Caren Gussoff writer. geek. bon vivant. dot com

It’s not just because she is a close friend of mine. I swear. Lady is a whiz bang writer and editor, gonna be super famous vry soon, and a kind and thoughtful teacher.

She’s teaching a speculative fiction writing class at Field’s End, and if you’ve been dipping your toes into SFF–or are even wading waist deep–I can’t recommend you consider taking this course strongly enough.

Here’s the description:

“The field of speculative fiction allows writers to play with talking objects, spaceships, and transformations of the unlikely to the unlikelier. In this workshop, we’ll discuss the basics of story writing and how the considerations of speculative fiction do (and don’t) alter those basics. We’ll also discuss how to build convincing worlds and cultures. In-class writing exercises will focus on sparking creativity, establishing characters, and plotting. Light refreshments will be available during the half-hour lunch break, but a brown-bag lunch is suggested.

The Speculative Literature Foundation has the 2009 Gulliver Grant press release up:

http://www.speculativeliterature.org/Grants/SLFTravelGrant/TravelGrant2009.php

I’m really excited and very honored. Looks like I was up against some serious competition, just from the announcement of the honorable mentions.

I am going to use the grant to offset expenses to travel from Seattle up to Orcas and Whidbey Islands, and then southwest to Ocean Shores (during various times in February, March, and April 2010)  for research for the book.

Dang, I really love this book.

“No one has ever written truly immortal poetry about how good their dog looks in knitted garments.”

Amen, brother.

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.

So, read more about it, grab a copy of the book of honor (Lord of Light by Roger Zelazny), mark your calenders, book your room, and plan on being there.

So. I’m starting a novel. I am of two minds about it:

• One, I’m really, really excited. The novel concept grew organically from the last short story I completed, mostly because I fell in love with the characters and became pretty convinced that the concept and world could be a bigger one than I was able to capture within the confines of the short story. There are definite advantages to working on a novel as well—novels are, realistically, the best  (although far from guaranteed, as evidenced by my own first novel as well as the experiences of countless other novelists) way to be able to make a living writing. Also, I really, really hate starting new stories—a personal quirk of mine, becoming a fiery ball of intolerable anxiety as I struggle to find an entry point into my next idea (if I have a next idea, that is).
• Two, I am absolutely dreading being ensconced in a novel. It’s like being in a new relationship. You need to be able to enjoy the honeymoon period while remaining somewhat clearheaded about the fact that it is a long-term commitment that will have ups and downs (and as many of one as the other). It’s also a time gamble, which frightens me to a certain extent—what if I dedicate two years to this project, forsaking other projects along the way—and it sucks? I mean, that sounds truly lame to say, but it’s a very real worry—not that there aren’t things to learn from a failed project, but because it’s a deliberate choice that regardless of the outcome, I must take responsibility for, good or bad.

I think I will continue to write short stories*. I am a short story writer, primarily, always have been, probably always will be. But here—I have smashed the bottle of champagne over my own head to christen the journey. My blog: now with 100% more novel bitching!

*in fact, got two pieces of awesome short story news this week. My very scary entry into the Worst Possible Cover Letter Rant Contest at Poor Mojo’s Almanac(k) took first place and will be published in the Fall. And, my SF story, “Games,” will be in Z.S. Adani and Eric T. Reynolds’ Destination: Future anthology. More details soon.

You’ve got to love it when a flower blooms from a pile of shit.

After a very homophobic and hateful post by a SFF writer who shall remain nameless and linkless (mostly because I don’t want to give the guy an inch more attention than he’s already managed to squeeze out of his ignorance), The Outer Alliance gets itself born.

The site is brand new, and the organizers are scurrying around getting things together, but I wanted to point all of you towards the site in case you are interested in helping or joining (I am going to). The Alliance is for “Anyone who supports the community’s tenets and is committed to engaging in intelligent discussion about LGBT issues in SF/F. This is a group founded in the belief that the best course against bigotry and discrimination is by rising above it, not stooping down to it.

This group is open to all writers (professionals and fledgelings alike) of SF/F (speculative, horror, paranormal, etc)–and their friends–of any inclination.”

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!

Since I’ve been back from Clarion West, I’ve mindfully adopted the Jay Lake-Cory Doctorow*-kamikaze approach to submissions. Every single piece that is done goes out, somewhere, and the second it comes back, it goes off to the next market.

This is about as opposite from the submissions process I had in my pre-CW days. I’ve talked about that before. It was a languid, lazy process that usually involved me waiting for someone to ask me for something.

The unremitting process is exhausting. As soon as I send off a piece, I am already researching where it should go next, should it come back—which sort of makes me feel like I am jinxing it (stupid, I know).

But it’s also weirdly zen and somehow inoculating against taking rejection personally (which is normal, even though we all know better)—it doesn’t give me a lot of time to wallow. Always a good thing. And because everything is always out, I seem more motivated to write new stuff**.

So, is it successful?

I don’t know yet.

So far, I’ve had between 3 and 7 pieces out at a time, to over 40 markets (many of those duplicate markets that rejected one piece, so I sent them another). 3 acceptances, 2 holds that turned to rejections, the rest , of course, rejections of varying types and friendliness. You can do the math on those percentages, should you be so inclined. When I crunch the numbers, it doesn’t feel very successful—I get something around 8% success, fudging it a bit here and there. But it certainly makes me feel successful, in the fact that my productivity is up something like 400%.
The jury’s still out, I reckon. Maybe I need to revisit this after 12 months of cumulative data***. Right now, I need to figure out market one for my newest—a weird little light piece about a shapeshifter in the mall on a Black Friday with bonus Elvis/Buddy Holly impersonators and an unidentified shooter.

 
*“To double your success, triple your failures.”
**as a side note, I’m writing an average of one new piece a month now.
***for the love of God, am I really this geeky?

I’ve moaned and groaned about titles here many times, and since the insomnia fairy holds me firmly in her grasp tonight, I figured I’d share what was recently generously shared with me by a few fellow Codexians: an article they published in the November 2004 issue of the SF & Fantasy Workshop newsletter (which I believe is now defunct).

Whereas it has not turned me into an awesome titler of things instantly, it has given me a great “cheat” sheet I can look to for inspiration, and I have very grateful to have it.
I reproduce it here, hopefully, with permission.

SOME WAYS TO COMPOSE A TITLE
by Eric James Stone, Alethea Kontis, Douglas Cohen and John Brown

1. Person. It could be an actual name (EMMA, JANE EYRE), a nickname, a title or position (SPEAKER FOR THE DEAD, THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO), or a description (THE TIME TRAVELER’S WIFE, THE LAST JUROR, THE THREE MUSKETEERS). The person in question should probably be either the protagonist or the antagonist, although if the person has great “off-stage” importance it can still work (REBECCA.)

2. Place. It can be a specific place name (MANSFIELD PARK, MAIN STREET, CETAGANDA), more generic (ISLAND, NEUTRON STAR) or a description (THE TWO TOWERS, THE RESTAURANT AT THE END OF THE UNIVERSE.)

3. Thing. (THE SWORD, THE PERFECT STORM)

4. Event or action. (THE TRIAL, THE RETURN OF THE KING, KILL BILL)

5. Date, time or period. (1984, 1632, SEVEN DAYS IN MAY, TWILIGHT)

6. Number or measurement (FAHRENHEIT 451)

7. The Ludlum Method. Follow the pattern used for most Robert Ludlum books: The [Name] [Noun]. (THE BOURNE IDENTITY, THE DA VINCI CODE) [I'm not saying Ludlum wrote THE DA VINCI CODE, I'm saying it follows the pattern.]

8. Blank and Blank. (ROMEO AND JULIET, WAR AND PEACE, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE, THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA)

9. Blank of/from/to/on/in/for/other-preposition Blank. (A STORM OF SWORDS, THE DEED OF PAKSENARRION, NIGHT OF MADNESS)

10. Blank’s Blank. (HART’S HOPE, ENDER’S GAME, EXILE’S VALOR)

11. Quotations or literary allusions, whether well-known or obscure. (SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES, TO SAIL BEYOND THE SUNSET, STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND)

12. Plays on words or cliches. (SLEEPING DOGS, MONDAY MOURNING, OPEN RANGE)

13. Professional or other jargon. (PRESUMED INNOCENT, ABSENCE OF MALICE, BROKEN ARROW)

14. A word or phrase from your own piece. (CRY, THE BELOVED COUNTRY; HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS; ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT IN CHROME)

15. A word or phrase from a particular historical period. (BUFFALO SOLDIERS)

16. The/A/An Man/Woman/Boy/Girl/Other Who/That Blank. (THE MAN WHO SOLD THE MOON, THE GIRL WHO LOVED TOM GORDON, THE SHIP WHO SANG, A SHIP THAT BENDS)

17. The thematic title. (LOVE, SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION)

So, here we go. This is the project I have been muttering about under my breath and bouncing in my chair over:

On March 1, 2009, Brain Harvest: An Almanac of Bad-Ass Speculative Fiction will begin its intrepid voyage, bringing you the best speculative short fiction we can find.

Brain Harvest will publish on the web and on your mobile device. We’ve noticed that a lot of reading is happening in non-traditional ways (hey, we see you, over there, glued to your iPhone or Blackberry. If you’ve got ten minutes, we’ve got the best SFF you can hold in your hand). 

We pay “pro-rates” (5 cents a word) for stories 100 – 750 words.

We will be opening for general submissions on February 15, 2009. Please do not submit before then–we’ll delete everything dated before then.

Go to http://www.brainharvestmag.com/submit for full guidelines.

We are also offering a low-cost, high-awesome crit service, Fresh eyes, starting now. Depending on your needs and budget, you can rent up to four pairs of fresh eyes who will read your fiction and provide a one-page written critique in a timely fashion.

Find out more about Fresh eyes at http://www.brainharvestmag.com/fresh-eyes.