I have just devoured Dog-Man And Cat-Bird. I was supposed to be grocery shopping, and I don't care. I was supposed to be baking buns, and I don't care. Hell, I was supposed to be doing my own writing, but again, I don't care. Because for the past 14,000 words, all I've cared about was Cat-Bird. All I wanted to know was how and what now and oh god, why can't you see what's really going on here? Yes, ok, I yell at characters in the hopes they'll figure it all out before it's too late. I do it to the TV. I do it to my characters too. It's only because, even for a little while, I really care about them. And like I said, I cared.
And now for those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about here, I'm talking about the first story in Chuck Wendig's new short story collection Irregular Creatures. Now that you know about it, go buy it. If you already knew about it but haven't bought it yet, what's stopping you? No Kindle? Amazon doesn't like your method of payment? Do what I did, contact the Man Himself through his website, send him the monies through PayPal and he'll send you a PDF. Nothing easier. And I'm not just saying this because he has those incriminating photographs of me...
Ok, I'm done. For now. Chances are I'll report back as I read the rest of the stories though, which I am very much looking forward to doing. Until then, happy reading and writing, folks.
Wednesday, 12 January 2011
My Writing Process: Making It Up As I Go Along
Just based on process alone, it's painfully obvious that this is my first novel. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing when I started, or what I was getting myself into. Hell, it started more than anything as a writing exercise.
It all started when this character with the unlikely name of Michael Pariah wandered into my head and politely requested that I write him down. And so, not knowing any better, I did. The whole first chapter was just me getting to know him. (The fact that I've since completely cut that chapter is beside the point.) I was just writing. I would write when I felt like it, and I'd often have to read what I'd already written to remind myself not only what was going on, but what kind of voice I was using. I'd also edit. A lot. I was committing that most heinous of all writer crimes: editing as I went. Honestly, even after I'd heard about it I thought I was above that rule. I'm not, and neither are you. I'd ask you to believe me, but chances are you won't until you've figured it out for yourself.
Well, between the long breaks and the constant editing, it's really no wonder that my novel fell by the wayside for over a year. Even though I had begun to get an idea of the plot instead of pantsing it completely, I was storing it all in my head and losing momentum. Other things got in the way, and I'd made it far too easy for these other things to distract me. That is, until I noticed this intriguing little Twitter hashtag: #NaNoWriMo.
I'd figured out through context that it had something to do with writing a 50,000 word novel in a month, and thought, what the hell. I've got that Michael Pariah thing sitting around doing nothing, might as well pull that out and see what happens. It was already a couple of days into November when I finally found the official NaNoWriMo website, found out it stood for National Novel Writing Month, and joined up. I found out that there was a whole community involved in this, and a local branch with in-person writing sessions that I resolved to take full advantage of. This began my second writing phase: writing every day. I still had my outline in my head rather than written out in any way, but I was keeping up momentum and I wasn't editing as I wrote. I also began reading a lot more about the craft of writing, most notably at Terrible Minds, a blog by the brilliant and bizarre Chuck Wendig.
Did I win, did I beat the NaNo challenge of 50,000 words? No. But that wasn't really my goal. My goal was to finish my first draft, a goal that (I thought) I had accomplished. The fact that I'd only finished the first plot-arc is a post for another day. The upshot here is that I got into the habit of writing, and writing every day. I'd take my laptop on the bus with me, I'd plug in a few words before bed. I was writing and I was reading about writing. And eventually, when December rolled around, I started actually plotting.
Admittedly, I still follow a pretty loose format for my outline, more a series of progressions per character group of this action leads to this action, each one indented further than the one before until it looks like way too many nested replies in a forum thread. Some of it still reads pretty vaguely, like: →Possibly by becoming Timoth's property as well, pulling a Michael? Perverse... Potential. Need to plot on this... There's also a lot there that can only really be understood if you're living in my head, but it gives me something to refer to, something to give me a direction. I've also been noting what scenes I've already written, and in what order so I have a better idea of where I left off and what plot-line to pick up next.
Is it a perfect system? Hardly. I'm still learning as I go along, but the more I do the more I can fine-tune my process, and what I do have now is in part thanks to reading the advice and experience of others. Who knows, maybe by the time I write my second book, I'll actually know what I'm doing. Until then, I'll be doing a lot more reading, and a lot more writing.
How about you, what does your process look like? Is there anything you find particularly helpful? Has your process changed much since you started? I'd love to hear about it.
It all started when this character with the unlikely name of Michael Pariah wandered into my head and politely requested that I write him down. And so, not knowing any better, I did. The whole first chapter was just me getting to know him. (The fact that I've since completely cut that chapter is beside the point.) I was just writing. I would write when I felt like it, and I'd often have to read what I'd already written to remind myself not only what was going on, but what kind of voice I was using. I'd also edit. A lot. I was committing that most heinous of all writer crimes: editing as I went. Honestly, even after I'd heard about it I thought I was above that rule. I'm not, and neither are you. I'd ask you to believe me, but chances are you won't until you've figured it out for yourself.
Well, between the long breaks and the constant editing, it's really no wonder that my novel fell by the wayside for over a year. Even though I had begun to get an idea of the plot instead of pantsing it completely, I was storing it all in my head and losing momentum. Other things got in the way, and I'd made it far too easy for these other things to distract me. That is, until I noticed this intriguing little Twitter hashtag: #NaNoWriMo.
I'd figured out through context that it had something to do with writing a 50,000 word novel in a month, and thought, what the hell. I've got that Michael Pariah thing sitting around doing nothing, might as well pull that out and see what happens. It was already a couple of days into November when I finally found the official NaNoWriMo website, found out it stood for National Novel Writing Month, and joined up. I found out that there was a whole community involved in this, and a local branch with in-person writing sessions that I resolved to take full advantage of. This began my second writing phase: writing every day. I still had my outline in my head rather than written out in any way, but I was keeping up momentum and I wasn't editing as I wrote. I also began reading a lot more about the craft of writing, most notably at Terrible Minds, a blog by the brilliant and bizarre Chuck Wendig.
Did I win, did I beat the NaNo challenge of 50,000 words? No. But that wasn't really my goal. My goal was to finish my first draft, a goal that (I thought) I had accomplished. The fact that I'd only finished the first plot-arc is a post for another day. The upshot here is that I got into the habit of writing, and writing every day. I'd take my laptop on the bus with me, I'd plug in a few words before bed. I was writing and I was reading about writing. And eventually, when December rolled around, I started actually plotting.
Admittedly, I still follow a pretty loose format for my outline, more a series of progressions per character group of this action leads to this action, each one indented further than the one before until it looks like way too many nested replies in a forum thread. Some of it still reads pretty vaguely, like: →Possibly by becoming Timoth's property as well, pulling a Michael? Perverse... Potential. Need to plot on this... There's also a lot there that can only really be understood if you're living in my head, but it gives me something to refer to, something to give me a direction. I've also been noting what scenes I've already written, and in what order so I have a better idea of where I left off and what plot-line to pick up next.
Is it a perfect system? Hardly. I'm still learning as I go along, but the more I do the more I can fine-tune my process, and what I do have now is in part thanks to reading the advice and experience of others. Who knows, maybe by the time I write my second book, I'll actually know what I'm doing. Until then, I'll be doing a lot more reading, and a lot more writing.
How about you, what does your process look like? Is there anything you find particularly helpful? Has your process changed much since you started? I'd love to hear about it.
Sunday, 9 January 2011
Making And Breaking The Rules Of Fantasy
I'll admit right now that I am a one, maybe two genre guy, depending on how closely related you consider Science Fiction and Fantasy. Yes, I'll read other genres, and it's even possible I'll write other genres down the line, but this is where my heart is. Fantasy, especially.
When they say "write what you know," this is what I go to. It's true that I've never dealt with daemons, travelled strange and fantastic lands or wielded mighty magics, but if there's one genre I know inside and out, this is it. I know the rules of Fantasy instinctively, the same way I know when a Chinook* is rolling in. And the biggest rule is? There are no rules.
Ok, that's a lie. There are lots of rules, and they're different if you're talking about High Fantasy, Contemporary Fantasy or Urban Fantasy. Good and evil are more black and white (or at least you know which side a character/creature ought to be on,) magic and fantastic creatures abound, and chances are someone has a Destiny. The fun part is, even within these rules, you get to reinvent the world each time. In fact, that's pretty much the point. While there's only so much you can change about a certain "race" or "species" and still have it be recognizable, you get to take it and make it your own, with your own rules. For example, there are certain things that make a faerie a faerie or it isn't a faerie, but that can range from sweet Victorian flower fairies, through Tinkerbell right to something downright malicious like Jenny-Greenteeth. Don't like what came before? Reinvent it.
Vampire stories are notorious for having a different set of rules for every author, and while each reader has eir own preference, we can (usually) recognize that it is a vampire when you tell us so. As long as we have drinks blood + immortal/unnaturally long-lived, we'll go "yep, that's a vampire all right," even if the rest of the details get changed faster than topics in an ADD conversation (though some of us still draw the line at sparkles. I mean, seriously! He's a vampire, not a disco-ball.) The upshot of this is, in Fantasy you get to change the rules. A lot.
One thing you can't do is break your own rules. Once you've established a magic system in your universe, you have to stick with it. Your trolls turn to stone in the daylight? You can't have one suddenly take a noonday stroll. Your vampires are allergic to garlic? They probably won't be going out for Italian. Whatever else you do, you have to keep up an internal logic or the reader with think you have no idea what you're doing. Keep that in mind when you're doing your world building; consistency is key.
If you're writing a Fantasy story, how well are you sticking to your own rules? Think I'm full of crap here? Tell me why. I'll never learn otherwise.
*For those who don't live just west of the foothills of the Rockies, a Chinook is a warm wind that comes in from the Pacific Ocean, over the mountains, and is known to raise the temperature above freezing in winter. Also known to cause nasty headaches from the pressure changes.
When they say "write what you know," this is what I go to. It's true that I've never dealt with daemons, travelled strange and fantastic lands or wielded mighty magics, but if there's one genre I know inside and out, this is it. I know the rules of Fantasy instinctively, the same way I know when a Chinook* is rolling in. And the biggest rule is? There are no rules.
Ok, that's a lie. There are lots of rules, and they're different if you're talking about High Fantasy, Contemporary Fantasy or Urban Fantasy. Good and evil are more black and white (or at least you know which side a character/creature ought to be on,) magic and fantastic creatures abound, and chances are someone has a Destiny. The fun part is, even within these rules, you get to reinvent the world each time. In fact, that's pretty much the point. While there's only so much you can change about a certain "race" or "species" and still have it be recognizable, you get to take it and make it your own, with your own rules. For example, there are certain things that make a faerie a faerie or it isn't a faerie, but that can range from sweet Victorian flower fairies, through Tinkerbell right to something downright malicious like Jenny-Greenteeth. Don't like what came before? Reinvent it.
Vampire stories are notorious for having a different set of rules for every author, and while each reader has eir own preference, we can (usually) recognize that it is a vampire when you tell us so. As long as we have drinks blood + immortal/unnaturally long-lived, we'll go "yep, that's a vampire all right," even if the rest of the details get changed faster than topics in an ADD conversation (though some of us still draw the line at sparkles. I mean, seriously! He's a vampire, not a disco-ball.) The upshot of this is, in Fantasy you get to change the rules. A lot.
One thing you can't do is break your own rules. Once you've established a magic system in your universe, you have to stick with it. Your trolls turn to stone in the daylight? You can't have one suddenly take a noonday stroll. Your vampires are allergic to garlic? They probably won't be going out for Italian. Whatever else you do, you have to keep up an internal logic or the reader with think you have no idea what you're doing. Keep that in mind when you're doing your world building; consistency is key.
If you're writing a Fantasy story, how well are you sticking to your own rules? Think I'm full of crap here? Tell me why. I'll never learn otherwise.
*For those who don't live just west of the foothills of the Rockies, a Chinook is a warm wind that comes in from the Pacific Ocean, over the mountains, and is known to raise the temperature above freezing in winter. Also known to cause nasty headaches from the pressure changes.
Saturday, 8 January 2011
What's In A Name? Part II
This part, for some reason, seemed to me like it was going to be something strange and frightening: getting fingerprinted. I'm not sure why I thought this, but I kept picturing Big Intimidating Cops that would glare suspiciously at me, trying to determine what heinous crime I must have committed. What can I say? I'm a writer. I have an over-active imagination.
The reality was actually very different. It was in a small office in a public building downtown with two bored looking officials, a woman and an older man. The man was processing someone else, so it was the woman who helped me. It was pretty much the basic show ID, give address, (current) legal name, yadda yadda, then have picture taken. When she was entering it all into the computer, she actually debated whether she could mark me as M under gender rather than F, but was afraid that would screw up the paper work and cause the whole thing to be rejected. As much as I would have liked it if she could, I had to agree. Just the fact that she considered it meant a fair bit to me. Then I made sure it was all today's version of correct, and signed. At some point in here I did pay my $30.00 fee, confusing her with the relative orientation of my debit card (I love my bank, vertical card design and all.)
Next came the part that I was actually pretty excited about: the fingerprinting itself. By this time the other guy who was there for fingerprinting had left. The man who had been helping him had already set up the ink pad and such the way he liked it, so he did the actual printing. It went pretty quickly and easily. Ink and roll each finger, all fingers together, thumbs, done. I'm honestly not sure whether I'm relived or disappointed that the ink came off my fingers so easily, but it did and there it is. He folded up the sheet and handed it to me in an envelope. And that was it, I was done.
So now I have a very official sheet with my fingerprints on it, waiting to be brought back to the registration agency with the rest of my paperwork. It's actually pretty neat to look at - comparing the swirls on the fingers of my left hand with those on my right - I'm actually thinking of scanning a copy just for myself. The artist in me can't resist, really.
Friday, 7 January 2011
What's In A Name? Part I
So I am finally going through the process of legally changing my name and I thought, what the hell. Let's blog about it. Because even with all of its bureaucracy, or perhaps because of it, it can be a pretty interesting process. This is of course how it happens in Alberta. I don't know how much is different elsewhere.
It all starts with the Application for Name Change forms that I picked up at a local Registration agency. They come bound in this book which is pretty neat, but also a little weird. Not only do I now have the forms to change my own name, but also the forms to change my children's or my spouse's names, if I had any and thought this was something I wanted to do. Now, I understand situations where one would want to change a child's name, adoption and what-not, but a spouse? I don't know about you, but even if my hypothetical spouse and I decided together that we would change eir name, I'd be a hell of a lot more comfortable if e did it emself. But I digress.
In case I didn't already know this, the front of the application tells me this isn't going to be free. It's not even going to be cheap, really, which is part of why I've had to wait so long.
Fees for Name Changes:
Registry Agents will collect:
And that's step one: getting the application. Tomorrow I'll tell you all about the fingerprinting.
Also, just a quick FYI. No, I will not tell you my original/old/"real" name. I'm pretty open about the process of transitioning, more so than most people in my situation, but this is one of the few questions I won't answer. The last thing I want to do is give more people the opportunity to call me by the wrong name. Thank you.
It all starts with the Application for Name Change forms that I picked up at a local Registration agency. They come bound in this book which is pretty neat, but also a little weird. Not only do I now have the forms to change my own name, but also the forms to change my children's or my spouse's names, if I had any and thought this was something I wanted to do. Now, I understand situations where one would want to change a child's name, adoption and what-not, but a spouse? I don't know about you, but even if my hypothetical spouse and I decided together that we would change eir name, I'd be a hell of a lot more comfortable if e did it emself. But I digress.
In case I didn't already know this, the front of the application tells me this isn't going to be free. It's not even going to be cheap, really, which is part of why I've had to wait so long.
Fees for Name Changes:
Registry Agents will collect:
- a government fee of $120.00.
- a service fee, which may vary (I was quoted anywhere from $190.00 to something upwards of $200.)
- a fingerprint processing fee of $25.00, on behalf of the RCMP in Ottawa as payment for the criminal record check.
- may charge a fee for fingerprinting ($30.00 in this case.) Payment is made directly to the local law enforcement agency.
And that's step one: getting the application. Tomorrow I'll tell you all about the fingerprinting.
Also, just a quick FYI. No, I will not tell you my original/old/"real" name. I'm pretty open about the process of transitioning, more so than most people in my situation, but this is one of the few questions I won't answer. The last thing I want to do is give more people the opportunity to call me by the wrong name. Thank you.
Wednesday, 5 January 2011
Getting Comfortable With Being In Transition
And I don't just mean the big obvious one, though that's something I've had to get comfortable with too. I mean the whole big transition that is life, that thing we all do every day or else we become some stagnant, stale shell of a human being.
When I was a kid, I thought that all I had to do was figure out who I was, and that's who I'd be. Forever. Nothing else, and nothing less. I'd grow up, find a few words to describe myself, and that would be that. One thing I've had to come to terms with is the fact that that is never going to happen. Who I am today? Really not who I was yesterday. Tomorrow? Well, I'll be someone else again, won't I?
I don't mean every transition I go through is as big and life-changing as the one from trying to be female to finally being male. Sometimes it's as simple as reading an insightful blog post, or engaging with new people on Twitter. Or in real life even. That happens too, on occasion. If who I am is the sum of my experiences, then with every moment I'm in transition from being someone who hasn't experienced something to someone who has.
This also means that I have to update who I think I am at almost every turn. I thought I was someone who was only romantically interested in people of a specific gender or type until I realized it wasn't that simple, not for me anyway. I thought of myself as someone who hated kids and would never have any or want to until I met my niece. And the big one? Perhaps bigger than all the rest, even THE big one?
I thought I was always and forever an Artist before anything else. That was the pinnacle of my identity, the one thing that I had always been and would always be no matter what else changed, I was an Artist and I would paint/draw/make jewellery until the day I died of some bizarre cancer or heavy metal poisoning from my work. I believed this until I looked up one day and realized I was becoming a Writer.
I looked at what I had drawn or made in the past week, the past month. Nothing. I mean literally. I hadn't made a damn thing the whole time, not so much as a doodle. I looked at what I had been doing instead. When I wasn't writing, I was reading about writing. I was talking about writing, and I was on my way to someplace where I would be writing. (Or I was at my day job, but even there I was thinking about writing.) That's when I realized that I was watching my own transition from Artist with a little writing on the side, to Writer with a little art on the side.
I can't say that I was entirely happy about this. I mean, I'd put how many years into that identity? I now owe how much in student loans because of it? And what will my Grandma think? I was always the Artist in the family, one of her kind. I felt like I was betraying a core part of me. But that didn't stop the transition. Because even though I was mourning the Artist, I was celebrating the Writer. You see, the big difference between the two has been commitment. I have actually been able to commit to one writing project, my novel, far longer and more consistently than any body of art I've undertaken. And I've realized, that I'd much rather be productive and prolific at something that I love than be sporadic and occasionally brilliant at something that I love.
When I was a kid, I thought that all I had to do was figure out who I was, and that's who I'd be. Forever. Nothing else, and nothing less. I'd grow up, find a few words to describe myself, and that would be that. One thing I've had to come to terms with is the fact that that is never going to happen. Who I am today? Really not who I was yesterday. Tomorrow? Well, I'll be someone else again, won't I?
I don't mean every transition I go through is as big and life-changing as the one from trying to be female to finally being male. Sometimes it's as simple as reading an insightful blog post, or engaging with new people on Twitter. Or in real life even. That happens too, on occasion. If who I am is the sum of my experiences, then with every moment I'm in transition from being someone who hasn't experienced something to someone who has.
This also means that I have to update who I think I am at almost every turn. I thought I was someone who was only romantically interested in people of a specific gender or type until I realized it wasn't that simple, not for me anyway. I thought of myself as someone who hated kids and would never have any or want to until I met my niece. And the big one? Perhaps bigger than all the rest, even THE big one?
I thought I was always and forever an Artist before anything else. That was the pinnacle of my identity, the one thing that I had always been and would always be no matter what else changed, I was an Artist and I would paint/draw/make jewellery until the day I died of some bizarre cancer or heavy metal poisoning from my work. I believed this until I looked up one day and realized I was becoming a Writer.
I looked at what I had drawn or made in the past week, the past month. Nothing. I mean literally. I hadn't made a damn thing the whole time, not so much as a doodle. I looked at what I had been doing instead. When I wasn't writing, I was reading about writing. I was talking about writing, and I was on my way to someplace where I would be writing. (Or I was at my day job, but even there I was thinking about writing.) That's when I realized that I was watching my own transition from Artist with a little writing on the side, to Writer with a little art on the side.
I can't say that I was entirely happy about this. I mean, I'd put how many years into that identity? I now owe how much in student loans because of it? And what will my Grandma think? I was always the Artist in the family, one of her kind. I felt like I was betraying a core part of me. But that didn't stop the transition. Because even though I was mourning the Artist, I was celebrating the Writer. You see, the big difference between the two has been commitment. I have actually been able to commit to one writing project, my novel, far longer and more consistently than any body of art I've undertaken. And I've realized, that I'd much rather be productive and prolific at something that I love than be sporadic and occasionally brilliant at something that I love.
Sunday, 2 January 2011
Sample Sunday: A Discussion of Self in Carl's Café
Obviously, some things have changed since I first wrote this. I'd be surprised if it hadn't, seeing as this comes from that same 2007/2008 era as Friday's flash piece, and in fact appears on the page just before it in the notebook. Does it mean that what I wrote then is now completely untrue? No, not really. It was true at the time, and I think I needed it to work through who I was and get to who I am. The fact that I chose to do this through a fictionalized encounter with myself is also unsurprising, given my tendency in the past to use a fantasy world for both escapism and self-discovery.
Anyway, I've done more than enough babbling here about 'what it all means' and other self analysis. I'll let you get on with actually reading it now.
A Discussion of Self in Carl's Café
Anyway, I've done more than enough babbling here about 'what it all means' and other self analysis. I'll let you get on with actually reading it now.
A Discussion of Self in Carl's Café
"I'm not like other guys," he said. "Then again, most other guys aren't perfectly happy living in a woman's body."
He laughed then. "Hell, why shouldn't I be? I mean, I get to live the 'lesbian fantasy' to its most satisfying fullness. But seriously. A man in a woman's body who's not about to do anything about it at all. Am I being a coward? Not taking the risk, not making the commitment to become 'who I am?'" He shrugged. "Maybe. But I'm really only a part of who I am, aren't I?"
He smiled at me and finished his coffee. As he left, I smiled and nodded to myself. What he'd said was true.
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