Potlatch, the convention, is coming March 5-7, 2010 to Seattle, WA.
Potlatch, an all-volunteer, non-profit, literary event for the readers and writers of speculative fiction. Proceeds from Potlatch benefit Clarion West. And this year, I will be acting as the workshop administrator for the Friday writing workshop–open to all speculative fiction writers, regardless of experience, who want to get critiques in a round-robin Clarion West style.
is now live at Birkensnake.
I wrote this story at Clarion West (in week 5), after a joking dare from Connie Willis on whether I could write a hard SF space opera in less than 2000 words. “Correspondence” weighs in at just over 1500 words, and was inspired by an idea seeded to me by my husband, Chris (who always wants more robot stories). It’s not a space opera in the traditional sense, except that it’s in space, has a hero, and a battle (of sorts).
I also highly encourage you to order a hand-bound, hand-singed (with a blowtorch!) copy of the mag. It’s a lovely object and a steal at 4 measly bucks.
If you live in Seattle and are not attending the Tuesday night Clarion West reading series, you are out of your piehole. Karen Joy Fowler’s reading last night was awesome. Next Tuesday, 7pm, University Bookstore = Elizabeth Bear.
Also: I am working hard. Tonight, there will be no writing. There will be no reading, no laundry, no working on the porchstead, no returned phone calls or emails, not even a shower. I am going to eat 1/2 a pint of chocolate ice cream, lie on the comfy futon, stare at the TV, pat the cats, then pass out gloriously/blissfully, disgustingly early.
I’ll do all that useful stuff Friday, during the day (I have the day off!), before the CW party for KJF.
I’ve had a crazy week, crazier weekend–both crazy good. I started a day job as a community management consultant for Projectline, who recently made the list of Washington’s 100 Best Companies to Work for (by Seattle Business Magazine)! That’s been a bit all-consuming, but pleasantly exciting. My co-workers are very smart, engaged, and interesting people, the work is going to be challenging, the best of what I could hope for, really. I feel super lucky for finding this gig, especially in such an unlikely economy.
Friday was the combo Locus Awards/Clarion West party in honor of John Kessel, who just finished teaching week one. I went to Kessel’s reading at the University Bookstore Tuesday night, and was too awestruck to introduce myself–I am the hugest John Kessel fan in creation. Seriously. When I was writing lit fic, banging my head against walls, I read Kessel’s story “Buddha Nostril Bird,” which singlehandedly made me reconsider genre (I grew up a fan, as most of you know/guess, but somehow never thought, for some idiot reason, I could do serious literary work in SFF. Dumb). But that story led me to seek out more of his work, which got me reading again in the genre, which was the kick in the head that I needed. Anyway, Kessel = ROCK STAR in my head, so Friday, pal Todd Vandemark (a current CW student and author of this week’s excellent Brain Harvest story) introduced me and I managed to effuse without creeping him out. I even got to buy him a drink.
Saturday was the Locus Awards/Science Fiction Hall of Fame Induction. So.many.writers.and.artists. Got John Kessel and Nancy Kress to sign battered copies of their books for me, then walked around and just goggled at people with my CW fam (Maggie Croft, Chris Reynega, Carlton Mellick III, Rose O’Keefe and friends were up for the event). I even talked to quite a few other people, including Elizabeth Bear, who is super funny and really nice, and got a signed print for my Chris from Michael Whelan (who was also very, very, very nice!).
I was publicly shamed for not wearing a Hawaiian shirt, as required, but was sufficiently penitent, so I think Connie Willis (my teacher, my heroine, and now, 2009 SF Hall of Fame-r) forgave me.
Is your head swimming yet? Mine is.
Sunday, I missed the Pride parade, but did have a pho breakfast with Chris and Maggie before they took off back to the Bay Area. Then, seriously, I can’t remember anything else I managed to do, of any note, aside from watch a bit of “Ninja Warrior” with husband, have a Brain Harvest editorial meeting, and eat ice cream for dinner—one of the few truly awesome things about being an adult—I mean, if I have to deal with gravity and taxes, then I should treasure my ice cream dinners.
Now the week turns back on itself and I am at my day job again. Tonight—CW writeathon writing time—tomorrow, the Karen Joy Fowler reading at the University Bookstore (7pm, free!). Come! I’ve never seen her read, but I have heard piles and piles of great stuff about her.
There’s still plenty of time to sponsor me. I diddled around with ideas for my first story, which I think will have to do with comedians, integrating organic and inorganic substrates, a failed love affair, and lightning.
It’s hard to think about new folks over in the Clarion West house, getting ready, setting up their wi-fi, meeting each other and their first instructor–it doesn’t feel like a year’s gone by since that was me doing all that. But I am so excited for them and can’t wait to meet them–and pass along the CW lore handed down, class to class, over beers at the weekly parties. Plus, I know what a tough, inspiring, incredible challenge will unfold for them over the next six weeks, and I look forward to cheering them on.
I get to meet them first at the first reading in the summer reading series that CW does in conjunction with the University Bookstore: John Kessel, this Tuesday the 23rd, at 7pm, upstairs in the University Bookstore. The readings are free, but everyone is encouraged to buy books to sign and to donate to CW while they are there (or sponsor a writer in the writeathon), but there is no pressure or anything. I will be there, at all of them, but especially this one–I am a wicked Kessel fan.
This week’s new Brain Harvest story, “I Like to Tease People,” by Martin Meiss is live. It’s a great piece, really clever, mean spirited with a heart of gold. Also, be sure you are prepping for the super awesome Brain Harvest Mega Challenge, judged by the amazing Jeff VanderMeer (I go all fan-girl a-flutter when I remember that VanderMeer is the judge. Hoo boy. VanderMeer is so fucking awesome).
OK, off to bed with me. I have work in the morning (A job! Me! Finally! Doing a really amazing project for a company I am so happy to be a part of–a company that values its smart, creative people–works ‘em hard, but truly supports them trying to live a whole life. I am excited to go to a day job now, for the first time in a very long time).
My natural impatience is showing, these days, like a slip I just can’t keep from sliding down. I feel like the universe set me and mine on some sort of divergent path last year, in fact, right about this time–beginning with the apartment fire (still traumatized), then Clarion West (the summer heat is making me wistful for my comrades), then the drunk driver totaling our car, then personal stuff with Chris, then unemployment, then continued unemployment, then, then, then. It’s been an intense learning experience, as times of extended crisis should be, and I feel like we are getting close to the end of it, to a new beginning. But we aren’t there yet and it’s stressing me right the fuck out.
So, please excuse my occasional bouts of radio silence. It’s better for us all, otherwise you’d have to read pages and pages of me agonizing over why.things.don’t.move.faster.because.I.want.them.to and other assorted control issues and irritations.
In other news, and there’s a bunch:
1. My short-short-short, “The Ghost of Henry’s Past” is a finalist in Fantasy Magazine’s May Madness Micro-Fiction Contest. Winner is by reader poll, so I would sure love it if you would go read it, and if you like it, vote for me (and 2 other favorites here). Go on. I’ll sit here while you do.
2. There’s a lot going on at Brain Harvest. If you haven’t read this week’s story, “Snake Eyes,” by Kevin Bishop, go now. I’ll wait again.
You should also vote (more democracy in action!) to choose which story, published in May, will be read by our voice talent for our first ever mini-podcast.
And! Visit the site tomorrow to get all the details on Brain Harvest’s first ever fiction contest. Cash prizes! Celebrity judge! Fame, fortune, adulation, envy!
3. Finally, I sure would love it if you rifled beneath your couch cushions and sponsored me as a writer in the 2009 Clarion West Writeathon. The money goes to keeping the workshop alive, as well as to pay instructors, help students with scholarships, and all kinds of really good causes. I’ve pledged to write a new story each week of the workshop, and to send a special “e-book” of all the raw, ugly, unfinished drafts to all who sponsor me (so be sure and email me and let me know you’ve sponsored).
Editor John Joseph Adams wrote a very generous and excellent blog post cataloguing the SFF writing and writing-related programs and workshops. I was thinking of doing something similar, but he totally beat me to the punch and kicked ass.
And my excuse for being scarce? I’m over mucking around with Brain Harvest. We launch Sunday, you know. W00t, indeed!
When I first got out of Clarion West, I bemoaned my lack of process, or more specifically, I worried about what my new process was going to look like. Six months later, I think I have a stronger idea of how I work. I also have a solid idea of what my weaknesses are.
I work really well–in the moment. That moment does not come every day, and I no longer try and force that. I do force myself to write at least 4 days a week, but if the other 3 are uninspired, so be it. I also tend never to work at the same time each day. I’ve noticed a tendency to enjoy working most in the afternoon, but I don’t hold hard and fast to it. As long as I produce, I don’t feel too guilty about pooping on the two most cardinal and widespread bits of writing-habit directive.
Once I am in a story, I muck around and work very well, even if the story is a complete and total washout. Once I am in a story, I work more than 3 days a week easily, I work whenever I can snatch the attentive time and space, and I flail around and shape and write and rewrite until the sucker is as done as I can make it.
But here’s where I am weak: titles* and starting a new story. Case in point: I just finished a piece and I am actually pretty happy with it. It has begun its rounds at the magazines along with my other active, homeless pieces. Great. Right?
However, the thought of starting a new piece again leaves me slack-jawed, slightly nauseated, confused, and filled with anxiety. It seems like every time I finish a new story, I seem to have forgotten entirely how to start another story–and no number of writing prompts, seeds, or hours staring at my idea list in my journal can convince me otherwise.
I know, it’s totally unreasonable. And illogical. That’s why I am having, aside from the discomfort of the discomfort, discomfort with my discomfort.
So far, I have managed to always start something else, but only after a few days to a week of pushing/depression/desperation/apathy/bargaining. What’s the deal with that? I mean, I can learn to trust this part of my process, I guess, but what’s with the making myself miserable in order to earn a new idea? Is this why writers have such a bad reputation for drinking? Is my Jewish half asserting its thousand year mastery of genetically-induced navel-gazing and guilt? Is it my internal clock? Is it a personality flaw? Are these just, really, rhetorical questions?
Well, at least someone I love is doing better with all this: I opened my late issue of the SFWA magazine to see that one of my beloved CW classmates, Kristin Janz, had made the recommended reading list for the Nebula 2008 pre-ballot for her very cool, kinda-meta “Veritas Nos Liberabit“. It’s a great read and I am so very pleased for her.
* I’ve mentioned that countless times before and have since gotten some awesome guidance on the subject which I promise I will share in another post.
I just returned from a writing/coffee date with a lovely lady of whom I’ve internet-known for awhile now, but just met in person. Social time = good. I forget that sometimes, and live a little too much like this ThinkGeek tshirt:
(which is a shirt I really want, BTW)
Anyway, we had a lovely conversation, and we briefly touched on the Clarions (she is considering applying) and it reminded me that Clarion West is now accepting applications for the 2009 workshop (through 1 March 2009). The teacher roster kicks ass for 2009, if you haven’t noticed: John Kessel (!!!), Rudy Rucker (they all deserve !!!, actually), Elizabeth Bear, Karen Joy Fowler, Nalo Hopkinson, and David G. Hartwell.
I’ve talked a lot about my experience at Clarion West to many folks, but I still get asked, from time to time, by someone if they should apply. So, I want to state publicly a resounding YES to anyone in the studio audience who is asking themselves that question (or about to ask me). If you are at the point where you are considering whether attending a Clarion is right for you, then you are probably at exactly the right point to apply.
Now, you may not get accepted. The Clarions are pretty freaking competitive, and the competition gets stiffer when the roster of teachers is as impressive as, say, my year (which I say without ego, pinky swear) or this year. But you should apply.
I’ve learned a few things about applying, however, that I will happily share with you to make your application as strong as possible. Here is what I have been told makes a strong application (and some of what I did myself):
1. Submit stories that you not only consider you best work, but also your most interesting. Send in pieces that stretch, search, experiment, and maybe even fail a little. Pieces that show a strong voice, a different approach to SFF, and the willingness to risk will always stand out. Don’t play it too safe.
2. Take your time with your personal statement and really explain why you want to come to Clarion and what you hope you can gain from the experience. The best Clarion students, I am told, are the ones who come to the workshop with an open mind and a willingness to fail and fall and flail during the workshop in order to try new things. If you aren’t willing to throw aside and away everything you think you know about your writing, Clarion won’t be that great an experience for you—but if you are, no matter what stage of experience you’ve reached, then say so. That is what Clarion is about.
3. For the love of all that is holy, follow the submission directions, and submit a complete application before the deadline. I know that sounds…obvious, but I’ve heard of many an application having to, heartbreakingly, be axed because the applicant did not follow directions. Follow the page count, even if you have to excerpt a story. Follow directions! I mean it! Look at my exclamation marks!
4. Prepare NOW as if you will be accepted. Six weeks is an awfully long time to be away from your job, your family, your pets…even if you are in the same town, as I was. Begin to sniff out how you would pull it off if you get in sooner rather than later. I mean, don’t give notice at your job or sell your house or anything until you do hear, but starting to brainstorm strategies about how you could make it happen now is far less stressful than trying to get it all figured out in two months. Trust me on that.
Anyway, I will keep my fingers crossed for those of you applying for 2009. It really was, for lack of a better sounding phrase, a life-changing experience for me–in almost *all* good ways. I have a whole new set of colleague-friends, a new toolbox of skills–but most importantly for me, my drive and ambition back.
And maybe I’ll see you around. Since I’m a local, Clarion West can’t get rid of me. I’ll be sniffing around, volunteering and baking banana bread for the new class, just as past CWers did for my class.
1. I spent Veteran’s Day at the Seattle VA Hospital. My 78-year old father had a thoracic aneurism correction last Monday, and has been having trouble recovering enough to go into short-term rehab or back home. So, things have been worrisome in the Gussoff-Sumption household*.
Anyway, spending Veteran’s Day at a veteran’s hospital surrounded by a lot of ill and/or disabled veterans adds a whole new perspective on the holiday.
Thank you, all soldiers, past/current/future, for having the guts to do what I never could and most days don’t have the stomach to even think about.
1a. Having a 78-year old father in the hospital, especially since my mother and sisters are gone now, is, well, interesting. I’ve caught myself saying sentences I never thought I’d say in any context—like, upon removal of his Foley catheter** today, I said the following sentence to my father as he tried to pee on his own for the first time in a week: “I believe in your prostrate!”
2. NaNoWriMo has been subjugated in the light of the rest of things. I refuse to feel the least bit guilty about it, either. However, I am one scene shy of finishing a story that I have been rewriting since last May, and am almost happy with it. Almost.
3. It’s dark and gloomy here, just how I like it. I just need to make myself some more coffee and it’s a perfect afternoon to finish that last scene.
3a. The best thing about writing SF is that I can consider watching reruns on the sci-fi channel as being “career specific directed activity.”
4. My hair has reached the looking-stupid-while-growing-out stage. Why hasn’t technology tackled this very real problem? I don’t consider “hats” to be a technological solution.
5. I’ve been eating crap, because much of my eating has been on the fly or in the too-tired-to-cook stage. Frozen pizza, fast food burgers. I think the closest to anything green I’ve eaten has been in a green wrapper. And I wonder why I’ve been fighting off a massive headache all day? I really wish there was a salad delivery service right now. That also brought pints of ice cream.
*In fact, things have actually been worrisome actively since June, when life has gone: me unemployed-apartment fire-drunk driver totals our car-Chris unemployed-my dad sick-his dad sick-us broke-WTF. Actually, come to think of it, aside from Clarion West this summer, 2008 can just go suck it.
**Google that if you don’t know what it is. Prepare to suck in your breath a little bit.
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