Hunter v. Hemingway

I just read a story about Hunter S. Thompson and Ernest Hemingway that made me stop and think.  Before I get into that, however, yes.  I'm still alive.  Still here.  And still fighting to publish this god.  damn.  book.

As you can see, it's not been going well.  Not to say I'm unhappy with the manuscript.  I know I'm supposed to be--according to every writerish stereotype out there I ought to be all "WOE, my work is rubbish, I must abandon it to fire and start again!" 

Somehow, I'm not.  Instead, I'm really, really happy with Traditor, particularly now that I've trimmed a bit of the fat.  I seem to be the only one who is happy with it, however, and my obsession with getting it published (plus health/job/family issues) have prevented me from paying the attention I should to Damnatio Memoriae.  So it goes.

Anyway, back to the H v. H story.  Evidently Hunter S. Thompson went to Ernest Hemingway's house to write a story on him.  Hemingway shot himself a few years before, and Thompson was supposed to investigate.  While there, however, he stole some antlers from one of Hemingway's hunts, which have only recently been returned.

That's pretty much exactly the kind of story I'd expect from any headline that combined Thompson and Hemingway's names.  It got me thinking, however, about the "good old days" of writing.  It's always seemed to me, in reading about authors, that they were surrounded by other creatives, living charmed lives in which their work was not only read, but appreciated.  Something about the H v. H story stuck in my mind, however, and I suddenly realized something I've always known, logically, but never fully appreciated before.

These writers struggled, too.  They faced rejection, they submitted over and over, they sent their work into the world only to have it degraded and denied.  They went through the same long, painful process I've been slogging through for four interminable years, and they did it again and again and again.

And this is why they drank.

Suddenly, the life of a writer is completely clear to me.

Now, to go finish my latest submission...

#SonOfAPitch: Traditor

I am taking part in #SonOfAPitch, a manuscript pitching competition.  I have pasted my entry below for deliberation and dismemberment:


Title: Traditor

Age and Genre: New Adult/Science Fiction

Word Count: 145,000


Query:

I am submitting my new adult novel, Traditor, for your consideration.  Traditor is a tale of adventure and romance in a society where government surveillance has grown out of control.  The novel follows protagonist Mer York’s escape as she joins a charming Dissenter on the run from government agents known as Company Men.  Traditor deals with themes such as censorship, transgression, the intersection of humanity and technology, and individual accountability.  Traditor is timely and engaging, particularly in light of scandals such as those surrounding Edward Snowden and Bradley Manning.

Traditor details Mer’s evolution into a heroine, and is as much about her development as it is her attempts to evade the Company Men and her burgeoning relationship with her newfound companion, Bryn.  Although initially intending to sabotage Bryn’s plans, Mer begins to reevaluate her beliefs when she discovers that the chip he carries was designed by Company Men to control people’s minds.  Mer decides to turn traitor and fight to keep the chip safe until its existence can be made known.  Bryn and Mer seem to be in the clear until a comrade’s death leads to betrayal by one of their own.  The book ends with Mer being implanted with the chip and interned in a facility for amnesiacs, which is in actuality a government detention center.  This sets the stage for the second book in the trilogy.

I would be happy to send the full manuscript at your request.  Thank you for your consideration.

Sincerely,


Amy E. Allen
WightCrow@gmail.com


First 250 Words:

She was never sure what woke her.  Maybe there was a noise; something she couldn’t remember when she was fully awake.  Maybe it was some sort of sixth sense, the feeling that lets you know you’re being watched from behind.  Whatever it was, Mer opened her eyes just as the heavy moon hid its face behind a cloudbank.

She lay immobile for a moment.  She often woke before her alarm, a product of years of conditioning, years of dreading the moment the buzzer would go off.  Normally it was two or three minutes before, however.  Judging from darkness and the dead calm of her neighborhood Mer thought it must be much earlier: two at the very latest.

She should just go back to sleep.  Maybe she ought to get up and take a pill?  No, no need.  Mer could feel fatigue pulling her under.

Her eyes had drifted shut, the wisps of dreams just beginning when Mer heard the creak.

Her first instinct was to sit up, but Mer forced herself to lie still.  It was a neighbor, she told herself.  Someone moving around their house upstairs.

There was another, softer this time.  It’s the floorboards.  This isn’t exactly a new place.  Houses get old, houses groan.  It’s nothing.  Go back to bed.

Then she heard the creak again.

Mer lay still, tormented by indecision.  Her mother had always gone out in search of such noises, armed with nothing more than determination.  Her mother…it was painful to think about.  

An Archive of Small Sadnesses

A crisis has, as they so often do, arisen.  My trusty pocket keyboard has broken.

This means that until I replace it, I either need to write on my lunch break (spoiler alert: I no longer get lunch breaks) or at home after work.  Looks like things are going to be pretty interesting until I can fix or replace my keyboard.

As a result of this problem, I am a bit behind in my writing…I should be at approximately 30,930 words, yet have only written 27,926.  Okay, that’s more than a bit behind.

Sigh.

Anyway, I’m going to try to write after work this week, and perhaps this weekend, if there’s any time between the hundred things that seem to crop up.  If nothing else I can catch up over Christmas break…my family tends to go to bed fairly early. 

In the meantime, I’ll refocus my commute on editing Traditor—that way the time won’t be completely wasted. 

Working Title: Damnatio Memoriae

Word Count: 27,926

Writing Mode: Nodus Tollens

We Are What We Repeatedly Do

I’ve been writing every day on my way home from work.  I would write at lunch, but I haven’t been taking lunch at all.  I just work straight through, and often into the evening.  But at least I get to write on the way home.

Despite the fact that I’m writing on a train, I’m getting a lot done.  I’ve managed to almost keep up with my 500 per day…currently I’m 126 in the hole, but all it will take is one delayed train to allow me to catch up.

I’m also approaching a more interesting part of the book, where the writing should go more quickly.  I’ve been setting things up for the past two weeks or so…finally they’re starting to come to a head.  Hopefully that means that not only will the writing progress more quickly, but it’ll also be more fun.

In old-school writing news, I’m doing one final edit on Traditor.  I re-read it recently and noticed a typo, so I’ve stopped sending it out for now and am going through one last time to make sure that everything is perfect.  I edit on the train in the mornings, which means that one half of my commute revolves around proofreading my first book, while the other half is dedicated to writing the second.  I find this oddly satisfying.

I also found a promising new publisher who is accepting unagented manuscripts, and will be submitting there as soon as the final edit of Traditor is completed.

Onward - -



Working Title: Damnatio Memoriae
Word Count: 20,430
Writing Mode: Treading water 

 

What the Hell is a Gigawatt???

14,556 words.  And I haven’t even done my writing for today yet.

As it turns out, my portable keyboard is one of the best investments I’ve ever made.  Work has been terrible, and I’ve had to skip lunch and stay late for the past two days in a row.  But by writing whenever I’m on the metro I’ve managed to not only meet my daily goals, but exceed them. 

There was one day in the past week where writing was like pulling teeth.  Aside from that, it’s been pretty smooth.  I’m writing a character who is arguably the most or the second-most evil in the entire series, and it’s really fun inserting him into my characters’ lives.  Sometimes it’s tough, too, as I’ve got to constantly ask myself how he would act, what he would do.  It means getting in his head, which is a scary place to be.

Not much else to report.  Work on the book has been really helping me get through the day…even if I don’t work on it until I’m on my way home.  Still, it lets me do something creative, and helps keep my spirits up (or at least from totally crashing).  I’m excited to see how it turns out  :}

Working Title: Damnatio Memoriae

Word Count: 14,556

Writing Mode: Persevering

It Goes

Keeping up with the daily writing, and chipping away at that deficit.  I even bought a mini-keyboard that I can use to write on the train...managed to do 260 words that way between last night and this morning's commutes, so now I only owe 265 words.

Still need to do my writing for today, but overall I'm feeling fairly positive about my progress on the book.  I'm worried the beginning needs a little tightening, and the relationship between Bryn & Mer a little emphasizing, but I guess I can fix that in post.

Also, I just followed up with another agency regarding my submission.  If you have to follow up you pretty much know you're going to get rejected; still, never hurts to try.

Anyway, must get back to my job.  Miles to go before I sleep.

In more ways than one.

Working Title: Damnatio Memoriae
Word Count: 10,849
Writing Mode: I broke 10k!

Hope Clouds Observation

It’s been a rough week or so.  I missed another day of writing due to skipping lunch, then caught a wicked cold and was too sick to do anything but lay on the couch and moan all weekend.  I am, therefore, 714 words in the hole. 

However, I haven’t done today’s writing yet…maybe I’ll be able to chip away at what I owe a little bit.  I also managed to do 790 words yesterday, and I bought a secondhand bluetooth keyboard so that I can write on the train.  Hopefully I’ll be able to get right back on track. 

I’m fairly pleased with the way the book is going so far.  It’s been almost unnervingly easy to write; I’m choosing to put this down to allowing the story to percolate for so long, rather than blaming it (probably more correctly) on crummy writing.  Still, Mer is already starting to demonstrate some of the character changes that will define her throughout the course of this book.  Additionally, I’m about to finally introduce the bad guy, which should be fun to write (until it’s not, but more on that later).

In other writing news, my submission to Poetry Magazine just got rejected.  I’m not surprised—it’s a very prestigious magazine.  Still, it’s tough.  Sometimes I feel like just one person showing even a modicum of interest in my work would be enough to give me hope.  However, hope, as the reverend mother noted, isn’t always a good thing.

Still, as the Klingons say, bIlujlaHbe'chugh bIQaplaHbe'.

Working Title: Damnatio Memoriae
Word Count: 9,393
Writing Mode: reH 'eb tu'lu'