from a place of wrath and tears
I was going to blog about very interesting stuff, like my confrontation in the Waterstone's in Brussels with !even more categories! fragmenting the landscape, but I find myself losing time by being logorrhoeic in MCN's comments and I still need to finish that first draft of Tiger so I can finally move it up from v.0.x to v.1.0 and feel all good about myself and channel all my verbosity into the second UTA novel.
But in short: for SF+F+H (and SF/F spin-offs) Waterstone's had shelf-space of about 12m (I think, I'm very bad at judging distances. In my defence: I'm short and short legs ≠ 1 yard/meter, and half the time line of sight is hampered by taller things. Shelf-height is about 1,5m since I know I'm facing the top shelf directly). Now they've added about a meter for dark romance, but impacted the 12m for SF/F/H with a meter for *memory crapping out but insert a label for vampire à la Laurell K. Hamilton*. Does adding categories really help sales? Is it logical to keep Dark Romance in the Fantasy vicinity? I feel they're already acceding to the point that Dark Romance readers don't give a crap about SF/F by making a separate category. Wouldn't it be better to put Dark romance with Normal Romance? Do they have Normal Romance in Waterstone's? I honestly can't remember but if not, a Dark side version wouldn't make sense at all. Will check it out in a next visit and someday answer these questions.
For now it's Verbosity Off!
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SF/F Contest over at Guide to Literary Agents
The focus of the fifth Dear Lucky Agent contest over at a Guide to Literary Agents is Sci-Fi and Fantasy, and there's a critique by Roseanne Wells from Marianne Strong Literary Agency to be won. Running from the 12th till the 26th of May.
So there, I'm game!
Entering the first 200 words of the first Barynn book now.
So there, I'm game!
Entering the first 200 words of the first Barynn book now.
Drat
I've got one or two hours work left to finish the first complete English draft of Tiger. Too bad I now have an appointment in Brussels, a meeting tonight for the club, and a test on that social law course tomorrow.
Sometimes it would be so handy to be able to freeze time just for a bit, or jump back a while. Or clone yourself. Stupid life always interfering when I can miss the annoyance like a damned toothache *grumble*
Sometimes it would be so handy to be able to freeze time just for a bit, or jump back a while. Or clone yourself. Stupid life always interfering when I can miss the annoyance like a damned toothache *grumble*
Lika whoa.
Finally finished with all sorts of non-writing related crap (read: course on personnel law, information folders for fencing club), and looked at Tiger, scissors, hammer and chisel at hand. I gave the parts that need deleting a quick glance and started thinking about what information bits absolutely need to stay, and how I can recycle them. And like WHOA do I know how it's going to look. I just love it when...
Quick placeholder notes added to the text, because first I need to dash out for some quick groceries. Nothing helps fleshing out scenes like fighting over melons.
PS: You've got a dirty mind.
Yes, you.
You know who you are.
Quick placeholder notes added to the text, because first I need to dash out for some quick groceries. Nothing helps fleshing out scenes like fighting over melons.
PS: You've got a dirty mind.
Yes, you.
You know who you are.
To hell in a basket
I wake up and find this waiting for me: *drool* and YAY!
So I scurry over to Amazon, jump hoops (no, don't need no software with my mp3 because I don't use *i* or MS shit for my music KTHX) and then come to that moment where my hate for Amazon is confirmed and I realize Trent has his moments as an ass:
Furthermore, half the time the apology arrives not because A) the store limits shipping to a certain territory, or B) law (or copyright) restrictions. I've had it happen that I could not order an item (from cool rpg dice to books) through Amazon from a certain storefront, and when fed up with Amazon's antics and switching to the store's own online presence found that there was no restriction at all. What's up with that? Is it quirky programming in Amazon's database, or an intentional skewing (skewering?) policy?
EDIT 12th May: and now there's an iTune link too. And I don't do iTune. Ah well, let's just wait for summer...
So I scurry over to Amazon, jump hoops (no, don't need no software with my mp3 because I don't use *i* or MS shit for my music KTHX) and then come to that moment where my hate for Amazon is confirmed and I realize Trent has his moments as an ass:
We are sorry...*headdesk* always apologizing aren't they? I hate them because I want this, but hate them more when they make me lose my time. They can read where I am from my IP addy, they can sluice me ads related to whatever is in the cookiebox, but still they let me add stuff to my basket of which I will only be averted that I can not have it delivered to Belgium when I jump the actual buy hoops. What's up with that?
We could not process your order. The sale of MP3 Downloads is currently available only to US customers located in the 48 contiguous states, Alaska, Hawaii, and the District of Columbia. We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you.
Furthermore, half the time the apology arrives not because A) the store limits shipping to a certain territory, or B) law (or copyright) restrictions. I've had it happen that I could not order an item (from cool rpg dice to books) through Amazon from a certain storefront, and when fed up with Amazon's antics and switching to the store's own online presence found that there was no restriction at all. What's up with that? Is it quirky programming in Amazon's database, or an intentional skewing (skewering?) policy?
EDIT 12th May: and now there's an iTune link too. And I don't do iTune. Ah well, let's just wait for summer...
Rant on order and queries
The part of query guidelines that always gets my brains turned inside out is when the demand is made to indicate the market. How am I supposed to know the market? I'm even loath to consider it part of my job as writer. When I can put a stamp on my manuscript, like "science fantasy" or something along those lines, I'm already humongously content with myself.
I don't wake up with the need to fill a certain niche, not even when it's a hot niche. I get ideas for stories, not ideas for things to sell. My brain soaks up words and then spits them out in some sort of order, mainly to the Cow Watcher's beat.
I know that this attitude (is it merely an attitude?) hurts my work's saleability tremendously, I know. It sucks. I get that a lot of writers have this ability or skill (or aptitude?) to take a story idea and then spin it in a totally different direction if that's where the market is going. I even picture it working like that for me in a handful of years. Okay, more like both handfuls with perhaps some help from the feet. See, there's a long list of projects I have been dragging along since ... ever, and I can't concentrate on new stuff until at least one of those dungeon-crawling monsters is out.
Why? Don't you know that every writer has The One that stays in the drawer for years but comes haunting? Or don't you get new ideas for new stories then?
That's the sad part: aaaaaall the time. But the Dungeon-Crawlers are vicious beasts, and Cow Watcher won't let me forget. Can't really blame the sucker, because CW and the DCs share the dark recesses. But whenever I seriously work on something new, it's like having John Cleese's BBC Announcer stuck in my head. "We interrupt this programme..." or "And now for something completely different." Come to think of it, a disproportionate amount of criticism voiced by the Inners sounds like Monty Python. Another favourite is the "Oh, get on with it already!"(1)
So, why can't I concentrate on new stuff? Simple: Cow Watcher won't let me be. Even at night I wake up with CW whispering to me: KILL KING MARGOR AND THAT SOLVES THAT NO?, or, THE HORSES COME ALIVE TO THE ROAR OF THUNDER (I know: wtf, right?), or, THE PROBLEM YOU HAVE WITH CYBERPUNK INVOLVING ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCES AND ALIENS IS THAT BOTH SERVE AS HOLY GRAIL AND NO STORY CAN HAVE 2 HOLY GRAILS (like, dude! Let me sleep already!),
And then there's those moments I really hate: WHY DOESN'T HE KILL HER WHEN HE HAS THE CHANCE?, with Cow Watcher laughing at little imbecile me, shaking its head and making me want to weep because it is sooooooo obvious a plot problem that undermines any inkling of logic, which I totally glossed over in the months if not years, the gazillion times I've gone over the draft to add, rewrite, reshuffle, and if I can't figure out a reason why Evil Guy doesn't kill the Heroine that one singular moment he can, I'll have to rewrite like 700 pages. And then I'm set for a night of no sleep and a lot of tossing about.
Most of those whispers get scribbled down by the light of my mobile or simply in the dark, and end up looking sort of looking like this:
And all my notes are like that. Some scribbled, some typed, some with little pictures or very expressive exclamation marks. Some not legible at all come morning (writing in the dark can do that), others don't make sense in first light (or ever). But they make sense to Cow Watcher, and I keep them about as talismans against the powers of the Master of the Dungeon-Crawlers.
No, order and categories get my brains twisted inside out alright. For years I've been trying to compile a Companion to the Barynn project, first to keep track of names and dates but then also of affiliations and alliances and historical background, and even there I break my teeth on categorization. I have a deep-rooted problem with categories. I understand why some people find them more important than others, going from economic ease to finding yourself at the short end of an -ism. But I don't *get* them. It's weird, because categories are simply a stronger form than labels, and I use labels all the time. It's like having all these little labels lying about, but all the boxes are missing. I guess that psych test test(2) that detected schizoid tendencies wasn't that far off the bat, hmm?
It works something like this:
Let's say, you have this nice box with 24 colour pencils and after using them with fervour and panache, you need to put them back into the box. And since parental units always complain about order and discipline, let's try to put them in some order (see, already compromising here and not saying: exactly as they were. We're not super-extra-rigid on discipline and order, okay?)
So, "easy" you think, right?
From white, over yellow, over orange, to red, purple, blue, to finally black. D'oh, where do I put my greens?
Okay, start over.
From white, to yellow, over orange to red, to brown, and... Green?
Zeus! Don't try this at home, you'll be at it all night!
The most helpful invention would be a 3D box for colour pencils. Multi-layered matrix of colours. Seriously, I would be drowning in my own tears.
(1) I blame the lonesome mornings spent at my father's, when everybody was still asleep and simply had to entertain myself (from somewhere 6am till 10am) with VCR or a commodore64. Lots of mornings were spent with the Holy Grail. Lots. Obviously too many lots.
(2) as in, helping out a friend's brother who was devising a test for his university thesis in psychology, so a test of a test
I don't wake up with the need to fill a certain niche, not even when it's a hot niche. I get ideas for stories, not ideas for things to sell. My brain soaks up words and then spits them out in some sort of order, mainly to the Cow Watcher's beat.
I know that this attitude (is it merely an attitude?) hurts my work's saleability tremendously, I know. It sucks. I get that a lot of writers have this ability or skill (or aptitude?) to take a story idea and then spin it in a totally different direction if that's where the market is going. I even picture it working like that for me in a handful of years. Okay, more like both handfuls with perhaps some help from the feet. See, there's a long list of projects I have been dragging along since ... ever, and I can't concentrate on new stuff until at least one of those dungeon-crawling monsters is out.
Why? Don't you know that every writer has The One that stays in the drawer for years but comes haunting? Or don't you get new ideas for new stories then?
That's the sad part: aaaaaall the time. But the Dungeon-Crawlers are vicious beasts, and Cow Watcher won't let me forget. Can't really blame the sucker, because CW and the DCs share the dark recesses. But whenever I seriously work on something new, it's like having John Cleese's BBC Announcer stuck in my head. "We interrupt this programme..." or "And now for something completely different." Come to think of it, a disproportionate amount of criticism voiced by the Inners sounds like Monty Python. Another favourite is the "Oh, get on with it already!"(1)
So, why can't I concentrate on new stuff? Simple: Cow Watcher won't let me be. Even at night I wake up with CW whispering to me: KILL KING MARGOR AND THAT SOLVES THAT NO?, or, THE HORSES COME ALIVE TO THE ROAR OF THUNDER (I know: wtf, right?), or, THE PROBLEM YOU HAVE WITH CYBERPUNK INVOLVING ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCES AND ALIENS IS THAT BOTH SERVE AS HOLY GRAIL AND NO STORY CAN HAVE 2 HOLY GRAILS (like, dude! Let me sleep already!),
And then there's those moments I really hate: WHY DOESN'T HE KILL HER WHEN HE HAS THE CHANCE?, with Cow Watcher laughing at little imbecile me, shaking its head and making me want to weep because it is sooooooo obvious a plot problem that undermines any inkling of logic, which I totally glossed over in the months if not years, the gazillion times I've gone over the draft to add, rewrite, reshuffle, and if I can't figure out a reason why Evil Guy doesn't kill the Heroine that one singular moment he can, I'll have to rewrite like 700 pages. And then I'm set for a night of no sleep and a lot of tossing about.
Most of those whispers get scribbled down by the light of my mobile or simply in the dark, and end up looking sort of looking like this:
And all my notes are like that. Some scribbled, some typed, some with little pictures or very expressive exclamation marks. Some not legible at all come morning (writing in the dark can do that), others don't make sense in first light (or ever). But they make sense to Cow Watcher, and I keep them about as talismans against the powers of the Master of the Dungeon-Crawlers.
No, order and categories get my brains twisted inside out alright. For years I've been trying to compile a Companion to the Barynn project, first to keep track of names and dates but then also of affiliations and alliances and historical background, and even there I break my teeth on categorization. I have a deep-rooted problem with categories. I understand why some people find them more important than others, going from economic ease to finding yourself at the short end of an -ism. But I don't *get* them. It's weird, because categories are simply a stronger form than labels, and I use labels all the time. It's like having all these little labels lying about, but all the boxes are missing. I guess that psych test test(2) that detected schizoid tendencies wasn't that far off the bat, hmm?
It works something like this:
Let's say, you have this nice box with 24 colour pencils and after using them with fervour and panache, you need to put them back into the box. And since parental units always complain about order and discipline, let's try to put them in some order (see, already compromising here and not saying: exactly as they were. We're not super-extra-rigid on discipline and order, okay?)
So, "easy" you think, right?
From white, over yellow, over orange, to red, purple, blue, to finally black. D'oh, where do I put my greens?
Okay, start over.
From white, to yellow, over orange to red, to brown, and... Green?
Zeus! Don't try this at home, you'll be at it all night!
The most helpful invention would be a 3D box for colour pencils. Multi-layered matrix of colours. Seriously, I would be drowning in my own tears.
(1) I blame the lonesome mornings spent at my father's, when everybody was still asleep and simply had to entertain myself (from somewhere 6am till 10am) with VCR or a commodore64. Lots of mornings were spent with the Holy Grail. Lots. Obviously too many lots.
(2) as in, helping out a friend's brother who was devising a test for his university thesis in psychology, so a test of a test
Shtuff
I came back from a busy weekend to find my feeddemon overflowing (135 posts to read? Are you crazy? Don't you people have a life?), so I had to kill some blogs I was following.
Part of the deluge however are the NIN teasers on the How To Destroy Angels project, which sounds like yumyum and more. Can't wait till summer.
On the 1st I met up in Planckendael zoo with ex-colleagues. We had a pick-nick the other visitors were jealous off, caught up with each other's lives, and discussed and laughed about the miserable state of Belgian politics. Since the party was mixed French and Dutch-speaking, hilarious scenes ensued when we started yelling at each other. I was actually pretty glad to see the shocked and horrified reactions of the nameless masses around us, when part of the group was lagging behind and I yelled (in Flemish): "Always the same with those Walloons, always have to wait for them lazy asses!"
The day after I had another tournament. In the elimination I came up against the same woman that whooped my ass during the Championships but this time I kept my cool and managed to use my superior tactics. I conquered her, but then came up to someone who's been in the top 3 for years and years and years. I did my best, but the dying went quickly. I ended up 6th (of 11).
The problem with senior women's saber is that mid-list hurdle: the group is quite small, and the top of the group are those women who have years of experience and youth going for them, and the difference between lower half and upper half is actually quite extreme. But I'll get them, slowly but certainly.
Also, I applied for a job that seems invented just for me, so cross your fingers!
Today I hope to finish some of the document I'm preparing for the club, so I can finally turn my attention to Tiger again and clean that mess up.
Part of the deluge however are the NIN teasers on the How To Destroy Angels project, which sounds like yumyum and more. Can't wait till summer.
On the 1st I met up in Planckendael zoo with ex-colleagues. We had a pick-nick the other visitors were jealous off, caught up with each other's lives, and discussed and laughed about the miserable state of Belgian politics. Since the party was mixed French and Dutch-speaking, hilarious scenes ensued when we started yelling at each other. I was actually pretty glad to see the shocked and horrified reactions of the nameless masses around us, when part of the group was lagging behind and I yelled (in Flemish): "Always the same with those Walloons, always have to wait for them lazy asses!"
The day after I had another tournament. In the elimination I came up against the same woman that whooped my ass during the Championships but this time I kept my cool and managed to use my superior tactics. I conquered her, but then came up to someone who's been in the top 3 for years and years and years. I did my best, but the dying went quickly. I ended up 6th (of 11).
The problem with senior women's saber is that mid-list hurdle: the group is quite small, and the top of the group are those women who have years of experience and youth going for them, and the difference between lower half and upper half is actually quite extreme. But I'll get them, slowly but certainly.
Also, I applied for a job that seems invented just for me, so cross your fingers!
Today I hope to finish some of the document I'm preparing for the club, so I can finally turn my attention to Tiger again and clean that mess up.
