"Phaedra"

I was so frustrated this morning. I had met my writing buddy and was going to start my new story. A real start, not just some brief notes jotted on a yellow legal pad.

But I couldn't get started. It wasn't coming together. I kept trying to force it but the story I was going to write entitled "Samsara" wouldn't come. I knew it was there. I knew it had to be told. But I couldn't make it surface. Couldn't make it gel.

I couldn't even write the first line.

I was very frustrated. My writing buddy tried to help with several good suggestions. Not her fault. Nothing was working for me. I drove home two hours later in a total funk. I ate lunch and then crawled into bed. To hell with the day. I give up.

An hour later I awoke and got my laptop back out. I started a brand new Haxan story entitled "Phaedra" and worked on it all day and into the night. A retelling of the mythical story Phaedra. Haxan is good for things like that. Twenty-seven pages, most of 5500 words but the story is finished. It's solid. I wrote it all in two sittings. It flowed. It just poured out of me. I swear the damn thing wrote itself, all twenty-seven pages.

I still want to write "Samsara" someday. I will. But today I guess I had to write "Phaedra" first. Well, sometimes the Muse is like that. Don't ever bet against her. You'll always lose.

I"m tired now. It's past midnight and I'm off to bed.

Today was a good writing day after all.

"Death Storm" Finds A Home

Drops of Crimson accepted my short story "Death Storm" for their February 'Blood and Roses' issue. I'm happy about this. I've always liked this story and its character, Takeo Sugawara. I'm glad it found a home and will now have readership.

"Death Storm" is one of my Sugawara tales and a personal favorite of mine. I love Japanese culture and it often arises (as does martial arts) in some of my fiction. (Oh, yeah, I often write about Russians, too.) I readily admit I'm a Japanophile and I'm entranced with the Samurai culture. (These stories take place pre-Edo Period.) I like the honor and loyalty and selflessness. Anytime you put poetry, flower arrangement and swords together you're on the right track as far as I'm concerned. Of course they were also very violent which has story potential, especially for a brooding loner like Takeo Sugawara who has one big Mad-On. He carries a famous sword called "Falling Flowers" (Many of the famous swords of that time had names) because when he uses it heads fall like...well, you guessed it.

When I was writing about him his stories often wrote themselves. I toyed with the idea some years back of writing a full-blown Sugawara novel. But the market place is up to its eyeballs with Asian-based fiction and I've never been one to jump on a bandwagon. But that's okay, too. I'm not sure there's a novel there anyway, if truth be told, and the stories I've written and had published over the years pretty much tell his complete tale, although not in chronological order. (That is, they weren't written or published in chronological order.)

There's still one Sugawara story idea that's been clanking around in my head for many years. Maybe someday I'll write it. I hope so.

Anyway, I'm happy about this placement. I like Drops of Crimson, I think they publish good work and I'm happy to be associated with them. And the editor, J. Lee Moffatt, said she "loved, loved, loved" the story which made me feel really good because, like I said, this has always had a special place in my heart, too.

I'll provide a link and stuff when then story appears next February if anyone is interested....

Long, Slow Afternoon (I deserve it)

I finished my story. It came in around 5500 words or so. In the immortal words of another writer, I don't think it entirely sucks.

Now I'm going to enjoy the rest of the afternoon lounging around on the deck and drinking whiskey....

Crunch Write

I'm setting this weekend aside to finish my short story "White Hawk". The weather isn't supposed to be too bad, either, so maybe I'll do a bit out on the deck. I'm going to meet this goal.

Flame on!

Contracts and Coffee Mugs, Oh My!

Today I met my writing buddy and did three pages on "White Hawk" which maybe isn't a lot but it was a good three pages. I see the story even clearer than I did before. Many of the previous Haxan stories ran about 7k. This one looks to be a mite shorter which is always helpful for marketing.

I'm toying with the idea of doing a crunch-write and finishing the story this weekend. Not sure if that will happen, but it's nice to dream.

Also today I signed and mailed the contracts for the reprint of my short story "Tryst" for Three Crow Press. Man, that little story has been good to me in a lot of ways. Can't complain if someone likes it enough to want to pay for a reprint. Okay, it's not much...still money, though.

Remember my other story "Heart's Issue" that appeared in Drops of Crimson? They now have a little CafePress thing going on the side. Check it out. I'm going to get the coffee mug, it looks cool: Drops of Crimson Shop.

Haha, and if you really want a blast from the past here's the old coffee mug CafePress did for my Strange Horizons story "Slugball" illustrated by frankwu . All that stuff is no longer avaliable, but you can see a little picture of the coffee mug. There was the usual stuff like bookbags and shirts but we also had Christmast ornaments! Frank and I always laughed about that. (We still do. It doesn't take much to make us laugh.) Heck, I bet Ernest Hemingway never had Christmas ornaments. Take that, Hemingway. You, too, Melville because you didn't have one either, you poser.

In other news I slipped on ice today and liked to blew my fucking knee out. I'm okay, no harm done. I'm so agile and my reflexes so cat-like I was able to avoid any serious damage. I just included the phrase "liked to blew my fucking knee out" because it sounded dramatic. It's still true, however, that I have cat-like reflexes. That part is true. No, it is. Okay. Don't believe me. Fine. I can live with that. Mad? No, I'm not mad. Why would I be mad? Let's just move on. I'm a liar, I guess, that's all. No, I'm not going to forget it. What? Do I often have these conversations with myself? Why, as a matter of fact I do.... Scare you, much?

Right now I"m watching the Palladium Channel on TV. They're showing the old documentary Monterey Pop and Jimmy Hendrix is doing things with a guitar human beings weren't meant to do. Amazing talent. If you've never seen this documentary I urge you to give it a peek. Really good filmmaking and the music is seminal.

Well, that's about it for tonight. I'm wrapping things up around here. I'll read a bit and crawl into bed. 'Nite.

From Little Imps Do Great Ogres Grow

You know how it is. You have a little edit suggested to you by someone you trust but it's not much so you figure "Fug it, I'll do it later."

And then someone else gives you some other advice on a completely different story and you know they're right, but it won't take very long so you figure you'll do that tomorrow because right now you're eating peanuts.

And this story. And that one over there. And the other.

Before you know it you're talking about a really big time investment. Now you've got a big mean ogre staring down at you demanding to be taken care of. He has a great big club with iron power-points and all you have is a hand with some skin on it. Yeah. Like that.

So that's what I've been doing all morning. This edit here and this edit there, oh shit I forgot this one too, because my friends know what they're talking about and these changes need to be made. So I've made them. But it took a lot of time because there were a lot of them even though they were little and I kept putting it off.

Why do I do that? Dunno. Go figure.

Now, where did I put those peanuts...?

"White Hawk"

"I walked between the bodies. Everyone was dead. Horses, dogs, men."


Got three pages under my belt yesterday at the coffee shop. Feels like a solid start. Welcome to Haxan!

What Writing Is, Charlie Brown

I know your life is chaos right now. I know that and you know that.

But sometimes you have to be a right bastard if you ever want to write. Sometimes you have to shove other people out of the way and make room for yourself so you can write. It's not a nice thing to think about. I know that. But no one can write for you. You have to do it yourself because you are a writer. Don't forget that.

You see, writing isn't like any other thing. It's completely you, no one else. Therefore, since that's true, sometimes you must push people aside, even those you love, to make the room you need so you can write. Yeah. It's very selfish. But writing demands selfishness on our parts. It doesn't allow anything else to impinge upon the freedom it wants to have in our minds, and its desire to express itself on paper because writing is even more selfish than we are.

Writing will NEVER be loyal to you. The only loyalty will be what you have for your writing.

Like I said, writing is very selfish. It has to be or you're really not writing. In the words of Truman Capote, you're "typing."

You have to get that straight in your mind. Listen, it's not your talent, it's not your ideas, it's not your perception that you have to overcome. It's YOU. You have to overcome you so your writing can prevail. In a word: you must submit.

Writing isn't happy with second place, either. It demands it be first in your heart and mind and soul. Writing isn't interested in being best friends. It wants to be all. And you have to make that commitment. You have to move beyond the point where writing is a game. It has to become your breath. Your living breath.

Speaking for myself I don't see that in everyone who says they want to be a writer. But I see it in some people and they got me to thinking about it yesterday. You have to plant your flag and say, "Okay, I'm in all the way" and then go down with the ship if that's what's called for. Because writing doesn't make any promises, either. There are no guarantees and there never will be. Writing doesn't meet you half way. You have to climb Mt. Everest and then jump a little higher and you still might fail.

Writing gives nothing. It only takes. And as a writer you have to give and give.

That's what writing is about, Charlie Brown. And I think you can do it and I think you need to do it and I will always be there for you. But even so all I can do is show you the landscape.

You have to go into it alone. And once you're there, never turn back.

Man, is there ever some nasty stuff swimming around in the Styx

Finished the story. Done done. I'm glad and relieved. Now it's in the hands of my first readers and I can concentrate on a new story. Yep. We're going back to Haxan.

Someone asked me what the new Haxan story will be about. I gave my standard reply: "Oh, probably guns and wind and dust."

Then I got to thinking, Hey, maybe that was too flip. Then I thought some more and realized, Nope, that's about right.

Another friend remarked "Santa Claus doesn't come to Haxan."

I think that says it all.

Welcome to Haxan. It's a rough town. But somebody's gotta tell their stories. I got picked. What am I supposed to do? I can't ignore them. These people are talking to me. I have to tell what I hear.

Anyway, the next story has the working title of "White Hawk" and I'm looking forward to starting it tomorrow. I'll make a few notes tonight, though.

Rewrite

The rewrite/edit for "Styx" went much better than I thought it would. One more pass and I should be done.

I'm pretty happy with the way this story turned out. It's a relief. One more pass, two at the most, and this story will be done. Even better I can start thinking/planning/working on a new story tomorrow when I meet my writing buddy and not feel guilty about it.

Yeah, I'm happy. Take a picture while it lasts, lol.