Clarion Write A Thon and STREETCHH Goals!

 So it occurs to me I've neglected, again, to mention something semi-cool that I'm doing.

I'm taking part in the Clarion write-a-thon! 

It's a fundraiser for Clarion West, to be specific (confusing, since both are on the West Coast now --the program in Seattle is Clarion West, and the one that originated in the midwest but is now in San Diego is Clarion). They're summer residential Science Fiction and Fantasy writing workshops; intense and amazing.

During the six weeks the current class of lucky and talent folk are taking the workshop, Clarion West runs a write-a-thon. Alumni, fans, or writers interested in working on their fiction set goals and try to reach them. And, well, ask for donations to help the writing program offer scholarships and pay its staff.

We're now in week... four? Starting week four. I've gotten 16 submissions out during the write-a-thon, and revised four short stories. I'm working on a novelette now so I've slowed down. 

The whole event has a been a boon to my motivation. 

I met my fundraising goal!!  (Thank you, Larina!)

 Some people did "stretch goals" so I'm adding a few -- only two weeks left! I've added a few -- "Tuckerization," "write to your prompt" or "write you a story." 

Anyway, check it out! Some of your favorite Science Fiction and Fantasy authors are probably taking part. The link above will take you to my fundraising page, but you can find everyone who's participating by doing an "empty" search here: https://secure.qgiv.com/event/writeathon/search/

I *knew* I was forgetting something...

 Hey! My first pro-sale story came out! A week ago Tuesday night! And I posted about it on Facebook and Twitter and via email to friends and kinda giggled all week!

...but guess who forgot to post it on HER OWN BLOG? 

Yeah, well, apparently I'm not alone on that. Anyway, here's the "permalink" to Daily Science Fiction for "Funny Baby," which isn't really all that funny nor is it really about babies....

https://dailysciencefiction.com/science-fiction/biotech/ellen-l-saunders/funny-baby.

SALE! I made a Sale! ... and who cared about productivity during this trash fire year?

 Year in review, sort of 

But first -- I made my first pro sale!

This month Daily Science Fiction picked up "Funny Baby," a flash piece I wrote four years ago and revised this year. DSF pays pro rates! So I have my first pro sale. And it sold to the first place I sent it to!

No, I don't know when it will be published yet. I'll link to it when I goes up. Or go over there and subscribe! They send you a flash fiction short story every weekday, it's great!

(Uh, so a professional short story sale is one made to a magazine that pays the current "pro" rate as recognized by the SFWA board, which this writing is 8 cents a word. There are a limited number of markets that pay that well, and an even more limited number that pay more.)

(I note the Horror association has differing levels of membership, and has a non-voting membership open to writers with fewer or "lessor" sales, which seems like a cool idea, but I digress. Twice.)

My first ever short story sale was in 2015, to a ROAR anthology (Volume 6) for a Marciex story (although I guess it's not entirely canon because her name was different then...) Anyway. While  remain deeply grateful to the editor who picked it, it was a semi-pro sale, and one needs three pro sales to be able to join SFWA, professional organization for science fiction and fantasy writers.

That's kind of a goal of mine. It's not a "real goal" because it requires behavior on the part of strangers on my behalf (to buy my stuff), but ... it's whatever you call a goal that one can't accomplish alone.

All *I* can do to reach that goal is improve my craft, and that I have been doing.

I'm pretty chuffed that it sold to the first market I sent it to.  I have one story I've sent out 15 times and another I've tried on 11 editors. So... either I'm getting better at this, or that one ticked all the right boxes.

Looking at my stats for the year, I made 33 submissions for that one sale. Year before I sent stories out 29 times for zero sales.  Made 27 submissions the year before that.  That's really a fairly abysmal submission rate; I should keep stories churning all the time. People don't buy air; they have to see your work to purchase it. 

I normally have a bunch of stats about what I read and what I wrote and how many hours I spent on revision and all that... but I quit keeping good records sometime this summer, so my stats are shit. 2020 took a huge bite out of my give-a-rip about my own productivity, so ... I got nothing useful.

Right now I have nothing out with the exception of a story sitting with an editor whose market is on hiatus. I have a deadline in seven days so I'm focusing on that manuscript revision. Then I'll send short stories out again. Although ... there are a few Dec. 15 closures so I may take an afternoon this weekend and try to get something to those markets.  

I should get off the internets and work on all that!

Classics That Really Are: War For The Oaks

I've been trying to remind myself of the "classics" of the SFF field off and on, picking up and reading (or re-reading) books various folks name as influential.

And I've generally been disappointed; so few genre "classics" really hold up to the test of time. Some of that isn't the author's fault: technology that changes our everyday lives are hard to predict, and the field's shift to character-focused fiction has left a lot of older idea-based fiction feeling flat, stilted and hollow. Some of it is authorial choice: an author's unacknowledged sexism and racism is crystal clear in 2020, or their attempt to throw racial prejudice into hard relief to shock the reader of their day is misery-inducing in the era of #Ican'tbreathe.

I just finished Emma Bull's War For The Oaks, released in 1987, and (with the exception of a phone booth and a lack of cell phones), it could have been published today. The female protag is fiery, vulnerable, strong, hungry and sharp. It's set in a diverse, urban Minneapolis the protagonist loves fiercely, which is a little heart-tearing in June 2020.

There's an incoming War between the Light and Dark Queens (meh) but the Light Queen is hardly a sweetheart -- these are the Fae you don't want to meet -- and the Queen of Darkness is just worse. And our protag is almost literally roped in, required to be part of this war as a mortal, with a twist or two her bodyguard has tried to set in motion. The relationship between the protag and her captor/bodyguard develops along fairly standard romance lines, but it's background to a lot of interesting action, and he ends up earning her trust through a necessarily steep road.

It could have used a sensitivity reader, given the number of characters of color in it. A few lines made me twitch. A reader who has more familiarity with urban culture might not be as generous as this rural white woman; I'm not always aware of my own blinders. (The antagonist is a shapeshifter, often turns into a wolf-sized dog, and a paranormal person of color, of never-clarified racial background. The (white) protag and her (white) friend refer to him as a dog on more than one occasion. He finds it amusing. Is that a problem? In context of the narrative, it didn't seem to be, but it still made me twitch).

I think the antagonist and two other characters could have been better developed (i.e., less white-feeling.)  An annoyed character makes a racial jibe to try to dig at another character, and later ends up with a lover of color, and that... didn't sit well. Although it did define that character, and Ghods knows those women exist today. There was one awkward racial moment that felt all too real, where a Black character thought he was being set up for mockery by a largely white group. The scene required it, and I think Bull handled it well enough. 

Blessings be, there are no characters of color who exist just to evoke emotion and then be killed. There's no rape.

I'm talking about a book that was published 33 years ago. I've seen worse issues in books published this year, so I'd say it's holding up pretty well. 

There are some heart-pounding moments of excitement.  The stakes are clear, the twists are generally not visible ahead of time, the protag's inner issues exist and color her perceptions but are not constantly all over the page. She works with people instead of working on them, and I found that probably the most delightful aspect of her character. She's a team builder of sorts and we get to see some of how she does that.

So, yeah, there's a reason War For the Oaks is called a pioneering work in urban fantasy. It won the Locus Award for Best First Novel and was nominated for the Mythopoeic Fantasy Award. (Allow me to boggle for a moment at the realization that this was her FIRST book. OMG). 

Take it for a spin and tell me what you think.

Life in self quarantine, just like everybody else but with an opera rant

Two operas watched* (see rant below). One crochet project -- a dishcloth turned potholder--made. Two skill building sessions down, and revision progress on two projects. An exciting and ego-boosting (and work-implying) editor's feedback gratefully received. One google hangout with fellow writers last weekend, one dinner with another couple. A pie, several soups, and and a satisfying corned beef made. A metric buttload of Twitter and Facebook memes and opinions consumed, and links followed to another metric buttload of news articles skimmed or read in-depth.

No focus to read much of anything for pleasure. Lots of cat and nature videos watched.

Except for my new news obsession, life under quarantine feels weirdly normal to someone who usually works at home. Biggest difference is  my partner is holed up in his office/bedroom upstairs because he's been told to work from home for the duration.

Could probably avoid going to the store for another week -- as a child of Depression-era children, my pantry is *always* stocked -- but it'll be easier if we shop in a day or two. Not looking forward to that. But not complaining; we're sitting pretty comfortably compared to others. Among other, more important things, I'd picked up a pack of toilet paper almost as an afterthought on my last shopping trip. So there's that.

(The obsession with butt wipe in response to a respiratory illness -- in a state that **manufactures TONS** of toilet paper--still boggles me. Panic buying choices are such bizarre things. The best I reasoning I can come up with is, "If I have to kiss my ass goodbye, at least it won't be chapped," which ... is shit logic. There's your crap joke.)

* But I wanted to talk about opera. 

I greatly appreciate The Metropolitan Opera's streaming their performances this week. I've never been to an opera, and this is my chance to see shows that I've heard about all my life. The production values of the two shows I've watched so far -- Carmen and La Bohème-- were amazing. The sets, costumes, props, casts, vocals, music, lighting --all of it, was fantastic. 

La Bohème, as someone said on Twitter, was Rent, or rather, Rent was La Bohème. (I concede I haven't seen Rent. Yes, I know. Philistine). I cried, okay? One is clearly supposed to, and I did. Life! Friendship! Love! Joy! Illness! Poverty threatens joy! Poverty kills! Yep. Very powerful, and the storyline is tight on that theme. Beautifully done.

Ahem. SEXISM ALSO KILLS, PUCCINI. 

Which brings me to Carmen. 

I almost didn't watch the second opera, because Carmen was first. 

What a fucking -- now, bear with me here, because I'm talking about the STORY, not the show, not the cast, not the director, not the sets or design or the masterful voices. But the fucking STORY is (spoiler warning, if anybody on the face of the planet other than me has not seen it), "'Nice guy's values are trampled by his dick; he becomes violently obsessed with and, as a final act of possession, kills the woman he lusts after." 

This is a story that TALKS a lot about love but DEPICTS very little of it. It's a story of domestic violence writ larger than life, grandiose, and it carries the woman's name only because *she's* larger than life and beloved by many -- and brought low by her love for a "decent" man *she knows will kill her.*  With an 1890s edge of "she got what she deserved."

HOW IS THIS A BELOVED OPERA? 

This is the shit show we see every fucking day in crime logs, dismissed with "assault four, domestic violence." 

This is the shit show we see every week in a headline from somewhere, "Local man kills ex-wife and her boyfriend." 

This is the shit show we see once a month or so, "Police negotiating with man holding estranged girlfriend in hostage situation."

HOW THE FUCK IS THIS *ENTERTAINMENT*?

You can see what's gonna happen. It's *telegraphed* by Act II. And still I sat there watching, thinking of all the money and effort and rehearsals that were going into producing this shit show, wondering why the fuck we're still producing operas based in the values inherent in the 1850s. 

Hell, in its lighter moments, Carmen shows women with as much social power and verve as women have today. Carmen herself is a powerhouse, a beauty, and  I mean, okay,  I'd armchair diagnose her as having borderline personality disorder, at the very least major emotional trauma that makes her push away and then smother anyone she cares about, but **we don't kill people just because they're difficult.**

Today, you'd hope one of the *male* smugglers or one of the *male* soldiers would have pulled Don Jose aside and said, "Dude? Really? She pushes anyone who loves her away. She doesn't trust anyone, maybe for good reason. She's said goodbye. Respect her boundaries. Honor yourself! *backhand* Get your head out of your ass! You're no man if your dick is stronger than your self-discipline. Lust is an emotion. Lust passes. It is not more important than everything you value!" 

Women have evolved since 1890. 

A huge number of men have evolved since 1890.  

Is it really only a certain subgroup of the "nice guys" who haven't grown the fuck up?

Because I have news flash: women have better control of our libidos than that because WE'VE BEEN TRAINED TO. WE HAVE TO CONTROL IT. Most men have been trained to control it as well, **and always were.** You see that on Carmen's stage, too.

So why do some guys fall so hard through the cracks from 1890 all the way to 2020?

Because the social values that spawned Carmen and similar works teach them that it's okay for them to cede control to their dicks, because Looooooooooove. And that's fucking bullshit. Lust is not love. Obsession is not love.

Of course women get obsessed with men, do weird and bizarre and stupid and even malicious things to try to win them back. (I'm looking at you, La Bohème). But this whole "if I can't have you no one will" bullshit is an malodorous, ancient infectious rot that needs to be dug out of the male psyche, and our collective culture, with a rusty potato peeler. 

Don Jose and all he represents needs to die. 

Done Well, things I could learn: Timesnip

Timesnip is a Cat Rambo novelette, I believe (30-ish kindle pages) published in 2015 and set in her Twicefar Station universe, which I had not encountered before.

Things it did well:
Introduced an interesting "novum" or concept (time snipping people)

Created a strong-willed, formidable yet slightly naive character, sometimes thwarted by her hosts and aides.

Created a society and characters within in it to foil and aid her who felt realistic, not cardboard villains or sops.

Was very tight (although too tight, I think).

Created an effective world and a fast way to communicate some basic details about it (briefing about the planet on the trip; overview from the assignment).


Things I could learn from what it did well:
Give all characters not just one goal but a primary objective with clear stakes, a secondary, personal goal/s dictated by whims and circumstances

In a political story, leave motivations unclear, behavior straightforward and the protagonist's filter on TIGHT so a cold reader can't tell if characters are betraying her or not, because the protag doesn't know.

Also, consider giving the protag a blind spot based on her whims and secondary motivations -- that was very effective here.


Weaknesses I could learn from:
Did not exploit the possible ideas/conflicts/consequences of that novum except as a daydream device for the readers (who get to imagine the world that will result from the characters' choices). That was mildly disappointing: if you introduce a cool idea, explore it's consequences a bit.

Also, I got a very weak sense of the larger universe. The issues involved in the protagonist's reason for being on the planet, and her end choice, weren't fleshed out enough for me to get a handle on how grave her final decision was for her, personally. (Keep the stakes clear). It pointed to a hopeful resolution of the dystopia depicted, but I didn't understand how it played into the larger universe or if it would have consequences for her (or the peoples involved).

It felt fairly morality-play, but then given it was written during the period Gamergate was heating up, the clarity of the gender politics choice would not have been lost on readers that year.  (if you're doing an allegory for current political life, flesh it out enough that it will stand the test of time -- or be comfortable knowing it's a product of its time. i.e., know your anger might have you missing some of the finer points, and be okay with that.)

City-as-planet syndrome: I have this problem big time, but she was only visiting one city on the planet, so it wasn't a huge deal for her work. She didn't HAVE to travel to different places or experience different climes.

Done Well, Things I Could Learn: A Memory Called Empire

A Memory Called Empire was very different than what I expected.

Perhaps I had read the wrong tweets? Or made assumptions? Whatever I thought I was getting into, it wasn't a political suspense thriller with a protag with memory issues in a space-faring culture with echoes of Mayan/Incan influence. And a lot of angst, which both annoyed me and resonated. I think I would have vibrated with love had I found this book when I was 16-34.

Done well:
Well-written, interesting and intriguing world-building, good plotting (with one caveat that made me set the book down early, but it was essential so I'm gonna go with 'wasn't set up well.').  Did almost too good a job of evoking that longing a reader might have to belong, and not just belong, but to be part of the beautiful people, the powerful, intelligent, poetry-writing, creative elite.

Come to think of it, this book would have *destroyed* me at 16.

Things I could learn:
The plotting does an excellent job of "because A, B, because B, C," where a situation requires the protag make a choice -- and that choice, for good or ill, shifts how people react and requires her to continue to act.

Not everything results from her actions -- in fact many things do not, because this is an Empire and there are many free-wheeling players -- but she is required to act on the basis of the actions of many people, most of whom do not want her to succeed at what they assume she's trying to do.

Also, not all the bad things that happen to her are explained; I'm sure the author knows who is responsible but I didn't catch them all.

 And not knowing who your opponents are when you step onto a game board is a very disconcerting place for a protag to begin, and that was very effectively used here.

All in all, that made for a very effective "protag is definitely protagging" plot, which I have trouble with. Even though the protag was *reacting,* in some cases, she was definitely moving forward despite her fear, and slowly gained prowess at what she was doing. Not sure how to translate that into my own fiction, but thinking, "try taking Mahit-like-action" while I'm rethinking plot might help.