Archive for August, 2009

Anyone who says I’m not romantic is clearly ignorant.  Now, I’m not romantic in the jewelry giving, bed of rose petals, talks about stuff kind of way (which is genetically impossible for anyone with a y chromosome); nor, clearly, am I romantic as in impractical (here comments from the peanut gallery are not appreciated).  I am, however, romantic in the adventuresome, idealistic, expressive sense.  (Think the opposite of classicism.)

An illustration?  I’ve always thought it would be simply wonderful to live in a tower.  How much more romantic can you get than that?  I’ve always thought that it would be simply marvelous to live above everything, in the world but not a part of it; to be removed.  A tower is just perfect, you know, one of those tall spindly ones where there’s one room at the top and nothing but a great shaft with stairs inside.  (Having rooms the entire height of the tower just strikes me as excessively materialistic and obscene.) 

Today, however, I for the first time reconsidered this ambition to live in a tower.  I have just returned from helping a friend and her roommate move from their sensible first floor apartment to a sadistically chosen (I’m certain) fourth floor apartment.  I never quite realized that stairs, when taken in huge number with heavy objects in one’s arms, are horrid things.  Which makes me view my spindly tower full of one precarious circular staircase in a very different light.  No wonder only wizards live in the things; you’ve got to have magic to get all your stuff up there.

Hence, as my magical powers are still developing, I will temper my romanticism with some practicality.  I will install a personal elevator.  Only guests will need to use the stairs.  

Yes, that feels quite acceptable—on more than one level. 

*****

I am tired.  Goodbye.   

It’s all arranged: I will now be giving a free two-hour workshop on characterization in tandem with my book signing in Sandy on September 3rd.   For those who don’t know, the event is being held at the Sandy Barnes and Noble (10180 S. State) from 6:00 - 9:00 (ending one hour later than was originally planned). Here’s the way the evening will work.  From 6:00 to 7:00 I’ll spend time signing Green Dragon Codex, answering questions, and chatting with people.  Then at 7:00 the workshop will begin, and it will end around 9:00.  (Though I don’t mind staying later to work with people, unless the B&N people grow irritated with us and kick us out.)

The workshop will be on characterization and how to make our writing do triple-duty work, meaning how to make every page engrossing by avoiding blocks of anything—especially exposition, but any other single element of narrative delivered in large chunks is dangerous, too.  The workshop will be on ways to make every page we write serve multiple purposes at once, thus making the story more interesting.  I’ve only done this workshop one time before and was very dissatisfied with it (at World Horror Con earlier this year).  Feedback was very positive, but I only had one hour for the workshop then and that simply wasn’t enough.  This workshop takes a lot of interaction and hands on exchange between writers and myself, and writers and other writers.  So I’m really looking forward to getting a chance to do the workshop with as much time as I need to do it justice. 

I hope to see plenty of people there.  It isn’t often that an intensive event like this is offered for free (I wish I could do that more often), so if you can possibly make it, do.  Also, please tell friends and other writers who you think may be interested.  I promise, the content we’ll cover will be well worth the time.

I’m pretty sure last week was the first since I started this blog that I didn’t post at least something here.  Sorry about that.  I’m sure that your pangs for my wonderful words were quite exquisite.  But thirteen hours of classes straight every day for five days, plus transit, had me down to five hours of sleep a night—when I didn’t shower.  (I’d like to note that I did not skip five days worth of showers, so relax.)  It was kind of grueling, but a very positive experience, overall.  Here are some of the highlights: Jack Welch’s fireside on creativity, discovery, and truth (great on its own, but it was nice to shake Jack’s hand again as well, as he’s something of a friend); Daniel Peterson making a cogent argument for LDS theology possibly fitting into social trinitarianism (courageous thesis); Doug Brinley sharing lots of firsthand stories from students that show just how weird some people are who still manage to get married (quite encouraging, in a disturbing way); an excellent two-hour block by Matthew Richardson on how the Greek notions of the four loves—philos, storge, eros, and agape—determine the nature of every healthy relationship (every single person on this planet should attend this lecture); lots of Michael Wilcox, who is no less wonderful when heard frequently and in large amounts; and four nights of eating out without exercise (which was enjoyable despite being very naughty and making me work far harder than is healthy this week). 

So, that’s what I was doing last week.  This week, I’m trying to make next month work out. 

A little too cryptic, huh.  Well, can’t say more yet, except all the work I’ve been putting in to the school tours for next month has met with some frustratingly mixed results.  I’ve been looking to switch gears a bit.  It may take a few days to finalize what’s going on, and I’ll let you know as soon as I do.  But here’s a heads up: I think I’m going to be holding a free workshop, probably one that I’ve never given before.  Hope that wets your appetite.  Come back for more information when I have it.

After being very delinquent, I finally have the chapter four annotation up and ready.  If you are interested, check it out.

I am now going to get ready to go to dinner with a friend, and her friends, who may or may not at the end of the night be my new friends. 

And I am missing the grey morning we had today, which I spell the British way both because I always prefer g-r-e-y and because it seems far more suitable given the subject.  There is nothing that fits a mood fit for a stormy morning sky like a nicely starched British lexicon.

There isn’t much that’s more perverse to the inherently lazy (I may mean me) than to receive time off from a job and to fill that time with more work.  It’s crass, in a way.  Positively unethical.

Summer semester at the college ended last week, and this is officially my first of four weeks of summer vacation.  Thus far, I have spent the time scheduling school visits (making  phone calls, leaving messages, making more phone calls, sending emails, making phone calls about emails, sending emails about messages, and splaying myself as far and wide as is possible, like a rollerskating donkey on an ice rink) and getting a replacement for my expired driver’s license.

Don’t ask.   

The renewal was something of a highlight of my week.  And no, I’m not be facetious at all.  I arrived at about 8:30 in the morning and was out by 9:00.  (Yes, a.m., and of the very same day!)  The intervening time was spent filling out one sheet of paperwork (one side only), about five minutes sitting, a short chat with a friend from the college who was enduring the same minimal inconvenience, a ten second and single row eye test, and a nice chat with a big fan of Robert Jordan whom I informed about Brandon and The Gathering Storm.  $25 later and I left holding a paper that identified me as a legal operator of a motorized carriage.  They promise me that the actual license will be mailed in about a month.  (Because the experience was so painless, I did not make a snarky comment about how the promised notice about my expiring license had not been so forthcoming.)

Yes, the photo on the license is DMV quality, but it’s far better than my old photo, in which I looked like a cadaver. 

So far, it’s made a respectable high point for my summer vacation.  I’m heading to Education Week at BYU next week, so maybe that’ll top it. 

Maybe.

A few days ago Carolyn asked if I have something new I’m working on.  The answer is a definite kinda, maybe, sort of—given certain contingents and qualifiers.

I do have a new story that’s been percolating the last few weeks.  It’s way, way too early to reveal much about this, but I’m pretty sure it will end up being my next book for children and teens.  Here are a few teasers: its about espionage, peer influence in adolescence, and the very difficult challenges facing the American public school systems.  It has a protagonist named after a car—won’t tell which one—and I suspect it’ll irritate some straight-laced educators, especially administration.  But kids should love it, which is the whole point.  That’s about all I can say, as even I don’t  know too much more beyond this.

Doesn’t seem like much for a few weeks’ worth of work, does it.  That’s because I’ve had very few moments to address this new story.  Every other waking moment has been devoted to other duties.  Summer semester just ended at the college, and we posted the busiest summer period on record (more than double the traffic from two years ago).  Additionally, I spent more than a couple hours finishing the query package I put up for auction during Cynthia Liu’s charity drive a few weeks ago.  On top of that and all the other small things that go with writing and publishing, I’ve seriously started scheduling my school touring dates for September.  So far so good, though it’s early.  If everything goes well I’ll be visiting about 30 schools in September.  Based on those visits I”ll decide how many more to do in the next four to six months.

All added up, I’m pretty sure that I’ve found time to breathe, though I’m frequently purple faced and lightheaded while I wait for another chance to gasp.  Okay, fill the lungs, dredge deep, and get to work!

Because it wasn’t mine.

On Saturday I headed to the Barnes and Noble at Jordan Landing for Lisa Mangum’s signing for her debut novel (first in a trilogy by Shadow Mountain) The Hourglass Door. It was my first chance to meet Lisa in person, which is a little odd given just how small the publishing world is here in Utah. (It’s not all that big nationally, you begin to see after a few years inside.) Turns out we even live within the same suburb of Salt Lake.

Well, I thought it was well past time that I meet her, shake her hand, and inform her that by so doing she has formally greeted the writer who is every editor’s fondest dream. (Okay, so I didn’t add the last part, but merely due to humility.) For those who don’t know, Lisa is also head acquisitions editor for Deseret Book, so she’s ones of those weirdos who turns over the working of her brain to the inner editor almost continually yet still manages to write a fine book. (I do not recommend this approach, as such people are aberrations. I’m pretty sure they’re mutants.) Lisa even talked about putting her day job persona in its cage to write, which was pretty interesting to hear. When my inner editor rattles his cage bars too early I threaten to start amputating things until he shuts up. Sometimes it works.

Lisa read the prologue of her book, which surprised me with its measured pacing and somewhat greater than expected alliteration (not really fully purple prose so much as dusky). She also talked about references to Shakespeare, Dante, and Virgil, which intrigued me for a few reasons. First, all great choices—though isn’t it a little disturbing that everyone’s favorite book in The Divine Comedy is the volume about Hell? Also, my understanding is that the book is targeted at something similar to the Twilight army that mascuerades as a readership. Now, while I haven’t read The Hourglass Door yet and so can’t say specifically, using literary classicism to reach those readers struck me as an interesting choice. We’ll see how it works. Anyway, it was worth the time. It always is when you meet a mother, and I met Lisa’s mother, who was proud as only a mother can be. She took pictures of James, Brie, and me, which stole a little portion of my soul, as all pictures do.

Also caught up with James Dashner, friend, patron, and about to become major name in YA fiction, and met his friend Brie (hope I’m spelling that correctly, because she told me to remember it, and I quote, “like the cheese”), who seems to be following right behind him.

And, just for the record, James pointed out that Brie’s editor, and my editor, and Lisa all turned down his Maze Runner trilogy, which is now preparing to sell a billion copies for Random House. Which just goes to show you that good people who are smart people aren’t always going to buy a great book when you pitch it to them. There are many reasons for this, foibles of business and imperfect people being two of the biggest. Just tell yourself that you will be able to laugh about all those rejections one day, in the presence of others, shaming them, as James did, for he is an evil man, and is in no way a Jane Austin character.

*****

Finally, happy birthday Kent, best twenty-six-year-old brother I’ve got, and not just by a bit.  By a whole lot.