime (I had to work opening shift the next morning) just to finish it. And I was quite fond of it when it was finished, and quite proud because of how well it established and solidified the story.

That was about a week ago. It wasn't until today that I realized I was in love. And do you want to know why?

Because even though it contains magic, the scene is real. It's a real-life scenario that just happens to deal with supernatural powers. And I'm not talking high magic. Just grounded stuff. Subtle. It's the kind of scenario that readers may imagine if they were placed in a similar situation and also had powers. The girl does everything that we, as readers, would imagine doing--and still fails. And it's that failure that makes it real. It's all the desperation, gritty details, and inclusion of outside world consequences that make it real. It's also a turning point in two new friendships/alliances, a deepen of characterization for three characters, and a moment that forces the main character to make a much bigger decision than just how she'll get away from a guy who's chasing her, pushing her to meet another conflicting character and, ultimately, her counterpart--which will kickstart everything else. It is a key, pivotal moment for the whole story. It is the beginning of the end of one life and the start of something new.

And I LOVE it. It caused a hiccuping sensation in my chest like my heart literally changed places or skipped a beat. It caused that jolt when you realize that what you feel for someone/something is so much more than what you initially thought. It reaches further into your life and connects to the deepest part of you. I never thought I'd feel that way about a scene. Because really, it's just a sequence of words. And yet there it is.

And I really hope that it will stick around. That no change in the story will cause a huge revision/rewrite and cause me to delete the scene. That the old revision rule of "kill your darlings" won't apply to this one.

And I really hope that when the final draft is out and published, you all will love it, too.

Responsibilities with a Bookstore and Reviews

Ever since working at my undergrad university's library, I've had a goal of someday working at a bookstore as well. And here I am. And it's great. Exhausting, but great. I'm on my feet all day (which kinda sucks), but I get to work with books and talk to people about books and movies. My coworkers are all nerds/geeks/dorks, as are most of the customers. I've managed to make extra sales just by telling people that something exists, or how awesome something is.

Tonight ends my second week of work. I had a five-day stretch, a four-day weekend, and then a seven-day stretch. Wednesday and Thursday are my weekend days this week. Six days was tiresome, but seven days made me begin to think that this is just how life is: you wake up, you go to work for eight hours, you get home, relax for a few more hours, and go to bed. And repeat. Every day. Without end. Tomorrow, I'll feel odd waking up and not getting ready for work. I'll feel like I should be doing something, though I certainly have other responsibilities.

It's like when cats fall from buildings. I forget the exact numbers, but... within about three stories the cats react to falling, flip around, and land easily. Between five and ten, or so, they are falling long enough to freak out and realize that something is wrong. This is when they get hurt because they tense and break something upon impact. But between ten and above, they relax again because they are falling long enough to think that falling is just how life is, that it was always like that.

My seven-day stretch was my ten-story fall. And now I can relax.

Kinda.

I sent out a second revision of a review that came through Submittable for Weave. That was cool. If the guy gets back to me within a day or so, I can schedule a post for the weekend and get three reviews up this month. I already have another review waiting to be edited, which I'll also do within the next couple days. It will be the first to go up for October. This one came through a volunteer on Facebook for a fellow alumna's recent publication. It'll be a test run to see if the writer, a Chatham MFA candidate, will be good enough to hold a stable position as a creative nonfiction reviewer (our first). Past that, I have two more coming in between now and the first week of October (fiction and poetry), which will fill out the rest of October nicely.

I also have my own review to finish for Coal Hill Review. For whatever reason, this month has not been kind to me regarding reading pace. Perhaps I burned myself out. Perhaps work has taken a harsher toll than expected. It's taken me a month to read one 300-some-page book. The review is due on the last day of September. Thankfully, I'm taking notes, but I still feel incredibly behind because I'm barely halfway through the book. And then there's another review due on Oct. 15 for a print publication in Canada. The book was good (-ish), but place (Canada) has a definite character in the story, and I'm concerned that the review won't be accepted well if I'm critical. I'm trying to find a balance, but there isn't much to say about the book. We'll see how that goes. Thankfully, Weave told me to hold off on my own reviews until I get writers on a decent schedule, so I don't have to write three reviews next month (or read two review books in that time).

Working at Half Price Books is very, very dangerous for an avid reader. I keep finding things that I've been searching for and putting them on hold in my cube (cubby) until I can afford to buy them. I haven't gotten my first paycheck yet and already I've spent over $30. Some of it's been Christmas presents, and other items still on hold fall into that category, but at least half has been my own books. I have so many on my bookshelf that have yet to be read... I really don't need more books... yet there they are. So I as much as I want to have some leisure reading time, these reviews have been weighing over me. I don't anticipate this feeling going away any time soon.

Job Prospects? What Job Prospects?

Within the past two months, I have applied to a handful of assistant editor and associate editor positions at publishing companies. These are the types of positions that scare me, the ones at Penguin Random House and Amazon and Simon & Schuster in New York City--the ones that will inevitably be the best kind for me. I have heard nothing from them. The nearby Half-Priced Books has a full-time bookseller position that I interviewed for earlier this week. The pay starts at $8 an hour, with full benefits, and after six months it increases a certain percentage, which can continue to increase depending on performance. There are also quarterly bonuses and a Christmas bonus, and between 20-50% employee discounts on certain items in the store. Everyone there is a nerd, and I'd love to work around books again and talk to people about stories and movies every day. I am still waiting to hear back from them regarding either an acceptance or a request for a second interview with the store's manager. If I don't hear from them by the end of the week, I have to call.

I finally heard back from a nearby literary agent. I've been trying to get an unpaid internship with a Pittsburgh-based agency for... almost a year. Every season I message her, and every season she comes back saying that there are no slots available, and to try "next semester." There's something to be said about persistence, something that might get me a slot in the end, but I'm starting to feel as if I'm being strung along. And with the recent Black Swan ruling concerning internships, I don't know if I'll be able to get one with the literary agency in the end. It's basically a job that someone could be paid for, and because I'm not in school, they may not allow me to work there. However, it is an area about which I am not completely familiar, and so furthering knowledge might be reason enough to let me in. Regardless, if I get the HPB position, I'll probably be around town for a while yet. And because the store is open all the time, and the position is at least 40 hours a week, I might be able to not work in the store for a day and use it instead to work in the lit agency's office (which requires office work at least once a week and the rest is remote). But of course... there is no saying right now.

And the funny thing is that I can't really complain about all of this on Facebook because my friend Renee beat me to the punch months ago. She got her master's in... folklore or teaching or something like that. She wants to be a teacher, and so applied to a bunch of positions. A staggering amount. After a while, she had to return to work at Giant Eagle because she wasn't finding anything else. Finally, she got a community college position that she's thrilled about. But throughout her half-joking complaints of "No one wants me! Why don't you like me? No one wants to hire me? Etc.," we were all answering with "You're amazing! You'll find something! Surely someone will see how awesome you are." And now that I'm going through the same thing, I keep thinking of her posts and wanting to echo them. I won't, of course, but it's kind of amusing. The good thing is that if I don't get hired at HPB, I still have a year's worth of unemployment benefits as long as I continue to submit applications and resumes. So there's that.

I've started working on a couple new writing projects. Novels will always be in process, and I managed to think of a scene continuation in a story that I haven't thought about in years. And I'm slowly adding to my NaNoWriMo novel. But I've also started a short story that required research into mining canaries, and a nature writing piece about my grandmother and a little bird at my apartment (I think I've officially decided to call the piece "Old Bird" for the double meaning). The problem with the short story is finding plot for actual scenes instead of a monologue. And the problem with the essay is finding a theme with depth and universality, one that isn't "saccharine" or "sentimental," which many nonfiction literary magazines expressly forbid in calls for submissions. So I can't just reminisce about events--they have to mean something and all tie together. My teacher-friend from Chatham who cover Environmental and Nature Writing agreed to help out a little. She's insanely busy but sent information and samples regarding braided essays. I still have to read through them (because of trying to write a review that's due this week and read a book that's due very soon), but will eventually. Still, it's nice to know that teacher-friends will help out even if you're not a student anymore. :)

First Creative Nonfiction Publication!

Nothing gives you a self-esteem boost quite like a publication. My submission to Diverse Voices Quarterly was finally published today! It's called "Popping a Cherry with a Lemon" and is about a 2009 College Media Convention in Austin over Halloween, and my adventure atop Coyote Ugly's bar. Yes, the bar exists. It's apparently a national chain.

This marks my second creative publication, and my first creative nonfiction essay for travel writing. I'm so excited! The girl who's also in it, Stef, said that she feels like a star. She's so happy about it and how it turned out. First she commented on my initial Facebook post:

That's soooo awesome, Nicole! It not only painted a picture in my mind, but it took me back to the feeling of being there! The part about when we got up there gave me chills and I could see it all again from up there! Haha congrats girl!!! You couldn't have explained the feel of that night any better. Makes me wanna go back!

That is such an awesome comment and compliment. So much love to her. Then, she quoted me in a status update:

Stef nodded and used a barstool to hoist herself up. And I thought, why not? How will my friends react when I tell this story and end it with my refusal? When will I ever have this chance again? -- Nicole Bartley --what a great read!! I feel like a star!

So that was cool. Really, really cool. I'm so happy she liked the piece. Her not liking it was one of my major concerns, but all worked out in the end. The other major concern I have is the sexual nature of the piece, though nothing much happens. It's more sensual and a little risque than damaging to my reputation. And after I re-read it, I realized how conservative it actually is. I'm half tempted to track down the company headquarters's email and send them a link to the story, by way of promotion of my own writing and the company's chain. Either that or contact the location via signing their website guest book. Very tempting. Should I? It's not as if I'm making money off their name, and it paints them in a good light.

Also, Michael is 10 pages away from finishing my thesis. That has lifted a weight off--just the fact that he stuck with it and is about to FINALLY finish. I asked him a bunch of questions, including whether he was invested in the characters or finding out what happens. He said, "Well, I want to know what's going on. That's why I continued reading it. So I guess I'm invested."

Works for me. :)

It's a Writing Life for Me

I entered this summer expecting to sit and write everyday. I have time! Loads of time! All I need to do with write and read and it'll be awesome!

Somehow, that didn't happen. And then unemployment woes kicked in. Those have recently been corrected, or are at least in the last stages of being corrected. I applied to a few out-of-state jobs and marked them on that paper, so UC can't yell at me for not searching. And I have other jobs from LinkedIn that I'm going to apply for. One of the applied-for jobs was a freelance proofreading position, which I didn't get because I missed spelling errors and other problems, apparently. That's a kick in the gut. I half-joked that I would begin reading the Chicago Manual of Style and the dictionary every day, and I might start soon.

Camp NaNoWriMo (the second camp session for the year) was this month. My goal was to revise November's novel project and add 25,000 words. I'm barely over 9,000 with about seven days to go. Great... Luckily, I'm back to writing everyday again (which was the whole goal of joining the camp this month), and I've revised up through chapter four and completed chapters five and six. Six was almost an entirely new chapter, with only a paragraph or so pulled from Later Scenes. But now begins a harder task of keeping track of new material when I'm pulling from that separate document. I can't count the words that were already written, and yet... that's basically what I'm going to do. I'm going to strive for that 25,000 mark. Maybe even go above that. And when I paste in the story for verification, it'll probably be over 50,000 in the system. I just have to keep writing.

The last week of this month is crazy busy. I have a proofreading session of Pittsburgh Quarterly to finish by 1 p.m. Sunday but am also having a Girls' Day Out on Saturday. I'm halfway through writing a recent review and it's due on the 31st. And I wanted to get a head start on next month's second review, but haven't been able to read because of all the writing and proofreading.

But it hasn't all been the grand literary life. I realized that if I want to stay on my career path and become the person I want to be, not only do I have to continue writing and sending out submissions, but I also have to move. Pittsburgh, for all its artistic glory these days, has a woefully small publishing market. I need to move away if I want to get back on track. I suspected that Michael would follow me soon after I moved, depending on my destination. He joked that he might follow if the city was interesting.

I discovered yesterday that, no, he wouldn't follow me. That was a kick in the heart. He's building foundations in Pittsburgh because of the budding markets and likelihood of being funded for projects. He wants to remain here, and I can't. We talked about doing a long-distance relationship for a while, but now that plan is problematic.

His life coach wanted to meet me and we went for a joint session yesterday. It turns out that what I thought was a comfortable, healthy relationship was actually full of uncertainty on Michael's part. He wants to know where we're going, and is convinced that a long-distance relationship will eventually peter out. Meanwhile, he's all for trying it. I can't quite understand that because he's also not willing to get married. Neither am I, for that matter. So it's basically a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation--unless I want to give up my career dreams and find some menial job around Pittsburgh just to remain in the relationship. And that just... is crappy. Especially if we're not in love, and especially if we're not working toward one day getting married. I won't go into any more details about it, because it's incredibly complicated and terrifying.

I suspect that all this uncertainty came from the life coach. He doesn't understand how our ambiguous relationship has worked for three years. Most people don't, actually. That's why he wanted to meet me, to better understand Michael's life and see where we  both are coming from. But I worry that him asking questions and providing the ideas to establish decisions resulted in Michael asking questions. I was wary about visiting the life coach specifically because I didn't want him to drastically change our relationship, and that's what's happening. Michael joked when he came back into the room after I spoke with the life coach alone. He said, "So, are we still dating?" Later in the session, I asked him that same question.

I still can't answer it.

Unemployment Complications and Terror

The plan was to spend the summer writing and working on literary endeavors, and then submit job applications at the end of August.

Don't remind me that it's already mid-July...

I was planning to take a break from everyday work, dive into my true work, and then trudge back into a 9-5. But that job was supposed to be out-of-state at a publishing company or something actually within my field. Because let's face it, the only way I'm going to stay in my field is to move away. Pittsburgh may be getting recognition for its artistic endeavors, put pickings are slim for a writer with a publishing concentration. Slim, and positions are already filled.

And finally, after weeks of revisions and investigations, I'm eligible for unemployment compensation. I received back payments for the weeks I claimed, but it's considerably less than I expected, and less than I received last year. A biweekly amount of $374 instead of $410. Amazing what a difference $40 makes. That's my cellphone payment, right there, or a grad loan payment, or the electric bill.

But today I got a reminder that I'm to report to a mandatory CareerLinks meeting in Pittsburgh (date to be determined), where they explain to me how to use the site, explore the site to browse jobs, build a resume, apply, dress for interviews, survive interviews, etc. All stuff I know that, surprisingly, most people don't. They told me this last year when I went. They told me how different I was, that the program was for people who didn't know. They let me leave after 10 minutes because I was participating in an internship with Autumn House Press and Pittsburgh Quarterly. I was furthering my career. Technically, I'm still in that latter internship. But this year, despite PQ, I'm not really in an internship. The literary agent one I was going to apply to isn't until another couple weeks, and CareerLinks probably won't accept that. Nor will they accept my writing or editing positions because they aren't paid, despite furthering my career. But because I'm still doing so much to further my career, and because I attended last year, I'm going to call CareerLinks and see if I can get some sort of waiver. I also simply don't have the money to drive into Pittsburgh and pay for parking. The problem is: If I don't attend this mandatory meeting, I could lose my compensation.

But that's not all folks! I also got a notification stating that I'm to bring a record of my job applications. This includes the date I applied to the job, the contact information, the contact person, and the results. In addition, I have to include records/lists of online searches. All to prove that I'm not putzing around and hoarding the government's money. Because if I don't provide adequate records, if I don't apply BEFORE this CareerLinks meeting, I could lose my compensation.

Online job searches isn't a problem. I frequent LinkedIn and BookJobs.com regularly and have some opportunities saved.

This has stepped up my itinerary by about two months. Now I have to start applying to out-of-state jobs. And I have to apply to jobs that aren't preferred jobs, just to have something. And I'm not too crazy about picking up my life, turning it on its head, and moving across country or to a nearby state just to get any job that comes my way.

And yes, I understand that I probably won't get any of the first jobs I apply to. And having them listed is all that's required. But what if? What if I am selected? It happened with PNC. And what if I have to suddenly figure out what to do with my car, and how to transport Ember, and pick a stranger as a roommate? What if I have to go to a location that seems promising at first, and then get a second job to survive and lose all writing/reviewing/reading time? What if I go to a location that requires me to starve just so I can pay bills?

I'm not ready for this kind of thing. I wasn't last year, and I'm not now. But... when will I be? After Ember dies? When I have my bills paid off? What if this is the time to jump and I was too scared?

For years, I was terrified of driving through Pittsburgh traffic patterns. But when I had to stay with Kim during Chatham's summer residencies, and had to drive myself that second year, I faced that fear (with extreme anxiety) and learned the roads and traffic. It all turned out just fine. And this will, too. I have to trust that it will. But I'm still absolutely terrified.

Pick Your Battles

It was bound to happen sooner or later...

Recently, I was promoted to the position of reviews editor for Weave Magazine. It's an incredible honor that looks great on my resume and portfolio. (And no, it's not paid let. I'll enthusiastically let everyone know when I get a paid writing job again.) Laura gave me some goals to work toward in four weeks, which apparently were satisfied in a couple days (for assignments), and a bunch to work toward. I'm still in the introductions and coordinating stage. Basically, it amounts to at least one review from me per month, one review from someone else that only had to be assigned, and a chapbook roundup review. I've already satisfied the first earlier this week, the second was assigned a couple days ago, and the third is in the process of being edited. Ta-da. So this month we'll post two reviews, and next month will be three, and so on.

What was bound to happen was a clash between generations. I need to learn as much as possible about my reviewing writers. One of them (who does the chapbook roundup assignments) is a woman who played the experience card with me the other day and reminded me that she's been reviewing for 30 years. She has her own review journal, teaches a writing class (I think), writes a bunch of reviews all the time, etc. She's daunting to work with, and I feel like a greenhorn compared with her. What makes it more complicated is the fact that she reviews poetry, whereas my forte is fiction. So already, she's in a teaching position for, basically, her editor.

I won't get into details about the clash. It came down to style. We are being civil and nice toward each other. We are communicating and making promises with appropriate follow-through. We are building a beneficial foundation for future work and have mutually stated that we look forward to working with each other. And, as far as I know, it's all genuine. It's just an odd situation, and probably an introduction to something I'll encounter many more times in my career: The generational clash. The "I've been writing this way for a long time."

This conflict, however brief and polite, was my introduction to the concept of picking your battles within publishing. I'm still technically the noobie, and it's wasted energy to say, "Okay, but we're trying it this way now." I also don't want to lose a writer who has been consistent and reliable.

I knew this was coming before being officially appointed as editor. I hope that everything was handled professionally and appropriately, and that this incident won't establish an expectation that I'll cave at the first sign of opposition. It'll be interesting to see if I let this writer do her own thing from now on and just roll with it, or if the conflict will appear again. I don't yet know.

Benefits from Unexpected Unemployment

Now that I'm unemployed again, I can...

- Catch up on Weave submissions
- Work on my novels/writing (which is a BIG DEAL but also requires retraining myselt into writing during the day instead of the night)
- Catch up on reading
- Work on reviews faster for Coal Hill Review
- Work on a review revision faster for Weave
- Catch up on woodburning projects
- Exercise more
- Schedule doctor appointments that are only limited by this month, not hours during the day

Paula McLain wrote The Paris Wife between inspiration and desperation, because if the book failed then she'd have to apply for a job at Market District. Here's hoping that I'll find myself in a similar situation and finish at least the first draft of a novel.

I have to admit, though... in order to get unemployment compensation, I'm not looking forward to attending a mandatory course on how to use the UC job search site, how to apply to jobs, how to build a resume, etc. I got out of the last one after 10 minutes when they learned that I was working in an internship and was still in school. I don't have those excuses this year. The literary agent that I tried to have an internship with this summer didn't have slots available, as I mentioned before, and might not until this fall. And I'm not sure telling these people that I'm an editorial assistant/editor and columnist in unpaid positions will work. I guess I have to just suck it up and bear a couple hours of people treating me like I'm an idiot who leeches off the welfare system.

Alas and Alack...

Hello all you international people who are spiking my daily page views! I don't think you're supposed to be here, but greetings all the same.

Now then...

A few literary responsibilities have come and gone in the past couple months. I didn't want to write about them until they were either finalized or more established.

I managed to finish the Reflections Contest judging a few days ahead of schedule. When my friend asked me to help with K-2 entries on the day of the deadline, I happened to have a head cold at the time and could barely concentrate on work. So I couldn't help him... which is a shame. I still don't know who won in my middle school level, though. It would be cool to know. Also, I haven't heard anything from my managing editor about whether we can publish some of the best runners up. Some of them were amazing, and I'd love to be able to present them with an amazing consolation prize. "Sorry you didn't win... but this magazine wants to publish you, which is an amazing opportunity for someone your age." My managing editor was excited about the idea, but we had to make sure to do everything legally and submit the idea to the other editors and to PTA. Alas, after I gave my managing editor and friend each other's emails, I no longer received updates about correspondences. I guess that's what happens when you step away from being the middle person.

A few months ago, when I attended a Bridges publishing conference at Chatham, I met a local literary agent. She's part of an agency and specializes in YA literature that is female-centric. I thought it would be an invaluable experience to work for her as a reader--someone who reads solicitations remotely and writes up impressions, and gets paid for it. Alas, the position no longer exists in the publishing world. That job is now done by interns who aren't paid because of the economy still being what it is. So we spoke for a little bit during the conference and she mentioned that she might have internship slots available during the summer. I emailed her earlier this week and received a response yesterday. Alas, there are no slots. She said to contact her again in August for fall positions and to remind her of our exchanges. She seems to be a really nice and fun lady, and I still think it would be great to work for her. Plus, it's remote work with only one day in the office. With my full-time job's flex hours, I could manage this internship well. So now I have to play the waiting game again.

On to better news.... One of my creative nonfiction pieces was accepted for publication! The notification came out of the blue, kinda. I had sent out simultaneous submissions about 100 days ago and after a couple months, you're supposed to either query or consider the submission to be rejected. But no! So that was an awesome discovery.

Judging a National Contest and Finding a Mini-Me

Again, I've encountered a situation that illustrates how hard work and chance encounters can create amazing opportunities.

To explain: I have two long-term friends from elementary school: Jess and Ethan. Jess I've known since Brownies (girl scouts) even though she went to a different elementary and middle school (but the same high school). Ethan I've known since elementary school. We've always been aware of each other, always nice to each other, but more acquaintances than friends. He's the kind of guy whom everyone liked. He always wears a smile. Always.

No, really. Always.

There's even a legend about him: One day around seventh or eighth grade, jock bullies were making fun of him for being so happy and smiling all the time, so they kept trying to find ways to get his smile to falter. Finally, they punched him in the gut. The smile faltered, but never left Ethan's face. His reaction, though one of pain, shocked the bullies and ever since then, they left him alone and showed him some respect.

I'm not sure how much of that is true. I should ask him.

Anyway...

Hard work. In my case, it was building a solid foundation through tiny actions that always, in some way, reinforced my potential and my future. Working for two campus lit mags, interning for a  publishing house, interning for a city magazine, earning a BA and MFA in writing, always reading, writing reviews, becoming a legit columnist, becoming an editorial assistant, becoming an unofficial review editor's assistant (that title doesn't exist, but it's basically when I'm doing until Weave can get a full-time review editor). Basically striving to maintain a successful literary career.

Chance encounters. After graduating from high school, Ethan and I lost touch until a few months ago (nearly 9 years later). We accepted friend requests on Facebook, exchanged comments... the typical stuff. Then a couple weeks ago around midnight, he randomly messages me by saying: "I know this is random, but..."

He proceeds to ask me if I'd be willing to judge the middle school level literature entries for the PTA Reflections Contest. For the national round. That alone made me freak out.

The PTA Reflections Program is a national program centered on developing a passion for art--be it traditional art, performance art, literature, or music composition. It's a BIG DEAL, but apparently not all schools participate in it. You win in your school, go on to a regional round, then a state round, and then a national round (if I have that order correct...). Then someone at the Library of Congress (I think) picks the grand prize winner.

I had won first prize for poetry during fourth grade. Just for my school, though. The poem was one I'd worked on for a few weeks and incorporated schools lessons about monarch butterflies into. It apparently made people cry. It wasn't as if I'd intended any emotion. I just wrote about the images in my head, as if the universe told me what to write and I dutifully typed everything down. The only purposeful part of it was the butterflies. So, riding on that win, I entered again that following year and didn't place. It was disappointing, but okay. That first place win the year before was the first time I'd won anything. But, alas, at some point over the subsequent years, we lost the winning poem. We have the trophy, the certificate of achievement, even the folder and the losing poem... It's heartbreaking that I can't remember the poem, there were no copies made, and I'll never see it again. Because, of course, digital copies weren't being archived until a number of years after fourth grade. And, apparently, the PTA is only allowed to keep the poem for three years and then it's scrapped.

It should be known that when we requested a copy during fifth or sixth grade, the organization wouldn't give it to me.... siting something about copyright that even at the time seemed wrong.

Well, Ethan knew about this because we'd talked about it a few weeks before he messaged me, when he posted a picture of all the other category submission CDs. So going off that and what little he knew about my literature life (just that I was into it), he asked me to judge.

It's as if everything came full circle with this contest.

I have 48 entries to go through by April 15. It seems like it should be more (one entry per state per grade), but apparently not all the entries were submitted. Odd... Basically, my top picks will go to that final person for the grand prize, national winner.

When he asked me to help him (because a position opened up that needed to be filled immediately), Ethan had no idea what I do during what is technically my spare time. He was astounded when I told him why April is a busy month for me: reviews, review editing, full-time job, literary event evenings, concerts, Weave submissions, and now contest submissions. Oh, and dancing lessons--that's another new development.

The process itself is intriguing. I have to look for raw talent. There's a rubric, of course--an educational assessment must always have a rubric... Interpretation of the theme, artistic merit and creative merit (which, for literature, is about the same thing anyway), and technical merit. I must be aware that many winners were picked based off context, not technical writing rules. They won't have a firm grasp on grammar, nor will they have a solid understanding and execution of craft. But talent is talent, and if something is freakin' amazing, then it doesn't matter how old that kid is. But because of the technical merit, the delivery can't be completely atrocious.

It is very interesting to hop between Weave submissions (wherein I'm looking for the best of the best) to contest submissions (wherein "best of the best" is a lot more lenient but still applicable.)

While going through submissions, I've already found a poem that blew me away and thus received a perfect score. And I found a different entrant, a girl, who's basically a mini-me. Her poem is the exact kind that I used to write in high school, when I'd sit at a computer during free time in a physics lab and let the universe tell me what to write. Lots of inspirational, abstract, and broad ideas. Corny. Amateurish. Not much thought involved. I made dozens upon dozens of those poems. And this girl wrote something that fits into that collection.

She won't win, but I posted on FB about how I want to hug her and provide reassuring words:

• Keep writing. 
• You'll  be great one day. 
• Don't give up. 
• I was just like you once. 

Well, Ethan saw that post and told me that he's planning to make a blog that enables judges to send messages to the students who submitted. And yes, it would be awesome to write that girl an official message of support and reassurance. 

So that's my big update of the month. I'm still in shock that it's happening.

Praised Questions from a Literary Evening with Paula McLain

Oh, where to begin? I really should take better care of this blog and update a day or so after things happen, to keep everything up to date and short. So instead of bombarding everyone with a massive update, let's do this one at a time.

A few weeks ago, Mike and I attended a Pittsburgh Arts and Lectures Literary Evening with Paula McLain.  The author is an adorable woman who lives nearby (Cleveland--in author speak, that's nearby) and managed to succeed when she had a moment of "inspiration meets desperation." Her personal history is astounding and at the time of the idea for The Paris Wife, she had quit teaching just to write the book. She said that if this book didn't work out (because the first one had flopped), then she would apply at Whole Foods. After listening to her talk about letter writing, personal language, and writing lifestyles, she actually persuaded Mike to read The Paris Wife, which is a rather feminist novel. He hasn't yet, but one day he might. It's at least on his list. Apparently her next big project is a book about Marie Currie, the announcement of which got all of our attentions. If she did this well with Hadley Richardson (Ernest Hemingway's first wife and main character of The Paris Wife), I can only imagine what she'll do with Marie.

At every event, we are allowed to stand up and ask a question. Mike and I always do this at these events. His question was about whether McLain had pieces of Hadley that were still part of her, whether Hadley's personality changed McLain's. She had already talked about falling in love with the character and immersing herself in this woman's language (which everyone can read because Ernest kept all their letters to each other and they're available at a library somewhere on the east coast). The question literally knocked McLain back a few steps. She said that a few pieces of Hadley's personality were there, and talked about the interaction and influence that comes from working so close with a character.

My question came next (not many people were standing by this point). I asked about whether she had intended to create a triangulation of events--how taking The Paris Wife, The Sun Also Rises, and A Moveable Feast reveals a central point of truth about what actually happened--and what she thinks about it if she hadn't intended that. It knocked her back again, and she praised the second balcony (general admission seating) for the questions, calling us the literary scholar balcony. She answered that she had intended something of the sort, kinda, and then chatted about it.

The problem with only reading one book by a favorable author is that when you stand in line for a signing, you don't know what to say. This is especially true when you say what you wanted to during the Q&A session. So in line, I said "Hi," to her again and thanked her for answering my question. I hope that one day, I'll meet her again... Maybe as equals. It would be nice to have an author friend who lives close.

Editorial assistant, and a stalled writing life

When compared to other writing friends (some of whom are currently at the AWP conference), I feel as if I am failing as a writer. They just seem to write more than I do, or do more literary activities than I do. This past week, in particular, has been especially hard because I've wanted to write, but my brain couldn't decide what to work on: first person present tense for my thesis story, third person past tense for my NaNoWriMo novel, or undecided POV and tense for a short story/novellette. The words are there, but they're trapped behind a brick wall and I can't even pry them out through the cracks. I've even slowed down reading books, except for a handful of thin poetry books from Autumn House Press. Even then, I needed a break from them after a few nights. 

But things aren't all dismal. I was recently appointed the editorial assistant for Weave magazine, a print literary magazine that concentrates on dark humor, magical realism, the strange and fantastical, realistic narratives in fiction and poetry, strong and well-developed characters as well as flawed ones, dynamic female characters, retellings of old stories and fairy tales and myths, the playing of language, women authors and characters, LGTBQ authors and characters, diversity, community... and... well... a bunch of really cool stuff. It seemed like an extremely good fit for me. I met the creator at a Bridges conference at Chatham recently and through talking with her and going through the application process, I got the job! It's non-paid but that's okay. On the literary panel at the conference, the panelists said that in order to maintain a job in publishing, you have to volunteer to read the slush piles and help out. Once you get a few of those jobs under your belt, along with some official internships, you'll be more likely to be accepted in a paying position elsewhere. 

I should get around 10 submissions a week. This week was 17 because about seven of them were pieces that had been already accepted. I had to read them in order to get a feel for what the comments on the side were like (in Submittable) and what stories they tend to accept. It will be interesting. I finished all the accepted ones tonight. Here's hoping I can read most of the pending submissions tomorrow to catch up. 

Also, Mike has read most of my thesis. He's taken to reading for an hour or so on Saturday mornings, when he has some quiet time while I get to sleep in. He's almost 3/4 of the way through. He hasn't said anything about it yet, though. But, this is a start. And he says that it might not be a habit, because you can't count something as a habit if it's only done two weeks in a row. Maybe three weeks. It is almost a push for me to continue working on either that story or the NaNo one so he has something else to continue of mine, but that might be hoping for too much. If it took him this long to read something relatively established... getting him to read a WIP is a long-shot, and he has so many other books to get to anyway. It would be nice if Saturday mornings became his official reading times, though. 

Valentines

The fantastic doesn't always have to occur in writing, or writing opportunities. Sometimes, it's just a few things throughout the day that make you smile.

This morning, I assembled an 8-bit flower bouquet from ThinkGeek, pulled two Shel Silverstein books from a hiding place underneath a pile of teddybears on a bookshelf, and stood up a Charlie Brown card--all for my boyfriend to discover on the table after I'd left for work. :)

He only had "Everything on It," so I figured that he'd enjoy "Where the Sidewalk Ends" and "Falling Up" because he admitted to liking Shel Silverstein but not having read much of his work. Poetry, Charlie Brown, and video game references on Valentine's Day seemed to be good choices for my guy.

And tonight, we're going to The Melting Pot. I fully anticipate a food hangover. The last and only time I've had one of those was the day after going to that same restaurant with my mother for our birthdays. The rich food in vast quantities will make us too stuffed to move, and we'll have to guzzle water to offset all the sodium, but it will be delicious and worth it.

A few weeks ago, I'd sent Mike an advertisement for it and told him that I'd contribute to the bill if we went (I've been trying to get him to go there for a while). He responded with: "What time do you want to eat?" I asked him how much he wanted me to pay him back, and he said he wouldn't hear of that. The whole thing is somewhere around $140. O.O

So! He received the surprise on the table this morning.

Happy Valentines Day, everyone!

Steps in the Right Direction

Recently, there have been a few steps in the right direction in terms of my writing career. 

1. Promotion. I was offered to be promoted to "Columnist" for Coal Hill Review. As it stood before, I was an occasional contributor for book reviews. This promotion means that my name is listed on the left side's panel with the other official bloggers and I get a bio paragraph. Basically, my name is more noticeable and it'll be easier to get to my reviews. The position still isn't paid, but that's okay. It's still the exposure that counts. I have to submit reviews or prose once a month. Should be doable. I'll probably stick to a literature/writing theme. The other themes are teaching experiences, culture clashes, poetry reviews, and "nature, humor, politics, and diet... the whole range of human experience, according to my editor.
2. Pittsburgh Quarterly. I've been an editorial intern for Pittsburgh Quarterly for almost a year. After the first required semester was complete, I didn't have to go to the weekly meetings anymore because I reached my credit requirement. However, the internship itself extended indefinitely because I was still able to proofread for them. Also, we started revising its style guide in order to make it coherent, cohesive, easier to navigate, and easier to access. Eventually, it'll be posted online. Because I'm the main copyediting intern, this project became my baby, so to speak. It stalled around the holidays and will pick up again in the next month or so. In the meantime, I was able to get in touch with my editor and learn that the spring issue is about to be released. In order to proofread for it, I'd need to get it this weekend. Surprise. I'm okay with this, though, because I wouldn't want my name listed as an intern on something that I hadn't touched.
3. Submissions. My pile of rejections is growing. So, I "submission bombed" last night. I'm not sure if six simultaneous submissions counts as bombing, though... My friend Beth seems to be on a roll with submission acceptances lately. I think she has at least six stories that have been published, and (so she claims) a pile of rejections. Compare that to my one acceptance, and I feel like I'm failing as a writer. Again. So instead of reading or writing last night, I chose to research lit mags and submit. It took most of the evening. Crazy...
4. Short story idea. The other night, I had an idea for a short story. I let it simmer for a bit and then, a couple days later, it hit me full force and I had to jot down scenes. It's nice when this happens, while it lasts. I feel like I've been off more than I can chew, though, because of its themes and actions. It will be about the concept of mercy, and the main character is a nurse. It lacks a definitive conflict, though, and I'm afraid people will consider it to be boring. We'll see... The idea has since stopped yelling at me, so I'm not sure how long it will take to write. But! It's the first feasible short story idea I've had in a long time.
5. Agent contest. I recently entered the Lucky Day Agent contest. The theme this year was sci-fi or YA. No, I am not yet prepared for an agent. However, the contest itself was easy to enter. All I needed to do was post about it twice on social media platforms, provide proof of those posts, and submit the first 150-200 words of a first chapter. Winners of this national contest receive reviews of their first 10 pages from the agent judge, and a year's free prescription to Writersmarket.com, I think. I don't expect much from this considering it's a national contest and many, many people entered. However, I took a shot and it pushed me to start revising portions of my NaNoWriMo novel in the meantime, even though it's not yet finished and probably won't be for a while. I've gotten stuck on some points... Anyway, the winners will be announced at the end of this month.

He Wouldn't Like It Anyway

Backstory:

A year or so ago, my boyfriend became angry at me. When he was talking to online friends, they asked if I was a good writer. He said yes. Then they asked what I wrote about, and he said that he didn't know. He then realized that he'd never read anything I wrote. The two poems I'd shown him didn't count because I was a fiction writer.

He then confronted me. He told me that he was angry and a bit hurt that I hadn't showed him anything. The whole thing caught me off guard. I was astounded that anyone would actively seek to read what I wrote. Throughout high school, I'd hand people new revisions of the same stories, just because things had changed that they might want to know about--no matter how subtle. I thought I'd spare him from that. Just because he's my boyfriend, that doesn't mean he's my editor, too. Especially because he's not a writer or an avid reader. But here he was, demanding to see what I wrote.

So I read him a draft of a chapter. It was half of a chapter, actually. In fact, it had won a small monetary award during an international honor society's convention that previous year. When I finished, he was quiet. He didn't want me to read him anything else that night because he was still registering that chapter. He said it made him feel sad, which is a fantastic compliment because that meant I did something right.

But he hasn't read anything since, except for book reviews. He doesn't read much fiction. Most of his audiobooks are nonfiction. And he's not a fan of fantasy or sci-fi. So my book reviews grab his attention, but nothing else. That story I got published? He skimmed it. My thesis? The most work I'd done in one legitimate story at the time? The story I used as a personal challenge and succeeded? The story that was good enough to permit my graduation, and that other friends and mentors love and demand that I write more in?

He read up to chapter two and stopped. (Similarly, my mother read the boring but mandatory introduction, became half-jokingly hurt that I hadn't thanked her on my acknowledgments page, and put it down, too. It would have been the first fiction story she'd read of mine since.... grade school.)

He said the voice was hard to follow, despite knowing that it shifts into better coherence throughout the third and fourth chapters (the main character is recovering from shock). And then he said that the character's choices angered him, despite the fact that he helped me figure out what the guy should do.

He said he'd pick it up again.

He said he'd give it another shot, knowing that the voice changes.

He hasn't touched it since June.

Current Events:

There is an expectation that because he's my boyfriend, he should read works that I'm proud about. It's minor, though, because I've heard that same argument about friendship and I still wasn't able to read a friend's attempt at a novel. It actually helped to break that friendship a few years ago. But... my expectations with him stem from his previous actions. Re: Him yelling at me.

So every day that I know it's on his To Do list, and he doesn't do it, it chips away at me.

Every day that he's bored and wonders what to do to fill his evening, I suggest that he read, in general. He doesn't. He decides to play Halo 4 instead. Typical guy. And every night he spends staring at his back-lit devices before bed (and can't sleep because of them), I suggest that he read instead. He doesn't. He said that if I gave him a .pdf of the story, he'd read it easier on his iPad. He doesn't. He says that if he gets a Kindle, he'll read more. I don't believe him because he's unlikely to read a print book. It does happen, gradually, but most of the time he's playing a game or searching the Internet. He hasn't proven to me that he'd use the Kindle to read. And he hasn't proven to me that he'll ever return to my thesis. And when I used to ask if he'd ever read the story, he got mad at me for suggesting that he wasn't going to. He still hasn't done it, though, because he said he forgets and I should remind him.

But I shouldn't have to remind him to do something that meant so much to me. I shouldn't have to badger him like that, especially if there's a chance that he won't like the story. And I don't want to force him to read it, either.

What happened to the guy who wanted to read my stuff?

He found out that I write magical realism, and wasn't interested anymore.

Enough of me has been chipped away that it started to affect our relationship. He knows I've been feeling down lately, but doesn't know all of the causes. The thesis is only a small portion of that. So the other night it was bad enough that I was crying when I came to bed. I don't know if he knew.

But as I laid there, I had one line going through my head: He wouldn't like it anyway.

Why make him read something if he wouldn't like it anyway? Why put up with a smile and a hug and a statement that "it was good," when he wouldn't like it anyway? I'd rather he not read it than have him save face like that.

And oddly, the mantra has worked so far. That was the mental trick I needed to glue myself back together. I'll just go back to the way things were before he yelled at me. And it'll be fine. In time. I just wanted to get this out because I'm still fixing myself. This post isn't meant as some sort of passive-aggressive attempt to get him to read my stories. It's just something long overdue to get off my chest.

Warning: Passive-Aggressive Facebook Rants May Result in Opportunity Returns

"The Sheltering Sky" by Paul Bowels is an agonizing 10.5-hours-long piece of existentialist fiction. The audiobook was narrated by Jennifer Connelly, so I figured that it had to be good if an actress of her caliber liked it enough to read it aloud. According to the summary, she even said of it: "Paul Bowles's writing is so extraordinary, so special. The landscapes are magical, the characters are questioning so much--it's haunting in a very beautiful way." Okay, that got my attention.

Its summary also claims that the book is "a landmark of 20th century literature, a novel of existential despair that examines the limits of humanity when it touches the unfathomable emptiness of the desert." Well, okay then. It caught my interest. And with the main characters "finding themselves adrift in the cities and deserts of North Africa after WWII," it just adds to the intrigue. For all intents and purposes, this should have been an interesting read, especially because I took an Existentialism and Phenomenology course while I was still an undergrad, and went on to minor in Philosophy (among other subjects). I thought it would be nice to slip back into the subject through fiction. A well-known philosophic writer, Milan Kundera, is always fascinating (once you get past the obsession with promiscuous women, virile men, sex, and cheating), so I figured that Paul Bowles might add a touch more plot to a story and use the philosophy as a subtle foundation. 

I settled into my car, turned on the audiobook, and fully expected to be drawn into a haunting world that would ease me into the depths of myself and leave me there, pondering.

But the book pissed me off and I cheered when I finally finished it. So what did I do afterward? I took it to Facebook, of course! 

Ok, I'm not one to rant about a book on here. Usually, one or two sentences if something is really striking. But I can't help myself this time. Paul Bowles, I hate your story of "The Sheltering Sky." Every character is deplorable and despicable. You don't understand women at all. Your novel is existential, sure, but wow... Your main female character is weak, a slut, accepts rape without much defense, and is so bipolar that she gives women everywhere a bad reputation.

Admittedly, what I did is considered to be a passive-aggressive "mini-rant." What good could possibly come from the post? At the most, I could dissuade any friends from reading it. I would even consider that to be a job well done, if it worked (turns out, a co-worker wants to read it specifically because of my rant). 

And yet! Something entirely unexpected happened. 

I should backtrack.

In any business, you often hear the phrase: "It's all about who you know." People will obtain promising opportunities based almost entirely on who they know--who can make something happen for them. In my case, it's not so much that as it is building supports for a bridge that I'd already crossed. 

I write book reviews for an online literary magazine. The site mostly posts about reviews and blogs, but it also holds poetry chapbook contests. My reviews are occasional, but they're still legitimate online publications. And it's a lot of fun to contact publishing companies, request a copy of a novel for a review, and receive it in the mail for free. Who knew? It's a bibliophile's dream.

I obtained the position of fantasy/sci-fi reviewer because I had interned for the site's umbrella company, an independent publishing house. I had already written a couple reviews for a separate, local online literary magazine, told my boss about it, and he offered to give me a shot at writing for his online review. It worked, and here I am. And we've managed to maintain a stable, professional relationship through Facebook. 

When I wrote that Facebook mini-rant, I figured that people would either agree, disagree, or not post comments at all. And when I saw that my boss liked the rant, I smirked and then thought nothing more of it. But a moment later, he messaged me. 

And here's where things really get interesting. 

His words were so wonderful, so inflating, that I almost couldn't believe they were happening. He said he loved my rant and asked if I would write a blog about it (NOT this one, of course) for the online review. He wanted me to "disembowel" Bowels. He wanted me to use the same flip, irreverent tone. He wanted me to make a "hatchetjob" of it. He said that not every book should get a positive review, that some "classics" deserve to be ripped apart. He then complimented my writing and the work that I've submitted to him, and said that he's looking forward to the blog. He also gave me until March to write it because I already have a review due to him by February 1.

And after the conversation finished, I sat back and realized how odd and unexpected it was. I mean... you post an angry rant on Facebook and you expect people to be like, "Oh... another passive-aggressive rant that does nothing." Not this time! This time, it enhanced my career. And this time, I can't just drop a hated story and be done with it. I have to mull over it and keep notes for a 1,000-word officially-published blog entry. I have to stay angry in order to maintain the right tone. This should be interesting. 

Although this event is not an indication that passive-aggressiveness is good, it is an indication that a well-written, passive-aggressive post from a book reviewer might catch the attention of an editor with whom she's friends. So, I guess it is about who I know. And it's also about making informed opinions, and taking presented opportunities.