Category Archives: Words Words Words

*Snap*

I truly dislike photo shoots. The one that I have just suffered through was, in fact, relatively painless. Probably because my husband was the photographer.

Why did I force myself through this dreadful process? Because, dear readers, it’s in my contract that the Publisher has the right to use my name and likeness to promote the new series. Hence the need for a likeness to send down.

We used two alternating cameras, just as extra insurance. Different hairstyles, different clothes, different poses. Glasses off, glasses on.

Now we have three rolls of film to develop (yes, there was one in our camera already, and no, I have no earthly idea what’s on it — oh, wait, Elim (muah-hah-hah), and various Yule celebrations, including the now-traditional shot of myself and Roo. Right.)

I’ll get them same-day processed, then HRH and I will pore over the various shots to choose the three best, and I’ll have them enlarged to 8 x 10 formats. Then I’ll Purolate them down to Boston, accompanied by the signed contracts that arrived in today’s mail.

If nothing else, I’ll have piles of photos to send to my grandmother and my parents and such.

Time Flies

As of today, my imprint specialist contract should be in the mail. I’ll get it next week, sign it, and then somewhere along the next four weeks get a tidy US check to sink into my bank account to help chase away the winter blues. Half will go onto my Visa; the rest will sit and gather interest. And then, then I will go out and look at sewing machines. And a filing cabinet.

I took a look at the first date I scribbled down in my notebook that’s reserved for work with this publisher. On August 6 I had the first phone conversation with my contact, where we began to throw ideas back and forth and the position of series editor was brought up.

On Friday, it will have been six months since that day. I didn’t sign an official contract until October, but I started working with them before that.

Six months. Half a year.

Wow.

Editors and Writers

Ceri has been talking about submitting short fiction to magazines, and I’ve been talking about pitching this non-fic anthology series to my publisher, and I’ve only just had the realisation dawn upon me.

If this goes through, I’ll be the one sending rejection letters.

Ouch.

Also on the subject of selecting stories: I’ve been having trouble nailing down the specific selection criteria in this proposal. Stories must feel sincere; check. Stories must involve original, out-of-the-ordinary situations; check. Stories must have appeal; check. Stories must be in sympathy with the theme of the anthology in question; check. My publisher wants me to expand upon the criteria I already have.

Other than that, what do I say? How am I going to choose the stories? Honestly, writing down that I’m basically going to be using the Force and trusting my intuition in the process of story selection and approval is going to get me and my proposal laughed out of the office.

So help me out, dear readers. When you read an anthology, and one story or chapter sticks out (for positive or negative reasons), can you describe why? How do you put that je ne sais quoi into words? What makes a certain piece of writing special, and the others flat? Why does one succeed, and others fail?

Deja Vu

After another hour-long marathon conversation with my publisher, during which we discussed my late-February/early-March trip down to pitch this anthology series, I made a startling connection.

I’ve done this before. It was my thesis defence.

You write something, people read it, and have their own opinions. You show up in person before a scary panel of those stony-faced people, re-present your arguments with confidence and style, and then field questions in order to convince them that your conclusions are sound, and they should not only give you a degree, but hail you as a new light in the academic sky.

In this case, the only difference is that the something I’m writing is a six-page detailed proposal for an anthology series, and that they won’t give me a piece of paper to hang on my wall if I convince them; they’ll give me a contract and money instead. (You know – all those things that a degree doesn’t automatically do, but we all wish they did.)

So no, it’s not a glitch in the Matrix. It’s one of those moments where I’m relieved, because I now have an experience to which I can equate the current situation; I’m no longer working in a vacuum. It’s also a moment where I now can have genuine mini-nervous-breakdowns, because now I have a memory to build on and make even bigger and scarier when I envision delivering the pitch in a boardroom south of Boston.

Kind of good; kind of bad.

Mind you, I did kick ass during my thesis defence. I take comfort from this fact.

HP and Owly Tidbits

In a new interview in Empire magazine, director Mike Newell lays to rest the speculation that GOF would be split into two movies. “As far as I’m concerned it’s absolutely possible to do it in one. I think it would be slightly embarassing to do it in two,” says the director in the March issue of the magazine, available on newstands now.

“Slightly embarrassing.” Interesting phrasing, that.

And –

Mother Owl Stops Work at NASA: A great horned owl has decided Pad 39A of the Kennedy Space Center in Florida is the perfect place to hatch her eggs. NASA has stopped work at the site until the babies are born. Just look at that expression – you’d stop work, too.

Apparently there’s another owl nesting where Atlantis is to be launched in the fall too. Coincidence? Maybe Great Horned Owls are monitoring our space program.

(Both tidbits found at The Leaky Cauldron.)

Modern “Conveniences”

Is it too much to ask that the electricity we pay for stay on for at least three days in a row?

Yes, we lost power again last night. Four hours of no heat during the coldest part of the night means that we lost all the warmth stored up in the apartment once more.

I no longer care what the reason may be – whether it’s the major NDG power transfer system finally dying due to old age, or the lousy wiring job in our apartment possibly shorting out the entire block – I just don’t care. I’m tired of resetting clocks, alarms, and volume levels. I’m tired of having to blast all our ineffective heaters just to get things to a comfortable temperature so I can function like a relatively normal human being again.

At first it was charming – we’d light candles, sit and chat quietly, watch the snow fall. Then it became slightly irritating, as the power would cut out when I needed to reach a deadline, make dinner, was expecting a call, was in the process of finishing something valuable on the computer, or some such thing. Now it’s just an instant anger-inducing inconvenience that makes me growly no matter what I’m doing, even if it’s as benign as reading on the sofa with a pile of cats.

Forty-seven days until spring. As the days count down, the temperature will rise, and people will consume less electricity, reducing the stress on the outdated power grid. Perhaps then we’ll experience fewer interruptions in our electrical supply.

I’m trying to be optimistic about it.