In Which the SIlence is Lifted

At least, the Clarion West "radio silence" is over. I can officially announce my acceptance, not that I've been as quiet as I should have been (it's really difficult). Shout it from the rooftops! Except I still can't talk above a whisper without strain. Argh! Oh, wait. I can't even say "argh."

When I applied last year to the Clarion West Writers Workshop, I took two "bathroom mirror" photos of myself, one with the Acceptance Face that can be seen here, and the Rejection Face, which I was too deflated to use in my 2009 rejection post. Don't ask why. If you've played the Clarion waiting game, you probably know that it has serious side effects on your sanity. The photo's a little myspace-ish, but what the heck.

The stupified expression I'm sporting in the photo is appropriate, as it turns out. When I got the call, my brain turned to mush and made me incoherent. I'd gone for a walk and left my phone at home, and there was a voicemail waiting from Seattle when I returned. I called back immediately without collecting my thoughts, which may not have helped matters anyway. Enter the gibbering idiot. I probably said "wow" and "thank you" about ten times each and failed to process much of what was being said on the other end, except the part about acceptance. Yikes! I'm glad to know I'm not alone in this instant moron reaction, as a few of my future classmates have expressed the same.

While waiting to share the news, I have to say that my overall response to this turn of events has not been quite what I expected. Instead of triumph and elation, I think the word for what I'm feeling comes somewhere between anticipation and terror. Kinda like I felt right before walking down the aisle at my wedding. Attending the workshop involves sacrifice, not just a financial one and not just on my part; plus, it's an opportunity that, I think, comes with a certain kinda price tag, an obligation to live up to the faith being placed in me, both during and after. Most importantly after. I hope I can, more than anything.

Needless to say, I'm already planning what to pack.

EDIT: Oops. I didn't apply to Clarion West in 2009. Rather, I applied to Clarion (San Diego), which is a whole different workshop. Maybe I am a little giddy after all.

A Silence Descends (for now)

I have no voice! In more ways than one. This is extremely hard on me as a super-jabber type. Yesterday was another complete waste due to this awful throat infection. I got out of the house briefly to go to my book club, but I really shouldn't have because now my voiced is tapped out.

Overall, I feel somewhat better. This improved vigor is dampened, however, by the release of the latest round of rejections from Clarion West. I've been getting to know these hard-working, bright people who seem to have a lot in common with me (for one, a lot of them teach = much respect). Speaking from last year's experience, rejection is hard to take when you've pinned your hopes and plans for the future, or at least your summer, on something that may not happen. And, unfortunately, the kindly worded rejection doesn't shed much light on the reason your work wasn't selected.

After the rejection I got last year, I did some real soul-searching in order to determine for myself the extent to which "the Clarion dream" was just a foolish fantasy (for me). Did my work merit the time the readers put into it? What did it lack? What could I do better? What books should I read to improve? And worst of all, should I just give it up?

For me, anyway, the answers to most of the questions didn't matter. I had done all I could at that point, except work more consistently. As for the last one, writing is important enough to me that I won't be stopping.

To my fellow hopefuls, please take heart. Don't stop. Not ever.

(More) Whining, groaning, sniffling

Ugh. I am so sick. I knew I was sick on Tuesday morning, but instead of staying home like a good girl, I went on a field trip to Animal Kingdom with Mr. B's homeschoolers' group. I thought I would faint half the time we were there, but the kids had a great time, and I just collapsed after I got back home. I couldn't/wouldn't move this morning (and didn't even get out of bed until noon); I had to cancel my classes, again. Luckily, I could email and call and take care of the details without getting out of bed. Thank Gods for smart phones. Poor Mr. B had to get his own cereal and entertain himself (which isn't hard for him, fortunately).

In better news, I got the first issue of my Locus subscription today, good stuff. Dense. I flipped through and set it down for further reading when my brain comes back online.

I've been working on my Clarion West reading list. I finished Maureen McHugh's China Mountain Zhang a few days ago, and I truly enjoyed it. I may write a little review sooner or later (like I said, when brain function returns). I started Ian McDonald's The Broken Land a bit ago, but at some point I sat in front of the laptop and started watching The Guild and couldn't stop.

Bleh. Hope I feel better tomorrow. Today feels wasted.

The View From Here (in which some whining is heard)

It's been raining for two days straight, and I feel like I'm going to sink down into depression if it doesn't stop. The weather has that effect on me. It's a good thing I don't live in the Northwest or in England, or some other place where it rains or looks overcast all the time. This drives the Florida girl crazy.

At least the cabbage plants (on the far right) enjoy the rain. They have been growing steadily and forming nice, firm heads without any effort from me whatsoever. The mustard (in the foreground) have finally bolted so maybe next week I can collect seeds.

Mr. B has an earache, and now he's watching Race to Witch Mountain over and over. Ugh. There's only so much I can take of Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, explosions, and so on.

I'm also pacing and then leaping to the phone every time it rings, in hopes that it's Clarion calling. Sigh. I said I wouldn't freak out this year, but as time passes, I've become more agitated.

All Quiet (Except for Godzilla)

The Internets are atwitter with news that a gobbet of rejection flew out of Clarion (San Diego) in the past twenty-four hours, but as for me, no news from Clarion West yet. I feel weirdly blocked during the wait. I haven't written anything since the deadline for submission passed on March 1.

I know I should be doing the opposite, writing like crazy to stave off the anxiety, but it seems I'd rather not think about it at all. If I don't think about it, the rejection won't arrive, or something like that.

Plus, it's a little hard to concentrate with Mr. B sick (again); he's curled up on the couch watching Godzilla: Tokyo SOS over and over. Now, if I was writing a giant monster story, that would make a great writing soundtrack, but...

My Clarion Essay

Applicants to Clarion West Writer's Workshop have to write a letter of introduction, presumably for instructors to preview. Of course, we all hope that the letter exerts other (positive) influence during the selection of candidates. A few fellow applicants are sharing theirs on blogs and such, so here's mine. I tried to write from the heart; hope it doesn't bore anyone to tears.

As a writing instructor at a community college, I enjoy helping others learn to express their thoughts in writing, and I think I'm pretty good at it. I have a BA in English and a Master's degree in Women's Studies. I first encountered the workshop method in the English program and did four terms of short story and poetry workshop there. Often, I worked with people who resisted the workshop process because they felt their writing was art, and art need not yield to criticism. Another sad aspect of the program was its hostility to science fiction and fantasy. Fortunately, the experience hasn't dampened my enthusiasm for either, or my desire to attend Clarion.  
    The Women's Studies program prepared me to write science fiction in ways my instructors would probably never have guessed. My MA thesis concerned women writers and utopian fiction, which was a guarantee that I could spend hours reading back issues of Science Fiction Studies and Utopian Studies in the stacks of the campus library, plus all the utopian and dystopian novels I could get my hands on. A pleasing side effect of the research was my first professional publication, on the same topic. I learned a great deal about science fiction criticism and applied a fresh eye to aspects of works I had formerly enjoyed for their entertainment value alone. Of course, the program also taught me a tremendous amount about gender analysis, which is sometimes but not always important to science fiction. This is not to say I converted from a naive reader to a joyless analyzer of theme, plot, characterization and so forth. Rather, my enjoyment was magnified by that critical understanding, as was my desire to write my own quality stories. 
       Like many writers, I have been writing since childhood. Writing is a smaller portion of my life than I'd like for it to be, but it is an immensely satisfying part. When I'm not grading papers for class, helping my son with his homework, performing various volunteer tasks, escaping in a sci-fi novel or walking the dog, I'm writing. I write a monthly feature for a local newspaper and write pieces here and there for academic publications, but my passion is science fiction. Reams of notes and hours of voice memos are filled with story seeds and half-remembered dreams, working in my subconscious until I can sit at the computer and work the ideas into stories.
    I recently emerged from the office after two solid hours of keyboard-pounding, with what must have been a triumphant expression, when my spouse said something that completely floored me. He remarked, "I can see this is what you're meant to do." He was observing my exultant behavior, but he rarely sees the work itself. I submit to publications and have online buddies who occasionally critique my writing, but my husband is too biased to be my first reader. However, his words that day hit home because they felt true. To say that writing makes me happy only makes a vague swipe at description of my inner experience; it's an inadequate understatement of the obsessive, focused, thrilling condition that overtakes me.
    After years of jotting notes and fantasizing about the types of fictional worlds I want to create, I've now given myself permission to take that work seriously. I typically have several stories in process, and I have submitted a handful of shorts which have been politely rejected. I keep working on the parts of a novel that will one day click into place. This feels by turns incredibly frustrating and delightful, which (I've been told) means I'm doing something right. However, I can't shake the feeling that something is missing, and if I could just figure out what that is, something amazing might happen. 
    At Clarion, I hope to develop a quicker, more critical eye that I can use to hone the writing that I'm doing into something professionally viable. I want to work hard and fast, and ultimately learn what's working and what not. I crave the focused intensity of the experience and the intelligent company of other writers who feel the same. I'd also like to know that I'm on the right track, creatively, or if I should pack it in and stick to my day job. 

As an avid reader and writer from a young age, I wish to explore my own potential and soothe (or perhaps ignite) the craving I seem to have, the insistent urge to create the kind of fiction that has entertained and inspired me for so long. 

Do I Suck?

A rejection from Andromeda Spaceways already. I just submitted it three days ago! This rapid return disturbs me a little, especially since it's the same story I'm hoping will get me into Clarion West.

I'm holding out hope that it was rejected for a formatting issue rather than on the basis of quality. Apparently, Google Docs doesn't translate very cleanly into RTF; a very nice person from ASIM named Lucy notified me right away that the formatting was off a little. The double-spacing had reverted to single, bits that should have been centered (like the title and section break indicators they ask for) were not, and chunks of messy code replaced other formatting I used. Color me mortified.

While waiting for this new rejection (and maybe Clarion's), I have been trying very hard to ramp up my writing-and-research mode. I'm working (still) on the "birthday story," which was supposed to be a gift for my hubbie in January but is shaping up nicely, and I've subscribed to Locus and done more market research.

Argh. Maybe I'll go back to bed.

Clarion West, and a theft

I'm thoughtful and mostly calm about my Clarion West application, so far, not like last year's histrionics. I finally joined the online forum for applicants, so I feel connected to the collective angst.

For my application, I submitted a revision of the story that I used last year as one of two stories for Clarion (the other one), and it feels a little crummy to do that. First, if it wasn't accepted last year, why use it again? I'm convinced it's a promising story, and I made some changes for the better. Second, I realized I've been working since last year on two stories that I've not yet finished. To be fair, one is a novel, and I wrote several flash pieces in the meantime, but the output otherwise is pathetically low. One thing that NaNoWriMo taught me is to let go of some responsibilities so I can write more, but the increase in pace has been marginal.

So, what's the problem? Some of it, I think, is the fact that my favorite ideas, the unfinished ones, are ones that began with a seed, not a whole picture, whereas the finished ones hit me all at once. They were complete pictures that just needed to find a way out onto the page. I'm still floundering around trying to figure out what those unfinished stories are really about and how I want them to end. Now, I know that's not inherently a bad thing, but I get stuck and can't seem to get unstuck.

The other issue is discipline. If I don't work consistently, it's not going to happen. I spend way more time reading than writing.

Anyway, enough whining.

On another note, someone stole a big wooden statue of Buddha from my front porch. What kind of dick steals a Buddha? It galls me a bit. I don't feel especially angry, though. I hope thieving individual at least gets some spiritual satisfaction out of it, however tainted. I should write about it, if for no other reason than spite.

Because I Have So Much Free Time

Wait, I don't.
Anyway, I'm taking the challenge, finally, of NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month. Write 50, 000 words in one month! I need some buddies to do this, anyone game?

I'm also climbing back on the horse of perpetual preparation for Clarion Writer's Workshop 2010, and I feel especially motivated by the news that the admission window has been moved back to December 1st.

Life simply isn't busy enough right now, between gardening, homeschooling, UU-ing, teaching and academic publishing/freelancing (and pretty much in that order of priority). It feels oddly secondary to mention that my proposal for the Virginia Tech "Gender, Bodies and Technology" conference was recently accepted --I'd actually forgotten about that news until just now.

Let me know, gotta go! It's Farnham, ya'll!

Mega Challenge

Aside from having a funky name, I like the 'tude over at flash site Brain Harvest, especially the mustaches. They're Clarion workshop alumni who wanted to make something happen. I like it. Plus, a contest deadline is always motivating, to me anyhow.

Thanks to Jamie for posting this.

News from the Front

You know it's bad when I get too busy to write. I'm sure "lifestuff" is the death of many a blog, but not this one, thank goodness.

Major developments include new responsibilities as co-chair of worship at the UU, and the realignment of my entire house to accommodate new housemate. Between these two, I've been a little pre-occupied.

Maybe I was also avoiding the blogosphere so as to shield myself from the amazing good-times stories of folks who are at this very moment blogging the writing life at Clarion Writer's Workshop. I want to know, but I don't. I got over the politely worded rejection I received a few months ago, and I've trained my brain on next year's possibilities and this year's publication efforts. Reading about the adventures of the "got-ins" may send me in the wrong mental direction.

I've also been logging lots of gaming time, which takes me out of my world and problems for a while and translates as quality time with friends and spouse. Big-time, late-night fun playing Spirit of the Century and Arkham Horror, eating junk food and laughing. On the downside, I've been driven insane and devoured by Yog-Sothoth.

Omens, Free Association and Writing

Yesterday, before the bad news, I went into a used bookstore to drop off some posters for a local concert. I happened to be waiting in line at the counter just long enough for my eyes to drift over the rack containing film novelizations (which I generally look down upon, bleh). The very top and left book happened to be The Affair of the Necklace, written by Elizabeth Hand, a Clarion workshop leader. Was it a sign? Not a good one, as it turned out, but I did receive news just a short time later. However, it should not surprise me to see an author's name, on a book, in a book store.

The day before that, I was in the bath, trying to relax and stop obssessing about acceptance/rejection, when the shampoo lather floating in the tub formed into the shapes of two fish. The smaller had a wide-open mouth poised to consume the larger. A sign? I don't even know of what, but I was distressed and dashed it away.

As a child (and even then I was an aspiring writer), I used to think that writerly work was mythically channeled from some great source, that the ideas burned writers up from the inside until they were let out. The whole notion was that writing is always passionate and exciting, and that great writers were like half-mad artists. When I was a kid, I wanted to be that. Of course, now I'm actually writing, and although at least one story kinda burned its way out, the work I'm doing now has more to do with craft. The difference is that writing craft is taught and learned and shared (and requires time-consuming self-discipline); it's not wild talent that madly creates in an isolated trance. Ideas come from everywhere, especially for speculative fiction, and random word association can springboard the writer into exciting new directions. All this has something to do with omens (random signs and symbols that are assigned meaning) that I'm not expressing very well here. Maybe you get the point.

Now that my summer has been freed up, I am hard at work on new writing, with the goal of two fresh subs before June in mind.

The current project, tentatively titled "In Like the Lion," is a short story I started during the wait. It began with a phrase of simple word association, and at the time, I thought of it as very goofy, but at least diverting from the stress of waiting. Now, it seems to be taking on a life of its own, as stories tend to do, and the characters want to go places and see new people. And there it goes, with me in tow.

I'm also shopping around for good online writing workshops to join, if anyone has suggestions.

Back to Normal?

Finally, word from Clarion, and sadly it's no. But also some encouraging words:

"The admissions panel feels that you (sic) work shows promise and says you came 'very close' to being admitted."

I'll keep working and try again next year. At least the process has motivated me to rethink my life a little and put me over the hurdle of first submission fears. In the meantime, I need to start subbing my work elsewhere.

And, my posts can go back to normal instead of just functioning as Clarion tweets.

A big thank you to everyone who sent me good wishes and support!

Go, go, gadget optimism!

I am occupied by other thoughts, and I am not, not, not freaking out! I am taking stupid pictures of myself (which I will have to add later because Blogger is acting stupid and won't let me upload).

I am harvesting collards that I grew with my own two black-thumbed hands, and cooking them for my pagan group's potluck (photo).

I am making out with my husband in the driveway in full view of my neighbors (no photo).

I am thankful to other people for their support and good wishes. I am not complaining.

Edit: Sorry the pics are sloppy, I really don't get what is going on with Blogger right now. But there they are, anyhow.

P.S. I May Develop an Ulcer

Dear Clarion folks,
Perhaps you are inundated with similar requests this morning, but I am writing to contact the program coordinator about my application as suggested on the Clarion website. I have not yet received notification of my application's acceptance or rejection.

Please clarify if possible. Many thanks for all your hard work.

Sincerely,
me

And, so?

It is after 8:30 P.M. here, and still no word. I just keep telling myself that reviewers are probably on Pacific time, so it's early yet for them. Here, it feels very late.

I took a nap (I had a weird dream that there was a neglected dog living in my garage) and then went out for dinner, leaving my phone at home so I couldn't check email. After that, I took Cinder-Boo out for a long walk (see Sith's apprentice in earlier post), and then cooked her dinner. Yes, she is that spoiled (and/or I am that yuppy-ish these days). Then I checked the emails again. Still nothing.

Sigh. I'm not even going to speculate. Not out loud, anyway. I need a hug.

So?

It's Friday, the 20th of March, and there is still nothing from Clarion. Yet.

Mr. B and I went to homeschool playgroup and to the farmers' market, and I checked my phone for email alerts about every fifteen minutes or so. You know, casually, trying not to seem disinterested in regular life.

I have cramps, it's the first day of spring, and momentous news should arrive any time now. I need a nap, but I don't know if I would sleep, as keyed up as I feel.

In other news, Mr. B is a Sith Lord.

No More, Make It Stop!

I've just been over reading posts on the Clarion West forum, where some familiar names are joshing around and wringing their hands in a nervous sweat. See, I was over there because Clarion San Diego, or East, as some folks are calling it, doesn't have a forum for applicants. Hence, a thread was started over on the CW form, and lot of folks there applied to CSD and CW, so it's relevant for them. All manner of second-guessing and over-analyzing going on. I realized that I can't take it, and I'm going to go completely crazy if I keep reading all that stuff.

I'll just hold my breath for the next 36 hours or so. That should be easier than trying to avoid the blogs and forums. Ha.

Obsessed or Determined?

I guess I'm thinking too much.

It occurred to me this morning that the Clarion acceptance contact I've been waiting for could be a letter in my PO box, which I haven't checked since Thursday, so I hitched the trail bike to my cheapo boardwalker, and Mr. B (my child) and I pedaled on down to the post office.

"Oh, my legs!" he wailed at some point. Anyway, no letter in the mail. I know that some lucky folks like Jordan Lapp have been contacted via phone call, but I'm thinking that may be a Clarion West thing. I have it in my head that the Clarion SD contact will be emailed/written. Correct me if I'm wrong!

But alas, nothing of note in the PO box so far. On the upside, while I was at the post office, I finally mailed the contract for the academic volume I'm editing to my collaborators so they can sign it, too. Nothing much is happening with that, so I keep forgetting about it.

Then back home to return to repeatedly checking my email in case there's a notification in there. I also discovered a tidbit that might appeal to other Clarion hopefuls who are sitting around biting their collective fingernails. Clarion's website suggests reading Kate Wilhelm's The Storyteller while waiting, and a large portion of it can be found for free here. Or you can pay $16 for it.

I also tooled around in my garden today and got my toes dirty, which always forces me to slow down. It reassures me, too, that life goes on, however cheesy that sounds. I went back and listened to the UU service about springtime that I did last Sunday, which you can listen to here if you like, mortified as always by the weird sound of my own voice. There's probably a scientific reason why we don't sound the same way to ourselves as we do to other people, just like a kind of body dysmorphia where we don't perceive ourselves the same way others see us.

Mentally rambling, that's been my day. Just trying not to think about it as much by keeping busy.

What to do while waiting

The long, drawn-out period of waiting for news about Clarion has finally driven me to accept Vylar Kaftan's challenge: write a complete story before receiving acceptance/rejection. The point is to stave off anxiety by making it productive. I picked a random idea from the voice recorder app on my iPhone (good ideas come to me while I'm driving), wrote a hook and outlined ideas for conflict/rising action/development. I challenged myself further to write in third person, which I typically feel uncomfortable with. No conclusion yet, though. Is it normal to begin writing on a story before you know where it's going? I follow that method most of the time. It keeps me from procrastinating too much.

So, now I have until Friday to finish it, maybe. Unless the Clarion folks miss their own deadline for notifying applicants. I fantasize concerning the reason they still haven't notified me. I won't go into details there. These thoughts make my stomach hurt.