Archive | January, 2012

A Nightmare…Sort of About Revision

25 Jan

After slightly fewer than three hours sleep, I woke from a dystopic science fiction nightmare involving a dark indoor place with rooms that look like gigantic, vast stadium seating auditoriums with a vast circular stage in the center (something like the courtroom scenes in the Harry Potter movies but about three times as big). I see a lot of black—black walls and floors and such—and people wearing identical dark purple clothes.
Many—probably the majority—of these people are androids, computers in humanoid form, but I didn’t know this at the beginning of the dream. I forget how I find out. I’m an innocent citizen going about my daily life and feeling confused by the behavior of most people (well, that sounds like my everyday life when I lived in the Midwest). One day, some of these computer-androids collectively go insane and want to overthrow the system. As a real human, I’m anxious and panicky as I observe one of the insane (or malfunctioning) androids run into one of these auditorium rooms and flinging herself (or itself, if you prefer) at a bunch of the androids seated in the room.
Large numbers of androids, when the crazy android makes contact with them, shatter like glass into tiny, jagged fractures, flying all over. I’m terrified not only of being hurt by the flying glass but of shattering like glass myself. (Incidentally, the hallway leading to this room feels rather like the hallway in my parents’ house where I grew up, and the doorway feels like my old bedroom doorway.)
This is my interpretation of what that dream was about. Yesterday I read a lot of editorial feedback on a fantasy novel I wrote as a teen, and I discovered that the manuscript is far worse than I imagined. Part of me is antsy to start revising, taking the novel apart and turning it into a series. Another part of me is terrified of “killing my baby” as the writing expression goes—making such drastic changes as taking the characters from Victorian England and sticking them in twenty-first century America. After all, this novel was what I found escapist when I was a teen, and for decades I’ve thought of these characters in that Victorian setting.
In the dream, the hallway led to the doorway of the bedroom in which I hid while writing those stories (that I stuck together and called a novel) as a teen. The big room resembled a courtroom, and reading the developmental edits felt like I was on trial. The androids that shatter like glass represent characters in my novel, characters who will be altered or deleted altogether.
On the bright side, I’ll certainly keep the current draft rather than destroy it like Nathaniel Hawthorne, who tended to burn manuscripts he didn’t like. The current manuscript will be a reference… and a sentimental possession. Meanwhile, I’m already getting visions of what to do in order to set this series in modern-day America, and even bits of truly modern dialog are popping into my head.

Wormholes, Witches, and Castles, Oh My

25 Jan

I just found out that Wormhole Electric, the e-book site publishing my novella Witch’s Familiar serially, is getting three to four visits a day. It’s only been around for a few months, which is quite different from an old, established business.
Meanwhile, as obsessed as I am with revising my YA fantasy novel into three or so Middle Grade novels, I’d better set that aside for now and get back to work on Woodland Castle, the next manuscript I’m submitting to Wormhole Electric.
Deadlines are good. They cut down the procrastination. Without them, you might never get projects done.

Revision Anxiety Dream

24 Jan

After slightly fewer than three hours sleep, I woke from a dystopic science fiction nightmare involving a dark indoor place with rooms that look like gigantic, vast stadium seating auditoriums with a vast circular stage in the center (something like the courtroom scenes in the Harry Potter movies but about three times as big). I see a lot of black—black walls and floors and such—and people wearing identical dark purple clothes. Many—probably the majority—of these people are androids, computers in humanoid form, but I didn’t know this at the beginning of the dream. I forget how I find out. I’m an innocent citizen going about my daily life and feeling confused by the behavior of most people (well, that sounds like my everyday life in the Midwest). One day, some of these computer-androids collectively go insane and want to overthrow the system. As a real human, I’m anxious and panicky as I observe one of the insane (or malfunctioning) androids run into one of these auditorium rooms and flinging herself (or itself, if you prefer) at a bunch of the androids seated in the room. Large numbers of androids, when the crazy android makes contact with them, shatter like glass into tiny, jagged fractures, flying all over. I’m terrified not only of being hurt by the flying glass but of shattering like glass myself. (Incidentally, the hallway leading to this room feels rather like the hallway in my parents’ house where I grew up, and the doorway feels like my old bedroom doorway.)

 

This is my interpretation of what that dream was about. Yesterday I read a lot of editorial feedback on a fantasy novel I wrote as a teen, and I discovered that the manuscript is far worse than I imagined. Part of me is antsy to start revising, taking the novel apart and turning it into a series. Another part of me is terrified of “killing my baby” as the writing expression goes—making such drastic changes as taking the characters from Victorian England and sticking them in twenty-first century America. After all, this novel was what I found escapist when I was a teen, and for decades I’ve thought of these characters in that Victorian setting.

In the dream, the hallway led to the doorway of the bedroom in which, as a teen, I hid while writing those Aunt Amaryllis stories. The big room resembled a courtroom, and reading the developmental editing felt like I was on trial. The androids that shatter like glass represent characters in my novel, characters who will be altered or deleted altogether.

On the bright side, I’ll certainly keep the current draft rather than destroy it like Nathaniel Hawthorne, who tended to burn manuscripts. The current manuscript will be a reference… and a sentimental possession. Meanwhile, I’m already getting visions of what to do in order to set this series in modern-day America, and even bits of truly modern dialog are popping into my head.

Feedback on My Curious Adventures With a Witch

23 Jan

I met up with Michelle and collected the student feedback for my Aunt Amaryllis novel. Three student groups (out of six) from her YA Publishing class chose my novel, and they all agree there’s too much in the one book. They also all agree in changing the title, which is fine with me since My Curious Adventures with a Witch is the fourth working title. And they all agreed that it’s middle grade rather than YA, which I thought might happen, even though the protagonist is seventeen.
I’m thinking I’ll make it into a series. I’ve got other ideas for writing about these characters, so I have thought about a sequel anyway.
Strangely, I’m talking about characters I invented and started writing about back when I was sixteen years old. Originally Aunt Amaryllis was purely escapist, something fun to write about while living as a social outcast in rural Indiana. The novel started out as short stories that I decided to string together and call a novel since I was compelled to keep writing about these particular characters.
Perhaps the main characters you invent when you’re young are the ones who stick with you the most. I certainly haven’t been as attached with other characters as I have been with Aunt Amaryllis and Violet.
Because of the success of the Harry Potter books and the consequent popularity of YA fantasy, I decided in 2003 to dig out that old manuscript and revise it and expand it. Violet became Aunt Amaryllis’s apprentice rather than just a niece who shared her adventures; I also made it more clear that Violet is the protagonist. I filled in chronological gaps between chapters/stories.
I’m doing somewhat last-minute work on a fairy tale novella inspired by the European witchcraze. It has a due date of Feb 10. That said, it’s far enough along that I can also get back to work on Aunt Amaryllis. So much to write!

Witch Fiction Trend

20 Jan

It looks like my timing is odd–witch fiction happens to be a trend, and here I am writing it. I’ve read A Discovery of Witches, which is adult paranormal romance about a witch who’s from a long line of witches, and now there’s the YA novel Life’s a Witch and its eventual series (http://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/childrens/childrens-authors/article/50213-swamped-by-offers-self-pubbed-ya-author-gets-agent-and-more.html). I read Beautiful Creatures about a year ago, and that’s also a YA witch novel.
Too bad my novel My Curious Adventures with a Witch isn’t already published. On the  bright side, my novella Witch’s Familiar is available on Wormhole Electric’s site. Furthermore, I’m about to get feedback on My Curious Adventures with a Witch, because I handed it over to Michelle, my former YA Publishing instructor, and she’s about to give me the developmental edits that students did on the manuscript last term. So I’ll soon revise it, probably share the revised version with my writers’ critique group, revise some more, and start contacting agents. Then hopefully it’ll get published before witch fiction goes out of style. I think many people have seen enough of vampires and are ready for something different, and I suspect witch fiction won’t go out of style any time soon.

Antique Appraisal Dream

12 Jan

I had a dream in which I owned an antique little birdfeeder-shaped blue porcelain pot or vase or whatever from China. It was very pretty. I took it to an antique shop to get it appraised. The shop was owned by an old Chinese (or Chinese American) couple, and the woman sat behind a big wooden desk while I handed over the vase. I woke up before finding out how much it was worth. I think in the dream I was considering selling it because I didn’t have a job and the economy sucks.

After I woke up, I remembered that my dad and I had stopped at an antique store in Multnomah Village and my dad had told the store owner about the dog picture (he claims my grandmother bought it in Paris in the 1930s and that it’s by a famous painter, but I doubt the “famous” part), and the original 1914 edition of Tick-Tock of Oz, which has been passed down in our family (and with which I really don’t want to part). He talked about my taking them in and getting them appraised. I have asked him if he’d be offended if I were to sell the painting, and he said no. So there you go.