Blog posts have really slowed to a crawl since the manuscript editing and revisions have taken over my spare time, and the few posts that do make it up have largely been about that process. Just to update quickly: I’ve gotten some good feedback from several readers, I’m waiting for a few others to finish, and I have a few more waiting for a turn to read. All the while I keep playing over ideas of things I’d like to work on, so the process is going along very well at the moment.
With nothing new to add about writing, and since writing has dominated the discussion here lately, I think it’s time to get back to what was always meant to be one of the core reasons for keeping "Summer Vacation" going in the first place: Music. Here are my thoughts on the albums I’ve added to the music library up to this point of 2012:
The Black Keys - El Camino
This is an album that could have existed just as easily in the 1960s as it does in modern-day music hipster circles. I’m not sure it’s the same kind of one-sided partnership as The White Stripes, but it does seem like one guy is doing most of the work: He’s the singer, plays the guitar and just about everything else on the recordings, probably does the bulk of the songwriting, and then the other guy plays the drums. I like the drummer, though. He looks more like a data entry specialist than a rock drummer, and he plays with this intriguing style so far on the back end of the beat that if he was any slower he’d be dragging behind the song. It winds up almost sounding lazy, but he still keeps up. This album is quite a bit shorter than their previous one, but that’s a good thing. I thought that album, “Brothers,” went on longer than it needed to and wound up sounding diluted. I like this one much better.
Styx - The Grand Illusion / Pieces of Eight Live
It seems to be a trend now that some of these legacy rock acts will dig out benchmark albums and perform them start to finish while touring. I know Springsteen did it with "Born to Run," and I saw Rush do it with "Moving Pictures" twice. When I discovered Styx did it with two consecutive albums on one release, I was surprised. Styx was my gateway into rock music, my earliest favorite band, the band I saw for my first rock show. They are one of these bands that went through some ugly break-up / line-up change drama, which I always felt was unfair toward the one guy, Dennis DeYoung, who had been their principal songwriter and was essentially booted out of the band. I’ve seen them play twice in the past several years on classic rock tour packages, and even though the guy they hired to replace DeYoung sounds a LOT like him and is quite the keyboard player, it didn’t ring true. I was never interested in any of the new music they were putting out, especially after previewing some of it on iTunes. During one of these shows when Tommy Shaw announced they were going to play something off their new album, I began to clap politely along with 25% of the audience until my cousin reached over, touched my shoulder and said “Don’t encourage them.”
But then I saw Styx on a recent Behind the Music update on VH1 Classic, and learned that even if I was a Dennis DeYoung fan, he was kind of a megalomanic and wasn’t letting the band be a band. With that perspective, I saw the reasoning for cutting him loose, bringing in new guys and moving on. So when I saw this release show up on iTunes, I went for it. And I’m so glad I did. These two albums were very influential in my music fan development, and the recordings sounds great, enough like the originals to still be recognizable but with an added energy. One of the lead singers sounds like his voice gave out about ten years ago, and since he wasn’t a great singer to begin with, well.... there’s always the nostalgia I can appreciate. But it’s been great to rediscover some of these songs I had written off into the Back Catalog of Memory a long time ago. In fact, one of the strongest rediscoveries in this has been the title track from “Pieces of Eight,” which gave me some technical issues during the download and I had to rely on iTunes support staff to resolve, which they thankfully did. If you’re curious, the title of this post comes from a line in that song, which is one of of my favorites at the moment.
Florence + the Machine - Ceremonials
One of the ways I discover new bands these days is seeing them perform on TV. There have been some great albums I’ve found after seeing a band play on Letterman, at least during the summer when I’m still up late enough to see the musical act at the end of the show. Another good source of discovery is SNL.
I knew about this band from “Dog Days are Over,” because we all heard that one played too often a couple summers back. When I saw them on SNL a couple months back, I was curious enough to at least read the iTunes reviews and comments. Phases like “baroque pop anthems,” “majestic arrangements,” “booming percussion, echoing keyboards and big guitars” got my attention. And this album delivers with all of those things. But it also has Florence, and, I’m sorry, but her voice is just a tiny bit weird for me. I’m not saying I don’t like it, but there’s some incongruous quality to it that doesn't completely work with the music and keeps the album as one I like but prevents it from being one I could ever love.
Bon Iver
I’ve read about this in magazines a lot and felt it had the kind of critical buzz that usually means it’s going to be too esoteric to enjoy. But then another SNL performance got me curious. Turns out it is pretty esoteric -- the songs all blend together like one continuous but scattered idea, and a lot of the vocals are done in a falsetto register. The music is largely ambient with a lot of acoustic guitar finger-picking and some electronic overlays complementing it. Oddly though, it works pretty well. This will never be the kind of album I’ll play in the car with the windows rolled down on a summer afternoon, but it’s the perfect soundtrack to a Sunday night.
Van Halen - A Different Kind of Truth
Okay, first off -- this is NOT a reunion album. I know, David Lee Roth is doing the vocals again (notice I didn’t call it singing), and that’s what a big chunk of rock fans have been dreaming about for decades. But for this to be a reunion, it would have to include Michael Anthony playing the bass, not Eddie Van Halen’s teenage son. Therefore, instead of this being a Van Halen reunion I’m calling it what it really is: The seventh version of a Van Halen line-up where they only constant members have been Eddie and Alex. And since it seems the reason Michael Anthony isn’t playing is because Eddie’s feelings were hurt when Michael wouldn’t shun Sammy Hagar the way Eddie wanted him too... well, Eddie Van Halen is a truly gifted musician, but he comes across in a way that makes Dennis DeYoung look like a professional mediator.
That said, it’s mostly an awesome album. There’s been a lot of Internet talk about how the band dug out old song ideas from thirty years ago and recycled them into new arrangements, but who cares? Speaking as a writer, I take no issue with revisiting an old idea if there’s something new to do with it. It’s a little creepy listening to Roth (who’s old enough to be a grandfather now and possibly could be several dozen times over, as I can imagine he’d proudly admit) singing songs about girls like he’s still twenty-six years old, but the music all works on a level that any hard rock fan would have a tough time not appreciating. Not every song is a classic, but even the ones that don’t measure up to the rest aren’t complete bores. And some of them are really, really great.
So to recap, two months into 2012 has the year in music starting off well. Five new albums added to the library, and all of them are at least good. A better average than usual for me. I guess we’ll see how much longer that holds up as new music shows up. But until then, I'm going to go listen to "Pieces of Eight" again.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Labor of Love
I know the term labor of love very well. Writing has been my hobby for well over thirty years. Even though I’m fully aware how unlikely it is anything I write will ever see the light of day in the publication world, I still do it. Mostly because I can’t picture my life without it. I’ve had some limited success with writing in the past: a handful of newspaper articles, a play produced from a script I wrote, a contest win or three. But the big one for me, the book, has proven elusive.
About fifteen years ago I wrote a short story called “The Ghost of Lake Emily,” about a couple of kids and a haunted lake. I liked it. I showed it to some people. Many liked it, but some thought it felt incomplete. They didn’t like the abrupt ending I had used and wanted to know what was going to happen next. I would think, “There is no next. That’s the end. You’re supposed to wonder.” Years later I thought back to it and reconsidered: “Well, where could the story go from there? They wake up the next morning....” Pretty soon I had enough to turn the story into what could someday be a book. After a few years of false starts and wrong directions, I managed to find the voice I felt was right for it and turned it into a richer and more exciting story than it had been originally. I showed it to more people. Some liked it, some loved it. I was very proud with what I had.
In the meantime I had written another manuscript I was very proud of which I had started submitting to literary agents with the hope that it might get noticed. And amazingly it did, by one newer agent out in New York looking to build a client list. She didn’t take me on, but gave me a lot to think about. I shelved that manuscript for some further revision at another time and instead refocused on trying my luck with Emily. This went absolutely nowhere. No interest, no sparks, nothing but form rejections. Were the sample pages I was sending too weak? Probably. Was my query letter not enticing enough? Very likely. Did the experience leave me a little jaded and frustrated about how the industry behind children’s literature had become dishearteningly formula-driven? Most definitely. And yeah, that was largely an excuse I made for myself. But sadly it’s one that I still think is more than a little true when I look at some of the brainless crap that shows up in the book orders I pass out to my students.
Accepting that Emily wasn’t going anywhere, I shelved it. I thought, “Maybe if I get another manuscript to break someday, I can pull this one out and use some publication leverage to give it a chance.” But time passed, ideas percolated, and Emily wouldn’t stop poking at my brain. I looked at it with a more critical eye and saw many things that could be better. I started to see different directions I could try. And most importantly, I reassessed my reasons for wanting to see something I’ve written get published. Was it for the money? No. Only about 0.00006% of writer’s in children’s literature have any real financial success. Was it for the glory? Not really. Of course if I’ve written something I’m proud of I’d like people to see it and know why I’m proud, but the dream of becoming a literary icon and basking in the attention of that is far out of the comfort zone of someone like me, so introverted I’m not even comfortable with the warm and fuzzy community-building activities that happen too frequently in elementary school staff meetings. (Though I’ll grant even having to endure one of these activities every seven years would be too frequent for my comfort level.)
So where does the drive to publish come from? I’ve come to realize it’s about achieving the goal and reaching the point I can legitimately call myself an author; to prove I’m at a level in my craft where it’s something I CAN do. To walk into a bookstore someday and see my name on the shelf, even if it only happens one time. (And yes, as pretentious as it sounds, I’m comfortable using the word “craft” like I did -- if you knew the kind of time I’ve spent on it recently, you’d know why.)
Late last summer I decided to take “The Ghost of Lake Emily” out and give it another try. But this time, I did it with a plan. I wanted to mold it into such a force of nature that by the time I started submitting it to literary agents, it would be impossible for all of them to say no. I revisited some of the feedback I’d received from past readers and found ideas I wanted to try. I dissected the original, removing some characters, developing new ones, adding new dimension to old ones. I mapped out the progression of three overlapping story arcs and figured out how they could compliment each other. I put together a plan of action that had me spend last fall in meticulous preparation, culminating in NaNoWriMo 2011, when I spent the month of November rewriting the entire novel into a brand new draft that wound up nearly twice as long as the previous version had been. And then I took some built-in time off. Because man, was I tired.
Then a couple weeks later I started the revision process, listening to some early feedback from a handful of first readers I knew I could trust to look past the glaring mistakes and comment on the overall structure, and using my own critical eye to attack it. I rewrote passages that didn’t work, took out words, and sentences, and paragraphs, and sections, and chapters that were unnecessary. I did a lot of clarifying, sought out inconsistencies that needed repair, tightened up the dialogue, and did a cursory check for as many grammatical errors and typos as I could find. And then last night, or more accurately very early this morning, I finished.
Is it the force of nature I want to be? Not yet. Is it ready for me to try and submit? Not even. But it’s streamlined (about 15,000 words shorter than it was a month ago), it’s polished, and stands as a fair representation of what I’m hoping it will eventually become. Most importantly it’s ready for people to see.
I don’t like asking people to read my writing because that carries an awkward sense of obligation in too many cases, but I’m greatly hoping people will WANT to read it. So with this post, I’m letting the world know it’s out there. I’d be thrilled to have you read it and I’m only waiting for you to ask. Maybe you were halfway following my word count progress on Facebook in November, or you just recently learned I’m a writer and you’re curious to see if I’ve got any game, or you’ve been following “Summer Vacation” for awhile and are interested to see what I do with fiction. If any of those things apply to you, here’s your big chance. It is children’s literature, but it’s also a full-fledged novel, well over 200 double-spaced pages if printed. The target audience would be the voracious readers of the 10-14-year-old age group, so it’s far from being a kiddie book, and since it turns out I actually know a great deal about kids and what they like to read (since I see books in their hands every day), I think this is something those big readers will eat up. So if you’d like to read it, or if you can think of some kid you know in the target age range who is a big reader and might be interested in sinking their teeth into a good creepy story and giving feedback on a work-in-progress, I’m more than happy to get a copy to you. Since it is kind of hefty, I’m holding off on printed copies until I get an idea on just how much interest there is -- why print 10 copies if only seven people want to see it? Frankly I’m hoping that some people (if not a lot) would be okay with, or even prefer, electronic copies. Those I can send out at a moment’s notice and would give you the option to read it on whatever device you have, or print at your own discretion.
I’m mostly just wanting to get the manuscript in front of as many eyes as possible, both to share it and collect whatever opinions there might be on whether or not it’s working. Like I said, it’s polished, but I’m far from done working on it, and getting as much feedback as I can from as many different people and types of readers as possible is always a helpful resource.
So if you’d like to be one of my earliest and most valued readers for the new and (I think) greatly improved version of “The Ghost of Lake Emily,” send me an e-mail. Or comment on the Facebook link that brought you here. Or post something on my wall. Or text me. Or message me through Words with Friends, or Facebook. Or write me a letter. Or send me a tweet. Or give me a phone call. Or knock on my front door, or my classroom door. Or stop me in the hallway and tell me you’re interested.
Not that I’m begging....
About fifteen years ago I wrote a short story called “The Ghost of Lake Emily,” about a couple of kids and a haunted lake. I liked it. I showed it to some people. Many liked it, but some thought it felt incomplete. They didn’t like the abrupt ending I had used and wanted to know what was going to happen next. I would think, “There is no next. That’s the end. You’re supposed to wonder.” Years later I thought back to it and reconsidered: “Well, where could the story go from there? They wake up the next morning....” Pretty soon I had enough to turn the story into what could someday be a book. After a few years of false starts and wrong directions, I managed to find the voice I felt was right for it and turned it into a richer and more exciting story than it had been originally. I showed it to more people. Some liked it, some loved it. I was very proud with what I had.
In the meantime I had written another manuscript I was very proud of which I had started submitting to literary agents with the hope that it might get noticed. And amazingly it did, by one newer agent out in New York looking to build a client list. She didn’t take me on, but gave me a lot to think about. I shelved that manuscript for some further revision at another time and instead refocused on trying my luck with Emily. This went absolutely nowhere. No interest, no sparks, nothing but form rejections. Were the sample pages I was sending too weak? Probably. Was my query letter not enticing enough? Very likely. Did the experience leave me a little jaded and frustrated about how the industry behind children’s literature had become dishearteningly formula-driven? Most definitely. And yeah, that was largely an excuse I made for myself. But sadly it’s one that I still think is more than a little true when I look at some of the brainless crap that shows up in the book orders I pass out to my students.
Accepting that Emily wasn’t going anywhere, I shelved it. I thought, “Maybe if I get another manuscript to break someday, I can pull this one out and use some publication leverage to give it a chance.” But time passed, ideas percolated, and Emily wouldn’t stop poking at my brain. I looked at it with a more critical eye and saw many things that could be better. I started to see different directions I could try. And most importantly, I reassessed my reasons for wanting to see something I’ve written get published. Was it for the money? No. Only about 0.00006% of writer’s in children’s literature have any real financial success. Was it for the glory? Not really. Of course if I’ve written something I’m proud of I’d like people to see it and know why I’m proud, but the dream of becoming a literary icon and basking in the attention of that is far out of the comfort zone of someone like me, so introverted I’m not even comfortable with the warm and fuzzy community-building activities that happen too frequently in elementary school staff meetings. (Though I’ll grant even having to endure one of these activities every seven years would be too frequent for my comfort level.)
So where does the drive to publish come from? I’ve come to realize it’s about achieving the goal and reaching the point I can legitimately call myself an author; to prove I’m at a level in my craft where it’s something I CAN do. To walk into a bookstore someday and see my name on the shelf, even if it only happens one time. (And yes, as pretentious as it sounds, I’m comfortable using the word “craft” like I did -- if you knew the kind of time I’ve spent on it recently, you’d know why.)
Late last summer I decided to take “The Ghost of Lake Emily” out and give it another try. But this time, I did it with a plan. I wanted to mold it into such a force of nature that by the time I started submitting it to literary agents, it would be impossible for all of them to say no. I revisited some of the feedback I’d received from past readers and found ideas I wanted to try. I dissected the original, removing some characters, developing new ones, adding new dimension to old ones. I mapped out the progression of three overlapping story arcs and figured out how they could compliment each other. I put together a plan of action that had me spend last fall in meticulous preparation, culminating in NaNoWriMo 2011, when I spent the month of November rewriting the entire novel into a brand new draft that wound up nearly twice as long as the previous version had been. And then I took some built-in time off. Because man, was I tired.
Then a couple weeks later I started the revision process, listening to some early feedback from a handful of first readers I knew I could trust to look past the glaring mistakes and comment on the overall structure, and using my own critical eye to attack it. I rewrote passages that didn’t work, took out words, and sentences, and paragraphs, and sections, and chapters that were unnecessary. I did a lot of clarifying, sought out inconsistencies that needed repair, tightened up the dialogue, and did a cursory check for as many grammatical errors and typos as I could find. And then last night, or more accurately very early this morning, I finished.
Is it the force of nature I want to be? Not yet. Is it ready for me to try and submit? Not even. But it’s streamlined (about 15,000 words shorter than it was a month ago), it’s polished, and stands as a fair representation of what I’m hoping it will eventually become. Most importantly it’s ready for people to see.
I don’t like asking people to read my writing because that carries an awkward sense of obligation in too many cases, but I’m greatly hoping people will WANT to read it. So with this post, I’m letting the world know it’s out there. I’d be thrilled to have you read it and I’m only waiting for you to ask. Maybe you were halfway following my word count progress on Facebook in November, or you just recently learned I’m a writer and you’re curious to see if I’ve got any game, or you’ve been following “Summer Vacation” for awhile and are interested to see what I do with fiction. If any of those things apply to you, here’s your big chance. It is children’s literature, but it’s also a full-fledged novel, well over 200 double-spaced pages if printed. The target audience would be the voracious readers of the 10-14-year-old age group, so it’s far from being a kiddie book, and since it turns out I actually know a great deal about kids and what they like to read (since I see books in their hands every day), I think this is something those big readers will eat up. So if you’d like to read it, or if you can think of some kid you know in the target age range who is a big reader and might be interested in sinking their teeth into a good creepy story and giving feedback on a work-in-progress, I’m more than happy to get a copy to you. Since it is kind of hefty, I’m holding off on printed copies until I get an idea on just how much interest there is -- why print 10 copies if only seven people want to see it? Frankly I’m hoping that some people (if not a lot) would be okay with, or even prefer, electronic copies. Those I can send out at a moment’s notice and would give you the option to read it on whatever device you have, or print at your own discretion.
I’m mostly just wanting to get the manuscript in front of as many eyes as possible, both to share it and collect whatever opinions there might be on whether or not it’s working. Like I said, it’s polished, but I’m far from done working on it, and getting as much feedback as I can from as many different people and types of readers as possible is always a helpful resource.
So if you’d like to be one of my earliest and most valued readers for the new and (I think) greatly improved version of “The Ghost of Lake Emily,” send me an e-mail. Or comment on the Facebook link that brought you here. Or post something on my wall. Or text me. Or message me through Words with Friends, or Facebook. Or write me a letter. Or send me a tweet. Or give me a phone call. Or knock on my front door, or my classroom door. Or stop me in the hallway and tell me you’re interested.
Not that I’m begging....
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