Because Reality Sucks Harder Than Fiction.

Greetings!

A lovely, snowy night here in Moncton... so magical, and as sparkly as that pansy vamp Cullen's backside out there! Feel free to poke out my eyes, for making a Twi-hard reference at 5 am, but to my credit, it's 5 am...

Great news: the spring issue of ArtsEast will be out shortly! I'll post a link to my book-review when the issue is released online.

Good news: Not-So-Novelist has a desk job again- great, since all aspirinng writers should have one of these. Unfortunately, it also means that I'll have to delay putting a down-payment on my island villa in the Bahamas. Darn, and double darn.

Bad news: Deborah Carr's 4-week-long creative nonfiction seminar has ended. I've never considered writing a memoir before now, but I sort of like the one I started writing in her class... I could be onto something here!

However, something's been on my mind recently... therefore, I leave you with this crappy drawing (click the picture to see a larger version):

Signing off,
El Veeb

Immo vs. Emo: The AP Upgrade.

Holy lack of postage!

I'm almost sad to see May go... After all of the epic adventures I had that month- Fryefest, Donna Morrissey, Trimedia N.B, Youtube fun- it's going to be a tough act to follow! I can't believe it's gone already!

To add to this ever-growing frustration is the AP upgrade- since I'm not posting there (I can't- I'm staff, and don't have the same rights to free speech as everyone else), I shall let it be known that:

I HATE THE FREAKING UPGRADE!

That site has been my home away from home (away from home) for the last five years, and I'm seriously thinking about leaving. I've cancelled my gold-membership, given up on posting anything, and just can't find the energy to do my job properly. Were I not so emotionally-invested in the place, I'd have already left- I've opened accounts on other sites, including Deep Underground Poetry and Writerscafe.com (they have agent listings there, too).  I've also discovered the AAR Database, which is a great tool for writers- even if I'm not writing at the moment, I can still attempt to market the damn thing.

Onward & upward, I suppose.

Badge of Determination #2.

Chalk another one up to the Wall of Rejection!

It's a little disappointing, but only because it's not even the book that's being rejected at this point- it's the idea itself, the query, and me/the writer. Clearly, one of the three of us needs fixing, and I'm not sure which one is the problem- maybe it's all of the above.


Back to the drawing... er, writing... board!

-

Acceptances: 0
Rejections: 2
Manuscript requests: 0

Wanted: Inspiration

As you can see, my lack of posting has (probably) made it obvious that my inkwell is drying up. When you're a writer, whether well-known or not, this is never a good sign.

 That all said, my main excuse for slacking is that I'm looking for a job (again), as I'm not getting many hours at the current one anymore and need something to supplement my paycheques there. If I could make money from writing on the side, that would be great (some literary journals pay $50-200 per article/poem/thing), but most of them take anywhere from 6 months to a year to reply- that doesn't help my cause right now. EI is a godsend- not just to me, but to anyone who lives away from home and needs to eat.

One of the things keeping me the most busy right now is editing the book... again. This was something that I was hoping to avoid, at least until I had enough rejection letters... I mean, badges of determination... to attest to the fact that the thing sucks; however, I did myself in by writing that awesome query-letter. Talk about shooting yourself in the foot- both literally, and in context.

It's interesting, though, how my characters have told me what to do over the years, rather than the other way around. For example, E. (M's girlfriend) was annoyed that she never got to tell her story, so I gave her a few chapters to herself; F. (K's uncle, and M's dad) has always been a meanie, but he somehow turned into a total d**chebag, who does all kinds of not-so-nice things to his family; and then there are B., D., (E's bffs), J. (all three are in M's band), T. (K's older sister), and L. (T's bff) who insisted on ruining every, single sappy scene that I wrote, with either their antics or ignorance.... Not fair! I am the allmighty Author, and you'll all do as I tell you, from now on!

(Not likely to happen- it never works that way.)

Clearly, these are desperate times.

Sordid Tales of Aspiring Writerdom: The Redux.

This entire week has been a total waste of life.

Being sick has done nothing to help further my career. I've been meaning to do productive things, like join up with the WFNB (Writers' Federation of New Brunswick); instead, I've spent it curled up on the couch, either sleeping or drinking lots of tea whilst crying into my cough-suppressant- not a pretty picture, but I'm sure that every aspiring writer has done it.

Last night, I started rewriting my final draft. I just feel that there's so much of the story that hasn't been told; so many important details left out, due to the perspective/narrative style I'd chosen to use; and that some of my characters have so much more to offer than what I've given them time to say. Don't ask- they tell me what to do, rather than the other way around.

I haven't been checking my emails all that much, either- I think that a part of me has preemptively admitted defeat. That's the M. in me talking, though- my inner K. is kicking me in the ribs right now, pushing my buttons and telling me to quit being a whiny bitch; sorry, K.

-

Now, back to sobbing into my Nyquil.

New Hope For The Novel In Question

...Or, in LOLcat-speak, "hope- I can haz it nao."

Since I write teen fiction, I occasionally read stuff by other authors, just to see what's out there- I've been worried about my content being too mature for the younger half of the 12+ age-group, you see. But then, I read "After", by Amy Efaw (who is, by the way, brilliant), which is for the same audience and is about a pregnant 15-year-old who dumps her baby in a trash-can and goes to jail.

And I was worried about M.'s endless fits of emo.

If they can read about dumpster-babies and crime-scenes, they can handle a little bit of blood.