Back when I learned I’d made it into the PitchWars contest as a first alternate, I had a moment of disorientation. After all, I’d been given the original heads up about the contest from my cousin only days earlier and made my four allowed submissions motivated by the philosophy of “What’s the worst that could happen?” So when one of the mentors I applied to -- an author -- replied to me asking to see more, I thought maybe things weren’t entirely hopeless. Later that same night I had another mentor -- this time an editor -- reply with an equally complimentary message as the first, also asking for more pages. My confidence began rising. When a third person -- this time another author -- asked to see more as well, I started to think that maybe, just maybe, something was going on behind the scenes and I might actually stand a chance.
I waited anxiously for the date to arrive when the teams would be announced, and discovered during a lunch break that the list had gone live a day early. The first name on the list was the editor, and the second name on his list was mine. I indulged a moment of gratified excitement, then scrolled through the rest of the list and saw my cousin’s name listed as someone else’s first alternate, which made everything better. To the best of my knowledge we’re the only pair of blood relatives who made it into the contest, so that was a pretty cool bit of distinction to share.
Being a first alternate meant my mentor would be helping me construct a pitch and reviewing (1) the synopsis for my manuscript, (2) the query letter I was using when submitting to literary agents, and (3) a good chunk of the actual manuscript, then offer me feedback for revision. The e-mail exchanges we had over the several weeks of the contest were great; not only did he offer ideas that made significant differences when I was done revising, but the enthusiasm he showed for my writing was incredibly validating. I had always been proud of the work I’d done on “Infinity” and I’d heard many complimentary things about it from different readers, but this feedback was coming from someone in the industry, who wasn’t a friend or a relative or had any connection to me other than being impressed enough by my work that he “couldn’t pass up the opportunity to work with me.” Yes, that was a quote. And yes, I saved the e-mail message it appeared in.
So now the process has nearly reached the end. Later tonight, just a few hours from now as I write this, the PitchWars agent round begins. The submissions of the mentees will go online, hosted on several different blogs, and the agents who agreed to participate will have two days to look over what we’ve all been trying to pretty up for them. If my work catches someone’s interest, they’ll be able to request more, which always has the chance of leading to bigger and better things. If what I have posted doesn’t connect with anyone, I’ll likely be disappointed about it, but I’ve survived disappointment before and I know it doesn’t signal the end of all hope. If I go back to my original approach of “What’s the worst that could happen?” Well, the worst thing would only mean that I’d be exactly back where I was before the contest started, only now with a more finely-tuned manuscript and query letter, and with a newly-tweaked level of self-assurance I can bring to my writing.
So Brent -- thanks for those. And to follow up on something you mentioned on Twitter not long ago, I’m going to accept the challenge and mark 2014 as the year I’ll be ready to admit this out loud:
I’m a damn good writer.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Twelve Down / One Down / The Pursuit of Happiness
And so the momentum project finally comes to a close. It was a year ago I figured taking on a New Year's resolution was too ambitious and too long-term of a project to sustain, so instead I'd try a different "project" each month. To review:
JANUARY: Finish the 2012 NaNoWriMo manuscript. FAIL. Even though I was over 60,000 words by the end of November, I didn't push through to the end of what was a particularly ambitious story. At least not yet. I still mean to finish it someday.
FEBRUARY: Make healthy choices whenever the opportunities presented themselves. SUCCESS. I wasn't perfect, but I held to the idea pretty well. Unfortunately it takes more than 28 days to establish a long-term habit, so that idea faded off once the accountability was gone.
MARCH: Organize all of my digital files. FAIL. Turns out I have a lot of them, and I care far less about how organized they are than I thought I did.
APRIL: Really clean the house. SUCCESS. But I had the pressure of Taco Party #1 to motivate me.
MAY: Write a blog post every day for a month. SUCCESS, in the sense that I actually did it. But the result made me reconsider my reasons for bothering to continue the blog at all -- something I've been thinking about ever since then, and even more in the past few days with a new year right around the corner.
JUNE: Fall off the face of the earth. SUCCESS. After the way the school year ended, I needed time to just let life drift along. June took care of that nicely.
JULY: Finish my "Following Infinity" rewrite. SUCCESS. Now its just waiting for the world to discover it, even if that means one person at a time for the present.
AUGUST: Get myself mentally ready for the school year. Qualified SUCCESS, because I wasn't as ready to dive back in as I wanted to be. But a well-timed vacation and a few other moments gave me some valuable perspective.
SEPTEMBER: Stay on top of life. SUCCESS. Normally by the time the school year is a few weeks old, I've become swamped with the things I need to do between my teaching and my civilian life. Some proactive thinking helped a lot. Happily I've done fairly well at maintaining this.
OCTOBER: Prepare for NaNoWriMo 2013. SUCCESS. By the time I reached the end of the month, I was ready to tear into the new manuscript with a pile of ideas and plot devices and a busload of fairly developed characters just waiting for more definition.
NOVEMBER: Reach the NaNoWriMo goal of writing 50,000 words in a month. Which I did, but once again, even if I wound up with a word count that topped 70,000 by the time the month ended I still haven't finish the story. Yet.
Which brings us to DECEMBER, in which I set the goal of having a happy month. With only a couple days left I think I can call this one a success. Not only did I manage to avoid the unpleasant moments that made the previous December so difficult, but I had some happier ones take their place. And this whole late December/all of January time of the year is not my favorite, so to feel like the month went well is a pretty big thing.
Where does this leave me at the end of 2013? It's nice knowing I stuck to the project for the whole year, but few of the things I tried to do made any difference in the end, so the point could be argued that the endeavor was a waste of time... at least outside of the goals related to writing, which are probably things I would have done anyway and just used as placeholders to avoid taking on goals that would have been more challenging or significant.
So I don't think I'll be continuing any of this project-of-the-month business anymore. And I don't see any resolutions being made for 2014. There are still things about life I would like to learn or experience or change or improve, but to make any of those stated goals with deadlines would only add pressure that wouldn't help get them done. Maybe 2014 won't be a year for a resolution, but instead just a year that I decide to give some new things a try.
But regardless of how the project turned out, I think it's fair to say that in 2013 I at least made it down the hill when it came to writing. As for what comes next? This year's experience of taking a four-year-old manuscript out of the archive and seeing it come back to life in exciting ways is proof there's really no way to tell what the future holds -- an idea that both excites and intimidates me. Someone told me not long ago they were confident I had a big year ahead of me. Maybe. Maybe not. There's no way to see it coming until it happens. All anyone can ever do is put themselves in the best positions possible for when the right opportunities come along. For all I know the next few weeks could bring on some big changes, or the whole year could just quietly pass by.
Now it's just a matter of being ready to live with whatever comes along.
JANUARY: Finish the 2012 NaNoWriMo manuscript. FAIL. Even though I was over 60,000 words by the end of November, I didn't push through to the end of what was a particularly ambitious story. At least not yet. I still mean to finish it someday.
FEBRUARY: Make healthy choices whenever the opportunities presented themselves. SUCCESS. I wasn't perfect, but I held to the idea pretty well. Unfortunately it takes more than 28 days to establish a long-term habit, so that idea faded off once the accountability was gone.
MARCH: Organize all of my digital files. FAIL. Turns out I have a lot of them, and I care far less about how organized they are than I thought I did.
APRIL: Really clean the house. SUCCESS. But I had the pressure of Taco Party #1 to motivate me.
MAY: Write a blog post every day for a month. SUCCESS, in the sense that I actually did it. But the result made me reconsider my reasons for bothering to continue the blog at all -- something I've been thinking about ever since then, and even more in the past few days with a new year right around the corner.
JUNE: Fall off the face of the earth. SUCCESS. After the way the school year ended, I needed time to just let life drift along. June took care of that nicely.
JULY: Finish my "Following Infinity" rewrite. SUCCESS. Now its just waiting for the world to discover it, even if that means one person at a time for the present.
AUGUST: Get myself mentally ready for the school year. Qualified SUCCESS, because I wasn't as ready to dive back in as I wanted to be. But a well-timed vacation and a few other moments gave me some valuable perspective.
SEPTEMBER: Stay on top of life. SUCCESS. Normally by the time the school year is a few weeks old, I've become swamped with the things I need to do between my teaching and my civilian life. Some proactive thinking helped a lot. Happily I've done fairly well at maintaining this.
OCTOBER: Prepare for NaNoWriMo 2013. SUCCESS. By the time I reached the end of the month, I was ready to tear into the new manuscript with a pile of ideas and plot devices and a busload of fairly developed characters just waiting for more definition.
NOVEMBER: Reach the NaNoWriMo goal of writing 50,000 words in a month. Which I did, but once again, even if I wound up with a word count that topped 70,000 by the time the month ended I still haven't finish the story. Yet.
Which brings us to DECEMBER, in which I set the goal of having a happy month. With only a couple days left I think I can call this one a success. Not only did I manage to avoid the unpleasant moments that made the previous December so difficult, but I had some happier ones take their place. And this whole late December/all of January time of the year is not my favorite, so to feel like the month went well is a pretty big thing.
Where does this leave me at the end of 2013? It's nice knowing I stuck to the project for the whole year, but few of the things I tried to do made any difference in the end, so the point could be argued that the endeavor was a waste of time... at least outside of the goals related to writing, which are probably things I would have done anyway and just used as placeholders to avoid taking on goals that would have been more challenging or significant.
So I don't think I'll be continuing any of this project-of-the-month business anymore. And I don't see any resolutions being made for 2014. There are still things about life I would like to learn or experience or change or improve, but to make any of those stated goals with deadlines would only add pressure that wouldn't help get them done. Maybe 2014 won't be a year for a resolution, but instead just a year that I decide to give some new things a try.
But regardless of how the project turned out, I think it's fair to say that in 2013 I at least made it down the hill when it came to writing. As for what comes next? This year's experience of taking a four-year-old manuscript out of the archive and seeing it come back to life in exciting ways is proof there's really no way to tell what the future holds -- an idea that both excites and intimidates me. Someone told me not long ago they were confident I had a big year ahead of me. Maybe. Maybe not. There's no way to see it coming until it happens. All anyone can ever do is put themselves in the best positions possible for when the right opportunities come along. For all I know the next few weeks could bring on some big changes, or the whole year could just quietly pass by.
Now it's just a matter of being ready to live with whatever comes along.
Saturday, December 14, 2013
Christmas Traditions: Then and Now
A few years ago my parents downsized from their house overlooking the lake to a smaller but comfortable town home. A lot of their stuff wound up getting thrown out or given away or donated as they prepared for moving day. One afternoon I was looking through a pile in their garage that had been earmarked for downsizing, and found two boxes of glass Christmas tree bulbs that I immediately recognized. They were each designed in solid metallic colors with a variety of Christmas-themed landscapes intricately painted on the sides. Those bulbs were as much of Christmas for me as the blocky Styrofoam chimney my sisters and I had hung our stockings on each year, or the ugly string of yellow plastic bells that probably looked thirty years old the day they were bought, or the figures in the Nativity scene that at least one of my sisters and I treated like action figures more than we likely should have.
I was shocked to see those bulbs on the discard pile, even if they hadn’t been brought out and put on any Christmas tree for close to twenty years. I picked them up, carefully set them in my car and brought them home, thinking they were too precious to be done away with. The old bulbs added some holiday nostalgia to my own collection of ornaments, most of which are gifts from students. I used to keep student ornaments on a small four-foot tree in my classroom, but times have changed enough during my career that it made more sense to just bring them all home. I can’t say I’ve kept all of the ornaments, or mugs, or candles, or decorations, or food, or cards I’ve received from students over the years, but I’ve hung onto the items that were important to me. In fact most of my Christmas decorations have some meaning attached to them, and every year when I get them back out I wind up revisiting whatever memories they inspire.
My family always had a general routine around Christmas when I was young. It varied a little year to year, but it usually involved someone singing in a choir on Christmas Eve and all of us driving up to my grandmother’s in Superior either later that night or early on Christmas morning. I always enjoyed making the trip on Christmas Eve. I have distinct memories of sitting in the back seat of the car and watching the darkness outside pass by, only interrupted by the starlight above and occasional bursts of color from displays of holiday lights close enough to the highway for us to see. We’d listen to WCCO on a lot of those drives since the car radio could hold the AM signal longer. Any other time of year this would bore my childhood self into numbness, but on Christmas Eve it filled our car with songs and stories that made everything about the holiday somehow seem bigger and broader. And spending Christmas at my grandmother's house was unparalleled. Taking the time to describe every memory about it that made it special would only double the length of a post that's going to end up too long as it is.
As we got older, the routine became a visit to my cousin’s house for dinner and watching her young sons excitedly tear open a few early presents on Christmas Eve, followed by time with our own family on Christmas Day. Now those same two sons of hers are adults and have sons of their own. We still get together on Christmas Eve, but these days we’ll go out to dinner instead.
When I’m home during the Christmas season, I’ll almost always have holiday music playing in the background. I have enough of it in my music library so I don’t wind up hearing the same twelve tired songs over and over, and many of the songs have personal history and attachment for me. Some, in fact, go as far back as childhood, songs or albums that I added to my own library because the connections to my past were too strong to put aside. I can play the holiday music on shuffle and hear a good number of more contemporary songs in the mix, but when one of those older songs come up, something from my parents’ record collection that we only dug out for a few weeks every year, the house will just feel a little warmer for a few minutes.
The same could be said for holiday specials on TV as well. Back in the pre-VCR days of five channels to pick from, it was an absolute treat when any of the Christmas specials came on. My sisters and I would run around the house burning off our excitement in the minutes before they started, then sat unmoving on our enormous yellow couch until the closing credits rolled by. These days it’s more likely I’ll look for a favorite Christmas movie to watch if I’m in the mood, sometimes even bringing something up from On Demand. But I’ll admit to still making “A Charlie Brown Christmas” into appointment television every year. And it’s still too painful to sit through “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” knowing how much Erin loved it. I don’t imagine that will ever change.
I can remember seeing Christmas cards show up in the mail back in childhood, and feeling disappointed when they came from people I didn’t know. I’d wonder, who are these people I’ve never seen before? A part of me would hope they wouldn’t come over to catch up with our family, because that usually meant they would bring kids we didn’t know, and we’d be forced into the basement to play with these weird strangers for a few eternal hours while the adults visited. When I was old enough to start sending out my own Christmas cards, I did at first with almost a sense of obligation, thinking this was the kind of thing that adults were supposed to do. I went through the motions of it all, even making a couple of photo cards along the way, but my heart was rarely in it. I always enjoyed (and still do!) receiving cards much more than sending them.
Now I’ve pretty much given up on Christmas cards. I figure that anyone who knows me well enough to make it onto a potential card list is already familiar with my Groundhog Day of a life, and it’s not really worth the effort of sending out minor updates to people who are only a degree or two from my daily life or my social network. Maybe someday a year will arrive worth reporting the details and I’ll be inspired to start up with cards again, but for now here are the messages I would’ve shared with those important to me this year. I know many of the people I’d write to likely won’t see this -- or can’t, in some cases -- but here’s at least what I’d say, just in case they do. To save anyone (including myself) potential embarrassment, I’ll leave the list anonymous. I’d like to think the people who’d receive these messages would recognize which are directed toward them.
*You’ve had some ups and downs this year, but I’m happy things are ending with ups.
*Though it feels like I’ve had several older brothers my whole life, you were probably the closest to ever taking on that role for real. It was good having you around.
*I get why you worry, but you really don’t need to.
*It makes me feel good seeing the person and father you are.
*I’m glad you’re still around.
*I’m very happy about the life you get to have.
*You’ve been one of my closest friends for the better part of my life.
*Congratulations, good sir. You and yours have had quite the year.
*Even if I should know better, I trust you almost more than anyone else.
*As much stress as your life can bring, I like knowing you’re happier.
*I’m glad things are turning around for you. It’s well-deserved.
*Try not to break anything.
*You are becoming way more interesting than I ever would have predicted.
*Few people, if any, can make me laugh like you can. There are a lot of reasons why people enjoy being with you.
*You are, with good reason, probably the most universally loved person I know.
*It means the world to me knowing I’ve always been able to rely on you.
*I still don’t know why you worked so hard at steamrolling your way into my inner circle, but I’m glad you did.
*I feel as much at home with the two of you as I do anywhere else.
*I miss you.
*It sneaks up on me sometimes to realize how much history we have, but I’m glad it’s there. I’m amazed by who you’ve become.
*It’s been good seeing you pop your head up more this year.
*The times you included me when you didn’t have to made a huge difference.
*I’m thinking of you every day. I hope things are going in the right direction.
*Self-discovery isn’t always an easy path, but it’s important. Just make sure you don’t get stuck. Happiness is a goal worth chasing.
*You’re an incredible person, even if it doesn’t always feel like others appreciate that.
*I haven’t completely figured you out yet, but I’m glad I still get occasional chances to try.
Traditions don’t really fade away or disappear. They just evolve along with us, and become whatever we need them to be. Here’s hoping whatever traditions you and yours are either continuing this year or are just beginning will bring peace and happiness to your lives.
I was shocked to see those bulbs on the discard pile, even if they hadn’t been brought out and put on any Christmas tree for close to twenty years. I picked them up, carefully set them in my car and brought them home, thinking they were too precious to be done away with. The old bulbs added some holiday nostalgia to my own collection of ornaments, most of which are gifts from students. I used to keep student ornaments on a small four-foot tree in my classroom, but times have changed enough during my career that it made more sense to just bring them all home. I can’t say I’ve kept all of the ornaments, or mugs, or candles, or decorations, or food, or cards I’ve received from students over the years, but I’ve hung onto the items that were important to me. In fact most of my Christmas decorations have some meaning attached to them, and every year when I get them back out I wind up revisiting whatever memories they inspire.
My family always had a general routine around Christmas when I was young. It varied a little year to year, but it usually involved someone singing in a choir on Christmas Eve and all of us driving up to my grandmother’s in Superior either later that night or early on Christmas morning. I always enjoyed making the trip on Christmas Eve. I have distinct memories of sitting in the back seat of the car and watching the darkness outside pass by, only interrupted by the starlight above and occasional bursts of color from displays of holiday lights close enough to the highway for us to see. We’d listen to WCCO on a lot of those drives since the car radio could hold the AM signal longer. Any other time of year this would bore my childhood self into numbness, but on Christmas Eve it filled our car with songs and stories that made everything about the holiday somehow seem bigger and broader. And spending Christmas at my grandmother's house was unparalleled. Taking the time to describe every memory about it that made it special would only double the length of a post that's going to end up too long as it is.
As we got older, the routine became a visit to my cousin’s house for dinner and watching her young sons excitedly tear open a few early presents on Christmas Eve, followed by time with our own family on Christmas Day. Now those same two sons of hers are adults and have sons of their own. We still get together on Christmas Eve, but these days we’ll go out to dinner instead.
When I’m home during the Christmas season, I’ll almost always have holiday music playing in the background. I have enough of it in my music library so I don’t wind up hearing the same twelve tired songs over and over, and many of the songs have personal history and attachment for me. Some, in fact, go as far back as childhood, songs or albums that I added to my own library because the connections to my past were too strong to put aside. I can play the holiday music on shuffle and hear a good number of more contemporary songs in the mix, but when one of those older songs come up, something from my parents’ record collection that we only dug out for a few weeks every year, the house will just feel a little warmer for a few minutes.
The same could be said for holiday specials on TV as well. Back in the pre-VCR days of five channels to pick from, it was an absolute treat when any of the Christmas specials came on. My sisters and I would run around the house burning off our excitement in the minutes before they started, then sat unmoving on our enormous yellow couch until the closing credits rolled by. These days it’s more likely I’ll look for a favorite Christmas movie to watch if I’m in the mood, sometimes even bringing something up from On Demand. But I’ll admit to still making “A Charlie Brown Christmas” into appointment television every year. And it’s still too painful to sit through “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” knowing how much Erin loved it. I don’t imagine that will ever change.
I can remember seeing Christmas cards show up in the mail back in childhood, and feeling disappointed when they came from people I didn’t know. I’d wonder, who are these people I’ve never seen before? A part of me would hope they wouldn’t come over to catch up with our family, because that usually meant they would bring kids we didn’t know, and we’d be forced into the basement to play with these weird strangers for a few eternal hours while the adults visited. When I was old enough to start sending out my own Christmas cards, I did at first with almost a sense of obligation, thinking this was the kind of thing that adults were supposed to do. I went through the motions of it all, even making a couple of photo cards along the way, but my heart was rarely in it. I always enjoyed (and still do!) receiving cards much more than sending them.
Now I’ve pretty much given up on Christmas cards. I figure that anyone who knows me well enough to make it onto a potential card list is already familiar with my Groundhog Day of a life, and it’s not really worth the effort of sending out minor updates to people who are only a degree or two from my daily life or my social network. Maybe someday a year will arrive worth reporting the details and I’ll be inspired to start up with cards again, but for now here are the messages I would’ve shared with those important to me this year. I know many of the people I’d write to likely won’t see this -- or can’t, in some cases -- but here’s at least what I’d say, just in case they do. To save anyone (including myself) potential embarrassment, I’ll leave the list anonymous. I’d like to think the people who’d receive these messages would recognize which are directed toward them.
*You’ve had some ups and downs this year, but I’m happy things are ending with ups.
*Though it feels like I’ve had several older brothers my whole life, you were probably the closest to ever taking on that role for real. It was good having you around.
*I get why you worry, but you really don’t need to.
*It makes me feel good seeing the person and father you are.
*I’m glad you’re still around.
*I’m very happy about the life you get to have.
*You’ve been one of my closest friends for the better part of my life.
*Congratulations, good sir. You and yours have had quite the year.
*Even if I should know better, I trust you almost more than anyone else.
*As much stress as your life can bring, I like knowing you’re happier.
*I’m glad things are turning around for you. It’s well-deserved.
*Try not to break anything.
*You are becoming way more interesting than I ever would have predicted.
*Few people, if any, can make me laugh like you can. There are a lot of reasons why people enjoy being with you.
*You are, with good reason, probably the most universally loved person I know.
*It means the world to me knowing I’ve always been able to rely on you.
*I still don’t know why you worked so hard at steamrolling your way into my inner circle, but I’m glad you did.
*I feel as much at home with the two of you as I do anywhere else.
*I miss you.
*It sneaks up on me sometimes to realize how much history we have, but I’m glad it’s there. I’m amazed by who you’ve become.
*It’s been good seeing you pop your head up more this year.
*The times you included me when you didn’t have to made a huge difference.
*I’m thinking of you every day. I hope things are going in the right direction.
*Self-discovery isn’t always an easy path, but it’s important. Just make sure you don’t get stuck. Happiness is a goal worth chasing.
*You’re an incredible person, even if it doesn’t always feel like others appreciate that.
*I haven’t completely figured you out yet, but I’m glad I still get occasional chances to try.
Traditions don’t really fade away or disappear. They just evolve along with us, and become whatever we need them to be. Here’s hoping whatever traditions you and yours are either continuing this year or are just beginning will bring peace and happiness to your lives.
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