writing

Darwin’s Evolutions

By / May 30, 2008

Darwin’s Evolutions a speculative fiction e-zine has gone live today. Evolutions is an exciting project because it offers all the fiction for free to readers. If you like the magazine or an individual story, you can choose to donate. This is the same type of free-content business model that Schlock Mercenary has been using for years. I’m glad to see others taking it up and I really hope that Evolutions does well.

Also the editor, Darwin, has some really nice things to say about my website and the free fiction that I’ve posted there. I met Darwin last February at LTUE in Provo UT. It was a pleasure to talk to him and I was honored when he asked if he could feature my site in the “Free Range Fiction” section of his e-zine. So go check out Darwin’s Evolutions.

Blogging and conventions

By / March 29, 2008

When attending a convention, or just after a convention, there is a tendency for bloggers to put up a long list of names of people they talked to, or events they went to. There is an urgency about these posts, as if the writer needs to get it all down before the information leaks out of her brain. Posts like that are little reminder tags to the person who experienced the convention. The mention of a name triggers the memory of a conversation and an enjoyable dinner. The listing of a nick name reminds the author of the whole series of interconnected events that led to the bestowal of the nick name. The reference to an event refreshes the memory of people seen and met. This is necessary because it is truly impossible to capture everything that happens at a convention without expanding into novel-length exposition. There are so many new people and new thoughts that the experience is overwhelming, and invigorating, and sometimes frightening.

Last night I went up to my room to drop off my bag. I intended to head back out with Howard to roam the room parties. The hotel room door closed behind me and I was alone. For the first time all day, my brain had time to assimilate rather than collecting new input. I realized that my inner introvert was huddled up in the corner of my brain and I needed to spend some time soothing her to prevent a major screaming fit the following day. I have to pace myself to last through the three days of convention. I crawled into bed, wishing it was my own bed, and wishing for my kids. This is part of the convention experience for me.

Another part of the convention experience is sitting on a panel with other intelligent people and comparing experiences about the panel topic. The blogging panel was like that. Most people hate public speaking, but I love it. I love seeing the audience nod at what I say. I’m thrilled to think that my thoughts, my words, are useful to others. This is the same reason I blog, because there is a possibility that my words will be exactly what someone else needs today; the possibility that my thoughts will make someone else’s life better. That reward is worth the risk of putting myself forward or having some troll throw nastiness at me. It is scary blogging. It is scary being on panels. It is scary being here. But if I am not here I lose out on the opportunity to meet and to greet. I miss out on the chance to learn things that make my life better. I miss out on the chance to say something that will help someone else. So I am here, at the convention, blogging online, because the rewards are more that worth the risks.

Self publishing and hubris

By / March 25, 2008 / 10 Comments

Jim Hines of the Jig the Goblin trilogy wrote a post today in which he rants about writing “Experts”. Jim’s major complaint is people who take their small experiences with either writing or publishing and extrapolate it into a supposed expertise about the whole industry. Many of Jim’s points single out self published authors. I found myself both agreeing with him and feeling a little defensive at the same time. Withing the next few months I will be releasing a self published book and therefore I’m at risk of annoying people in the same ways that Jim was annoyed.

I think it takes a special sort of arrogance to become a self published author. I look at the traditional publishing paths and I know that the reason they are traditional is that they work. The publishing “rules” are there because they are truly the best way for people to combine forces and create books. It has to be some sort of hubris for me to see those rules, understand why they exist, and still decide that somehow they don’t apply to me.

The one area where I know I will not annoy Jim and other published authors is that I have no intention of advocating self publishing as the wave of the future. It is a hard, lonely, scary path and I would never recommend it lightly. There are no easy paths to publication, but for most people the best choice is to find a publishing house. There have been many times during the Hold on to Your Horses project when I have curled into a little ball of despair because the project was broken and I did not have the expertise to fix it myself. Then I had to go begging among my contacts for help. The only reason it has a chance of working is because of the amazing people I’ve come to know during the past few years. The only reason I am an exception to the rule is because I can piggy back on all the marketing and friendships from Schlock Mercenary.

One thing that may contribute to the “expert” syndrome that Jim noted, is the reactions of non-publishing people to a self published work. When I talk to neighbors about my forthcoming book and I say “I’m self publishing” I get even more respect and approval than I did for just publishing. This baffles me a little because I know that self published works nearly always suffer from quality issues. But America prizes its innovators and trail blazers. Self publishing seems more accessible. People look at my self published project and think that maybe they could do something towards their own dreams. I’m glad of that and I do feel that there is value in self published works, even the ones with quality issues. Perhaps it is to these other newbies that the “experts” are speaking. I don’t think anyone who wants to be a professional in the publishing industry is going to be led astray by newbie experts.

I guess in the end I believe that the path you take should be the one best suited to your goals. Hubris or not, I do believe that this alternate path is going to work for me. I am going to be able to accomplish what I set out to do: create the book that my daughter needed, reward the artist who helped me, and not lose money while doing it.

Critiquing

By / March 4, 2008 / 1 Comment

My brother-in-law is writing his first novel. He’d gotten to a point where he felt stuck, so I offered to read it and talk it over. This evening he and I had an hour-long conversation about where his novel is now and what it needs to go forward. I love this type of conversation. I love reading something, then sitting down with the author and discussing it. I love being able to make concrete suggestions and then to alter my suggestions based on new information about what the author wants the story to be. I love being able to assist in helping a good story emerge from the necessary mess of the first draft. I love picking apart the structure of a story and being able to see how if I want this then that needs to shift. I love hearing the author’s voice take on the thoughtful tone which means he is now seeing his own story in a new way.

I need to make more space in my life for this. It will be several months before I can make regular space, but at least now I’m reminded that I want it.

LTUE and next week

By / February 17, 2008 / 11 Comments

Conventions are the reward for all the hours of work that Howard and I put in at home. At conventions we finally have faces and voices for people who were previously anonymous hits on the website. Conventions are where it all begins to feel real. It works the other way too. Howard and I become real to people who have only known us through our work. At every single convention I attend I meet several new and amazing people. Most of the time these amazing people are not the ones I hoped/expected to meet when I arrive at the event. LTUE had both Orson Scott Card and Gail Carson Levine as guests of honor. I never had the chance to speak to either one of them. I am sure that they are wonderful people, but they were always either surrounded or rushing off somewhere. Howard did speak briefly with them both and even gave Mr. Card a copy of Under New Management. That’s enough, we’re happy. Among the new amazing people are Darwin Garrison of Darwin’s Evolutions, Joselle Vanderhoof a local poet/author, and Christie Skipper Ritchotte who reads slush for Shimmer. I had marvelous conversations with each of them. Then of course there were all the familiar amazing people. I am very fortunate to live in a place with a strong creative community.

I always come home from conventions exhausted, but invigorated. I want to dive into new projects and take advantage of the new opportunities that I have learned about. But this year I need to be careful. My plate is already so full that stuff is falling off. I can not dive into new things until I have finished off some of the old ones. Even more important is that I not upset the structure that I worked so hard to set up during January. The last few days were chaotic for us all, but now the kids need me to be back to making dinner and enforcing homework. They need me to be available to help them with the hundreds of things that seem little to me, but are big for them. So the primary focus for this next week is to re-establish normal.

In the business parts of normal I need to do the math to figure out how much we made attending this convention and exactly what merchandise sold. This is important because I need to ship merchandise to the two conventions that Howard attends next month and I need to know how much to ship. Also I need to prepare for my meeting with the tax accountant on Tuesday. Regular accounting needs to be done. Regular shipping also needs to be done. I need to figure out how many shirts have been pre-ordered so that I can give a preliminary count to our shirt guy. I want to plan a layout for the Hold on to Your Horses website. And hopefully I can do some work on The Teraport Wars as well. Oddly, I’m not oppressed by the quantity of things on my list for the week, but instead I’m looking forward to it.

Copy editing

By / February 13, 2008 / 3 Comments

In the process of creating a book you read it about a million times. I am so familiar with the words and pictures of Hold on to Your Horses that I can practically recite it from memory. Only I’d probably get it wrong because I’ve been familiar with all the different versions of it as the words have evolved. Last week I finally reach the stage where the words had all been as tweaked as I could make them. All the pictures had been examined and placed. It seemed ready to go, but I knew it wasn’t. I knew that there were mistakes in the book, but I am so familiar with all the words and pictures that my brain was auto correcting errors without even registering them. I needed other people to look at the book and tell me where the mistakes were. This is called copy editing.

I had six different people take a look at the book. They all found glaring errors that I’d been missing. There were capitals in the middle of sentences. There were places where the words overlapped the pictures and were hard to read. There were words in the wrong tense. There were some misspellings. Each time copy edits came in I would look and wonder how on earth I had missed the mistake all those millions of readings before. But the really interesting thing is that each editor found different mistakes than the others. There were a few overlaps, but each editor found 2-3 things that no on else noticed. One editor was very visual and noticed spacing problems. A couple caught grammatical errors. Another focused on awkward wordings. Each editor brought something new and valuable. I am very grateful to them all.

I made all the changes. I burned the files to disk. Then I shipped them off to China. It is tempting to keep sending the book around to other people. Everyone found errors, there are surely some more lurking in there. But I know from experience that no matter how many people look over a book, some error will slip past us all. It happens every time with the Schlock books. I can only hope that the error is sufficiently minor that few people will notice it.

Convention season begins

By / February 10, 2008 / 1 Comment

LTUE is this week. I thought I was only going to be able to attend on Friday afternoon/evening, but it is now looking like I’ll be able to be there Thursday until 1:30 or so. I may also be able to make some of Saturday afternoon and evening. Saturday is less certain though because I haven’t set up that babysitting yet.

Friday at 6pm both Howard and I will be on a panel about publishing fiction on the internet.

Friday at 7pm I will be on a panel about publishing with a small press.

Howard will be on a lot more panels than that, but he’ll publish that information on his own blog in the next couple of days.

In between panels, Howard and I are most likely to be found in the registration area where we’ll be selling Schlock books. We’ll also have the brand new Schlock shirts. Internet pre-orders will open on these tomorrow, but at LTUE we’ll have actual shirts that you can walk away wearing. Quantity and sizes will be somewhat limited though. Also Howard has also created some new posters for this event. They’ll probably be available online later, but if you come to LTUE you can get them first and you won’t have to pay for shipping. We’ll also have a copy of Hold on to Your Horses available for perusing and a sign up list for people who want to pre order. So don’t miss stopping by the Tayler table.

LTUE marks the beginning of our hectic 2008 convention season. Let the insane busy-ness begin.

Muse in the Pipes

By / January 27, 2008 / 18 Comments

Each year since I started this online journal in 2004, I’ve posted an original story in celebration of my birthday. I’ve been so busy this month that I worried I wouldn’t get one done, but I did. Prior years’ stories can be found on my website.

Muse in the Pipes
By Sandra Tayler

“Well ma’am, you’ve got a terpsichore.” The man stepped back out of Kayla’s shower. He stooped to put the scanning device back into his kit, giving Kayla a full view of the Ghandrachar’s Muses and Familiars logo on the back of his shirt. The label on the front declared his name to be Scott.

“A what? I thought it was a muse.” Kayla peered at the shower wall as if she could see through it to the creature hiding inside. This was absolutely the last time she’d buy something supernatural off of ebay.

Scott began rummaging in the side pocket of his kit. “A terpsichore is a kind of a muse. Now when you called, you said you’re a musician?”

“That’s right. I play cello.” Kayla gestured to her instrument leaning on its stand in the corner.

“Ah, then you should have an erato or an euterpe. Terpsichore is a muse of dance. No wonder she’s been so unhappy.” Scott pulled out a clipboard and handed it to Kayla. “Here is a standard removal contract. It states that you agree to pay our fee and that once the muse has entered our trap it becomes the property of Gandrachar’s. See you’ll need to inital that part before you sign.”

Kayla snorted. “You’re welcome to it. I just want the thing gone. It has done nothing but cause me grief since it arrived two months ago. I can not stand one more flooded shower or toilet. The downstairs neighbors are threatening to have me evicted.” She signed the form with relish and handed it back.

Scott slid the clipboard into his kit and then pulled out a mechanical flower the size of a large mixing bowl. The petals were closed at first, but as Kayla watched he rotated a little crank that caused them to swirl outward as if the flower were blooming. He set the device carefully in the bathroom doorway.

“Now ma’am I’m going to need your help with this. The terpsichore is obviously bonded to you, otherwise it would have left. Only you can draw it out to the trap.”

Kayla nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

“Dance.”

Kayla’s jaw dropped. “You must be joking.”

“No ma’am.” Scott walked across the small living space and shoved her table and chairs against the wall. He gave the couch similar treatment. Then he stood in the middle of the open space and reached out a hand to her.

Kayla crossed her arms tightly. “I don’t dance.” She never did. Not since high school when Lindsay Mason had made so clear to half the freshman class that Kayla could not dance.

Scott studied her a moment, then retrieved an ipod and a small set of speakers from his kit. He turned on a waltz. “Ma’am only your dance can draw her out. If you really want her gone, you must dance.”

Kayla sighed and glanced around her apartment. The blinds were shut. No one would see. She stepped forward and took Scott’s hand. He held it out and placed his other on the small of her back. Kayla set her other hand on Scott’s shoulder.

“Very good ma’am. Now with me. One, two, three. One, two, three.” Scott began to move, gently nudging Kayla’s feet with his when she stepped awry. It was awkward at first, but soon Kayla began to feel the rhythm of the music. She stepped more confidently. Scott used a gentle pressure against her back to pull her out of the single location she had been stomping in. The turn quickened Kayla’s breath and
she remembered a time long ago when she had watched a dance competition.

Kayla had been 7 years old. It was long before Lindsay Mason. She remembered being pressed in the crowd, but peeking through the forest of bodies she had seen glittering swirls of skirts and men in tuxedos drifting around the floor as if blown by the merest breeze. Now, despite the cramped space, she felt as if she were one of those glittering women. Scott twirled her again all the way out to the end of his arm and then back. Kayla pictured herself wearing one of those long skirts that wrapped around her legs. Seven year old Kayla had done the same and spent hours twirling around the house until the jeers of her older brother stilled her dancing feet.

Kayla’s feet were not still now. They skipped across the floor lightly as the music swelled. She smiled up at Scott’s calm face. He looked down and shadow of emotion crossed his. Had that been pity before he schooled his features into blandness? Kayla did not care, she let go of his hands for a pirouette of her own.

Halfway through the third rotation there was a loud CLICK and Kayla stumbled. She tripped over her own feet and her hip slammed into the couch on the way down. Bruised and dizzy she staggered back to her feet.

“What happened?” She asked.

“Your bond to the muse’s inspiration was severed when the trap closed. She belongs to Gandrachar’s now.” Scott walked over to the mechanical flower. Its petals were closed again, but a soft rosy glow flowed and shifted around the edges of the petals. He picked it up gently and began to place it in his kit.

“Wait!” Kayla’s hand reached toward the flower. She’d forgotten that she once loved to dance. She didn’t want to lose it now.

Scott picked up the kit and spoke softly as he walked toward the door. “Ma’am I have to take her away now. If you want her back, you’ll have to come talk with a placement consultant at Gandrachar’s.”

“Placement consultant?” Kayla trailed Scott across the apartment. He paused in the front doorway.

“Yes ma’am. With us you’ll pay a little bit more to get a muse, but we guarantee a good fit.” Scott tipped his head a little as he considered her. “A terpsichore might be right for you after all, but we’ll need to wait a few days for the effects of the inspiration to wear off before you can truly know what you want.” Scott gave her a nod and shut the door behind him.

Kayla turned back to her apartment. The empty space in the center beckoned her and she gave a little twirl. But her feet did not fly. It was not the same.

Kayla’s eyes fell on her cello. She walked to where it sat in the corner. Her fingers caressed its beloved curves. What would it be like if the muse was music instead of dance? Kayla smiled. She would be going to Gandrachar’s in a couple of days.

A conversation with a voice in my head

By / January 20, 2008 / 9 Comments

You’re giving up your dreams. You lost yourself before, you’re going to do it again.

No I’m not. Having a stable family and a well run home is every bit as much my dream as being a published author. It would be foolish of me to neglect the dream I have, to chase one that I may not be able to obtain. Besides, I have time later, when the kids are older, when this dream has changed, that I can chase other dreams.

You are trapped. You are burdened by hundreds of daily tasks which bore you. You are not free.

Is anyone really? I suppose it is theoretically possible to be free of obligations to others, but most of us are wrapped firmly in a web of interdependency. I stand at the center of a family. I am so wrapped with strings that I must be careful of my movements lest I warp the whole web. But this is MY web. The design is mine and it is beautiful. I do not want a hole in the middle of this beautiful weaving.

But what about that poem, Millie’s Mother’s Red Dress? You’re becoming that mother. The one whose children grow up to be louts because mother never did a single thing for herself. You have to make time for you.

I find it interesting that even taking time for myself becomes something that I do for the good of the children. Apparently not even “time for me” is really just mine. I do take time for myself, both for my sanity and for the benefit of the children. I have little slices of time many times daily. I will not be greedy and stomp my feet wishing for more. Instead I will be patient knowing that there will be the occasional day where I can have my fill. Too much time for myself leaves too many things which are important to me undone.

What about your gift? Your writing can not reach out and help others if you never write.

True. But despite my shift in focus, I haven’t exactly stopped writing. Mostly I’ve been writing blog entries, but that’s still words written. I’m submitting a story for publication tomorrow. I’ve got an outline for a story for next week. Biggest of all, I’m pressing forward with the publication of Hold on to Your Horses. By April I will have a book that I wrote in my hands. The writing isn’t exactly languishing now is it?

But you should…

No. We’re done now. I have better things to do than wallow and fret.

The Press of Inspiration

By / January 11, 2008 / 10 Comments

I believe in personal revelation, that we can be directed to the best path for our life if we are open to receiving messages. At several major turning points I feel like Howard and I have received instructions about what we should do. The biggest of these was our decision for Howard to leave a product management position at Novell to be a cartoonist. I feel like I receive direction and help with myriad small things as well. The story idea for Gleek, ideas for how to run homework time, and the soft answer in the face of wrath, are all examples.

At times this belief in inspiration is frustrating or even frightening. There are times I feel inspired to do things that I do not want to do, or that I’m afraid to do. We would not have the house we live in if we had listened to our desires to not move instead of the inspiration that we should. I have had almost 10 years to be grateful that we listened to that inspiration. I find this is usually the case, that the results of following inspiration are far better than I could have pictured.

All this is in my mind because I was pressed with inspiration at the turning of the year. It loomed insistently, pressed me to shift the family schedule, pushed me to stop going to writer’s group, and one evening it made me stop blogging in the middle of a sentence and go do something else. I felt hounded and bewildered. All the messages seemed to tell me to stop writing, to put it down. Yet in the past I’ve received strong affirmations about the value of the writing I do. And I did not want to give it up. I had plans. I had dreams. I was going to write things that would make people amazed. I was going to earn respect as a writer. I was going to have things I could hold up as accomplishments.

But the messages came fast and strong. “No success can compensate for failure in the home.” “Your kids need you here.” “Put it down.” “Trust me.” And so piece by piece I did. I stopped attending writers’ group. I stopped pushing to draft a novel. I stopped posting in forums to make sure that people knew my name and face. I cried and wept and gnashed my teeth until I reached a mental place where I could honestly say “Thy will be done.”

And then the storm was over. Now I can see clearly what I could not before. It is not the writing that was the problem, it was the pride and ambition. I wanted measurable success as a writer. I wanted recognition from others. My desire for those things was distorting my writing and my life. For almost a year I’ve planned to write a book for Link, but it has been held up because I wanted to write something that was also good enough for publication. I see now that as I built plans and dreams, the book stopped being for Link and started being something that I wanted. Other projects and plans were similarly pulled off course. It is not the projects themselves that were a problem, but the motivations that were driving them too hard and too fast in the wrong direction.

My situation is different than other writers I know. I already live a lifestyle that allows both Howard and I to be at home. We already pay our bills with creative efforts. Someone who is seeking such a lifestyle needs recognition. They need to be business oriented and focused. They need to be promoting themselves and putting themselves forward. We do many of these things for Howard and Schlock Mercenary. We need these things to bring in money to pay the bills. But now I know that is not my personal path. I am already living a dream that many people long for. It would be foolish of me to jeopardize it because I want more attention for myself. I will still write, but I need to write as inspiration leads me. More importantly, I need to let writing lay idle while I tend to other things.

If I want my life to be truly joyful, then my life can not be about me. A thread that skips over the surface of a weave is very visible, but the threads that give strength to the fabric are the ones that are rarely seen because so many other threads weave around them. My life needs to be about building bonds, and helping others, and being helped, and learning together, and growing together. I want to be pleased with a whole fabric that I helped build, rather than only having my own little thread that I worked hard to make showy and shiny.