Tag: writing

Writing and the Art of Concealment

Writing is like performing magic in a way —


Writing utilizes misdirection — sometimes a misinterpretation of facts, or an unreliable witness, or an ambiguity can draw the reader’s mind away from an early conclusion.

Sometimes the omission of one sentence can conceal the plot twist from the reader. Agatha Christie does this well in The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, where the narrator leaves out important actions he has performed.

A hint should not be too obvious, too direct, too revealing. In effect, they’re like the baffling prophecy in Oedipus Rex, where we can’t see how Oedipus is going to kill his father and wed his mother until it unfolds. 

At the same time, the misdirection can’t be an outright falsehood, unless that falsehood is in the hands of an unreliable narrator or witness. The writer cannot lie; the characters can lie, or misinterpret, or make mistakes.

I was reminded of this yesterday when editing Whose Hearts are Mountains, because my developmental editor noted that I made something too obvious to readers who would have read my other work. How to make it less obvious? At one place, keeping silent. At another, misdirecting. Making things less obvious at another.

I feel like a magician when I can do this, knowing that words are as concrete or wispy as I need them to be.

Writing for Myself

I think I’ve passed through the other side of my dejection about not getting published. I’ve received enough rejections (for novels and poems and short stories, by publishers and agents and Pitch Wars). What does that leave?

Writing and improving for myself, primarily. Not letting my self-esteem be at the mercy of publishers and agents. Of course, I would like to be published (I have a couple little things published, and it’s fun).  I’d like to have a novel published. I’d like to be published somewhere that people actually read.

I’m willing to keep trying, because the rejections aren’t really that painful anymore. I can take more until my writing hits the right person, whoever that is. 

Wish me luck.

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I took off yesterday from writing the blog because I’M ON VACATION FOR A WHOLE WEEK! 

Ok, I got that out of my system. 

I’m a writer, though. I have things to do over vacation:

  • Edit one short story for a short story contest.
  • Edit a couple poems (minor edit)
  • Edit Whose Hearts are Mountains, which seriously needs a developmental editor because I don’t know if I’m going in the right direction
  • Rethink this whole writing thing (which I do once a week).


Hope and the writer

An acquaintance told me the other day that every single last one of you are bots.

It may be true — for some reason my readership is down to ten most days. (Probably the fact that I was doing short NaNo updates, which aren’t all that interesting, I guess).

I’m still writing in my blog, and I will keep writing in it for one reason: Hope. Hope is the conviction that there will be better outcomes. It’s what helps us through those things we have no power over — after I have done all the corrections, the dev edits, the query letter improvements, I hope that I will get published. If I keep publishing blog entries and advertising them on social media, I hope I will have readers.

Hope is what keeps me going in the absence of progress. 

I don’t know where I’m going

I know I’ve been writing very boring posts lately, and for that I apologize. My justification (not excuse) is NaNo and projects.

What have I been thinking about lately? NaNo and projects. Ok, that’s not a good start to a blog.

I’ve also been thinking about my relationship with writing. On one hand, I’ve hit some very positive rejections that have 1) given me ideas of how to improve, and 2) have said positive things about my writing. 

I might actually be taking my writing more seriously than I have before, and with that I wonder more if I can get my writing to the point where it deserves being published. I don’t know if I’ve gotten there with my stories, and I wonder what it would take to get to that point. 

I still have some big things out there — I have Prodigies at DAW, Apocalypse at Tor, Voyageurs in a novella contest, a submission to Pitch Wars, and — well, I don’t think I will win any of these. And I don’t know what to think about this. 

Writers’ Balk

I woke up this morning not wanting to write.

Actually, it’s an editing day — Whose Hearts are Mountains won’t edit itself. But I am not, as they say, feeling the love.

It might be that the 50k/10 days binge edit of Gaia’s Hands has taken a lot out of me. It could be because it’s a week and a half  till Thanksgiving Break and I’m on break already. It could be because I’m discouraged from the latest rejections. It could be because I’m not sure why I want to get published at the moment.

At any rate, I’m staring at the draft thinking, “How do I fix this?” This meaning one of the big flaws of the first half of the book (having fixed the other two) which is pacing.

I was told there was not enough of import happening in the first half, despite the fact that she gets shot at, rammed into, kidnapped, and exposed to a virus. And has flashbacks from being captured by a paramilitary group. You can see why I’m bewildered. 

I HAVE to work on it tonight, because I’m having a NaNo Come Write Me space at the Board Game Cafe. So maybe I wait till then.

If I get published

If I ever get a book published traditionally (my optimistic friends say “when”, not “if”), it will change my life in many ways. 

The money won’t be a big change — according to Derek Murphy, the average amount an author earns is the advance, which is $10k, or $8k after the agent gets their cut.  

I will have to hire an entertainment lawyer to look over the contract and see if there are any potential hitches. 

I will have to sign a contract, after which my rights to my book will be curtailed for a period of time.

I will have to consider promoting my book, which will include travel. I would likely do this in the summer, which means I will have to schedule around internship visits.

I will have to step up my social media game. I haven’t done that yet because I have nothing really to promote except this blog. 

I’ve probably forgotten something.

Sometimes it seems more work than it’s worth, but it’s worth it to me. So I keep trying, keep improving, keep pushing myself.

It’s November First?!?

I’m sorry for not writing yesterday — I was pretty sick.

I’ve been fighting a cold or something over the past two weeks, but yesterday morning it went supernova — I ached so badly I couldn’t move, I coughed constantly, had a sore throat — so I stayed home and slept for 20 hours. 

Only to wake up on November 1st and realize — OMG, it’s NANO TIME!

So today, as promised, I have to spend at least two hours today editing*, something I have been avoiding up till now. Two hours. When am I going to do this? When?

Deep breath. I have time after 2 PM today, being that it’s a Friday and all and there won’t be any meetings today. And I have a place — the Board Game Cafe.

All I need now is the initiative.

Oh, by the way, I had a poem make Submittable’s Rejection Horror Stories 2019. (Mine is the poem).


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* I’m a rebel this year, doing some much needed editing instead of writing something new. On NaNoWriMo, I’m lleachie.

Sorry for the Debbie Downer

I got a big rejection last night — CRAFT’s first chapter contest. It would have provided lots of opportunity and support toward publication of a book. It was a long shot submitting, because I think they favor literary fiction and I write genre/literary crossover. 

It was worth a try. I’m trying to analyze whether the effort I spend writing and improving is worth the results. Whether the money I invest (in dev editing, in reader’s fees for short fiction, for writers conferences) is yielding enough return on investment. Whether staying in writing because I’ve invested so much is just the sunk cost fallacy in action. 

I keep going back to writing, fancying that it will be my retirement career. But for it to be a career, I have to go someplace with it. I need to be published; otherwise it’s just a hobby.

I really have to figure this out.

Feeling the need for inspiration.

I’m wrestling with the whole writing thing again, which I understand is part of writing.

In my mind, the struggle manifests itself as a lack of inspiration, a general blah. I’ve written five novels (and need to edit two but have lost my dev editor), which is a big accomplishment. 

I think what bothers me most about not getting published — when I accomplish something (a novel), I want a stretch goal, and getting it published is a stretch goal. Otherwise, once one has written one (or five) novels, what else is there?  I’d like to be published so that I feel that the goal isn’t totally unattainable.

Lately I’ve written some short fiction, which gives me something to enter on Submittable for a feeling of accomplishment, and hopefully publication. I have nine items in review, another nine waiting (I think I’ve said this before). I still wish I felt motivated toward editing/writing the longer stuff.

 Oh, yes, my flash fiction, Becky Home-ecky, now can be found in the A3 Review Volume 11, found in finer bookstores somewhere in the UK. 

I just hope I get out of this slump soon.